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whumpzone · 3 years ago

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Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory

CW: recovering pet whumpee, environmental whump, references to an amputated finger, paranoia/hallucinations

As he turned to lock the final door behind him, Rowe could see that he had been in a warehouse, evidently a rarely-used one. A single floodlight was on, illuminating nothing but a bare wall and the road leading up to it. Rowe had been correct- it was night. The open air was a thousand blessings as he breathed it in. His eyes felt clean, he could stand up properly, he wasn’t wearing that fucking collar anymore.

The happiness was short-lived, but he let himself have it. He was free. He just had to get home, now.

Rowe would have panicked, at that moment, but instead his heart toughened, because Kasia hadn’t been able to break him down. He was missing a finger, and the throbbing pain made sure he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but he was still there, still himself. His nightmares would probably take a new form, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, but he was fine. He was a Pet. He was a person. Surviving was a skill of his.

He rested a hand on the wall, making sure he was hidden in shadow, and let himself take some of the weight off his scarred leg. Burnt, smashed, sewn up and burnt again. He would be limping, by the time he got home. But get home he would, and in some way, it was thanks to his leg. He had been sat on his bed, back when he couldn’t walk, looking for something to distract him from the feelings of anger and uselessness and what if he throws me out?

So he’d looked down and practised his reading. He remembered it perfectly. Tomas G…Grz…. something… 12 h-a-r-t… Hartland Road… your Pet… s-p-l-i-n-t…. bed rest for up to one week…

Rowe had read the address, and perhaps even then he’d known he might one day need it. It didn’t solve the problem of knowing whereHartland Road was, or whether he’d make it there without being stolen or beaten up or killed, but he had to try.

Kidnapped, he thought. You’d only say stolen for a piece of property.

The warehouse was evidently on the outskirts of town. Was it the right town? Rowe thought so, as he studied the lights shining down the road. Several of the shapes were familiar to him. The colourful string bulbs that were hung up along the shopping streets, the glow from the theatre on the hill, the dark spot where the graveyard sat. From his bedroom window he had to crane to get a good look, but he could see it well from the office. He ached to be back there. In the warmth and familiarity of it. Back with- Master? The word sounded strange now. Especially since- since Rowe felt like he understood him now. Understood his intentions.

He started to walk. Kasia’s jacket rested on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to put his arms in. The idea alone made him feel trapped. The thing smelt distinctly of the bastard, but Rowe knew it was preferable to the cold of a dead night. He found a main road soon enough, built up above the rest of the grassy flatland, so he gingerly climbed down the hill and walked alongside. He would be hidden from passing cars well enough, but his bare feet soon began to take the brunt of the choice of rough land over tarmac. Stones, sticks, was that roadkill, oh, god, all were littered through his journey which was only sparsely lit by the occasional road light. After a particularly sharp stone, or possibly even a discarded glass bottle, Rowe knew his foot was bleeding. He ground his teeth together. It wasn’t real if he couldn’t see it. And right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him.

He kept his eyes on the lights from the town before him, slowly drawing closer.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, running closer with horrifying speed. As they drew near he could hear Kasia screaming at him.

You think you can fucking get away from me? You think you locked that collar? You really think I won’t come back?

He kept his eyes fixed on the town. “It-it-it’s n-not real,” he whispered past the lump in his throat. He was trembling with fear. “It’s not real, I locked him up, I st-stopped him, it’s not real, it’s not.”

The paranoia wouldn’t leave him, though. Every passing car, though they were few and far between, made him jump and crouch down, hands clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t shake the fear that it was Kasia after him, out searching for the rotten escaped Pet. His leg burst with pain every time, making him whimper and cry when he tried to stand back up.

The sounds of footsteps gradually stopped, and Kasia’s voice faded, but Rowe could still feel his hands clawing at him. His back tingled with the overwhelming sensation that someone was behind him, creeping up and reaching out to grab-

Against his better judgement, he turned back. Darkness there, and nothing more. “Fuck, f-fuck, keep it together,” he muttered.

Just up ahead, he could see streetlamps. Proper ones, glowing a gentle orange. He went as far as he could along the grass, then climbed up, wetting his hands in the dew. He checked for cars, and seeing none, scrambled fully onto the road.

He realised he couldn’t run anymore- his leg would give out, or he wouldn’t be able to contain a howl of pain- so he limped as quickly as he could towards the next patch of shadow, over and over.

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

It was half shadowed, but it was a map. He pushed himself up on his tip-toes, eyes scanning the jumble of letters and lines and symbols. Eventually he spotted it. Hartland Road. He traced the direction in his head, making sure it was committed to memory, although he knew he wouldn’t forget it even if someone tried to beat it out of him. And then, he started walking.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he would have guessed around three or four in the morning. The pub, as he passed it, was quiet, although he still kept his distance, hugging the shadows.

