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hannieween · 4 months ago

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the shadow | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, smut (18+) › word count: 10.6k

› proofread by the lovelies @gyuhao5 and @monamipencil ty 🩵

› this is part 3 of the curse - hannieween fest

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: violence: abduction (not jeonghan at reader or the way around), yandere undertones, toxic relationship, smut with plot, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, comfort fuck, switch reader, switch jeonghan, jeonghan is down atrocious, dirty talk, cowgirl, worship. pet names: little demon, baby, (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

the shadow

THE GROUND VIBRATED BENEATH YOUR FEET. It was a Friday night, and the city was alive with desire and sin. The streets were busy with people going around, and the buzzing from their souls was distracting, making you hungry.

But, living in the human world as a demon meant that you had to keep your head down. It would be incredibly dumb on your part to start a carnage in the middle of the street. Besides, you were odd, since you liked living amongst them like you were part of their world too.

In that same vein, you had adopted some of their nature too, so you were running late for work. It was your third month working in a small local pub in the town you used to live. It was a simple enough job. You had found out that you had a natural talent for tending to drunken people, and they found themselves naturally attracted to you. So, suffice it to say, that you earned a good amount of tips every night.

“I’m sorry, I’m late,” you said, removing the scarf you wore on your neck and hanging it on the coat rack.

“You’re only wearing that?” your co-worker, Daisy stared at you as though you were an odd bug. “It’s cold as a witch’s teat outside.”

“Witches are cool. That is why I am team cold,” you sighed, grabbing your pen and a notepad. “How’s it been?”

“Slow,” Daisy replied with a dead tone. “A passerby asked for you,” she mentioned offhandedly as she looked at her reflection in a hand mirror, checking out her lipstick.

“Who?” you frowned. You had a few regulars that admittedly only came to see you, but Daisy would know them by name.

“Some random weirdo,” she shrugged. “Didn’t say your name, but he gave your description to the last hair on your head. Creepy.”

You grew more intrigued, turning to her to see the disinterest on her face. “What did you tell him?”

“To fuck off, naturally,” she replied with the same ease. “He refused to give me his name, so I refused to give him details about you.”

“Is he still here?” you asked, walking towards the door and sneaking a glance through the small round window to the pub.

“He’s sitting on one of the stools. If it gets to it, I already warned Mike about him,” she smirked triumphantly, crossing her arms. “I wouldn’t mind having a little fun watching him throw that creep out. It would make my Friday night.”

In the bar, you saw a man, sitting on the far side of the row of stools. He kept his head down, so it was nearly impossible for you to discern the features of his face. But one thing you knew, it was the first time that you had seen him.

“Well, I suppose that my Friday night just got more interesting.”

Daisy sent you a knowing look, her shoulders going slack in a sign of defeat. “Don’t tell me you’re going to talk to that guy?” she asked with an incredulous tone. “I was a bitch to him, I gave him the middle finger already! All for nothing?”

“We’ll find out,” you smirked at her, pushing the door open and stepping out of the backroom of the pub and into the warm and cozy place, buzzing with the sounds of the people gathering, clinking their jars and laughing out loud.

Some people greeted you with nods and waves of their hands, some people called your name whenever you strolled around the pub, between the tables and chairs. Usually, you would make your way to the first table that waved you down, but this time, you walked straight behind the bar.

“Hi, Mikey,” you greeted with a sing-song tone. “How’s it going?”

“Like any Friday night,” the older man spoke, he was about a foot taller than you, his beard adorned with gray hairs. “A guy is looking for you, Daisy told me,” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “First sign of trouble, tell me.”

“Thank you, Mikey,” you sighed, showing him a smile. Something within you stirred with something akin to satisfaction. To be surrounded by people who take care of you, in the best way humanely possible, made you feel special, and welcomed.

If only they knew. If they knew that you were very much capable of handling any trouble, even more capable than Mikey to kick out any drunkard without batting an eye. But they did not have to know, in fact, you were trying your best to keep your head down, and avoid drawing attention to yourself.

However, that happened naturally to you. People glanced your way without you even looking for it. So you made your way to the end of the bar, stopping in front of the person sitting on the last stool.

He wore a black leather jacket, his hair equally dark was long and arranged in a ponytail, some hairs hanging on the sides in a messy fringe. He toyed with the rim of his jar, half emptied already.

“You’ve been looking for me?” you placed your elbows neatly on the countertop, leaning slightly so you could sneak a better look to his face.

The man beat you to it, raising his head so he could direct a careful glance over you, sizing you up. Once he gathered with his eyes every detail of your physique, he nodded. “Yeah, that might be you who I’m looking for,” he said offhandedly, tilting his head to one side.

You coughed, getting an uncomfortable feeling as he eyed you up and down. “What can I help you with?”

He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. You could not make out what he was about, and that was when you started to get a flight or fight feeling. Like a prey who is being sighted by its killer, far between the lines of discretion.

“I want you to tell me,” he began, keeping his voice low and his brown eyes on your face. “Why does a demon live between humans? Isn’t that surpassing the line of playing with your food?”

You froze in an instant, fear of being caught sizzling underneath your skin. “Who are you?” you asked.

“I should be asking that to you,” he frowned. “Listen, I see that you care about the humans that are around you right now, so, I’d suggest that we take this conversation elsewhere, away from any potential casualties.”

“What if I don’t care about the humans around me?” you countered, making him pause and consider your words. “Like you said, what if I like playing with my food?”

He narrowed his brown eyes, his lips forming a syllable, but then they broke into a grin. “You’re lying.”

You looked at him in pure perplexion. You had heard about demon hunters before in your short life as a demon. But you never had the opportunity to come across one, so you never really cared.

“Are you a hunter?” you asked, silently reprimanding yourself for showing that you were actually shaken by his presence.

He was dark. Alluring, even. If you dared to glimpse past his mask, you saw a smoking light dancing inside him, it was his soul.

“I am,” he nodded politely, as though he had a rule to keep diplomacy before he hunted you down.

“Suppose I don’t get a name?” you smirked, trying to keep your nerves in line.

“Only if I get yours first.”

That was smart. The hunter knew that there was a power in knowing your name. Demons were creatures of subservience. They were ruled by sin, by corruption. But as such, they had to be kept in check somehow. And when you knew a demon’s domain, you could practically rule them. If you were strong enough.

You stuck out your hand to him, smiling before uttering your name. “At your service.”

The hunter raised his brown eyes, you saw the confusion in them. Your brazenness was not something out of the ordinary for demons who were in the human world like you, but the nerve to give out your name like that did its work to shake him. But he took your hand, all the same, slightly parting his mouth. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

Both of you stilled, your hand instinctively tightening around his as a foreign, but also so familiar feeling crept inside you, gripping you wholly. You sucked in a breath, your eyes glazing over. Oh, no, your mind echoed. Is this…

A bond. And not just any bond.

Yoon Jeonghan frowned, his mouth agape, his eyes teary as he shared that feeling with you. And you waited to see if he knew the reason behind the preternatural sensation coiling around his heart. But he remained motionless, did not even protest when you slipped your hand out of his grip. The turbulent fire inside him calmed down when his dark eyes met yours.

The hunter cleared his throat, blinking dumbly as he jumped down the stool, exiting the place without saying a word.

And that is how you meet Yoon Jeonghan. Your soulmate.

A year went by like water slipping through your fingers. Seasons changed and you welcomed each one of them like any regular human would, except that instead of wearing a costume on Halloween like everyone else, you would just display your horns on your head. Instead of celebrating Christmas, you would go out on a hunt for sins, which oddly enough was a day with many to choose from.

But one thing that was a constant in your life for the whole year round, was the push and pull with Yoon Jeonghan.

Many nights had passed since your last encounter with him, the night you confessed to having been starving yourself of human sins in the fruitless attempt to become human yourself. Nights had turned into weeks, then months, three to be exact. Now you were running from him, only stopping to feed from him.

You were out one night, enjoying the buzzing from the streets of the city. The excitement you felt around you from human souls was nearly making your mouth water. That was until you felt someone tracking you, a distant shadow that kept you out of your line of sight.

He had been lurking for too long, following you from town to town, through the shadows that the tall buildings of the city cast. Following you like a monster on a leash.

You smirked secretly, looking over your shoulder to see his silhouette wrapped in shadows. Jeonghan had found you again, just like he always would. As long as you and him lived, you would always cross each other’s paths.

It had become a game for you. And now it was time to run.

Being a demon was freeing in so many ways. Now that you were at your full strength, you were also freed from all kinds of inhibitions. You did not need a house or shelter, you did not possess belongings or extra clothes.

So you just sprung into a run, quickly devising a plan to escape from this city, and hit the next town until Jeonghan found you again. The city passed you in a blur, and soon your surroundings turned into walls made of thick trees.

You were not sure if Jeonghan knew you were playing a game. At this point, he was just as enslaved to it as you were, running away, only to be found by him. An endless push and pull.

But this felt different to all the times he loomed on your back. No, this was a first. Jeonghan kept himself far away from you out of shame, yes. However, this time it was not a shame for liking you, nor not being able to resist you.

Jeonghan was sorry.

And he would watch you tear through a different town until he mustered all the strength he needed to come to you, announcing himself between the shadows, tail between his legs. You were completely familiar with that. But now you just decided to make him suffer a little.

Other times, you did not resist him; you would take him wherever you could, an empty alleyway. The last time you did this, you took him in the backseat of his car, fucking him until he was a complete mess. You would wait until he fell asleep to exit his car quietly and leave him to wake up completely alone.

Yoon Jeonghan was no fool. He knew you were playing hard to get. He knew that what you were doing was payback for all the times he tried to resist you. All the times he tried to pretend that what he felt for you was some sort of divine retribution.

But in truth, he could not keep allowing himself to be with you. You showed up in his life like a comet falling out of the sky, crashing and burning everything around him, leaving him blind to all reason, too stupid to do anything. So stupid that he lost whatever made sense in his life, and he lost you as well.

Even if he did not actually have you.

Jeonghan sat alone in a booth pushed up to the corner of the diner, where he was slowly chewing the last bits of his breakfast, looking out the window pensively.

The pull he had towards you grew stronger, sometimes thinner, but it was always there. Now that he knew that what he felt was a result of something bigger than him, and than you, he had resorted to analyzing it.

After finishing up his plate, he raised his hand to flag the waitress down, asking for another cup of coffee.

You slid to the seat in front of him with a short sigh, fixing your hair with your hands as if you had just finished jogging, which, Jeonghan thought, could have been the case.

The waitress refilled the cup of coffee, and Jeonghan kindly thanked the lady, pushing the cup to you to then hand you the sugar.

“Did you know I was close?” you asked, bewildered at noticing how quickly Jeonghan had learned to discern your proximity by using the bond.

Jeonghan was tempted to say that he also knew how you liked your coffee. Two sugars, no milk. But that had nothing to do with the bond. So, he just nodded with his head.

“Well, that’s no fun,” you muttered, pouring the sugar on the teaspoon, one, two and sending him a look, you poured a little more sugar.

Jeonghan smiled quietly, it was not a happy smile. “I supposed you would grow bored if I stopped following you across the country. I was right.”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I’m here because I’m hungry,” you said flatly, raising your hand to flag the waitress down.

He also knew that. And not only that, but he also knew that you did not need waffles and bacon, your favorite. You needed something that would never be found on a diner’s menu. Or any restaurant’s menu for that matter.

“Can I have waffles with syrup, please?” you asked with a sweet tone, beaming at the lady. “Oh, and can I have bacon with that?”

Jeonghan looked at the way you smiled at the waitress, his stomach tightening a little in both nervousness and something more, it was a foreign feeling.

He noticed how the woman tensed up at your presence. Humans had a natural fight-or-flight response to demons, but with you, they just assumed it was because of your natural beauty. Or your assertiveness.

“And you suppose I can help ease your hunger?” Jeonghan asked, keeping an eye on the surroundings for any signs of danger, in case you and him needed to run.

“Yeah,” you responded in an obvious tone, taking a small sip from your cup of coffee.

Jeonghan noticed the way you carefully pressed your lips on the rim, as though you could burn yourself.

“I mean, how else am I going to pay for this?” you smirked, placing your chin on your hands, expecting him to laugh, or to say something quippy at you.

“Fine,” Jeonghan said, releasing a puffy sigh in annoyance.

He wondered if this would lead to a serious conversation about what happened the last time you talked. But chances were, you were just having more fun torturing him.

He deserved it.

Something deep inside him pulsated, kicking the air out of his lungs. The feeling rippled, it went on as he blinked and found you, looking equally astounded. But you recuperated faster than him, you usually did.

“How did you know?” Jeonghan heard himself blurt, his tone rough as though he had been screaming for hours. “About the bond?”

You cleared your throat, composing yourself on the seat by resuming to stir your coffee. “I’ve lived in the underworld, Jeonghan, I know how a bond behaves and feels like,” you said, eyeing the woman closing up to leave your breakfast on the table. “Thank you, ma’am,” you smiled politely.

“I thought bonds were only made after making a deal with a demon,” Jeonghan mumbled, keeping his tone in a volume only you would be able to hear. “You and I have never struck a deal.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Einstein,” you quipped, taking a generous piece of waffles bathed in syrup to your mouth. You moaned blissfully, the sound was not sexual, but it had several eyes drawn to you.

Jeonghan knew why, your voice was sweet, appealing to the human senses. It also had an effect on him, but that was because of an entirely different reason. He cleared his throat too.

“Bonds made with deals or promises are quite common. No, this is different,” you said after gulping down the waffles with coffee. “You and I were made with this bond. It’s always existed for us.”

He looked at you confusedly as you tore through your breakfast. “What do you mean we were made with the bond?”

You dragged the last bit of waffles through the pool of syrup on your plate. “We were born with it.”

“You were born…” he trailed off.

“I was made, Jeonghan,” you pointed your fork at him, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I knew that,” he said, blinking slowly. “But following your logic, you had to be born at the same time as me.”

“Time is different in the underworld,” you reminded him, chewing slowly to enjoy the last bit off your plate. “I’m actually a little bit older than you.”

Jeonghan had assumed that as well. Though he knew you were a fairly younger demon from the ones he has faced, you had to be older than him, guessing by your physical strength alone. “So you’ve known all this time.”

You nodded, pushing your empty plate aside. “Ever since we spoke to each other,” you crossed your arms on the table, directing a serious look at him. “I’ve always known, Jeonghan.”

“You could’ve told me just to toss it at my face,” he pointed, there was no venom in his words, he was as confused as he was the night you left him. “All this time, I thought that this was some sort of retribution, a divine cause and effect I had to endure for wanting to be around you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

At that, you lowered your eyes in guilt. “I never thought it would make a difference. I never thought you would believe me, so I never said anything.”

Jeonghan felt a kind of pain he had never felt before he met you. It coiled around his heart, it was remorse because he knew what you did not want to say, what he could not bring himself to do.

Because even after you told him, he did nothing. It did not make a difference. He still refused you, he refused to give in.

“Can I help you with something else?” the waitress approached, addressing him intently.

You kept your head down, so Jeonghan never saw the glimmer in your eyes from the tears that were beginning to form.

“The bill, please,” he said, but he was quickly distracted.

You were sliding on the seat, walking away from the table, and then pushing the door open, exiting the diner.

“Shit,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath, reaching for his wallet, and pulling out a bill, quickly leaving the place to follow you, knowing that by the time he reached outside, you would be gone.

You were nowhere to be seen, Jeonghan scouted with his gaze his surroundings, were you mocking him again?

When he turned around, he let out a short breath in relief. You were sitting on the passenger seat of his car, aloofly checking the roots of your hair, pretending to ignore him while hiding a smile.

Jeonghan sent his gaze skyward, trying to find some patience in the grim-looking sky. It would rain soon, and you did not have somewhere to crash now that you were effectively on the run and alone.

He decided to go along with whatever crazed plan you were crafting, he felt he was in no position to do otherwise, but to follow. Even if you were just toying with him in revenge.

You followed him with your eyes as he went around the car, yanking the door open and sliding to the seat silently. “Where are we heading to?” you asked, primly tucking your hands between your thighs.

“We’re skipping town,” he said, turning the key on the engine.

“Already?” you turned slightly to get your seatbelt on. “I thought you would like this town.”

“Why is that?” he kept his town flat, trying to keep the discontent at bay.

“It’s lonely,” you said sweetly. “For lonely people such as you.”

“We need the opposite of lonely right now,” he replied, trying to ignore to the best of his ability to omit the fact that the last town he lived in was solely because he could keep an eye on you that way.

“Mn,” you hummed pensively. “You’re no fun when you’re angry and quiet,” you pointed with a knowing tone, turning to look out the window.

Jeonghan arched an eyebrow, trying to appear as nonchalant as ever, he leaned his head to his hand, an elbow propped on the windowsill.

You read his silence, your lip curling a little in a smile. “You know that I can also read you, right?”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he muttered tiredly, avoiding to look your way.

You clicked your tongue but decided to keep quiet. Jeonghan was frustrated, that much you knew, telling from the rigidness of his movements, the way his hand tightened around the steering wheel. Two fingers rubbed his bottom lip harshly, he kept that motion for so long that you thought that it had to burn him at some point.