He soon reached the base of the hill he knew he’d have to climb. As he started to ascend, he saw the Pet hospital in the distance. Oh god, would he have to go back there to get his finger treated? He pushed the question to the back of his mind. If he did, there wasn’t anything he could do.

A few cars drove by, as he walked. He wanted to duck into one of the smaller streets that branched off, but he had only memorised one route home, and he didn’t trust himself to improvise in the dark. So instead he squared his shoulders, stopped hunching, tried his best to look like a person walking home in his heavy jacket, not afraid, not prey. It didn’t feel quite right, but it was easier than he’d expected. And it worked- no cars stopped, no one seemed to give him a second glance.

He finally reached the street, the name lit up. Hartland Road. The sign was scuffed, like kids had popped the cap off their beers along its edge. It was fixed to the wall of a garden, weeds poking out through the bricks, a flyer from the council tied at eye-level to the neck of the streetlamp. Rowe took everything in as he walked. The bicycle clipped to a fence, the parked cars, the black bins left out for collection. Before, he never would have taken notice. None of it had mattered. But now, Rowe felt as if he had a new connection to the world around him. He could interact with it. He wasn’t leashed or under the watchful eye of an owner, he wasn’t crawling or blindfolded in the boot of a car. He was in pain, yes, but he was always in pain, so constantly that it hardly registered anymore. He was free.

Rowe didn’t recognise the house itself. The only times he’d ever left it, he’d been unconscious, or practically so.

But when he turned around, he saw the same view he’d had from his bedroom window every morning and night. He was home.

He remembered Kasia’s key, but it no longer fit into the front door. The lock must have been changed. Rowe hated that the alternative was to make a loud noise, at this hour, but perhaps that was the smarter way than simply slipping inside like- like Kasia. So he hesitantly pressed down on the doorbell, hitting his fist against the wood as well. He waited. He thought about how he’d never rung a doorbell before in his life.

Silence. Rowe wasn’t exactly surprised, but his heart still tightened. Suddenly the fresh air didn’t feel freeing, it felt exposed. He rang again, knocking harder, not giving up. Surely he would know it was urgent? Surely he would come down, and Rowe would get to see his face again?

Faintly, he heard the creaking of the stairs. “I-I-It’s me!” he said, hushed. “It’s me, I…”

His words died as the door slowly opened. Half a face, an eye framed by blond curls peered out, full of apprehension. In a heartbeat it landed on Rowe and widened, and the door flew open.

“Tomas,” Rowe said, loving how it felt to say his name, loving him, loving everything. “I��m back, I, I’m back, I’m back.”

Tomas raised a hand over his mouth, and for once he was the one shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god.”

And then he was reaching both arms out for Rowe with a sob. Rowe threw the horrible jacket to the ground and fell into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight. He couldn’t have known whose knees failed first, but suddenly they had collapsed on the floor, clinging onto each other, not leaving a shred of space between as they both cried. Soaked in the orange light that pooled through the still-open front door.

#tomas and rowe #pet whump #whump fic #deconditioning #mine #my thoughts while writing this: i love my boy i love my boy i love my boy

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years ago

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if I can never give you peace — zero || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count (chapter): 5.8k

Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers, heavy on angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Warnings & Tags (chapter): Descriptions of Violence, Tension, Dehumanization and general poor treatment of hybrids

A/N: So I have two modes and those are tooth-rotting fluff and angst feast. This is... not fluff. I hope you’ll enjoy this first installment and introduction to the series, and I will see you soon for the next one!

Your eyes follow Jungkook’s every step as he walks through the crowd and enters the cage that serves as a ring. He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re watching. You’re always watching. You’re standing in your usual corner, from where you make sure everything goes smoothly. Two tall, muscular men stand on either side of you. They look like they’re your bodyguards, but really, they’re here to handle him if he tries to do something. To everyone in the room but the two of you, this looks like every other fight night since the very first time he came to the Circle.

You’re too far for him to smell you, especially over the crowd of excited, sweaty men, but if he did, he’s sure he would pick up on the bitter scent of anxiety, would hear your heart beating a little too fast. He’d say you’re lucky the guards aren’t hybrids, but he knows that’s not the case. You never count on luck. Everybody knows that. That’s what makes you so good at your job. That’s what might just save his life.

He glances at you, finds your eyes glued on him, and gives you a smirk, which reveals his abnormally pointy teeth for a rabbit hybrid. It’s been over a year since they’ve been sharpened for him, to make him look more threatening. You’re used to them, but he still sees you swallow. For the first time he wonders, vaguely, if you had any say in that. You’re the one he meets with nowadays, but you’re not his owner, after all.

Your eyes leave him to look at his opponent. The man’s taller and has broad shoulders, he seems to have some training based on his on-guard position, and he’s older than him. You couldn’t find many informations on him, but based on his attributes, he’s probably some kind of dog hybrid.

You both know he doesn’t stand a chance.

“On my left,” the announcer roars, “some fresh meat! I give you… Jin!”

There are enthusiastic shouts, and the man shoots nervous glances around him at the crowd all around him. It’s clear that he isn’t used to that type of setting, and you feel an unexpected wave a guilt in your chest. He’s going to get destroyed tonight, you’re sure of it. You’re the one who suggested that Jungkook should fight a newbie, for the show. You don’t regret your decision, but you don’t feel good about it either.

“And on my right! The man who needs no introduction, who has won thirty! Two! Fights in a row, I give you… Jungkook!”

The crowd goes hysterical, and the hybrid facing him winces again. If he thought he had chance before that, it’s clear that he doesn’t anymore. You wonder if he’d heard about Jungkook, if his owners had prepared him well enough, if whoever owned him was betting against him. You wonder if he’d just been told he would be fighting a rabbit hybrid and assumed he would be fine.

Jungkook’s long ears are flat against his head, carefully tucked under a headband, and without those, he doesn’t look like a rabbit hybrid, too tall and broad-shouldered. Then again, he had never really been your typical rabbit hybrid.

Truth was, you had been relieved when you had been assigned to working for the daughter of Mr. Xanders. Your whole life, you had known you would end up here. Your dad had worked for the Family since before your birth, and though it was clear your mom disapproved, she had never held any illusion that you would escape it. If anything, you were the sacrifice, a way of making sure your siblings wouldn’t be forced to work for the most powerful crime family in town. That was, if you did good enough.

Getting assigned to the girl who was nicknamed “the Princess” was both a blessing and a curse. It meant you got to stay away from most of the illegal stuff, as the girl was notoriously sheltered from all of that by her father. However, it also meant that you had to basically babysit the spoiled seventeen years old, despite her being only a few years younger than you. You had dressed as professionally and sternly as you could, adorning yourself in a dark woman’s suit, but she hadn’t seemed impressed.

That was how you found yourself here, at an auction for rare hybrids. You thought the whole thing was grim — oh, how naive you had to be back then, to think this was bad — but you had obeyed orders without batting an eye. You had to do this right, and this was a pretty easy job, after all.

You gritted your teeth silently as various hybrids were brought on stage, exhibited and bought, one by one. The status of hybrids was a complicated subject in the country, always had been, but you had grown up in a poor area, where a lot of hybrids lived freely, and the idea of owning what you knew to be a person made you sick to your stomach. At least the Princess hadn’t said a word the whole time you’d been there, and you had hopes that you would leave without — God — buying someone.

Naive. So damn naive.

“I want this one,” the girl had announced decidedly, pointing at the stage with a movement of her chin.

Shit.

You looked at the stage. There, the auctioneer was highly praising the hybrid who had last been brought on stage. A surprisingly tall and muscular rabbit hybrid, with fluffy black hair and long ears falling on either side of his head. He was shaking slightly, sending terrified looks around him, and your heart tightened in your chest.

Naive and soft.

“Are you sure?” you asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Do your job. Get him for me.”

Numbers flashed in your mind, the exact amount of money you were allowed to spend clear as day. It made you feel a little better, for a second. This was what you were good with; numbers, facts, informations. If you thought of the hybrid as just that — a number, an element to compose with — you should be able to do what you were supposed to do. Do your damn job, and ensure your little brother never ever had to work here, because they wouldn’t be as kind to him.

You took a deep breath, and, after a few people had already considerably raised the price, you made your bid.

Jungkook walks to the center of the ring, arms raised high. He’s good at giving a show, good at most things, actually. He looks good here, confident, knowing exactly what he’s worth, and he’s nothing like what he was that first day. There is absolutely no fear on his face as he fists the air and people shout for him. Instead, he seems to be positively thriving on the attention he’s getting.

He’s a favorite here, because he always gives people what they came for. He makes the fight last, makes it theatrical, with twists and impressive moves. It’s been a while since he’s struggled in a fight, really struggled, which has made it easier. You recognize you’ve played your part in that. You have your word to say when picking his opponents, and you don’t want him to— well, to die, or to be too badly injured.

You know it’s not much. You know no matter what you tell yourself, that’s not protecting him. You know you should have acted a lot earlier.

But you didn’t.

They gave you Jungkook as soon as the payment was confirmed, which didn’t take long. People were fidgeting in the room, careful not to stare too long at the Princess. They knew who she was, of course. The bodyguards and your ghostly presence, one step behind her, did not do anything to soothe their nerves. No one actually knew you back then. You hadn’t earned your reputation of efficiency, no one had called you a cold-hearted bitch yet, though that would pretty much become your identifier, but you were still somewhat unnerving, with your stillness and your all black attire.