But aside from that, you could see the enraged flame inside him, dancing erratically from the moment you showed up at the diner. You knew that your tantrum had run its course, and he was now trying not to tell you how miserable you had made him these past few weeks.

And he knew that you were only turning to him so you could feed. That had been obvious from the moment he saw you. Your skin was colorless and dry, the bags under your eyes were prominent, and not only that, Jeonghan probably assumed that you no longer wanted to consume human souls, only his sins.

Soon, you entered a new city that welcomed you with a big sign, Welcome to Veridian Bay! leading to a bridge crossing over the waterfront and into the big city with big, tall buildings.

You leaned to the window to take a look at how tall the buildings stood, the streets were busy with people, and everything was alive with buzzing sounds. Jeonghan kept driving deep into the city, until you reached a quieter part, away from the tall buildings, the shiny stores and flashy signs.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, looking curiously at the big shopping mall he just parked his car in front of.

“We need to buy clothes,” he directed a judging look at you.

“What’s wrong with mine?” you asked to no end. Your clothes were torn and filthy, another reason why people threw you second looks at every place you walked into, demon allure or not.

Jeonghan exited the car, and you followed him closely, as though you were trying not to lose him in between the people.

“I have a question,” you said, sticking to his side to shield yourself from the weird looks you were receiving. You did not care about it, but you wanted to keep a low profile as much as you could. “What happened to the two hunters?”

“They stopped chasing you,” he replied in a quiet tone, leading you to a department store.

Everything was bright with colors, and shiny lights hanging from the ceiling. Rows of clothing racks are laid in front of you in an elaborate maze. You had been to malls before, but never to one as big as this. And definitely never with Jeonghan.

“Do you think I’m free from them, then?” you yanked your gaze from a row of pretty blouses, your fingers itching to touch the fabric.

“Not by a long shot, no,” he answered, tensing beside you when your arm brushed his. “Choose something quickly, the shorter we stay here, the better.”

You grabbed a plain white t-shirt, measuring it over your torso and facing the mirror where Jeonghan stood, watching you intently. “Do you think this one goes with my body type?” you asked fruitlessly.

He just huffed, rolling his eyes swiftly. “Stop playing,” he said, looking around precatively. “We need to find somewhere safe to stay, and you need to feed soon.”

The way he gritted out the words allowed for the quiet rage simmering inside him slip through. A light shock appeared on his face, much as if he heard his own words and quickly forced himself to composure.

Jeonghan was mad, and you were the reason why the flame inside him was growing into a merciless fire burning inside him.

“Alright,” you hummed, picking a pair of jeans, a long t-shirt and undergarments.

Jeonghan followed you as you made your way to the queue line to pay. His mind was once again buzzing with questions, if anything, the conversation back in the diner left him even more confused.

He had thought all this time that what he felt for you was some kind of joke. The insane lust, the deep craving, the endless nights he spent thinking about you, dreaming about you… all because of a supernatural bond he never had control of.

You made a tiny cooing sound, making him snap his gaze to where you stood in line. You were lifting a finger to match with a baby’s pointer finger. The baby girl was looking over the shoulder of her mother who queued up in front of you. Somehow, you had attracted the focus of the baby, and you were now caught up in her big eyes, in her dimpled hands.

Jeonghan’s stomach twisted violently. You smiled at the baby as she wrapped her tiny hand around your finger, laughing with you. The feeling tightening inside him was completely alien to him, he wanted to get rid of it as you would an illness.

He never understood why it was impossible for him to fight against you. He used to think that your innate allure created that attraction he felt for you, he used to think that you were playing games on him.

But that did not explain one thing. As he watched your joyous smile, he realized that what he felt was not entirely carnal. He recalled what he felt that night he knew you were slipping away, the fear of losing you.

The tight feeling coiled inside his chest when you lifted your eyes at him, keeping that joy with you from being paid attention to by an innocent baby. The interaction had been so pure and out of the ordinary for you that it brought a spark to your dark eyes.

The knot inside him broke free, blooming inside him freely, filling his chest with a warmth that was nearly intoxicating.

“Are you okay, hunter?” you asked quietly, noticing the change in his eyes, the quiet rage dying down at the same time the look of bewilderment on his face set in.

“Yeah,” he forced out, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered awkwardly, still shocked at how suddenly his erratic mood disappeared. What added to the shock was that Jeonghan did not lie to you, he was indeed fine, however, the shock on his face was confusing to you.

“One bed, again?” you deadpanned.

Jeonghan closed the door to the small motel room. This one had a leather couch that looked decent compared to the thin white curtains that allowed for the light coming from the street outside to seep through.

“What’s the point in asking for two beds?” Jeonghan shrugged, taking off his black leather jacket as he let out a cough.

“I’d appreciate it if you actually made some effort in swaying me,” you mentioned off-handedly as you started zipping down your hoodie. “I’m still a lady, you know?”

At that, Jeonghan chuckled. “You are as much as a lady as I am a gentleman, so,” he shrugged. “There’s the couch, if you care that much.”

“You’re right,” you snapped your fingers at him. “You can sleep on the couch, I’ll sleep on the bed!”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, raising his arms to grab his tight black shirt and pull it over his head.

You stopped, dead in your tracks. Jeonghan had a very deceiving build, most would think he was lean and due to his affection for dark clothes, he masked himself well to curious eyes. But in fact, Jeonghan had a toned body, a low bulk that had been built up due to the nature of his work.

His milky white skin was adorned with scars, bruises and bitemarks from creatures he hunted down. As he removed the sleeves from his arms, he sent you a look. “What?” he blurted.

You were too caught up to come up with a lie, but something deep inside you recoiled in nervousness. “I was just looking at you,” you mumbled meekly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “You’re gawking.”

You shrugged. “Can’t blame me. You’d be gawking too if I suddenly decided to strip naked.”

“Tsk,” he smiled playfully, throwing the t-shirt on the couch. “It would be fair game, at least.”

“Shut up,” you sighed, rolling your eyes at him. But still, you stared at his fingers undoing the belt of his black denim jeans, pulling it from the hoops.

“Alright, then,” he said, giving his belt the same treatment, discarding it on the couch. He placed his hands on his hips, his torso forming a perfect inverted triangle. “Are you going to keep playing dumb with me?”

You arched one eyebrow at him, too surprised at his bluntness to even speak. Gaping, you stood there for a second, trying to decide on deflection or acceptance.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you turned your back on him, mustering all the will in you to not glance his way. You started rummaging in the bag of clothes, pulling out an I love kitties shirt that you got as a nightgown. It had a doodle of an orange cat on it.

“Please,” he huffed, and you bit your bottom lip. “You can’t lie to me so don’t try to treat me like I’m stupid.”

“Take a hint, hunter. I don’t want to talk about this,” you said but failed to coat your words with enough venom.

A hand circled around your wrist, pulling you to his body, commanding you to face him. With a gasp, you yanked back, looking at him furiously. But his gaze smothered that fire inside you at once. “You left,” he said, the trouble in his mind mirrored in his dark gaze. “You left me.”

“Yeah, I left because you could not even talk to me, Jeonghan,” you replied, trying to step back from him, the back of your knees finding the bed.

He gave you an incredulous look. “I’ve spent three months chasing you across the fucking country,” he said. “You only stop running when you need to feed from me. I’ve paid enough, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be the one to decide that,” you gritted, betraying yourself. Your eyes started brimming with tears, angry tears, sorrowful tears. They carried all the misery that you had lived as his soulmate.

“What do you want from me?” he demanded, his tone rising in exasperation.

“Nothing,” you muttered, shying away. You lowered your face, bringing a hand to wipe the wetness on your cheeks.

“That’s not true.”

As you raised your head, you involuntarily sniffled. “Well, you know what I want, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan gaped at you for a moment, choking on his argument. He knew then that nothing would give peace to this fight because there was no solution to this.

You wanted to become human. In your mind, it was the only way you could stop feeding from his lust, his greed. It was the only way to make you stop feeding from human souls. And by that, you would not be hunted down for being a demon. Jeonghan would not have to feel remorseful every time he looked at you.

But it was something uncertain. You did not know whether the path to becoming human would even work, or if you would survive it.

“Is there a way to end this?” Jeonghan asked, his heart stammering painfully in his chest.

“End what?” you asked slowly.

He blinked for a long second, gathering his strength. “Is there a way to break the bond?”

The question robbed you of air, and Jeonghan could see it in your gentle exhale. Your eyes glinting with sorrow, wide and looking at his face as though you had trouble assimilating his words.

“You-you want to break the bond?” you asked, stuttering under an overwhelming pain.

“Is it possible?” he pressed, breathing hard, trying to shake off the numbing pain in his heart.

“N-no, I don’t know,” you sucked in a breath, which he understood to be a sob. “D-do you want to break it, Jeonghan?”

“If it means we’re free from each other then yes,” he whispered, hating the look in your eyes with a passion that he could not stand. He was causing that pain and in turn, he felt it too.

But maybe what you felt for each other was not real. Maybe once the bond is broken, you would realize that what you felt for him was all a farce, he thought.

You rubbed the pads of your fingers against the corner of your eye. “M-maybe,” you mumbled. “But I don’t think so. One of us would have to die, I think,” you spoke with uncertainty because you were sure that the bond would not be broken, not even then.

“You don’t know if your way of becoming human will work,” he mumbled, trying to reason with you. But the truth was, he felt guilty for making you cry.

And you could feel the guilt, it swarmed around him like an angry cloud.

“I know one thing,” you raised your eyes, heedlessly showing him how affected you were by this. “I wouldn’t have to feel how fucking miserable you are when you’re with me,” you spat.

Jeonghan went still, as though petrified. The only thing that moved in him was his gaze, heavy with a dangerous darkness, it coasted over the features of your face. “Is that what you think I am? Miserable?”

“No, Jeonghan, I know it,” you replied with a shaky tone. “I can feel it in you. When you look at me when you touch me.”

He yanked his gaze from you, running a hand on his face while blinking his anger away rapidly. “You don’t know shit,” he hissed at you, motioning to turn his back on you but quickly decided against it.

“Oh, yeah?” you taunted.

“Yeah, you don’t know shit,” he doubled down, his voice raw. “You think that because you can sense what I feel it means that it’s all because of you,” he spat, taking a step closer to you but you raised a hand, trying to stop him, but he insisted, grabbing your hands to stop you instead.

“Then what is it?” you pressed.

“Ever since I met you nothing has made sense in my life,” he hissed, leaning over you. “I hate myself,” he shuddered, swallowing hard. “I hate myself because even if you were human, I wouldn’t have anything to offer you. I can’t even say that I’m sorry because it’s the truth. I can’t give you what you want.”

You looked at him in plain shock. It was such a shame that the only person in the world who saw you for who you were still rejected you. The pain from that realization shook you hard, so hard in fact that you physically recoiled from him, closing your eyes to let your tears go.

Jeonghan watched your tears roll down your cheeks, the silence in the room broken by the occasional intake of breath coming from you. But he stood there, silently cursing life and its way of making fun of him. He was raised to not want anything in life. Not shelter, nor warmth. His sad world, cold as ice and hard as stone. He would have followed this path blindly until the day of his untimely death.

But the truth was, he did want one thing in life. He wanted you. And it was killing him not to admit that.

“I…” you croaked, opening your eyes after a long second. A gaping hole in your heart tried to suck you in. “I thank you for the clothes, Jeonghan,” you said dejectedly, turning away from him and walking towards the door.

Jeonghan stared at the wall in front of him, your arm brushing his as you passed him by. His mind reeled wildly, considering what he went through the last time you walked away from him. “Where do you think you’re going?” he blurted.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Like hell it is,” he said, grabbing your arm before you could reach for the doorknob. You sent him another one of those looks, a dangerous animal realizing it had been caught. “You’re not safe out there.”

“Like you give a shit,” you said, pushing him away with one hand on his chest.

But he grabbed that hand, pulling you to his frame with a sharp tug. “Yeah, what do you even know about me?” he challenged, his words cold. “I wouldn’t be protecting you, chasing you if I didn’t give a shit about you.”

“I would prefer that you didn’t,” you bit back.

“That’s not true,” he said, but his tone rose in desperation. He released your arm, fear crossing his features when he realized that if you walked, he would have to let you go.

“You have a very weird way to show that you care, Jeonghan,” you mumbled, understanding where that fear came from. Because all this time, you accepted the turbulence in his thoughts, in his soul. If you decided to go, he would let you.

The heavy darkness in his gaze dissolved as the features of his face relaxed. The gentle resignation swept over him, reminding you how hard it was for him to even comprehend what the bond was.

Jeonghan had two ways to show his emotions, either through carnal desire or brute force. One of them was the one that was unleashed in the vicious cycle he had with you.

But you welcomed it all the same. He took one step towards you, reaching for you as though fearful you might step away. His hand found the side of your head, the other sliding on your waist, gripping you gently before his lips met yours.

The kiss was slow, tentative at first, showing you an apologetic need to you. But you were still to fueled up from the argument, finding his bare chest with your hands to push him off you.

Jeonghan looked sad for a second, but he quickly understood that you were angry, and looking to make him pay. You pushed him again, more forcefully, but he was stronger than you, stepping towards you like a magnet that refused to keep away from you.

His hands returned to their previous positions, as you found his shoulder with one hand, his nape with the other, welcoming him with a vehement kiss. He groaned under your touch, revelling at the fact that you were kissing him even though you were being harsh with it.

Jeonghan broke the kiss abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, the turbulence inside him dying down, like smothering a fire.

“You should be sorry,” you mumbled on his lips, diving for another hungry kiss before pushing him by the shoulders, and shoving him onto the couch behind him. He sat down, gasping in surprise at the brute force you used on him. A wolfish grin appeared on his lips when you walked over to him, sitting down on his lap, straddling him.

His hands welcomed you, grabbing you by the waist to give you a squeeze. He thought of all the nights he has had the opportunity to be like this with you, and the nights he wished he had never let you go. “I don’t want to break it,” he confessed, tilting his head back to meet your eyes. “The bond. I don’t want to break it,” he repeated.

“Then why did you say…?”

“What if what we feel for each other isn’t real?” he blurted the tight feeling inside him protesting in pain when he spoke those words.

You smiled at him sweetly, making him feel worse. “What do you feel for me, Jeonghan?” you baited.

He swallowed hard, instead of communicating with words, he carefully brought a hand to cup your cheek, his fingers caressing your skin in the process. He pulled your face closer to his, eyeing your lips and then your eyes before giving you a sweet kiss. You reciprocated the kiss, outlining his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, slowly meeting his.

“Do you think all people with bonds feel this for each other, Jeonghan?” you mused. When he was unable to speak out an answer, you continued. “I think the bond only helped us find each other. The rest just happened on its own.”

Jeonghan listened to your words intently, his gaze coasting the features of your face. You’re your eyes, to your mouth and back again. His fingers grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, tugging it up your torso.

You raised your hands, helping him take your t-shirt off. He sighed, his hands returning to hold you, caressing your naked back freely, his breath fanning on the plain of your breasts when he leaned over to plant a kiss on your skin.

You raked his hair with your fingers, getting rid of the hair tie holding his ponytail, making him groan as your fingernails caressed his scalp. His lips reached the swell of one of your breasts, planting wet kisses, enjoying the way you always responded to his touch; your skin prickling in the wake of his lips.

He encircled his arms around your waist, using his strength to trade the positions of your body, placing your body on the sofa, him crawling on top of you. Then he kissed you, he kissed you with such force that you thought you might break. It was electrifying to have his lips on yours, him moaning your name in between kisses.

Your hands explored his chest, fingertips lingering on his scars, his nipples, his bellybutton. You undid the button of his jeans, tucking your hands between his underwear and his ass, feeling his skin freely as you pushed his jeans and boxers down.

Once he was completely bare, and on top of you, he took his turn taking your shorts and underwear off. He did so without wasting time, effectively leaving you bare on the couch, and under his body.

He leaned over you, placing a hand beside your shoulder to prop his weight on it, lowering the lower half of his body on you. His skin was warm, you could feel everything, the beating of his heart, the soft pubic hairs brushing your skin. He was hard already, his cock pressing on your lower tummy.

There was a pause, as soon as your naked bodies came into contact with each other, something came alight inside you. You knew Jeonghan felt it too, because his reaction was the same as yours. Like sparks firing wildly inside your chest, lingering on your skin, robbing you of air.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered shakily, trying to hold onto the feeling fluttering in your chest.

“I know,” he breathed, leaning so he could give soft pecks to your lips. “I know, baby.”

You sighed a moan, it sounding pathetic as you let him adore your skin. He continued kissing you, your lips, your earlobe, your throat. He hummed softly when he breathed in the scent of your skin when he tasted you on his tongue as he licked your breasts.

You sucked in a breath, caressing his hair as he took one of your nipples in his mouth. “Fuck,” you whispered.

But he was in a hurry, trailing down your torso with soft, open-mouthed kisses. You moaned, trembling under him as he inched closer and closer to where you needed him the most. Jeonghan knew you better than anyone else on earth, sometimes, you thought he knew your body better than yourself.

“Shit,” you hissed, clenching your jaw as he kissed your mound, pressing his tongue on you’re your skin with a raspy moan on his part. You parted your legs for him, allowing him to lick a broad stripe between your pussy lips, blissfully drinking you in.