Which was why you never tried to add color to it.

The Princess seemed to be in her element, not bothered by the silence and people’s obvious fear of her, even for a second. Instead, she was watching her acquisition. The hybrid — Jungkook, you remembered, because you’d heard his name after winning the auction — was staring at the floor, stealing glances at her every once in a while, before quickly looking away again. He was clearly shy, and terrified, and it looked like the Princess liked that.

When they handed the leash to her, she was quick to clip it on his collar, and you held back your disgust. Your mind went to Mark, a kind golden retriever hybrid you had grown up with, and the idea of him being collared like that almost made you retch.

But, of course, none of that could be seen on your face. You had been told that you had the perfect poker face, unreadable at all times. In moments like this, it was a true blessing.

“Hello, Jungkook, I’m Anna, and I’m your new owner. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Then Jungkook looked up at her, briefly, and an adorable smile curved his lips.

You knew then that this could only end in pain and heartbreak.

Once Jungkook is done, he turns to face Jin. The other hybrid looks like he wants to run away, but even if he tried it, he’d be pushed right back in. So he does the smart thing, and prepares himself for the fight, lifting his hands to protect himself. Jungkook does the same thing. There is a brief moment of silence, everyone bracing themselves for what is to come. Despite his earlier display, Jungkook is deathly calm now, every muscle in his body ready for action.

The second the bell rings, Jungkook is moving, so fast he’s almost blurry, and you have to avert your eyes when his fist connects with the other hybrid’s chest.

This all feels like it could have been avoided.

A relationship quickly developed between the shy bunny and the Princess. You didn’t say anything about it; that wasn’t what you were here for. A baby-sitter, sure, but not a chaperone. Anyway, it seemed like Mr. Xanders wasn’t too worried about that, and his daughter was free to do whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t get pregnant. You supposed a hybrid was the perfect choice for that, with how rare it was for them to have children with a human. It could happen, of course, but it was highly unlikely without medical assistance.

Still, you weren’t sure you liked the relationship all that much. It just felt like Anna had so much power over him. He was a couple of years older than her, since selling hybrids under eighteen was technically illegal, but it was clear from the very beginning that he had been sheltered and didn’t have much experience in— well, in any areas. A sickening feeling told you that had probably been done on purpose by the people who had raised him. You were well aware of what rabbit hybrids were usually bought for.

You watched, silently, as they got close, as Anna’s hands started to easily find Jungkook’s, as Jungkook started to rest his head on her shoulder, to scent her, as he fell in love with her. Today, maybe you would have been annoyed at the sight, annoyed by his innocence, but back then, it only made you sad.

You were also there to see Anna grow bored of him. It didn’t even take her that long, no more than a couple of months.

When she insisted on going to another hybrid auction, and asked you to bid on someone else, you knew that it was over.

“Get him to fight,” Mr. Xanders told you dismissively at a meeting you had with him. “I want the money he cost me back.”

“He’s a rabbit hybrid,” you had said, frowning. “He’s not exactly the fighting type.”

“I didn’t tell you to make him win,” he scoffed. “I don’t care if you have to bet against him. Get my money back. After that, I don’t care what you do with him.”

You didn’t realize then that that was a ‘promotion’, and that this meant you would start working in illegal settings. All you knew was the painful weight in your chest at the idea of sending Jungkook to his death. You had kept away from him, not trying to create any bonds with him, but he smiled politely and kindly when he saw you.

God, he was in love with Anna. You were sure he had noticed her losing interest in him, but you also believed he held out hope. This could— This would probably be crushing for him.

So you took the matter into your own hands. You didn’t just sign him up for an upcoming fight, but you also found him a trainer, the best you could.

“Does Anna want me to learn how to fight?” he had asked you, big brown eyes looking at you, when you had told him about the training. “So I can be her bodyguard?”

“My orders don’t come from Anna,” you’d answered, trying to stay as distant as possible.

“But will she— Do you think she’ll like me again, if I learn to fight?”

No. You thought Anna had gotten everything she wanted from him.

“I don’t know,” you had answered. You couldn’t. You couldn’t do it.

The first fight had been brutal. Devastating, in fact. Jungkook had been training, and you’d been told he was good at what he was doing, but, as a newbie, he’d been sent against an expert fighter — “for the show”, you’d heard, the exact same thing you would use as well, years later —, and you were later told he was lucky he’d made it out alive.

You stayed next to him in the hospital room. As a hybrid, he healed quickly, but he still looked terrible, body marred with black and blue, lip busted, and black eyes. When he woke up, he looked around the room, every movement he made clearly painful, and you knew, at his expression, that there was only one thing he thought about in that moment.

Anna wasn’t there.

You would never forget the look he gave you then. The way he set his jaw, the way something hardened in his eyes.

“Get out,” he had said, and you were pretty sure he had meant for it to sound aggressive, but he wasn’t good at it yet, so it was more pleading.

You had gotten up, made a move to— to pat his shoulder, to do something, but you had refrained and your hand had fallen down to your side.

“I’m sorry,” you had said, and you had left him alone in there, with his broken hopes and heart.

That night was the first and last time you considered leaving your job.

But there was no quitting, where you worked.

In the ring, of course, Jungkook is good. He leaves an opening for the guy to place a few punches, ones that can’t hurt him too much. The crowd is delirious, bets are being placed. There’s a rumor that Jungkook was injured at the last fight so tonight could be the night where he loses his title, couldn’t it? The first round is coming to an end, and he doesn’t seem to have done much so, surely, he’s not going to be able to end that guy by the third, like he usually does — and if he does, hey, at least they’ll have had one hell of a show.

The three rounds thing is something you asked him to do after an organizer told you people needed that to feel they had gotten their money’s worth. You had told Jungkook, and he’d growled an answer, but he had never won in less than that since. For all his obvious hatred of you, the organization, and everything that surrounded him, he didn’t actively oppose you most of the time. He had tried to run away, twice, but when those attempts had failed, he had seemed to realize that it was just easier to go with the flow.

When the second round starts, though, he goes wild. His bare feet are light on the floor, his fists quick and precise. He doesn’t leave anything to luck either. Every punch lands exactly where he wants it to, when he wants it to. He dodges his opponent’s attacks easily, and he sees in his eyes the moment when the man realizes that he’s not winning this. He sees confidence turn into surprise, then into fear, and it only makes him want blood.

His right hook hits the man in the jaw with all the power he can put into it, and this time you don’t wince. You’ve gotten used to the violence now — it always takes you a while — and you’re mostly impressed at how good Jungkook is.

But that’s exactly why you’re in this situation, isn’t it?

“We should put him down,” Mr. Xanders said, with the exact same dismissive tone he had used years ago to tell you to make Jungkook fight, and you looked at him in disbelief. Surely, surely, he didn’t mean—

“I really disapprove of that solution, dad,” Anna said, shaking her head, and you realized he did.

You had been surprised by Anna’s presence, when you had walked into the office. You hadn’t worked for her in a long time, having graduated to far worse things. You had served your purpose, you supposed, made yourself practically indispensable when it came to the organizing of the Family’s business, as you knew the workings of the Family in and out, both legal and… less legal aspects. No one had ever said anything about your siblings joining.

“He attacked someone,” her father simply shrugged.

“If I may, Mr. X, it was after a fight and the man was being really aggressive after he lost the money he’d bet against—”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving his hand like you were just an annoying fly. “He attacked a human. We can’t have our hybrids doing that, otherwise it will just be chaos. You’re smart enough to know that.”

You swallowed. Something inside you was screaming. You had long shut down any form of moral compass, but it seemed like Jungkook always awoke the last remnants of it. You were pretty sure he despised you now, and you didn’t blame him for it. But, just like what you’d thought when Anna had bought him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this just wasn’t right.

“I understand, sir.”

“That’s a horrible thing you’re doing, dad,” Anna insisted. “I thought you’d try to at least reason with him, (Y/N).”

That wasn’t your job. You knew when your opinion was asked on those things, and now was not one of those times. You also knew that you hated that she called you by your first name, like the two of you were friends, and you didn’t say anything about that either.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Mr. Xanders said warmly, like he had just refused to buy her an expensive toy, and not condemned a man to death. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

Anna sighed and rolled her eyes, and you assumed she’d probably stay mad at him for a while. But not too long.

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest you barely heard Mr. Xanders dismissing you, and you were relieved to be left alone when you walked out. There was only one thing you wanted to be thinking about now.

How were you going to save Jungkook’s life?

Jin hits the floor and doesn’t get up. It’s not an actual knock-out, because he’s still moving around, but Jungkook doubts he’ll even try to get back on his feet. The guy seems to be smart, he probably realizes that that would be suicide. Another minute with him on the ring? Nah. That would be a really, really stupid thing to do. Jungkook’s knuckles are bleeding — he doesn’t think they’ve been intact once in the four years he’s been fighting — and he’s pretty much unstoppable, right now.

He lets the referee grab his arm and lift it in the air as the crowd screams. They’re particularly loud tonight, because he won in two rounds. It’s not really a surprise when they force the entrance of the cage, flooding it, and Jungkook looks for you, almost instinctively. When he finds you, your eyes are on your phone. You look like you couldn’t care less about what’s happening around you, and he knows you do genuinely dislike the fights. You’ve never made it a secret. You’ve never taken care of the other hybrids owned by the family who participate, either. He doesn’t know if he’s your burden, or if you’re the one who chooses to still do that. Before, he wouldn’t have doubted it. Now… He’s not so sure.