The room was flooded with a series of sweet, airy moans from your part. You called out his name multiple times as he ate you out, licking your pussy with soft smacking sounds and low hums. All you could focus on was his tongue on you, gliding on your folds, teasing your clit with flitting motions.

His hands cupped your breasts, the pads of his thumbs swirling around your nipples, pinching softly to bring out more sweet noises from your mouth. You writhed uncontrollably on the sofa, keeping your hands on the back of his head to try and anchor yourself to enjoy his mouth pleasuring your pussy.

But as you drew nearer to your release, you could not just hold out any longer, pressing your hands on the back of his head and pushing your hips to grind your pussy on his tongue. Your mouth parted. “Jeonghan,” you whined, feeling his mouth relax, letting you ride him.

Moving your hips faster on his mouth, you felt his hands squeezing your tits gently, his thumbs teasing your nipples, pushing you to the edge. You closed your eyes as your sweet, sweet release washed over you, sizzling beneath your skin.

Your muscles went lax on the sofa, moaning out his name repeatedly as you felt like dissolving in the aftershocks of your orgasm. But you decided against it in a second, grabbing Jeonghan by the shoulders and urging him to sit back on the sofa.

“What–,”

“Let me ride you,” you mumbled, cutting in before he could protest.

Jeonghan nodded obediently, and you took one whole second to comprehend that he was just letting you do whatever you wanted to him. No complaints, no snarky comments.

You straddled him, grabbing his cock with one hand and jerking him off a few times just to see the muscles of his face go soft. You smiled, shifting on top of him so you could guide the tip of his cock to your pussy, sinking in him slowly. “Gods,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me,” you said softly, holding his chin with one hand. You lifted your hips slightly, letting them roll on him as you sat back down, eliciting a short groan from him. “That’s it, baby. Feel me. Do you like that?”

Jeonghan blinked slowly, pushing his tongue on his bottom lip before nodding.

“Words, Jeonghan, use them.”

He obediently kept his gaze on you, like you were the moon, and he was looking at you for the first time in ages. “I love it,” he replied with a strangled tone. “I love your pussy. I love how it feels around me.”

Jeonghan dropped his head back on the headrest of the couch, swallowing his moans, his fingers clenching around your hips. “I love your taste too,” he choked out, much as if he needed to say it but barely found the strength to do so, enraptured by pleasure.

One of the corners of your lips curled slowly as you rolled your hips on him, inch by inch, tortuously slow. “Oh, yeah?” you breathed, closing your eyes briefly to savour the feeling of his worshipping washing over you, making your blood dance under your skin.

“Yes,” he hissed out the word and now you knew he was trying to resist himself. “I miss your smell when you’re not near me. Drives me crazy.”

You giggled quietly, knowing that he was letting go of his deepest thoughts.

His fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave marks. You opened your eyes, seeing the strain in his voice reflecting on his face, his teary eyes coasting all over your body. “Le-let me come, please. I needed you so much, baby. I don’t think I’ll last any longer.”

You held onto his lean shoulders to lift your hips off him, his wet cock slipping out of your walls and leaning to one side on his lower abdomen, the tip was reddened, a vein tracing on his wet shaft.

Jeonghan groaned, closing his eyes tightly to let out a shaky sigh. “Please,” he sighed. “I want to come inside you,” he said but did not make a move to slip his cock back into your cunt.

“Say you’re sorry,” you murmured.

And there it was, the hole in your chest opening once again, sucking you back in.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not wasting a second, he said again, “I’m sorry, I let you go.”

You showed him an empty smile, which you pressed onto his lips, grabbing his chin again. “Don’t let me go again,” you pleaded but masked your words to sound sweet, not letting it show that his apology, though forced out of the need for release, was making you feel pain.

Jeonghan returned the light smile, though he was genuine with it. “Never,” he whispered, wrapping an arm on your lower back to keep you in balance as you sank down on his cock again, making him shudder in pleasure. “I promise.”

“Jeonghan–,” you gasped, pausing the sway of your hips on him to look at him perplexedly. “Don’t make promises, you’ll–,”

“I promise I won’t walk away from you,” he said, his dark eyes coasting all over the features of your face.

You closed your eyes, shuddering hard at the tingling rush of blood swimming in your veins; the bond tightening due to the force of the promise setting. “Jeonghan, don’t,” you whispered in plea.

Stopping the movement of your hips completely, you hugged his shoulders, trailing the hair of his nape with your fingers. You breathed raggedly, just as he was by the weight of a new promise binding you both.

“I want this,” he whispered shakily. “Let me.”

“You don’t know what this means for you,” you warned, a violent shudder shaking your body on top of him.

He hugged you tightly to his body as if shielding you from the world. “I do, and I want it,” he reassured.

“Jeonghan…”

But he just went on, “Like you said, we’re meant to be, we’ve always have been,” he said with a low raspy tone, blinking in an enamoured way at you. “And I am sorry it took me so long to accept it. I’m sorry.”

A sob coiled in your throat, fingers curling around the long strands of his dark hair. “I forgive you,” you whispered, daring to give him a shy kiss.

Jeonghan trembled underneath you, reciprocating your kiss with so much delicacy that it could break your heart. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

You stilled completely, your breath coiling in your throat. “Me too,” you finally confessed.

“It’s okay, baby,” he breathed, moving his arms so he no longer wrapped your body in them, but his hands gripped your hips, urging you to retake the motion that he so desperately needed.

So you did, swaying your hips on top of him, moaning sweetly when his hands roved all over your back, caressing your skin, his fingers trailing on the spot he knew your wings grew. You shuddered hard, sinking on his length with more urgency. “Jeonghan,” you moaned, crushing your mouth on him.

Jeonghan hummed in response, smiling at you when you broke the kiss off to see his face. The smile was of genuine bliss, mixed with the pleasure of being so utterly yours, forever. It was something similar to insanity what he felt, but he was aware of it, giving himself into it. “I love you,” he drawled lazily, his eyes glazing over the image of you on top of him.

“J-jeonghan,” you forced out, a euphoric wave swarming inside you, better than anything you had ever felt in your life.

And he felt it too, consuming him in fiery waves. “I love you,” he repeated, enjoying the feeling sizzling beneath his skin, lingering on the muscles of his face.

“F-fuck,” you grabbed onto the headrest of the couch, your fingers ripping into the fabric. “Please–,” you choked out, slamming your hips down on him, moaning out loudly as another orgasm hit you hard.

Jeonghan did not love you. Not like in fairy tales, or romance movies. But he was not lying either, you could feel the genuine calm of his realization as he drawled the words out. He could no longer resist it, nor keep the feeling to himself any further. Jeonghan did not love you, he was worshipping you wholly.

It was rapturing, if it was not before. You came on top of him, loudly, walls clamping around him, making him moan with you. His hands held your hips, urging him to keep moving them so he could also reach his high with you.

But the only thing he needed was to sneak a glance up your face, tears of pleasure brimming in your eyes as your orgasm shook hard inside you. That tipped him over the edge, pushing his hips up so he could spill himself deep inside your walls with a loud, raspy groan that resounded across the room.

“Jeonghan,” you kept moaning his name, hiding your face on the curve of his neck. Your breath fanning on his skin forced out a shudder that made you smile.

He responded with a smile of his own, but his was lazy, drunk over the euphoria coursing through you, the same that coursed through his. “I love you,” he whispered again, clutching your hips gently, moving his hands to your thighs.

Ever since you met him, his lust and need for you have been making you stronger. But now, the near maddening love that brimmed for you drove you to feel so full that you seemed to glow. You stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, breathing hard. He was still inside your body, relishing in the warmth, the wetness, the blissful look in your eyes.

Your hand slid beneath his chin, leaning towards him to prop a featherlight on his lips. “I love you too,” you breathed, feeling like a child who felt pure joy for the first time.

He cursed under his breath, his hands roaming all over your skin as you littered his face with kisses, trailing down to his neck where you sucked his skin into your mouth, marking red spots all over him. He chuckled lazily. “Ready for round three?”

“Mmn, I think I’ll pass out,” you said, giggling at yourself.

“Tired already?” he asked, searching your face with his gaze.

“It’s just…” you sighed, catching your breath but your heart stammered in your chest. “I didn’t expect this.”

“Didn’t you, really? Was it too much?” he hummed bringing his hands to cup your cheeks.

You shook your head slightly, pressing a palm to the back of his hand. “So is this your way to tell me you want this?” you asked.

Jeonghan went still for a second, his gaze lingering on the features of your face illuminated only by the warm light of the lamp. “The odds will be against us,” he said.

“Well I’m willing to bet on us,” you said with a light smirk. “Are you?”

Jeonghan nodded, the avid look in his eyes not quite brushing off. “I’m tired of running from this,” he slipped a hand on your nape, pulling you to a quick kiss. “I want you. I want it to be you and me, as we’re destined to be.”

You drew in a shaky breath, reciprocating the featherlight kiss. “Okay,” you whispered. “Then it’s us.”

“I want nothing more, baby,” Jeonghan said.

You bumped the tip of your nose with his gently, eyeing him. “What about what you said? About not being able to be with me?”

“I don’t care. I’ll quit that life. I’ll stop hunting,” he muttered.

“And then what?” you mused.

“I can adapt quickly,” he replied, and you chuckled. “I’ll take up a boring human job, we could find somewhere to live in a small town. You’re not the only one who can blend in the human world, you know?”

Okay, you breathed, the glint in your eye told him that you were happy. It was the first time he saw that in you, the first time he had been the cause of that glint.

So he kept going. “I can take you to dates, take you to those fairgrounds, do normal boring shit humans do,” he muttered faintly, closing his lips on yours.

“You would do that, Jeonghan?” you asked softly, pulling back to see his face. “I mean, you would quit everything?”

“To be with you, I would.”

You leaned your face forward again, pressing your forehead with his. “I love you,” you mumbled, brushing his lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

Jeonghan shuddered gently, but everything inside him came alight with the strength of a thousand suns. Now, if he knew whether a demon could be capable of loving or not was beyond his lucidity at the moment. You were only capable of feeling such things after you first attempted to become human. So the concept of love was as new to you as it was to him.

“I love you,” he whispered back.

“Can we go to bed?” you asked sheepishly, fighting off the urge to nestle in his warmth, to press your nose against the crook of his neck. “I’m ready to pass out.”

“Let’s go to bed,” he replied, noticing the languor in your eyes, blinking slowly.

That was the first time Jeonghan held you through the night without wondering what the morning would bring. For the first time in knowing you, he did not feel guilty for nestling in your warmth.

He stared at your face as you both shared the bed. You were lying on your tummy, one arm draped over him, your head lying on his chest, sleeping soundly in his arms. He languidly brought the pads of his fingers to draw circles on your shoulder, earning soft hums and sighs from you.

He had never felt this happy.

The following morning, you were skipping town again. Jeonghan had woken up with the idea of searching for a town to settle down for a while, and in the meantime, you and him would start planning.

You were returning to the bedroom, draped in a bath towel, your hair damp as you watched Jeonghan grabbing your clothes and his from the night before. He was dressed already, clad in black clothes: jeans, boots, a sleeveless tank top and a zipper hoodie.

Jeonghan approached you to drop a featherlight kiss on your lips. “I’ll go downstairs to return the key,” he informed you. “See you in the parking lot.”

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered, closing your eyes to enjoy the light kisses he left on your face before he stepped back.

“Don’t take too long,” he advised, reluctant to step away from you. So much so that he came back, taking two steps towards you just so he could kiss you quickly, eliciting a joyful laugh out of you.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” you replied, watching him leave the room finally.

Jeonghan sucked in a breath, shuddering from the cold air receiving him as he went down the stairs. First, he crossed the parking lot in front of the motel, opening the door to his car to leave your bag on the passenger seat. Closing the door, he walked back to the front desk where he rang the buzzer, propping his elbows on the high top and waited.

He felt you before you could even make it to him, drawing a smile on his face when you hugged him from behind. “Go to the car, I’ll be there in a minute,” he mumbled, turning over his shoulder to see your face.

You showed him a playful smile, standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Don’t take too long,” you whispered, turning away to cross the parking lot to where his car was parked.

He rang the buzzer again, tapping his fingers impatiently. He looked around, but no one was to be seen or heard around the place. In fact, it was too quiet for a Friday night in a motel. Something’s not right, he thought, leaning over the desk, only to discover that there were no personal items, nothing to indicate that anyone was working in the place.

He focused his hearing, the noise coming from the ice machine making it harder to find another sign of life around him. But the fact was, there was no one else around. His heart sunk to his stomach.

“Jeonghan?” you called, worry echoing in your voice.

He turned around, facing the parking lot. It was too late. “Run!” Jeonghan bellowed from the opposite side, starting to run towards you as two hunters emerged from the thicket of trees, grabbing you. One of them seized you with his arms, while the other brought his fist to the center of your face, knocking you out on the spot.

He would have been able to reach you, but another hunter got to him first, knocking him to the hard ground, making it impossible for him to fight back, or to stop the hunter from getting his car keys out of his pocket.

So he watched as you were shoved into the trunk of his own car, and the two hunters who had grabbed him got into it and drove away, leaving him with another hunter to fight against. And you, being taken from him.

› author's note: heyoooooo

this has been such a ride huh. i never expected my short drabble to turn into series but i guess i should've known better lol

stay tuned for more!

!! PART FOUR !!

toodles

support me on ko-fi?

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witchwhodoesvoodoos · 2 years ago

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one great detail i absolutely love about nimona is that when ballister and nimona were up against a batallion of soldiers, they fucking decked them without breaking a sweat especially ballister like have you seen his moves? if i were up against him i would've dug a grave of my own cause there's no way in hell im fighting a guy who can wave a sword like a dance ribbon that man is a beast who the fuck would try and headbutt a soldier wearing a literal metal helmet and shakes it off like it's nothing????? no concussion???? blunt trauma????? he had proved time and again why he's on top of his class and im not even surprised ambrosius was the only one who can keep up with him (couple goals fr)

#also kudos to my little gremlin nimona #gotta appreciate her she made a man pee his armor #nimona #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #ballister x ambrosius #nimona movie

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hender-ka · 1 year ago

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bewitched me I Bridgerton!Javier Peña x curvy female!reader (teaser)

Summary: After your husband died two years ago, you must return to London to introduce your younger sister to society. It is your duty to fulfill. The situation changes for you the moment you meet an arrogant and stoic lord with an infamous reputation. A man you despised from the start, Javier Peña. You are not willing to play his game and you are trying to get rid of him at all costs. However, he is persistent and stubborn. But so are you. Then, at the worst possible moment, you find out that the man you hated the most is the man you need the most.

Word count: this is just a teaser

Pairing: Bridgerton!Javier Peña x curvy female!reader, enemies to lovers

Time period: Regency England (1815)

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) Well there will be a lot by the time..., English is NOT my first language, future SMUT, age gap (you: late 20s, Javier: late 30s/early 40s, it is up to you), mention of death and suicide, blood, mental illness, body image (curves, stretch marks, hips, a lot of it), alcohol consumption, dirty talk, size kink, scent kink (hello, Anthony), Javier is quite feral for you and you don't give af, body hair (because hey, we are in 1815, ladies), period, cursing, racism, inaccurate history and more

A/N: Hello loves! I am so happy I finally managed to write something. Maybe it's a weird combination, but I wanted to use Javier and set him in the Regency Era. Because him as a Lord Peña? Boy... So thank you very much Pedro for your slutty SAG awards outfit. This story is my first overall in English, so please be patient. English is NOT my first language and it gives me hell sometimes. The story is only inspired by Bridgerton and Pride and Prejudice, characters from the original works do not appear here, except for The Queen (probably). All characters are created by me. It is not a super original plot, but hey... Also, I'm not British and knowing your titles, rules, etiquette of the time is quite challenging, but I'm trying. So this story will definitely be HISTORICALLY INACCURATE. This is just a teaser. The first part will be out next week. Love you all ❤️

Javier laughed, of course he wanted, he was more than eager to hear more about those nightgowns that you would be wearing. The fact that it would be you wearing them was sending shivers down his spine.

"Please. Tell me,“ he whispered as he spoke, leaning forwards slightly and smiling. He wanted to hear more details.

His head was slightly tilted to the side and he looked adorable. You smiled and walked away with him. "They are white, of course. Some of them have delicate ribbons that tie them together at the sides. So easy to untangle," you spoke slowly and quietly. Your eyes never left his.

"Some of them are simple, easy to pull over the head. But two of them are special. Let's just say they are a little see-through," you whispered your last words, giving him an innocent smile.

Javier was completely entranced in the description that you were delivering, you knew what you were doing and did it quite well.

"A bit see-through?" he chuckled softly and smiled at you, also blushing delicately. His imagination was only going further and further. Just thinking about these nightgowns was starting to turn him on. He smirked playfully.

You leaned closer to him, so only his ear could hear it. "Suffer," you whispered with a seductive tone...

Tag list: Guys, I hope you will like it 😁❤️!

@storiesforallfandoms @skysmiller @anavatazes @xxreader-writerxx @creepynativekid @asmilinghopelessromantic mermaidgirl30 @titabel

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fareehaandspaniards · 25 days ago

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Little details that I adore

Okay purpose of this and future posts is to share and save for myself some funny details in Yharnam that I wasn't paying attention to

Ribbons! I don't know why but this looks so cute!

This emblem will be absolutely everywhere - on the main gate, on the clock tower, on the altar in Hemwick. I haven't found the texture itself yet on the internet, but maybe Fromsoft game designers created it? I've always loved how painstakingly created the landscape is in BB, doesn't matter are textures reused or not

more emblems

I am so sorry for quality of this one. There's nowhere to look at it except the stairs in front of the "Central Yharnam" lamp. A mysterious offering scene! Generally standard for ancient frescoes, but I wonder who is standing in the center!

The Sir who you can see inside the city sometimes on the random walls. Actually the guy looks knighty. And even Middle Age-ly. Most likely some count from past generations, but I like him so much that I was inspired by him to create an image of Ludwig in the clothes of his homeland.

lovecraftian Old Ones. okay we get it yharnamites worship old guys yay

Some time ago I found an angel statue and a cross in the DLC a while back. Now I see that angels were everywhere. Oh, and look at that distant bas-relief that adorns the bridge of Upper Cathedral Ward. Who are there? Warriors? Nobles? I want to know.

man with a smoking pipe in Gehrman's workshop

#bloodborne #bloodborne screenshots #my screenshots

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leslie057 · 11 months ago

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rating things owned by nancy elizabeth wheeler

because she’s got a lot of little things. mostly they are very cute and strange little things.

starting off strong we have the prettiest tissue box in the world. 9/10, i think if i were sick it would make me feel better to have such a nice tissue box.

i’m fairly certain this is her diary beside it because her diary looks pink in the upside down version of her bedroom. so this is probably it? 11/10, i want to read it so bad. and very sweet pic with mom—7.5/10.

next up these pinstripe pants !! 10/10 i love them so much. oh and the index finger ring is there obviously, 8/10, such a consistent piece of her character.

a ribbon for being the bestest girl ever in the world. 10/10. also the card of cardinals: 6/10, probably just a christmas card or something rather than a symbol of her love for birds. but i still like it.

mr rabbit gets 11/10 for the name alone. and why does he look dead. i love him. he’s me.

descent from xanadu: QUITE LITERALLY 0/10. at first i was SO excited to cheer her on for reading a sex and drugs book at school but as it turns out? bizarre and gross. seems to go heavy on nonconsensual stuff. i snagged a free pdf and command f’d for whore and bitch. lots of results obviously (one use of c*ck crazy bitch…lovely). it seems men in this book say a lot of sexist stuff that the women pretend to hate but love which i can’t imagine is great for a teenage girl to consume. also just not sexy at all.

literally so bad, and this is not the worst of it.

sooo bad. the author was what 70 (??) writing that his female character got clinically DIAGNOSED with being a slut for every guy she comes in contact with. i know options for sexy literature were probably limited at this time but…please go check out something else. i wanna bonk her on the head with this book (paperback) and hug her. you don’t need to read this to be cool and sexually aware. moving on.

on the other side of that, the blondie calendar gives us a sense of the GOOD media she’s consuming!! a 10/10 no questions asked. we don't really get to see many of her hobbies or interests outside of investigation so this is a much appreciated detail.

of course like all good things in life the blondie calendar does get replaced. its replacement is what i will call Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #1 seen in her room in s4. i give it a 4/10 because idk what’s going on really.

and here is a very crunchy screencap of Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #2 from s4 which i will give a 5/10. note the boyfriend typical photography above it, for sure a 10/10.

there is also Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #3 which gets an 8/10 because i like the composition and the piano player. where did she get this and why. interior decoration is her passion.

the sleeping bag and crochet pillow setup. 7/10. would take a cat nap here.

pluto!! 15/10, the best mickey mouse character i would say. i hope her cousin is taking good care of him.

bulletin board 10/10. i love how obvious it is that she has had this up for forever. probably a nice constant in her life.

and my favorite pic up there is this precious one. look at herrr. 5000/10.

her floral weekender bag. 6/10, i like it, but not as much as i like the speedwalk and the toss into the backseat. she was SO ready for her lab takedown road trip.

trapper keeper is a 9/10 because they probably put anything and everything on trapper keepers back in the day and yet still she chose this lovely understated hot air balloon. elegant.

tom cruise poster is 1000000/10 actually. she is so loyal to that man. actually though not a great pic of him all things considered so maybe i give it a 999999/10. (i love it so much because i know for a fact that jonathan byers works proactively to never acknowledge this poster, because he is more mature than that.) (he is not more mature than that, in fact he is a little pouty about mr cruise.)

KITTY FIGURINE. 10/10. i thought it was just in s4 but i found it on her other nightstand in s1. very very adorable. i imagine it is now one of the first things she sees in the morning (well that and her blue telephone: 8/10) which is bizarre and cute. the mixtape drawer gets a 10/10 for reasons that i don’t think i need to get into.

white fingerless gloves! 10/10. so chic for monster hunting.

black fingerless gloves from s4. hmmm 3/10, they're cool i guess but they don’t feel very nancy and the white ones are so much better. especially because you may get the splatter effect of monster blood on them in a battle scenario, which would be badass.

piggybank (with her name on the side). 2/10 unfortunately i don’t like him. he looks at me like i took out his whole pig village and i just need some quarters. also did she paint this herself? in that case, 3/10 for customization lol.

pastel underwear drawer: 10/10. her committment to the hollistic aesthetic and color palette of her room is impressive here. it was a good idea to use this drawer as a deterrence against her little brother and a money hiding place but clearly he has no manners and is a THIEF.

STRIPED SOCKS. 10/10. i realize it's hard to see because she's moving so fast (slow down he is not going anywhere) but they are indeed stripey even though i would have guessed solid white. and wow what good sleeping socks. stripes are just cozier. hope she got lots of sleep in those.

#long post #bedroom analysis #stranger things #nancywheeleredit #character analysis #nancy wheeler #karen wheeler #mike wheeler #stranger things details #jancy #< target audience #jonathan byers #jonathan x nancy #screencaps #ballet slippers necklace coming in part 2

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salamispots · 9 months ago

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@yeetbean hello! Iris Complex is a horror mystery webcomic written by Josh Tierney that I worked on! :0 it's about a girl who wakes up in a field with no memories and has to figure out what the heck is going on. there's worms, a guy who's a smash hit with the guitar, and demon noodle dogs! you can also read the whole thing now on webtoon :O

I got these back to back haHA and yes I have I enjoyed it a lot :'D I loved seeing weird little creatures/speculative biology

@pien-art hullo and awhh thank you! and ooohh nice! and oh man I don't know anything about dyeing haha; I've gotten my yarns from daiso, ebay, etsy, facebook market, local thrift shop, WEBS yarn website (basically lots of different places haha) for the wool strips/sari ribbon I've only gotten them from etsy so far. I tend to try and get yarns that are variegated/multicolor (noro yarn has some really gorgeous multicolor yarn but they can be pretty expensive hence me looking on etsy/ebay people will sell them at a discount sometimes) plus in general you can find a lot of good deals/discounted yarn on etsy

oh! :O congrats on finding me ahaha omg and yeah course! it's up on inprnt over yonder

speaking of rug hooking I stg there was another ask about rug hooking but I might've accidentally deleted it? >:'D apologies. it was something about do I tend to buy multicolored yarns only/how many different types of yarn go into a piece (I think). and yes I tend to get the multicolored/variegated yarns (which I chop up and wind into little balls of the individual colors to make it easier for myself when I do projects haha). as for how many types I honestly wouldn't be able to say ahhsa; the leafy one the main body was pretty much all one type of yarn with some minor details in another yarn while the background was made up of a lot of types but it honestly depends.

#saturday asks #you can't unsend asks right? hdffhgkj #unless my dumbass brain already answered that ask but I don't think so #asks #I was cackling when I was typing out the iris complex blurb mjhg #if you've read it you know

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scivors · 22 days ago

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Do you have any headcanons on teenage Eddie and his relationships? Like the first women he murdered, maybe?

I like the way you realistically portray him compared to everyone else so I was curious x3 Thanks either way!

Well it's definitely been a while!!

Hey guys, sorry for being inactive about writing.

(Here's another head canon about my favourite man)

(massive trigger warning, I, myself, am a feminist. I do not support abuse against women nor men and all I've written here doesn't equal that I'm romanticising abuse and violence towards any victim of emotional, physically, sexual and verbal abuse. Viewer discretion is advised.)

Bonus: the girl is "****" and faceless because this victim hasn't been discovered yet.

The year is 1984 and our Eddie is 18 and he finally met a girly, a fine eye-candy. He was head over heels for this girl named *****.

He bought her flowers, made his first dress specifically for her and put it in a nice gift with a red ribbon.

At 18, he likely wouldn't have fully descended into madness yet. Correct? (Yes, No, he wasn't diagnosed yet so no one knew it nor noticed it at first, the quote "there were no signs" is what they'd always say)

At the age of 18 I can Imagine he’d probably be outwardly charming (yknow how mfs at the time looked like God's favourite angels, yeah, that kind of look) but also with an unsettling undercurrent—the kind of guy who knows how to put on a polite and well-mannered front but has a deeply twisted perception of love and relationships.

We already know Eddie as the over-romanticize old-fashioned ideals, he was always obsessed with the idea of the "perfect wife" even then. At the time, he works at his father’s tailor shop (or a similar job)..

Teenage Eddie Gluskin with a voice that has a mixture of eerily soft-spoken and suddenly intense-like, it's like a mood shifter, one moment he’s a gentleman, offering to carry something for someone, and the next, he’s saying something that makes people uncomfortable but not in an obvious way.

Eddie gluskin who writes obsessive love letters about *****, keeping them all piled up in his little memory box, saving it for the "anniversary".

If he’s in high school, he’s probably the well-dressed guy that teachers like because he’s polite, but students get weird vibes from. He wouldn’t have had the means to act on his darker impulses yet, but they’d definitely be simmering under the surface...But Eddie was planning a special day..

( February 14th 1984) Valentine's Day.

- This month is considered Eddie's month and he decides to celebrate this special moment with none other than his dearest, *****. After high school, he planned the entire day and how it's gonna go with very. specific. detail. Like following a script. From what he'll say to you when he picks you up from your daddy's house, to how he's gonna pour your favourite drink and how he will propose.

Unfortunately, *****, that poor girl wasn't quite comfortable with this sudden approach after getting picked up from her daddy's house. Eddie assured her father that she's in good hands and that he will have her home back at six. Throughout the date, she made little "harmless" jokes on how she didn't wanna settle down yet. This statement hit Eddie like a passing truck.

His gaze lingered towards her, his laugh was almost too polite..

"what do you mean, dear? You're a woman. That's what you're sent here to do..."

*****, still uncomfortable but couldn't bear the risk of showing any kind of weakness, laughed along and nodded her head slowly, but deep down she feels like she's trapped with someone who's not quite right.

(this is someone's life by the way.)

A trip to a fine restaurant and Eddie was pulling a chair for his lady so she could sit down. He asked the waiter if the chef could prepare dessert that carries the name dark-red, a heart shaped mini cake that has the taste of chocolate but also strawberry filling inside.

He's serious when it comes to every. Little. Detail. Would be a damn shame if one thing went wrong.

**** was enjoying the meal he ordered for both of them, Eddie knows just what she likes and dislikes.

4:36 PM

The sun was still shimmering with the sky showing pink and blue with a little yellow tones.., and yet the temperature was a bit mild given that February is still pretty much a cold month.

Nevertheless, Eddie just needs to give her one final touch of his love.

A walk through the Park the evening air was crisp, laced with the scent of damp leaves and distant chimney smoke. The park was quiet at this hour, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting everything in a soft orange glow. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked side by side, his arm barely grazing hers.

Eddie was dressed neatly, as always, a collar buttoned, tie perfectly in place, shoes polished to a shine. He looked like he had stepped out of another time, like he didn’t quite belong among the joggers and couples pushing strollers. He carried himself with a certain pride, but there was something else beneath it too. Something hungry.

"It’s nice, isn’t it, my love?" he said, voice smooth, warm. "Peaceful. Just the two of us."

**** nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah. It’s nice."

She felt his eyes on her, studying, searching. He had been watching her all night—not in an obvious way, but in a way that made the air feel thicker, made her skin prickle like something wasn’t quite right.

They both finally sat on a nearby bench, a gentle wind stirred the trees, leaves rusting like whispers. The lamppost flickers on, stretching long shadows across the pavement. It's one of those days where the sun sets down very quickly.

Eddie looked at ****, tempting but also nervous, he pulled out a gift out of a paper bag that he's been carrying with him throughout the entire time he's been with her.

"I got you something, darling."

He pulled out his memory box, it's a bit worn out but it's holding itself pretty well.

Her stomach twisted.

She opened the box carefully, and inside there was a pile of folded letters, dry rose petals and a picture frame with her picture in it.

Eddie had a twisted smile the entire time he was looking at her. He can genuinely feel his heart pounding when he was certain it's all gonna end well for the both of them.

"it's all the moments I've written down in a poem just by being next to you makes me enter this world of fresh air and warmth, my love, read every last one of them.., read how much you mean to me.."

Page after page, filled with devotion so intense it made her stomach turn. Her hands shook as she was devastated to discover that some were dated before they had even met.... Her pulse hammered in her ears when she finally looked up. Eddie was watching her. Smiling.

"This is… a lot, Eddie"

Eddie was confused and definitely not happy with the response "a lot? That's all you have to say after I've poured my heart to you??.." that honey-like-tone was no longer present and that look in his eyes shouldn't tell her twice to get out of there..

"I...just can't process all of this at once, Eddie, I apologise but-"

"- But what." He cut her off like he knew where she was going with this.

"......." A moment of silence brushes through her trying to keep both calm and structured while secretly battling a battle between her anxiety and paranoia that triggers a flight or fight response.

She slowly yet surely closed the box and sat up

"I just don't think we should carry on with this relationship any further, this is moving too fast for me.."

He stood up too fast, the man she once knew took off his mask and dropped this romantic persona and over-the-top-charming appearance. It was NOT supposed to end this way.. He lowered his head with sheer disappointment, all the efforts, all the time wasted...He lifted his head up to look back at ***** again, one last time.

" And here I thought you were different."

Then, everything happened so fast for her. He used all his force with one hand to grab her by the throat and swiftly pick her up with no hesitation nor struggle. She dropped the present, it caught her by surprise that her own two feet are no longer touching the ground below her. ***** hands are busy trying to use all her power and strength to set herself free from his iron grip..

"I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart, but you’re making this very difficult. So please, don't make this more difficult than it has to be"

His voice was still soft, still careful like he was scolding a misbehaving child. She clawed at his grip, kicking out, but he wasn’t letting go. While remaining focused looking into her eyes, one hand that wasn't busy reached for the pocket of his pants and pulled out a long, sharp and slender blade honed to a razor's edge. The handle was smooth, fitted for a firm grip, darkened with sweat and time. It was wooden, aged and polished from use, or maybe perhaps wrapped in leather, molded perfectly to the shape of a hand that had held it far too often.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, my love.."

Her feet kicked uselessly, scraping at the air, her hands clawing at his wrist as his fingers tightened like a steel vice around her throat. The world blurred at the edges, her lungs burning, legs thrashing for purchase that wasn’t there.

Eddie watched her struggle with something almost loving in his eyes, his lips parting in a soft sigh.

"Shh, sweetheart… don’t fight it."

He aimed the knife towards her stomach and he was sloppy with it, it was the first stab.

The knife plunged into her stomach, sharp, quick, brutal. A sickening shhk of steel splitting flesh. Her body lurched, a strangled gasp ripping from her throat, but he didn’t stop.

Another stab. Then another.

Her muscles convulsed with each thrust, her blood slicking his fingers, warm and thick. She felt the blade carve through her insides, tearing through tissue, through veins, through her.

He wasn’t gentle and he sure as hell wasn’t slow.

Eddie drove the knife into her over and over, relentless, feverish. Each thrust sent a fresh jolt of agony rippling through her body, her vision flashing white as her strength drained out of her faster than she could process.

Her head lolled back, her body growing limp in his grasp, but he still wasn’t done.

"whore" he murmured, breathless, almost reverent. Another stab. "You and all the other sluts deserve to be put in your place.." Another. "You should’ve loved me. I would've loved you always.."

The final thrust into her bladder sank deep, so deep..Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Just a wet, shuddering breath, a death rattle..Eddie finally let her go, letting her crumple to the ground in a broken heap. Blood pooled beneath her, soaking the dirt, staining his shoes. He decided to throw her into a nearby river near the park, leaving her body to be discovered by strangers walking by.

#outlast #eddie gluskin #outlast whistleblower #outlast 2 #eddie gluskin headcannons #eddie gluskin x reader #outlast eddie #eddie gluskin outlast #outlast headcanons #outlast fandom #outlast fanfiction

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peskellence · 2 months ago

Text

have your cake and eat it

Explicit content (18+)

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: M/M, Birthday Sex, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Multiple Positions, Dom/Sub Undertones.

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: When Nines returns home early from a birthday outing with Connor, he finds himself in the midst of Gavin’s chaotic attempt at a surprise. Can they salvage this recipe for disaster—or will it lead to something sweeter?