Your eyes flicker up to his for a second, and you nod, imperceptibly. Your heart is probably beating as loud as his right now, though for different reasons.

Jungkook examines you, takes in how out of place you are in that environment, immaculately dressed, small glasses on your nose, hair pulled back, and lets himself be amused by it, one last time.

And then he’s gone.

You only visited Jungkook when there was about to be a fight, and it was clear he really didn’t like it when you showed up. You always seemed to be interrupting him, whether it was a training session or a work-out. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him do something other than those two things. You didn’t know if he had anything else.

You brought some food from a restaurant he liked, as you usually did, and got some things for the guards who would be around. That wasn’t as usual, but you had done it before, so hopefully it wouldn’t make anyone suspicious and it would allow you to have some privacy with Jungkook.

He sat down opposite from you, immediately diving into the food you’d brought, and you watched silently. His shoulders were tense, never completely down but, though he would hate to admit it, he was more relaxed around you than around anyone else. It said a lot about his life, about how desperate he was for any form of companionship, that the way you told him about his opponents almost made him feel like you cared about him. It said a lot that your presence comforted him, and it was pretty pathetic, if you asked him.

“So, who am I fighting?” he asked while eating. He never bothered with his manners when he was around you.

“A newbie,” you said. “Some fighting training from what I’ve gathered, but he shouldn’t be an issue.”

He growled. The sound was unnatural for a rabbit hybrid, but he had mastered it over the years. It was a good way of intimidating people.

“Really? I thought I told you I wanted a challenge.”

You didn’t reply immediately, and that made him look up at you. When he did, you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, hesitant. That was completely out of character. Then, you made up your mind, and your expression turned back to the unreadable one he was so familiar with.

“Keep eating, and don’t raise your voice” you ordered.

He lifted an eyebrow. Normally, he would have done something like folding his arms and waited for more, in a defiant attitude, but this was you. You would never do something like that just to assert your power over him. He hated your guts, but that was one thing he could say about you.

“Mr. X is going to have you killed because you attacked that man at your last fight.”

There. Direct, to the point, not a useless word — though you couldn’t bring yourself to use the words “put you down”. Jungkook froze for a half a second, than resumed his eating, albeit slower than before.

“It was all good as long as long as I brought him money, but he doesn’t want any trouble for it, huh?”

His voice was bitter and low, barely more than a rumble. You were confident no one was paying attention to you, since the guards ate in another part of the house and no one cared about what you were saying. They could see you through the picture window, but they couldn’t read lips. Still, you lowered your voice as well.

“Win your next fight in two rounds,” you said, instead of answering him.

He shot you a dirty glance.

“Do you really think that’s what I—”

“That should get the crowd to lose their mind,” you continued. You had gone through all the possibilities in your mind, over and over again. This was the one that was the safest for you and your family, while giving Jungkook a reasonable chance of survival. “When that happens, you’ll use the hysteria to leave through your opponent’s entrance.”

This got his attention, and he stopped trying to interrupt you, finally focusing on your words.

“I can probably get you somewhere between five and ten minutes before everyone finds out you’re missing.”

He scoffed.

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I also won’t look too hard for you,” you added, because you would obviously be in charge of that as well. “So as long as you don’t do a terrible job hiding, we probably won’t find you. Stay away from hotels, and don’t get noticed.”

Jungkook stayed silent for a while. He didn’t look at you, jaw set, and you were pretty sure he was weighing the pros and cons of your plan.

“I don’t know if there’ll be another chance,” you told him truthfully. “They want you gone after the fight.”

The silence went on a little longer, before Jungkook spoke again.

“Anna’s said yes to that?”

You didn’t miss the way his voice faltered on her name. You didn’t think he had spoken to her in years, but he still had a soft spot for her, and being reminded of it always made you sad. You had accepted, a long time ago, that life wasn’t fair, but that was particularly true when it came to him. None of what had happened to him was fair. The shy boy with the wide eyes you’d helped buy at the auction deserved better. You didn’t, probably deserved every single bad thing that had happened to you, but for him, you wished you had done something — anything — differently. So you wouldn’t be faced with a jaded, cynical version of that boy right now.

“She opposed it, but her father is still going through with it.”

“So she didn’t oppose it much.”

You didn’t answer that. It was true, and you both knew it.

You glanced at your watch. Your time here was almost over, and you had a lot of responsibilities.

“Will you do it?”

Jungkook glanced at you, eyes wary.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? You could just do that so you could have me killed and say I tried to escape.”

You shook your head, almost amused by the possibility.