(Originally written as a birthday gift for my beloved @faxaway)

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

The lights were on when Nines arrived home, but there was no sign of anyone in the apartment.

Gavin was missing from his usual spot: reclined on the couch, aimlessly flicking through channels and periodically lamenting how terrible daytime TV was—the established ritual on his days off. Instead, the only occupant on the seat was their cat. A cantankerous mass of whiskers and fur, who was currently reasonably content. Curled into a ball, sleeping soundly atop a loosely folded throw blanket.

Their bedroom would have been the next logical search point, but this proved unnecessary. The door was ajar, and the space beyond was visibly empty, with no detectable vital signs.

“Gavin?” Nines called out, setting down the package he had tucked beneath his arm. A brightly wrapped, ribbon bound box he had received from Connor. “Are you home?”

There was no answer, although the android refrained from premature concerns. It was possible that Gavin had gone outside briefly, either to smoke or remove their trash. The cans had been overflowing for several days, but every time he moved to empty them himself, he had been met with vehement protests that his partner would “do it later.”

Perhaps the elusive ‘later’ had finally arrived. The apartment certainly looked tidier. A vacuum had been run over the carpets with modest effectiveness, and the coffee table, previously littered with debris, was now cleared.

Replacing the mess was a vase, moved from the windowsill to be placed in central focus. Nines had insisted they keep it during their last downsizing effort, admiring how the marbled glass caught against the light.

Gavin had criticised this choice. Claiming they weren’t ‘flower guys’ and calling it useless. Despite this, the narrow lip spilt over with a vibrant bouquet. Velvety petals cast shadows onto the table, as well as a small blue envelope tucked beneath the base.

His name was penned across it in a familiar, wide-lettered scrawl. Nines approached carefully, sitting on the edge of the couch cushions, mindful not to disturb their slumbering pet.

He pinched the corner of the envelope, gently freeing it from beneath the anchor. The contents were soon revealed as a folded sheet of card—edges raised with gold piping, framing a floral watercolour wreath in the shape of a heart.

There was a cursive inscription in the centre, which read:

To A Wonderful Grandmother On her Birthday

Unfolding it, Nines found a script more similar to that of the envelope. The letters grew smaller the further they descended, as if the penman realised too late he was running out of space.

This was the only birthday card they had in the store. It was this or Deepest Sympathies. Be grateful.

I’m bad with sappy stuff, so I’m not going to go on about how today’s special just because it’s your birthday—or whatever we're calling it.

But I will say thank you to Cyberlife for building my literal dream man in the form of a 6’2” Terminator knock-off.

Hope you have a good day. Love you.

Gavin

Nines smiled fondly, scanning the uneven letters, brushing his fingers across them several times—committing each jagged tracing and hastily-corrected spelling error in meticulous detail to his memory banks.

Then, he noticed the small, compressed addition in the corner of the page. So densely packed he had initially mistaken it for an ink smudge.

P.S. Hope the cake doesn't taste shit.

> Cake?

Suddenly, a crash could be heard coming from the direction of the kitchen. A harsh collision of metal pans colliding against tiles, followed by an equally sharp expletive.

“Shit—!”

With his boyfriend located, the android set down the card, standing up with much greater urgency than he had sat. The cat beside him was not impressed. She grumbled as the foundation of her makeshift bed was unceremoniously rocked, batting a disgruntled paw towards the culprit.

Apologies would have to wait. For now, Nines was focused on a more pressing directive: ensuring Gavin was uninjured.

As he went to open the kitchen door, something jammed under the lip, resisting any movement. A firmer press cleared the obstruction, allowing him to proceed inside.

The scene that awaited him was chaos: the aftermath of a cataclysmic nuclear fallout, tangled with the wreckage of a hurricane.

Discarded pans and utensils were strewn across the room in all directions, originating from several drawers that had been left hanging open. Multiple were caked with the charred remnants of an unidentified substance, while others seemingly had been accessed only briefly before being immediately tossed aside.

In the centre of the carnage stood Gavin, unharmed but visibly distressed as he struggled to stir and coordinate the temperatures of numerous pots. His efforts were proving ineffectual, inspiring the prolonged mantra of profanity erupting from his mouth.

“Shit, shit , shit —”

The sequence was interrupted as a silicone spatula slipped from his hold, joining the rest of the debris on the floor. Gavin barely spared it a glance before diving back into his losing battle with the stove.

The smell filling the room was strange. Undeniably foul, but not in a way that seemed consistent with traditional cooking. It was distinctly artificial, like burning acrylic, making it all the more disconcerting when one of the receptacles began to hiss, bubbling over with a viscous blue fluid.

Nines�� sensors flagged the substance as inert—but hazardous if heated further. It was at this point that he chose to step in. Not wishing to undermine his partner's ability to handle the current situation, whatever it was, but concerned about potential splashback.

He approached the man, placing hands gingerly onto his waist before gently guiding him away.

Gavin yelped in response to the contact, a sound more startled than it was annoyed. The reason soon became clear. Earbuds blinked on either side of his head, a heavy drum beat and distorted guitar riff cutting through the plastic. Nines quickly identified the song, belonging to a band he listened to frequently.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

"It is nice to see you too," the android said smoothly, reaching around the man in order to switch off the oven.

Gavin didn’t notice, attention now fixed on the phone discarded on the countertop. He stabbed repeatedly at the screen, which vehemently refused to respond. Unsurprising, given his fingers, much like everything else in the room, were coated in a thick layer of batter.

“No, I just—”

The man paused, grunting in annoyance before begrudgingly conceding the attempt. Instead, he removed the earbuds, ripping them from his person and slamming them down with a dull thud. “I meant, what are you doing back so early? Connor must’ve bored you to tears; I thought you were going to see a movie.” “While I wouldn't say his company was boring,” Nines spoke firmly, but with a playful lilt that indicated no real admonishment, “I declined the invitation.”

The hands, which he had propped loosely on his partner’s waist, gradually crept forward. Fingertips hooked onto his pelvis before guiding it closer.

With their bodies near flush, the android nestled his chin into the stubbled crook of his neck. Breathing in the musky warmth, a gesture that felt instinctive. “It was becoming increasingly difficult, keeping away from you.”

Gavin retched at the sentimentality. Despite this, his body betrayed him. The tension held in his muscles dissolved as subtly, he inched back, closing any lingering gap between them.

There was a slight return to tension as his head fell back and his attention flitted apprehensively to the previously abandoned phone.

The screen was still active—and while extensive smudging meant the majority of contents were hidden, a small margin remained visible at the top. It displayed a navigation interface flanked by the Cyberlife logo:

THIRIUM-BASED CONSUMABLES → CONFECTIONARIES → PREPARATION INSTRUCTIONS.

While this confirmation had not been needed, Gavin still appeared upset by the discovery.

“This was supposed to be a surprise…” he grumbled despondently, a sharp asshole tacked onto the end of the sentence.

“And a lovely surprise it is.”

“Don't lie to me. That’s what moms say when their kids bring them soggy pancakes for breakfast.”

“I can assure you I am being sincere.” The RK delicately traced the raised bone of his hip, intending to comfort him. “The gesture shows a tremendous deal of consideration, for which I am grateful.”

“Yeah, well, ‘the thought’ is about all I've got to show for it.” Gavin threw up his hands, accentuating his dejection with a tense grunt. “It's pretty much all gone to shit…I'm no better with actual baking, I don't think I can save this.”

Nines hummed in consideration, a sound which reverberated against the shoulder now poised at his lips. “Perhaps if we combine our efforts, something can be salvaged.”

His partner didn't agree initially, clearly reluctant to relinquish control. Then, one of the pans started emitting a strange sizzling sound. As though the mixture was still cooking, despite the burner being inactive.

Gentle sizzles soon transitioned into ominous rumbles as the contents rose higher, forming a large bubble. Its surface pressure built, prompting Gavin to take a step back. Then it gave way, releasing a thick torrent of sludge, spilling over in all directions.

The substance, paradoxically both viscous and runny, ran down the counter until it pooled in gelatinous globs at their feet. The man let out a beleaguered sigh. Carding fingers through his hair, inadvertently painting it with streaks of blue.

“Fine. You win.”

The two set to work soon after, with Nines establishing the lead. He scanned his partner's phone, extracting the necessary data from the website URL. A set of instructions descended on his HUD, forming a transparent overlay which guided his next steps.

“The issue here is that the mixture is overactivated.” Nines gestured to one of the neglected pots, an assessment informed by the minimal crusting on its handle.

He reactivated the burner with a swipe of his thumb before shifting the pot into position. Leaning forward, his chest pressed towards Gavin, moulding to the firm contours of his back. Hips followed suit, just enough to brush lightly against his backside.

This contact did not go unnoticed. Gavin bristled under the touch, and the RK900 detected a notable hitch in his respiratory patterns.

He couldn't help but find satisfaction in this—both flattered and faintly amused that such small, fleeting contact could provoke such a response.

Feigning obliviousness, at least for now, he continued to busy himself with his preparation, explaining the process as he did so:

“Adding a thermoconductive compound will allow the mixture to heat evenly.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sifting through the discarded wrappers plastered to the worktop, he was eventually able to locate a small plastic sachet. He opened the seal, dumping the contents into the now simmering concoction. It fizzled on the surface before sinking, lending a vivid pigment to the previously dull blue.

“It needs to be stirred for about ninety seconds to bind everything together. Otherwise, it will fall apart during the baking process.”

“Right.”

The android might as well have been speaking gibberish, as the dull, monosyllabic responses made it clear the human was no longer listening.

His body spoke with greater substance—muscles twitching, responding ardently to their proximity. Blood pumped through swollen veins with notable urgency as his temperature soared, for reasons the RK900 quickly identified had nothing to do with the stovetop. He began to stir, redistributing his weight accordingly as he did so. With every shift in step, Gavin mirrored the sequence. Pushing back against him, meeting the ghosting friction with far more flagrant force.

The salacious dance continued until the android grew daring, dotting delicate kisses along the expanse of his neck, moving upwards until he had reached the shell of his ear.

“You can see now,” his voice was a purr, mumbled low and rich, as he nipped at the sensitive cartilage, “the mixture is thickening; this means the stabiliser has fully blended.”

Bites synced to the stirring before both began to slow—and ceased completely. Nines hummed in satisfaction, ensuring the sound pushed itself through the delicate canal of the human's ear, filling the space, lingering there with the promise of more.

“And that,” the conclusion sliced through the vibrations, causing Gavin to shiver, “is how it's done.”

With the task complete, the man abandoned restraint, eager to claim his prize for having upheld it so long. He pushed back, creating the space needed to reorientate himself. Nines allowed this, smirking coyly as he watched him swivel to meet his gaze.

He did so with a glare, eyes blazing with accusation and unfulfilled need. “You smug mother —”

He never finished the sentence, as Nines sought to resolve these grievances with the firm collision of lips.

Their mouths moved with a ferocity that spoke of pent-up yearning but also familiarity—melding in a seamless, practised rhythm, the result of innumerable passionate encounters.

Nines wanted more, the facade of indifference slipping fast as Gavin arched forward. Rocking their hips together and demonstrating, with no uncertainty, just how excited the prior teasing had made him.

The android gripped the edge of the counter, nails driving like chisels into granite, threatening to break it apart—a risk they could ill afford, given the already tumultuous relationship with their landlord.

Gavin repeated the action with a long, languid roll. It enraptured Nines' senses, consuming his mind and branding each synapse until nothing of his own remained.

He adored it, craved it like nothing else. To claim, and be claimed in return.

The yearning the man inspired in him proved difficult to contain. It was something he was teased about endlessly, through accusations that his libido was permanently unchecked—rendering him unwilling, or incapable—of keeping hands to himself.

A reputation well-maintained; his grip leaving the counter, small chips displaced from beneath his fingernails as he found his partner's body.

There was certainly an element of projection in Gavin's accusations, as he hardly fared better. No more resilient to the call of want. They both relished it, the constant skating between innocent flirtation and a headlong dive into ecstasy.

Their descent was delayed, if only for a second. The man pulled back with a rich chuckle, swollen lips curved into a grin. “So I guess this was the real reason you came home early? Horny bastard.”

Nines captured one of the hands balling into his shirt, pressing it gingerly to his lips, sealed with a tender promise.

"Only for you.”

He planted an equally chaste kiss on the corner of his lips before dipping in, returning to the previous show of passion. Pushing forward, driven by unbridled lust, until his tongue had explored every crevice of the willing mouth.

An appreciative groan rumbled in the man’s throat, vibrating between them with primal resonance. One which only inflamed shared eagerness, as Nines felt hips bucking against him in desperate pleas for attention.

He responded without hesitance, hands sliding to his partner’s waistband before deftly unclasping the belt. The leather fell to the floor, whipping back like a snake before settling into a coil. He kicked it aside, ensuring it would serve no further obstacle.

Gavin was also moved, albeit with greater consideration. Nines cleared the area of other potential hazards, deactivating electronics once again before bracing the man securely against the counter. His feet parted obediently, commanded by a firm kick to his ankles.

For a moment, Nines did nothing. Studying closely, permitting anticipation to build until it coursed in charged pulses between their bodies. Then he advanced, slipping smoothly between the outstretched legs.

Gripping at thighs, which clenched receptively under his hold, the android controlled his descent—dropping to his knees, mouthing the line of an increasingly strained fly. Its zipper was captured between his teeth, pulled with the same fluid precision that had been used on the belt. Clearly, it was a sight that proved utterly mesmerising. Gavin gawped, his breath hitching before he leaned in for closer inspection. “ Jesus Christ. ”

Nimble fingers gripped his pelvis. Digging in and dissuading movement, with the implicit threat that their fun would end were he not willing to respond. The man did so urgently; head snapped back to its original position.

His compliance was rewarded, and his jeans slid down. Following the tensed lines of calves until the fabric gathered in a heap at his heels.

“You’ve been so good to me, so thoughtful.” The praise was punctuated by fluttered kisses on burning skin. Tendons pulled tight as the strained muscle fought to clamp inwards. A reflex scarcely resisted by his partner.

Frustrated grumbles leaked from his lips, only quashed as Nines spoke again. With the same rich tenderness as before. “Let me take care of you. Show you, without any doubt, how grateful I am.” “It’s your birthday, dipshit.” Gavin opposed, albeit with a smug playfulness. “Really, I should be taking care of—” The remaining protest died on his tongue as Nines dipped inwards. Skimming thin cotton boxers caressing the man’s concealed hardness with targeted puffs of breath.

Gavin whined—a sound that rolled organically into a moan—as the clothed length was claimed. Caressed with practised skill, in conjunction with tongue and teeth. The latter was used sparingly, with just the right amount of pressure to goad responses from delicate nerves.

Nines expelled any pocketed air in his cheeks. Staring up at his partner, continuing to work him through the boxers. He was captivated by the wanton pants, the involuntary contortions of the man's face. Each gripped by pronounced tension, brought to break when cool lubricant seeped through fibres. Moving until it had struck the searing flesh beneath.

“ Fuck—! ” Gavin hissed, head flung back, as his hand fisted desperately into the back of the android’s scalp. “Nines, please.”

Elaboration was not required. The RK900 drew back, digits hooking beneath the tense elastic of boxers, pulling down in a fluid motion until no barrier remained.

The chill of artificial saliva was quickly negated as rushing heat claimed the hardness. Moving slowly, arduously, tongue swirled across it with painstaking meticulousness. Nines ensured every inch was coated, with nothing left to impede the full brunt of sensation. Only stopping when the tip had struck the back of his throat.

He allowed Gavin to indulge in the silken tightness before slowly pulling back, stopping just shy of the man slipping completely from his mouth. Then he pushed down again. Harder—throat filled with such effortless completion that his partner almost claimed a large clump of his hair.

“Holy shit. ” He arched his back, moving in shallow bucks against the pliant heat. Greedily pursuing more, seeking permission to make full use of his mouth. “You feel amazing.”

Permission was granted in the form of a subtle movement against Gavin’s thigh. Fingers flitted in a neat, circular motion as the android widened his jaw.

Gavin fucked into him with mindless abandon. Unchecked and untamed, in the security that Nines could not be harmed by the callous actions. Both hands held the back of his head, anchoring it in place. All the while, Nines pushed back against his thrusts. Allowing his nose to strike repeatedly against the dip of his pelvis, lost in a nest of tight curls.

“ Shit, god, fuck—”

There was no discernable pace or rhythm—just raw, animalistic need. The RK900 permitted it until the solid grip on his skull started to wane. The body spearing into him trembled precariously, as the room filled with the sounds of increasingly laboured and strangled pants.

Nines identified the flags. Warnings that their enjoyment would end preemptively if he did not re-establish control.

In ensuring his partner would not careen mindlessly and carelessly into completion, the android pulled away. Breaking what loose hold lingered in his hair.

“That is enough.”

Admonishment came with a steely glare as he grabbed one of the man's legs, forcing it to raise. He propped the calf against his shoulder before grazing the expanded canvas of flesh with his teeth. “I don’t want you to come—not yet.”

Gavin whined, but before further protest could emerge, the defiance was penalised.

Nines sunk into him. Firmly, with little restraint, in the knowledge that the action would undoubtedly leave a bruise. He continued further until the skin had almost been breached, and his partner was howling in pain.

The RK relented, if only so he could admire the spoils of his efforts—the deliverance of salacious punishment formed in deep, purpled indents.

“As you said, it is my birthday, and I intend on enjoying my presents for as long as I can. Does that sound like a reasonable request?”

The man said nothing. Trembling and writhing desperately, quivering lips unable to form words.

Nines punished him again, leaving traces wherever he could. The marks of his teeth had become a signature, ensuring there would be no doubt on who, precisely, the man belonged to.

“Answer the question.” “Yes.” The voice came strangled and broken. Almost like a cry, but with a husky lilt that signalled concealed pleasure. “It’s reasonable; I just, fuck, I wanna make you feel good…” Nines paused the charge. Instead, planting a soothing kiss against one of the deeper impressions. A gracious reward—appreciation for the obedience.

“So, will you continue behaving while I have my fun?” he questioned. “There's no reason why we can't both enjoy ourselves, provided you choose your next words wisely.”

Gavin swallowed a lump suspended in his throat. Exhaling shakily before nodding his head. “I’ll be good.”

Nines frowned, tutting in performative distaste, as fingertips brushed the bites. Applying pressure to neatly formed lines until they were crosshatched with crescent-shaped grooves.

“‘I'll be good’, and what else?” He challenged, watching intently as his partner squirmed beneath his grip. “You hardly sound convincing.”

Gavin’s eyes widened, anticipative of the impending punishment were he not able to correct his mistake.

Despite this, a mischievous glint passed the startled gaze. Suggesting no real opposition to the threatened consequences, leading the android to suspect he might goad it deliberately.

It was a notion that proved far more exciting than it did irksome, although Nines thought valiantly to conceal this. A performance he knew came to their mutual enjoyment.

Then he stood, returning to his full height. Lauding his impressive stature over his partner, his head tilted challengingly before he reached forward, gripping his jaw possessively.

“If you truly want this, prove it to me.” He squeezed, kneading the bone, punctuating each authoritative syllable that rolled off his tongue. “Because we both know that you can do better than that.”

Gavin paused, lingering introspection colouring his cheeks. The creeping protest of the man he was outside of this, bravado and pride pushed firmly aside in favour of yielding to Nines.

“I’ll be good for you, sir—please. I need this. Need you.”

“Much better.”

The human was manoeuvred once more, twisted like a doll until he was slumped against the counter. His face pressed down, arms sprawled loosely above his head, as his knees bowed under the pressure of increasingly unsteady weight.

Nines slid between them, ensuring his partner wouldn't collapse before being beckoned closer by the tempting slope of his back.

A hand slipped under his shirt, as well as the tie of his apron, exploring the reddened flesh. His synthetic skin unsheathed, sensors awakening to the familiar landscape of scars and moles.

He indulged in each, lost in a spectacle that was unmistakably Gavin. Then he travelled lower, tracing the tender curves that led to his groin.

He stopped just shy of capturing a neglected hardness, much to the chagrin of his partner. Then, fingertips skimmed his entrance, moved with featherlight tenderness, and the man promptly forgot his frustrations.

Gavin grappled to restrain himself, unwilling to give Nines any reason to stop. His hands clenched into fists as he arched further into the counter, hips trembling with the exertion required to keep them still.

“S-Shit.”

After a few more brushes, Nines receded. Reaching up to find Gavin's mouth, hung wanton and panting against the granite. He pried at the lower lip, teasing it with his thumb before increasing pressure, compelling it to sink.

“Suck.” Gavin did as instructed, capturing the digit in a wet seal and pulling it in.

The sounds he made were obscene. Low whimpers and heady groans, the epitome of lustful enthusiasm. He traced the lines of exposed chassis, mapping each groove and notch as though afraid they might disappear.

More fingers were added, the man greeting them with matched ardour. Nines waited until each was sufficiently coated, a metric determined by the feedback triggering synthetic nerves. Then he removed his hand, albeit with reluctance. Struck by immediate yearning for the heat that engulfed him.

The disappointment was fleeting, deferred by his drive to fill the absence. This time, with shared satisfaction. Returning focus to the junction between quivering legs, the RK900 pushed forward. Breaching the seal of the man's entrance with one of his fingers.

Gavin cried out, unable to suppress the call of passion coursing through his veins. He reached weakly for his partner. Imploring him to sink deeper, claiming his body in its entirety. The android denied the appeal. Opposing the motion, refusing to relinquish any modicum of authority. Using his available hand to anchor the man in place, the finger sheathed inside him curled . Striking the top of the delicate walls and dragging across with merciless force. “Just look at how needy you are. Utterly shameless.”

Another curl and Gavin fell apart. Clawing at the grimy foundation holding him upright, whimpering pitifully. Nines delighted in the struggle, enamoured by just how incredible his partner looked like this. So beautifully exposed—and vulnerable—just for him.

“You'll want to be prepared for what I intend to do with you. Now stay still and keep quiet.”

Nines was certain he heard the sharp crack of his jaw as Gavin clamped down on his lips. Teeth pressed firmly into chapped skin, threatening to pierce through.

He began to work him open. Pumping slowly, coaxing tight muscles to yield and relax, until they had adjusted fully to the intrusion. Then, another finger was added, moving in line with the first to stretch him.

They extended their reach, increasing pace until they struck a familiar point deep within the man. One that caused his body to seize and head to roll.

The excursion required to keep silent became more apparent, spilling in large droplets down his temple. Nines struck the point again, fingers formed in a subtle V. Expanding gradually, pulled apart with torturous slowness.

“N-Nines—! ”

The utterance had been accidental, cursed as quickly as it emerged. Gavin winced, his bleary eyes brought to focus, filled with dismay as the android halted. Denying further stimulation and teetering on the brink of detachment.“I thought I told you to stay quiet.” “I know, shit — I’m sorry—wait.” The protests were clumsy and disordered, half-formed in desperation. “I’ll be quiet, I swear. Just, please don’t stop—”

“Why shouldn’t I?” The fingers lingered for a final, excruciating caress before they withdrew. “I think it would be rather entertaining to leave you here. Writhing, whimpering, begging for release that only I can provide.”

“Don’t you dare.” Desperation twisted into anger, the pleading replaced by something sharper, more incensed. “I said I was sorry, you plastic asshole.”

Nines did not receive the insult graciously. His hand shot to Gavin’s scalp, weaving clumps of sweat-soaked hair into a fist before wrenching back.

He leaned down, growling in low vibrations against the taut skin of his neck. Metallic reverberations rippled across it, chasing the frantic beat of a pulse.

“You will be sorry; I’ll make sure of that.”

His slacks were removed, practically torn from his body in a fervent motion. Underwear followed suit, with both garments left discarded at his feet.

Gavin attempted to glance back, enticed by the dull thump of clothes against tiles. In turn, Nines found his ass. Gripping tight, warning him not to proceed with the current motion.

The man whined but complied nonetheless, as his head slumped weakly back to position. He was dazed, desperate, unable to do anything but hump ineffectually at the cabinets in front of him.

Despite the failure of his attempt, the android ensured his disobedience was reprimanded—penance inflicted in an open palmed strike against raised flesh.

A searing imprint bloomed, raw and welted over marks already etched by nails.

“I'm going to fuck you.” His tone was lofty, dripping with entitlement that framed the intimacy as a courtesy. “Precisely as I see fit.”

It was all for show. They both knew just how deeply he craved their connection. Driven by the same insatiable madness as the man caged beneath him.

Nines aligned his hips, teasing a trail between mottled cheeks before pressing forward—applying steady pressure, breaching the taut resistance until silken walls enveloped him. Clamping down with such precision that they felt melded to his skin.

The delirium it inspired overwhelmed him, and Nines felt his systems falter. His vision was fractured, distorted by a kaleidoscope of flickering mosaics.

Sight eventually returned, but his grip on reality remained blurred—tethered only to Gavin. Every jitter of limbs and quiver of muscle felt so acutely that they could be mistaken for his own.

Once he was confident the man was ready, he moved, each drive laden with growing passion. Gavin wasn't delicate. He would not break beneath the exertion. Something made clear from the beginning of their relationship.

He wanted this. Rough and consuming in a way that surpassed any human. Frequently breaking down in the height of passion—crying, begging that the android use him to his fullest ability.

Which Nines did, albeit with a sliver of restraint. Ensuring the man would still be able to function adequately in the days that followed. A well-practised formula, precisely calibrated, that was being pushed to its limit.

Gavin was all but screaming. Wild and remorseless. Demanding full attention, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Nonetheless, Nines persisted, each thrust sending tremors through the counter, scattered utensils trembling as if gripped by an earthquake.

“God, yes— holy shit, baby , keep going —”

Nines no longer insisted the man stay quiet. It was an undesired restraint; now they had reached this stage of intimacy.

He wanted to hear him, to know precisely the pleasure inspired by each slap of skin. To hang onto each strangled octave as the man fell apart on his cock. A particularly brutal thrust caused Gavin to stagger as his lax grip slipped from the counter.

Arms flailed haphazardly in his struggle to keep himself upright, as Nines noted that—in his effort to clear the area of hazards—one had been missed.

A glaring oversight, leading him to curse his own negligence.

The wooden spoon, protruding from their finished cake mix, was catapulted from the pot, clipped by sprawled fingers. It spun through the air, grazing the RK900 across the ear as he smoothly ducked to avoid it. The wayward utensil was then halted by a nearby wall, which it struck with a dull clatter.

The pot, also displaced, teetered on the edge of the stove. It tipped precariously, with no time to stop the inevitable. Then it fell, with a resounding crash, contents fanning across the tiles in a cobalt halo.

Nines pulled Gavin back, attempting to spare him from the worst of the fallout. Despite the effort, glossy freckles splattered their way up his leg—with one particularly agile splash streaking the line of his jaw.

The man blinked, stunned periodically, before moving to wipe his face with a terse grumble. This only succeeded in spreading the mess, which now fanned into the conch of his ear. Slipping free from his blissful warmth, Nines reoriented their bodies. While initial analysis suggested the man was unharmed, he wanted to be sure. Advanced analytics checking for any minor scalds or concealed abrasions, that he may have missed from his previous view.

“Are you okay?”

While Gavin was able to tolerate the android's tendency to fret, there were limits to how much he’d endure. Ones that were reached as he swatted the hand delicately tracing his forearm. “Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just—”

Their bodies had been apart for a matter of seconds when the absence of security backfired. In his resistance, Gavin stepped back, breaking the circle of hazardous spillage. He lurched on the film, and his leg flung out, suspended precariously.

Before Nines could move to steady him, the counter was rediscovered in the search for support. This proved a mistake as his palm settled into a thick puddle of gunge, squelching audibly.

His limb was retracted, and Gavin grimaced at the gelatinous streaks trailing his skin. They clung stubbornly to every available line and crevice, mocking hopes of an easy cleanup.

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom…before they ship me back to Pandora.”

If there was one benefit to be found in the unfortunate development, it was that Nines—for the first time since their intimacy escalated—could see his face.

The scrunched nose, with wrinkles gathering pockets of batter. Downturned lips, twitching disdainfully in a way that proved both amusing and endearing—

Really, this summed up the overall sentiments he had toward his appearance. Completely ridiculous. The visual encapsulation of every mistake made to this point. There was something disarmingly real about it; every imperfection laid bare.

It was too much, as Nines found himself powerless to hold back. Irresistibly and maddeningly attracted.

Given prior caution, he surprised even himself with the ensuing actions. Unwilling to accept a delay in resuming passion, branding their arduous surroundings as a minor obstacle.

If anything, there was an element of appeal to be found in it—the unpredictability of a situation driven almost entirely by carnal impulse and manufactured urgency.

“I don't think that will be necessary.”

Hands returned to their desired position on the human. Claiming his waist, as their bodies were pulled flush once again. Unresolved need pulsing between their legs—moved in a tight roll of hips. “Allow me to assist.”

Gavin was hoisted upward as though he were weightless. His legs left to dangle limply over the tiles as a surprise grunt briskly transitioned into a low growl of approval.

Ankles curled around Nines' midsection, with arms following suit. Locked around his collar, streaking the starched white with large amounts of thirium.

Nines was far from concerned, deftly manoeuvring the drag marks left by floundering feet as he carried his prize further into the kitchen. A more attractive location was established along the wall, which led to their balcony.

He propped Gavin against it, ensuring his back was supported. The man scoffed, smirking knowingly, as he extended an impish show of gratitude.

“Such a gentleman.” The crooned tone was punctuated with an exaggerated bat of lashes. Then coyness petered off, in line with the lustful gaze which drifted to his lips.

“...You’ve got me right where you want, tin can. What are you gonna do about it?”

Gavin knew all too well what this shift would inspire. How the low vibrations of his tone, dripping with lust and rolling with richness against his partner’s face, risked sending him into a frenzy.

Nines released his own lustful emission in the form of a charged, static rumble. The auditory intoxication, coupled with the dishevelled appearance of the man draped over him, proved impossible to resist.

He re-entered him without warning, and it wasn’t long until their previous pace was resumed. A cascade of long, rampant slams—deceptive in their brutishness—as every stroke was carefully measured, inching him closer to release.

Gavin soon became swept by a rising tide of euphoria. His eyes rolling back into his head, jaw hung slack, salacious droplets gathering on his lips.

His hardness was trapped between them, the force of each dizzying thrust levying it with friction. Despite this, swollen flesh twitched restlessly, awaiting release from coiling pressure.

Nines knew exactly the push required to achieve this. Encouraging the man to roll his head laxly to the side until cloudy sights met with the mirrored glass of their balcony door.

“Just look at you; so good for me.”

He delivered the praise slowly, drawing out every syllable in line with a strategic slowing of pace. Hips began to roll in long, exaggerated curls. Blatantly performative, as he noted fraught muscles clamping around him with renewed intensity.

“I could do this all day. Loving you, fucking you— ruining you for anyone else. Again and again until you are incapable of anything but screaming my name.”

Gavin chased their reflections, visibly entranced. The sight, combined with the slew of filth spouting from the android's lips, ultimately tipped him over the edge.

His body tensed, trapping Nines in a crushing vice; his euphoria peaked with a strangled cry. He bucked forward, release spilling in thick ribbons against lightly freckled skin.

His rhythm was lost, cognition slipping, as Nines speared into the tightness with frenzied, discordant jerks. Then it was over. His own climax reached, filling the body that gripped him until it could not be contained—leaking down his thighs.

Gavin continued to tremble, vibrations gripping his every nerve until his release finally tapered. Then he fell still, slumped weakly against the android's shoulder.

“ Jesus... ” He gasped hoarsely, struggling to catch his breath. “That was fucking incredible.”

Nines hummed in agreement. Revelling as soft strands of hair brushed against his clavicle. Leaning down, breathing in the familiar musky scent. “Far more gratifying than a trip to the movies.”

“Well, shit. Don't tell Connor that. I can hear his heart breaking from here.”

“Unusual for you to express concern for my brother. I fear you might be warming to him.”

The playful rapport was swiftly abandoned. Gavin grimaced, bristling in fervent opposition to the suggestion. “I just don't want to deal with his mopy ass skulking around the precinct. That’s all.”

Nines had never been so thoroughly unconvinced by a defence. Nonetheless, he accepted it. Carding fingers indulgently across the man’s scalp, slicking back strands plastered to his forehead, peppering kisses in their stead.

Biometric sensors were triggered, detecting more than sweat clinging to his temple. There was another—distinctly artificial—composition present, now leaking into his inputs.

One that he responded to strangely, evident in how Gavin pulled back, studying his face. Sights locked to his mouth, which Nines suspected was now painted with cool-toned flecks.

“Ahh, sorry about that,” he grumbled. “Some of that gunk must've got onto my—”

The sentence trailed off with a clipped wheeze as Nines planted a thumb between stained lips. Sweeping inwards, scooping the fluid through the gap before removing the remnants with a gentle flit of his tongue.

All the while, he stared at Gavin. Beckoning him to watch as the digit lingered longer than necessary. Accompanied by a low, rumbled hum as it emerged spotless.

Depraved cogs of reasoning whirred beneath the man’s clouded gaze. Contesting the limitations of his physicality, deciding whether or not he could engage in a ‘Round Two’ so close to the first.

The spent body ultimately succeeded over the willing mind. Instead, he enquired about the fluid that had just been ingested. “How does it taste?”

Nines paused, allowing the material to linger on his taste buds for a moment longer before swallowing back. “Polyethylene, with a subtle hint of cinnamon.”

Gavin did not seem concerned by the lacklustre feedback, with the RK900 uncertain if he had even registered it. He appeared far more entranced by the prospect of leaning in, claiming a stolen kiss from a now unblemished canvas.

And so, he did. Slow and lingered. Indulging in the pliant yield of lips before tilting back, parting with a contented hum:

“Happy Birthday, Nines. I'm sorry about the kitchen…and the cake…and your jacket.”

“I'll be sure to forward you the bill for my dry cleaning,” the android rebuked before abandoning the playfulness in favour of something more sincere: “It is quite alright. Although, can I suggest we take a shower? There seems to be a fairly large amount of ‘cake’ lodged in my ear.”