“I would gain nothing from doing that, and if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t go about it that way. Will you do it?”

This time, he nodded. He didn’t trust you, but he thought you were telling the truth on this. So following your plan would be just as well.

“Good. I’ll see you for the fight.”

This would have been a good moment to wish him good luck, probably, but you didn’t do luck, so you didn’t say anything. You gave him a quick nod, gathered your things, and then you were out.

You didn’t think to say goodbye.

“We’ll get him when the crowd’s dispersed,” one of the bodyguards says, and you hum noncommittally in response, eyes on your phone.

Moron.

If these two were the ones you usually work with, they would know that your usual protocol is to go get Jungkook as soon as the referee’s lifted his hand up. That way, you can get him out as quickly as possible and you don’t have to worry about him getting mobbed. But you’ve changed your team the day Mr. Xanders asked you to ‘put Jungkook down’, so they have no idea. It’s been a week since then, which shouldn’t make it too suspicious. Hopefully.

When the crowd does move enough to see what’s going on in the cage — three minutes — one of the two men says, voice worried, “Hey, can you see him?”

Your head snaps up and your eyes scan the room. You’re relieved to see that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” you ask urgently, and the men seem to shrink under your glare, exchanging worried glances. You roll your eyes and sigh. This may be your plan, but they’re still acting incompetent. Which is good for you, sure, but the perfectionist in you is annoyed.

“You two should pray he’s in the changing room,” you spit out as you march towards it. It takes some struggle, because the crowd isn’t exactly calming down, but it’s not too long.

Of course, Jungkook isn’t in the changing room. It was a bad idea to go look there anyway — usually you would probably have already informed everyone that he had disappeared — but these two don’t seem to realize that.

“Go search the fighting room,” you order, “make sure you haven’t missed anything. Then check the surroundings. I’ll stay there. Let me know if you find something.”

They practically run out, and you allow yourself to sit down. This isn’t even dangerous yet. If Jungkook’s done that part correctly, he should already be too far for them to find him. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve bought him — you check your watch — seven minutes. But even if you don’t doubt him, you still feel terror at the idea they could catch him. You don’t know what would happen then. You don’t want to think about it.

The seconds tick by. It’s been almost exactly ten minutes when your phone rings.

“Hello, Miss—”

“Do you have him?” you bark.

There’s a silence.

“I want an answer!” you snap.

“No. I’m sorry. We’ve lost him.”

You hang up immediately and start to dial another number to let people know Jungkook’s missing.

But, before you actually call, you let out a brief sigh of relief.

This just might work.

You get home late the following night. When you do, you’re absolutely exhausted. You’ve had a terrible day, unable to sleep a wink, and you got thoroughly chewed out over Jungkook going missing. You think Mr. X was suspicious of you, because you basically don’t fuck up, ever, but then Anna started to wax poetics about how “Jungkook was a soul who wanted to live”, and you don’t think he bought it, but it at least got his mind off of you.

You doubt he’d get you killed over that, it just isn’t worth it and you’re pretty valuable, but it would be much better if he didn’t think about it too much.

You’ve organized the searches, pretty sloppily in your own opinion. Of course, it’s possible that they could find him, but if Jungkoook does his part, everything should be okay.

You remove your shoes with a groan when you walk in. You usually never regret wearing heels, thankful for the centimeters they help you gain, but tonight you definitely do. Keeping them on for two days was not how they had been intended to be used.

Once they’re off your feet, you painfully walk to your kitchen. All you want to do is to make yourself a cup of tea before going to bed, but you stop yourself before grabbing your kettle.

Something feels— off. You’re probably the only person who could notice it, because you’re so obsessive with everything that’s in your home, but you just can’t miss it. It’s not much, just some items that aren’t where they should be, or that were moved a little to the side.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you hesitantly grab a knife from your kitchen drawer. You don’t think that would do anything, if someone was in your apartment right now, because you can’t fight and, considering the people you work for, you’re pretty sure if someone wanted to kill you they would, but it makes you feel better.

You make your way through the living-room slowly, heart hammering in your chest. You check the bathroom, first. No one’s in there, but it’s clear that whoever was there used it as well. He didn’t put your toothpaste back where it belonged.

That only leaves your room. You walk in, carefully, to find it empty. Your bed’s done, though not exactly how you do it, and that confuses you. At least until your eyes find the necklace that’s on your bedside table.

It’s the identifying tag Jungkook wore around his neck for fights. You reach out for it, in disbelief, and that only confirms what you thought.

A laugh bubbles in your throat, and you just can’t hold it in. It escapes your lips, breaking the silence that always reigns in your apartment.

Here. He was here, in the eye of the storm, while everyone was looking for him. You have no idea where he is now, but this makes you feel like he’ll be fine. Clearly, he is a smart man and he has resources.