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh nines #reed900 #dbh gavin #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic #gavin reed x rk900 #dbh fic #rk900

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npookie0 · 3 months ago

Note

would you be willing to write a ronin x transmasc!reader that presents very fem and is usually very confident in it but is having a really bad dysphoria day because of society’s perception of them? Like femboy but it doesn’t have to be that specific style, just a feminine guy. If you’re not okay with writing it it’s completely fine, I’m just glad you’ve written at all. Seriously, I love your work so much and I’m really happy you created this blog for your absolutely incredible works.

To hide your true colours is to be stripped of freedom.

Ronin x tmasc!reader

Ever since you could remember you knew that you were not a girl, being called one and living as one gave you physical pain. You felt like someone was crushing your ribcage so they could strike your heart every time you were referred to as a girl.

It never left you, that feeling it followed you like a ghost. You had to wait a while to understand what the feeling was.

You're trans.

A trans man to be precise.

You were just born in the wrong shell, you imagined it as you switching bodies with another and now you're in this prison of dysphoria and hate as punishment.

You used to dream that you would return to the right body once you did something, but of course it were just dreams.

You could only do things to shape your body into a semi right form, a form you could learn to love.

Even as a man, you still loved wearing skirts and dresses, ribbons and everything that was seen as feminine. To you , clothes don't have gender, anyone can wear what they want.

You were in yourself in that way, seeing that guy in your mirror in a nice skirt? It felt like a dream, and that dream was reality now.

Everyday you would dress up all nicely and go about your day, hearing the usual "dress like a man" whenever you passed by the wrong people boosted your confidence even more. You were seen as a man for random passers-by, it felt somewhat euphoric.

You're seated in your boyfriend's house, one of his many hoodies now on you, covering the dress you were wearing entirely.

Today wasn't a good day.

It was a terrible day.

You hated the way this dress was around your hips, how it made you look less masculine than usual. You thought that everyone could see it, could see just how unmanly you are.

Ronin sat down next to you on the bathroom floor, a cup of tea placed on the floor in front of you.

"Dysphoria, huh?" He asked. Normally Ronin would put a hand around your waist by now, but he knew that you didn't want it now.

He wanted to give you the freedom of touching him where and when you feel like doing it. Ronin wouldn't want to touch you in a way that would worsen your alreadyterrible state even more.

"This dress... I liked it Ronin really, but..." You paused and picked up the cup of tea, looking at your reflection in the dark liquid.

"We should get you something comfortable to wear then, love." He didn't need you to tell him everything. He can understand your feelings perfectly well even without all the details..

"... Will you lend me your Slipknot shirt?" You asked and looked at Ronin who just chuckled.

"Yeah, it's the baggiest shirt I have anyway so it'll be good for a day like this ."

You watched Ronin stand up and outstretch his hand towards you.

"C'mon handsome boy, we boutta give you something to wear and maybe something to eat."

You watched as Ronin prepared the food for you, food was an overstatement, these were just instant noodles.

Inside your head there was one question painfully pounding in your brain just so you would ask it..

"Ronin?" You called out, sounding almost uncertain and afraid

"Hm?" He hummed in response, turning to look at you.

"Do you think I'm a guy? Even if I wear dresses?"

Your question shocked Ronin and made him laugh. His sudden laughter made you offended.

"Why are you laughing?!"

"Awh, sorry sorry, it's just..." He took three steps towards you and cupped your face in his hands. "Baby, dresses or pants, you're still a man. Through and through." He shrugged like he said the most obvious thing.

"But, but the society and the people whom I meet in real life-"

"Baby, darling, fuck the society! I'm a murderer, do you expect me to care about what people think of me?" He asked and shook his head with a click of his tongue. "Tsk, tsk."

You looked at him, tears blurring your vision.

"Ro... Ronin I just, I just don't want to be seen as a woman anymore, please..."

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #fanfic #asks #fluff #trans masc

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asoulwithadream · 2 years ago

Text

EXCLUSIVE FALL PREVIEWS

Mates. LADS. BRETHEREN.

I think I'm going to die now. AAAAAAAAAAAAH—

BUT OF COURSE WHAT WOULD BE THE SENSE OF MY EXISTENCE IF I DIDN'T SHARE MY OWN PERSONAL THOUGHTS ON THESE BEAUTIFUL THINGS BEFORE THE MEDICINE KICKS IN.

The Crew — I think this is where they see LUCIUS!!!! I'm so very convinced this is where they meet Lucius. As we can see, they're all in the same clothing as the Vanity Fair first looks, where Black Pete is visibly overjoyed. But can't you see that he is missing from this shot? Probably snogging Lucius' face off or hugging him or doing something as such.

Lucius probably popped around the corner in the Vanity Fair one, and now they're sharing an intimate moment (keeping it PG) on deck while the rest of the happy crew watches on (as visible from Roach's, Oluwande's, and Wee John's faces). Of course, Buttons has no interest in human adoration, and instead looks on towards his own lover, the sea.

Stede is looking quite perplexed, or maybe contemplatively—perhaps as a result of Lucius telling Stede what happened to him. He doesn't look directly all that happy, does he?

(OMG OMG OMG WHY DO THEY ALL LOOK SO HAPPY EXCEPT STEDE BUT OLU YOU DEAREST MAN AND THEY'RE LOOKING SNAZZY AND I LOVE THEIR SOCKS I'M AHHAHASIJDHKAE)

Stede — That's the floor of the Revenge guys. I know it well since the last time Stede was pushed onto it. (Solidarity for the harm that the foot touch caused in these trying times) He is wearing what looks to be ye olde fencing gloves, and this means that was just handling a sword. (Though, he could have been using the cannons; we all know Stede would probably confuse fencing gloves for heavy artillery)

There are a few scenarios I can find at the top of my head: he's either training with Izzy (though would that explain his terrified expression? maybe)—we also see the lack of the red ribbon, which I think he removed when he teams up with Izzy, for whatever reason—or he's been duelling with someone else, someone who is extremely better at swordsmanship, someone we know to have been excellent at both maiming and receiving stab wounds. Has he been fighting with Edward?

I think it's the former, but who knows? The best part of theorising is being wrong, after all. I guess we can just gang up and say "calm down mr wavey blade" to whoever is behind this. Plus, do I see traced of some fuzz on his chin? Confirmed baby steard, guys???

(He's such an ICON I WANT TO BREATHE HIS HAIR AND SEE IT BEHIND MY EYELIDS. In the wise words of Rhys Darby, "I wish I had his hair". BUT LIKE HONESTLY WHAT'S GOING ON HERE WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE HE'S SEEN A GHOST)

Frenchie and Ed — This has me on actual alarm bells mode. I can't tell whether or not this is Blackbeard or post-Blackbeard era—he's not wearing any dark chunky make-up, and has his hair up in his classic, beautiful half-up half-down, and we finally get a more close-up and clear shot of his earring, which we first spotted from the Vanity Fair first looks?

A detail I spotted for Frenchie's new goth uniform, which he is still wearing in this shot (further confusing me on the timeline of this image)—I think that his jacket is the very same from the "The Best Revenge Is Dressing Well" episode, which is so incredibly sweet and a beautiful little detail to connect back to season 1. I'd like to think he customised it himself, since we know Frenchie can "sew like the wind."

That's also still the Revenge, in fact the very spot where Lucius was about to get his finger cut off in "The Art of F**kery". But what intent Ed has with this confrontation with Frenchie, who seemingly looks like perhaps he wasn't even doing anything wrong, escapes the depth of my theoretical mind. What contributes even less to this is that Ed is smiling? Rather maniacal, might I add.

(WHAT. THE. FUCK. help me why is this happening. I LIKE AM SO ANGRY AND SO HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME THAT I CAN'T FIGURE ANYTHING OUT FROM THIS PICTURE. NOT EVEN WHAT STAGE OF GRIEF ED IS IN. HELP ME)

Edward — That chair looks like it's from Stede's room, from one of the desk-like tables in the corner next to his bed, and perhaps even the only chair which Ed kept in the room after his rather ill-tasted renovations. What's he doing there without his make-up on? Perhaps this is still during the early stages of new Blackbeard, and he's just in the transit period between washing and re-application.

BUT, if we look at the background, does that look like the Revenge? Not really... There is what seems like a fireplace or some sort of stone plate in the background, with a painting on it with a man on the left side of the composition, who seemingly looks to have lighter coloured hair. So what I may be thinking, is that Edward is visiting MARY ALLAMBY! The painting in the background may be the one from Stede and Mary's wedding, and Mary might have kept it as memorabilia in ode of her now good friend. (Stede is on the left in that painting). Plus, where else would Stede get his furniture and taste for his bedroom than his own former house, which Mary currently lives at?

Even though I think David Jenkins said that Mary wouldn't be present in the season, do I believe him? No. I think I have the right for me to be delusional without external interference at this point.

(Please let me be right please let me be right I NEED A MARY / ED INTERACTION AT SOME POINT TO HEAL MY HEART. I need Mary to realise that fucking Blackbeard is the Ed that Stede was talking about, I NEED ED TO THINK THAT STEDE DIED, FOR EVEN A MOMENT. I think my brain has stopped receiving oxygen.)

Send hopes and prayers

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 speculation #ofmd s2 theories #ofmd fall previews #ofmd teaser #ofmd vanity fair #edward teach #ed teach #blackbeard #stede bonnet #crew of the revenge #lucius spriggs #mary allamby bonnet #rhys darby #taika waititi #david jenkins #i need desperate help and assistance in these trying times #how am i supposed to live laugh love in these conditions

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oath-of-the-gaywatch · 10 months ago

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HELLO FELLOW VORTHOS

I COME WITH AN OFFER OF SONG RECS (that I heavily associate with specific characters)

I have a couple of playlists for some of my favorite lil guys but I wanted to share some of the ones that I think hit right on the head

1. Lead Sails (And A Paper Anchor) by Atreyu

IXALAN BLOCK JACE AND VRASKA I will yell about this song for days and if you are a jace x vraska fan and have not heard this GO LISTEN TO IT

2. Heart on Fire by The Family Crest

Gruulfriends <3 Something about the line “your heads on fire” not being a metaphor in this case is really funny to me

3. Gold by Spandau Ballet

MY MAIN MAN GIDEON JURA!! I just think he would love listening to this song during his like- morning workout routine lmao

4. The Kitsugi Kid (Ten Years) by Fall Out Boy

Ral Zarek <3 I have many many songs I like for Ral and this one in particular I like for right after he sparks. To all my gathering storm and Ral backstory enjoyers: this one’s for you

5. Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

RIBBON LIGHTNING!! RAL AND TOMIK NATION RISE UP— This song is surprisingly spot on with details and just so many storm/rain references-

7. Bloodstream by Stateless

Compleated Jace and Vraska <3 something about two metal guys in love just hits and this song is that vibe

Lemme know if y’all want me to drop my full playlists for Jace, Ral, and Chandra cause I got SO MANY MORE SONGS—

#I just love my lil mtg blorbos #what can I say #mtg #magic the gathering #jace beleren #chandra nalaar #ral zarek #gideon jura #vraska #tomik vrona #the gatewatch #ixalan #vorthos #mtg lore #a post by sherbert

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elbiotipo · 7 hours ago

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I asked DeepSeek to write me a tale based on the lobizón and I'm actually amazed at what it came up with:

Title: "The Howling Season"

The air in Corrientes hung thick as wet wool, the sun a white-hot coin melting into the Paraná River. Mateo wiped his neck with a bandana already soaked through, his boots kicking up dust on the path to the curandera’s hut. Cicadas screamed in the ceibo trees. Somewhere, a chamamé tune drifted from a radio, accordion notes warping in the heat.

He’d heard about her from the truckers at the YPF station—a woman who brewed cures from palo azul and yaguarundí leaves, who could silence a baby’s colic or a husband’s wandering eye. None of them mentioned the shotgun leaning by her door, or the black chicken pecking at dried yerba mate in the yard.

“Hola,” he called, voice cracking. The hut’s tin roof groaned under the sun.

She emerged barefoot, a girl younger than he’d imagined—mid-twenties, maybe—with hair like burnt honey braided with scarlet ribbons. Her smile showed a chipped incisor. “Lobizón,” she said, not a question.

Mateo froze.

“Relájate.” She tossed him a gourd. “You’re not the first moon-cursed boy to show up here.”

Inside, the hut smelled of sage and kerosene. Dried herbs hung from the rafters—burrito for digestion, marcela for luck, contrayerba for lies. She lit a candle stub, its flame painting shadows across the Gauchito Gil shrine in the corner.

“Sit.” She kicked a stool toward him. “I’m Celeste. And you’re… Mateo? Sí, the truckers talk.”

He gripped the gourd. “They said you help with… things.”

“Things.” She poured hot water over the mate, the yerba hissing. “You mean the teeth? The claws? The way your bones crack like kindling when the moon’s fat?”

He flinched. The last full moon, he’d woken naked in a sugarcane field, his mouth full of feathers. Still didn’t know what he’d killed.

Celeste pushed the bombilla toward him. “Drink. It’s just mate cocido. Not poison.”

The brew was bitter, cut with orange peel. “Aren’t you going to… I don’t know, chant? Burn feathers?”

She laughed, low and throaty. “You watch too many telenovelas. The cure’s simpler.” Leaning back, she pulled a dog-eared biology textbook from a shelf. “Know what’s the biggest canid in South America?”

“A wolf. Like me.”

“Aguará guazú.” She flipped to a page showing a long-legged fox on stilts, russet fur blazing. “Maned wolf. Eats fruit. Whistles at the moon. Harmless as a priest.” Her toe brushed his shin. “Sound familiar?”

Outside, the black chicken screeched. Mateo’s palms itched. “I’m not harmless.”

“No?” Celeste stood, her skirt brushing his knees. She smelled like lemongrass and gun oil. “Last month, a lobizón tore through three of El Zurdo’s prize heifers. You know what I found in his gut? Blueberries. From my garden.”

He stared. “That wasn’t me.”

“Exactly.” She traced the wolf pendant at her throat. “The beast isn’t you, che. It’s… an uncle. A cousin twice removed. You just lend it your skin.”

Mateo’s pulse roared. Celeste leaned closer, her breath warm on his ear. “If you’re so scared, stay here next full moon. I’ll teach you to whistle.”

He left at dusk, her laughter chasing him down the dirt road. In his pocket, a sprig of ruda macho—“for protection,” she’d winked. The first stars blinked awake, and for once, the moon’s face looked less like a judge.

Maybe.

Epilogue:

When the moon swelled, Celeste waited on her porch with a bucket of guayabas and a .22 rifle loaded with salt rounds. At midnight, a gangly shadow slunk from the cane fields—all legs and ears, golden eyes wide as pesos.

“Vení,” she whispered, tossing a fruit. “Let’s see if you like sweets.”

The aguará guazú caught it midair.

Neither beast nor man.

Just hungry.

...

Of course it is a bit annoying with the random Spanish words, and other details... but it's especially the details that are amazing. Even mentioning truckers at YPF and local plants? And what I loved more was the ending, I didn't ask it to write it, but the ending of the guy being a harmless aguará guazú who visits her is crazy.

This was made by an AI? It's amazing.

#cosas mias #of course it must have also been trained with really good sources but still this was completely produced by an algorithm #like this really is like a first draft of something I'll write it just needs some editing

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reds-skull · 9 months ago

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Revenant Side Stories

Story III: Gaz

[Konchar] [Graves] [AO3]

I worked on both this and that Ghost painting I posted earlier in the time I was away from this blog, and I apparently had enough motivation to finish both today haha

If you remember the conversation Gaz and Soap had on the helo in chapter 14 of Not Alive, Nor Dead (the one where they were talking about the worst time they've used their powers), then the events in this story might be familiar...

I enjoyed writing this so much, I absolutely love Gaz (and more specifically rev AU's version of him <3)

Alright enough yapping time for pain

Kyle should be used to the feeling of free-falling. To the air rushing past his ears, to the sting in his eyes as the ground approaches him rapidly. The pull that catches him not a moment too soon, invisible ribbons wrapping him in their safe embrace.

It was perhaps a little naive of him to think gravity will never betray him again.

The whistling wind is what wakes him first, that familiar tune Gaz made his own in the past year. Familiar, but out of place - wasn’t he just running after the HVT…?

Kyle opens his eyes.

The sky warps around him, skyscrapers higher than the heavens towering over him like giants, silhouettes in the night. His body twists uncontrollably, and his view shifts to the ground, people nothing but ants, growing larger and larger-

The sinking feeling in his gut screams one thing, and one thing only.

You’re going to die again.

Several hours earlier

“Sergeant Garrick!” someone calls from behind him. Gaz turns, expecting to have to search for the source in the pre-mission rush of soldiers. He instead instantly zeroed in on a frankly giant man. To his credit, he wasn’t expecting a soldier clad in all black tactical gear, and a stark white skull mask.

Well, only one guy in the SAS that fits this description, “Lieutenant Ghost, sir.” Gaz’s head tilts up to look at the eyes behind the mask.

He’s heard a lot about the legendary revenant, and while most are probably the works of the rumor mill working overtime, just the presence of Ghost emanates a sort of unrivalled power that raises the hairs at Kyle’s nape.

It’s unlikely any of them will see the Lieutenant in action today; he’s here to fill in for Captain Price in overwatch, but he can’t help but have a sort of morbid curiosity, a craving to know if the revenant lives up to the myth.

Ghost motions with his head for him to follow, and begins walking towards the tents that have been set up as their temporary base of operations, “Captain told me you can fly.” he begins.

Gaz smiles nervously, “uh, not exactly. I got gravity manipulation.” they enter the tent, the flurry of activity as disorienting as it is outside, with squad leaders confirming last-minute details about the mission. “Can use it on others as well, but I have to be in direct skin contact.”

“Won’t need it in this op either way,” Ghost rumbles, a somewhat bitter note in his words. A few men do a double take at the two of them, and Gaz suppresses an eye roll.

Being a revenant turned out… different than he thought it would be. Sure, he knew they had superpowers and the ability to converse with extradimensional beings, but he wasn’t ready for the staring.

He knows he’s not human anymore, that he lost a fundamental part of himself the moment he left that helo crash alive, but he doesn’t need to be reminded at any turn.

Perhaps Ghost is onto something with the mask. At least he can roll his eyes all he wants.

Ghost addresses the soldiers in the tent, everyone snapping into attention, “Sergeant Garrick will lead the infil team. Target is at the suite of the Amandi Hotel, possibly guarded and armed.” the Lieutenant scrutinizes them, “I’ll be on overwatch on the comms tower north of the hotel. Helo circles the sky in case we need to extract from the roof.”

He crosses his arms, the perfect image of authority, “any questions?”

“No, sir!” the soldiers in the tent echo.

“Good. Garrick’s team is up in 5.” Ghost’s attention turns to him, “you’ll treat the Sergeant like any other soldier - his powers are irrelevant here.”

Gaz’s eyes widen as the rest of his squad gives Ghost the affirmative. The Lieutenant leaves the tent, ordering the others, and he shakes away from his stupor. A surprisingly warm feeling spreads through his chest.

No time to wonder about Ghost’s intentions, they have a man to catch.

It takes only ten minutes for the mission to go completely off rails.

Ghost wasn’t lying when he said his powers are irrelevant here. With the narrow hallways of the hotel, and lack of loose, heavy objects around ready to be thrown, Gaz is as good as any of his human squad mates.

He grits his teeth, popping out of cover to shoot yet another henchman down. The HVT must be bloody loaded to afford this much manpower.

“Be advised Bravo 6-1, enemy reinforcements approaching your position. I don’t have a clear shot on them.” Ghost’s low voice sounds from his comms.

Gaz returns to cover when a bullet grazes his cheek, and he answers between a hiss of pain, “copy, attempting to advance to the suite now.”

“Stevenson, Ellis, take the left hallway, the rest with me!” Kyle orders the corporals. He’s betting on the fact the henchmen will be too preoccupied with their assault to notice the two soldiers flanking them.

Gaz and his team goes on the offensive, unnerved by the bullets ricocheting around them. A few fast heartbeats later, the hostiles go down with gasps of surprise. He allows himself a moment of celebration, before pushing onwards.

This is another thing he had to learn in his new second life. Turns out, the brass promotes revenants faster than other soldiers, and soon after his Reaping he was promoted to Sergeant. He will probably never forget the nasty looks he got from his old mates after that, people he thought were his friends. Sometimes Kyle wanted to scream that he didn’t ask for this, he didn’t ask to be the only one left alive.

Usually following that thought is a reminder that he very much did. He asked to live.

Gaz knew what he was wishing for.

Stevenson and Ellis join them, and he makes sure to order most of the squad to watch their six, Ghost’s warning still fresh in his mind.

“Lieutenant, got sights on the HVT?” Gaz radios in.

The comms crackle before he gets an answer, “negative, he went to the back two minutes ago, likely holing up in the bathroom.” he can hear the faint sound of wind through his mic, “stay sharp, this might be a trap.”

“Understood, sir.”

Gaz holds a fist up to signal the squad to stop, and attempts to listen for any movements inside the suite. Price’s mind reading abilities would’ve been nice to have around right about now…

He lets out a shaky breath. Going in blind never gets less nerve wracking, “Smith, Farage, keep watch on the hallways, Ellis, Stevenson and Wright, prepare for breach in three…”

The soldiers move to their positions, and the moment his count reaches zero, Gaz kicks the door down and begins clearing the room. Every dark corner becomes a potential hiding spot for hostiles, every flickering shadow catches his attention.

The main area of the suite is an open floor plan room, floor-to-ceiling windows making up the whole front part. The city lights twinkle through the clear glass, unaware of the danger that dwells above them.

“Main room clear, moving to the bathroom.” Gaz relays to Ghost and the rest. He lowers his rifle and reaches for the handle. The door creaks ominously when he shoves it open, revealing a dark and completely empty space. He clears it in a few seconds, all the while his confusion grows.

“Ghost” he clicks his comms on, “the HVT isn’t here.”

The Lieutenant is silent for a brief moment, “He didn’t leave the suite, Garrick. Keep searching the other rooms.” Gaz opens his mouth to give the affirmative, when he hears Wright and Stevenson give the clear for the two bedrooms. A twisting feeling in his gut grows.

“Sir, I think we’re missing something-”

Loud bangs echo from the main bedroom, Gaz instantly exiting the bathroom to watch Stevenson go down, “fuck!”

Hostiles stream out of the room in an endless swarm, the rest of his squad taking cover around the suite. “Garrick! What the fuck is going on there?!”

“Stevenson missed a bloody secret room, sir!” Gaz grunts, shooting two men down. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wright push forward, so he joins him.

A shattering sound alerts him to Ghost’s shots, “do you have eyes on the target?!” the Lieutenant’s voice echoes through comms. Another shot rings out, and a body drops to his right.

“Negative!” he answers. Smith and Farage are fighting further out, enemies forcing them back to the hallway, Stevenson motionless on the ground. Wright snarls beside him, his left arm bleeding from a graze. Ellis…

“Sergeant! Behind you!” Ghost shouts. Gaz whips around, to watch the HVT drag himself to the broken windows.

Himself, and the unconscious body of Ellis. Gaz charges forward before the HVT locks eyes with him, a manic sort of fury burning within them.

The bastard smiles at him, blood staining his bright white teeth. He heaves Ellis, dragging him right to the edge.

“You take one more step, and I drop your friend.” the target drawls.

Kyle stops, raising his arms in surrender, mind rapidly trying to pinpoint the location of each hostile and soldier left in the room. If he could be sure his squad will be able to apprehend the HVT by themselves, he could be free to follow Ellis, and catch him before they both hit the ground.

“Alright.” Gaz swallows thickly, keeping his voice as calm as he can, “we’ll give you what you want, just let him go.”

The target’s smile widens, “tell your soldiers to drop their weapons” he shakes Ellis, Gaz’s heart jumping to his throat. He nods, slowly lowering a hand to his radio.

“All stations, hold fire, we’ve got a hostage.”

The commotion behind him stops abruptly, his soldiers murmuring in confusion but listening to him all the same. Gaz scans the HVT for weapons - a pistol at his right hip, a knife strapped to the other. As long as he doesn’t use those on Ellis, he still has a chance to save him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here.” Ghost warns, “I don’t have a clear shot, don’t doom the entire squad to save one man.”

His jaw tightens in response. He’s not going to allow any more of them to die today.

“Good” the target’s voice drips with satisfaction, “at least one of you soldier boys has more than half a brain. Now… I have other matters to attend to, so if you will leave the premises peacefully, that would be helpful.”

“Not without him.” Gaz motions to Ellis.

The HVT tsks, “do I look stupid? I know you’ll shoot my men down the moment I let him go.” his head tilts mockingly, “no, he’s coming with me.”

“Garrick…” Ghost growls. “Ellis’ chances are low. Get the HVT secure and get out.” This is taking too long.

“I prefer to have… insurance.” the target continues.

Gaz’s lips pull back in disgust, “for a cornered man, you’re asking for a lot, mate.”

“Am I cornered, though?”

The telltale click of a trigger shoots adrenaline down Kyle’s limbs, and he moves out of the bullet’s way a second before it reaches him. He grunts as he grasps at the attacker’s rifle over his shoulder, twisting it around his torso to disarm the man.

Lieutenant Ghost’s voice booms through comms, “Bravo, get your guns up! More hostiles are entering your floor!!!”

Gaz barely avoids a fist coming from his left, ducking and dodging a knee to his guts. Gunshots echo behind him, grunts and growls and screams of pain almost deafening.

Two hostiles manage to get a hold of him, and over their massive shoulders Kyle watches in horror as the target pulls Ellis up over the window’s edge, and lets go.

“Corporal Ellis is falling, I repeat, the Corporal is falling!” Ghost yells. Gaz’s heart hammers away at his chest, his breaths becoming shorter and heavier.

Through the cacophony of combat, anger and agony, one voice stands out from the rest.

The HVT’s mirthful laugh, high and grating as he watches Ellis fall down, down, down-

Gaz screams, grabbing the arms around him, and reverting gravity on all three of them. He lowers his head, avoiding the ceiling. His attackers, however, are taken by surprise, and hit their head against the concrete with a sickening thunk.

The laughter ceases, but he pays it no mind. If Gaz jumps off now, he could strengthen the effect of gravity on himself, and fall faster, reach Ellis before the ground does-

A sniper shot splices the air beside him, the bullet hitting the floor, Ghost’s voice loud when he calls out, “Gaz-!”, Kyle turning around to find the stock of a rifle approaching his face, his foot slips, and-

His vision goes dark.

He’s going to die. The wind beats at his body, howling and shrieking and stealing the air from his lungs. He’s going to die. The city lights smear and create blinding trails at his periphery.

He’s going to die.

Kyle locks onto a dark shape, several feet below him, and the fog of panic clears for long enough for him to remember why he’s falling.

Ellis. He fell before him. He’s going to die.

But Gaz won’t. His powers rush forth, otherworldly ribbons wrapping around his fingertips at his command. Instead of hanging from the sky, he orders them down.

They’re about 100 feet from the harsh asphalt roads when he starts descending at an inhuman speed, eyes watering and muscles trembling from the lack of oxygen, but it doesn’t matter, not until he touches Ellis, not until he pulls him back from certain death.

50 feet. 40. 30. 20. 10-

Kyle barely manages to brush a finger on Ellis’ tacvest before he pulls back, his face mere inches from the ground. His eyes are closed, his mouth gaping as he takes in air for the first time in minutes.

He heard the crunch. He knows his ribbons didn’t wrap around Ellis. Yet, there’s a little naive voice in his mind, holding onto hope that the Corporal has been saved.

The screams of the ground team tell him otherwise.

Kyle releases his powers, his body dropping. Voices echo around him, words unintelligible through the rushing blood in his ears.

Ellis is dead. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. You failed again, he screams at himself in the recesses of his mind.

Kyle chokes on a sob, only then registering the tears flowing down his cheeks. He curls further into himself. Selfishly, he doesn’t want the others to see his pathetic crying. Not only did he fail, he’s also weak.

Someone touches his shoulder, and he freezes. His eyes are glued to the dark grey of the road below him, its rough texture digging into his trembling palms. The voices stray closer, words still incomprehensible but concern clear, and yet he refuses to lift his head.

He doesn’t want to see Ellis. He knows what gravity does to a person, how it tugs at their limbs until they break, how bones stab at soft flesh, how muscles are ripped apart like a rag doll’s stitches. He knows, saw five different bodies, all twisted beyond recognition, by the very power he controls. The memory makes bile rise to his mouth, acrid taste spreading on his tongue. The sight of mangled soldiers, the smell of burning fuel, the whistle of an RPG.

If only he was strong enough to truly control it.

The hands tug at him more forcibly now, attempting to roll him over, but Kyle resists. His mouth tries to form words, but only whines and muted sobs stream from his clenched teeth.

‘Leave me alone’, he wants to whisper. ‘I already know I failed’.

A deeper voice rumbles above him, and the hands stop and leave. Kyle hears the rustling of fabric before the voice begins calling his name.

“-arrick. Sergeant. We need to know if you’re broken.”

He shakes his head, shoulders shuddering along his sobs.

“You’re not injured? Good.” the voice answers calmly, as if they’re not sitting beside a dead body, blood pooling, bones sticking out of place-

“Stay with me, soldier. Focus on me.” the voice orders, and Kyle knows, somewhere in his fractured mind, that he needs to listen.

He risks lifting his gaze a little towards the voice, a knee clad in dark pants coming into view, “you’re safe, Gaz. Take all the time you need to collect yourself. The others won’t bother you now.”

He nods minutely, wanting to show his gratitude to the voice, but refusing to lift his head any higher.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Kyle tries to keep his focus on the person in front of him, but his brain continues to pull at his thoughts, get them to drift to Ellis, his cooling body dead not 3 feet from them-

“You know why blind people don’t like going skydiving?”

Kyle blinks down at his hands. What…?

“‘Cause it scares the shit outta their dogs.”

…That’s the dumbest joke he’s ever heard. What’s dumber, that it’s actually making him huff in amusement.

“That deserves at least a little laugh.” the voice sulks, the deadpan quality of it making their words funnier to Kyle.

He clears his throat before saying, “all that deserves is a groan of disappointment, Lieutenant.”

His head lifts to look at Ghost’s dark eyes behind his skull mask, “you wound my poor feeble heart, Garrick.”

A wobbly smile spreads on his lips, before he slowly looks away from the Lieutenant at the scene around them.

They must’ve already moved the body, leaving dark red blood seeping into the cracks in the road as the only sign anything went wrong. Some combat medics have stayed behind, but from the look on their face Kyle can tell they’re too afraid of Ghost to get any closer.

He casts a questioning look at the Lieutenant, who sighs, “they shouldn’t toss you around while you’re in shock.”

Kyle frowns, “they didn’t ‘toss me around’, but… thanks.”

Ghost simply hums.

It takes him a few more seconds to gather the courage to ask, “the mission… did it fail?”

Did I make us fail?

Ghost regards him with narrowed eyes, “HVT has been secured and is in transport awaiting questioning.”

He lets out a small sigh of relief, nodding.

The Lieutenant stares at him, “you did everything you could, Gaz.” he opens his mouth to disagree, but Ghost lifts a hand, “no. Ellis was dead the moment he was captured. If I was in your position, I wouldn’t have risked the mission, the team, myself to try and save him against the odds.”

Kyle sputters, “but- I didn’t save him.”

“But you tried.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s dead!”

Ghost’s tone lowers dangerously, “it may not matter to Ellis, but to the rest of your squad? His teammates? They know you tried, and they will remember in the future that Sergeant Garrick will endanger his own life for his subordinates.”

Kyle’s eyes widen, Ghost’s voice gaining a somber tone, “you haven’t had a lot of experience in leading.” he half-states, half-asks, so Kyle shakes his head.

“The trust your men have in you is fragile, and invaluable. Today, you’ve gained something many others can’t. You have respect, the kind that is hard-earned in battle.” His eyes look away, lost in memories Kyle will probably never be privy to, “that’s why it matters.”

He thinks back to the way everyone approaches Ghost, fear and awe in their eyes, “are you talking from experience?”

Ghost’s eyes refocus on him, “my soldiers respect me because I’m powerful. They respect me out of terror, not trust.”

“Respect is respect, no?”

“None of them would risk their lives to save mine, if it came to it.” Ghost rises to his feet, “respect born of fear is weak compared to respect born from admiration.”

A gloved hand, adorned with skeletal markings, is offered to him. Kyle takes it, allowing Ghost to pull him up to his own shaky legs.

Gaz takes a good look at the grotesque mask, at the appearance that signals danger and unmatched strength.

And at the hand in his, grip powerful enough that he doesn’t have any doubt it will catch him if he falls.

“I trust you, Lieutenant.”

Ghost freezes, before he begins walking towards the parked vehicles, “your mistake, Sergeant.”

Gaz follows, believing wholeheartedly in his words.

“I’m planning on building a task force.” Price begins the moment Gaz settles into the office chair in front of him, “a revenant-only task force.”

“And you’re inviting me?” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Kyle, we both know your powers are extremely rare.”

Still, to be chosen by the Captain Price out of everyone…

“You’re giving me too much credit, son.” Price’s moustache twitches up with a hidden smirk, “I’ll take it as a yes?”

Gaz nods resolutely, “yes, sir!”

“That’s what I want to hear. Any questions?”

The words “no, sir” are ready on his tongue, but he retracts them to instead ask, “are there any other members yet?”

Price scans him for a moment, before he pulls out a folder, “you remember Ghost, I presume?”

He can see how Price clocks in the excitement in his mind, “of course.”

A warm smile crinkles Price’s blue eyes. He rises, offering Gaz a hand to shake. Gaz takes it.

“Welcome to Taskforce 141, Kyle.”

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod gaz #cod ghost #cod price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john price #revenant au #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #gaz my beloved... ridden by survivor's guilt.....#you can see the parallels of how ghost first approached soap and how he approached gaz #with gaz he sees the opposite of himself - in that that gaz puts his team's life over the mission #compared to ghost who at this point is basically exiled to solo missions and separated from other soldiers #not only because of limbo but because everyone hates or fears him #but because gaz sees the similarities between them - how theyre both treated differently for being revenants #he can see theh humanity left in ghost in his actions #can you tell i love their friendship already #anyways these side stories give you foreshadowing to events in part 2 #im excited to see yall maybe find them in the future :)

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