You fall to the ground, lean against your bed, holding the tag in your hand. You give yourself a second. That’s more than you usually get. It’s a second to close your eyes and feel grateful and happy about what happened, a second to think that perhaps not everything is dark and terrible in the world.

A second, because Jungkook made it out.

And then, you open your eyes, and you come back to your reality, which is that you’ll be working for the family tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably for the rest of your life. There’s no out for you. No hope.

But at least Jungkook should be fine. You’ll never know about it, because if he is, then you’ll never hear about him again.

If you ever do, it will only mean bad news.

Thank you for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed this first chapter and feel free to let me know if you would like to be tagged for future ones!

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #candywrites

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ssajj · 4 years ago

Text

Believer

Your dogs fall in love first.

2.2k

TW for mentions of a minor injury

The week after you move into your new place, you find a good dog park to take Bloom to. She's been barking like a mad woman, letting you know that she's done trying to watch you unpack your stuff. She wants out.

"Okay, girl!" You laugh, gently pushing her down. You made the mistake of taking her leash out in front of her, so now there's no turning back. You clip it to her collar, scratching behind her ears as her tail thumps on the ground. "Let’s go find that dog park, huh?

The walk doesn't take long. Bloom is kind of terrible on leashes though, so you're pretty sure she's walked a couple more miles than you have because of how much she's weaving around. You're still hoping that she'll settle down a bit as she gets over, even if her energy and spirit never fail to make you smile. It sounds cliche and maybe a little dumb, but you really don't know what you'd do without her.

Once you get to the park, you take her leash off, nudging her gently so that she'll run off. She bounds off, running to the biggest group of dogs. They welcome her gladly, all sniffing each other's butts. You scoff and find a bench to settle down on, pulling out the paperback you brought with you. It's easy to relax here, even if the dogs are loud and it smells a little strange. Bloom is happy, you're happy, and the sun is shining.

You start taking her every weekend. There are certain dogs she seems to get along with more, other regulars. Soon, you start matching dogs to people. One in particular stands out. He's absolutely gorgeous and you're pretty sure the dog that's obsessed with Bloom belongs to him, not that you've worked up the courage to go talk to him. You don't even know what you'd say.

Of course, that changes the day said dog decides to tackle you to the ground.

It's an accident. You know it is. The dog tries to go for Bloom, but a slip means she slams full force into you.

"Oh," you groan, putting your hands above your head. Both dogs are trying to kick your face.

"Roxy!" You hear a man shout. Before you know it, the dogs are replaced by the cute man you've been eyeing. "Are you okay?"

You nod, shifting your weight in an attempt to stand up. The man offers a hand, which you take gratefully. "Strong dog."

He laughs a little, but you can see concern on his face. "Yeah, Roxy's a tough girl. Are you sure you're okay? You went down pretty hard."

"I'm fine, promise," you laugh, running your hand through your hair. Bloom's pressed close to you, nosing at your leg. You scratch behind her ear. "I'm okay, girlie."

"What's her name?"

"Bloom."

The man smiles. "This is Roxy."

"Hi, Roxy!" You pet her, leaning down to let her lick your face. "Please don't try to murder me again."

Before you can ask the man's name, his phone starts blaring. You've never heard a ringtone so loud, noting that a few other people looking over as he answers his phone. His face closes off as he answers. To you, he seems like a completely different guy in less than a second.

"Okay, I'll be there ASAP," he says, hanging up. "Sorry," he looks back at you. "I have to run. Work. C'mon, girl."

And with that, the mysterious cute guy is gone.

You go back to petting Bloom. "I'm turning into an old spinster," you whisper to her like you were sharing a big secret. She just licks your face.

You don't see Roxy or her owner for almost two weeks. When they show back up, the man looks beyond exhausted, settling down on a bench and folding his legs under himself. In a moment of boldness, you go up to him.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" You gesture to Bloom and Roxy, who have already found each other. "I should probably get to know you. Looks like our dogs are dating."

He startles, making a wave of guilt rush through you. You're a little reassured by the way his face brightens when he looks at you. "Of course."

"I didn't get your name last time."

"Oh! I'm Luke. You?"

"Y/N," you tell him, settling down on the bench. The two of you watch your dogs run around together. "Roxy seems like a sweetheart."

There's not a single person on planet earth that doesn't love it when you compliment their dog. Luke isn't any kind of exception. "She is! I'm glad you're not holding it against her that she slammed into you."

You shrug. "She saw Bloom and got excited. Happens. God knows Bloom has taken me out on more than one occasion."

"Roxy loves her. She isn't usually the most social dog on the planet, you know? Like father like daughter."

"You're both being pretty social right now," you point out, making him laugh.

"You got me there. Maybe you two are just special."

A blush spreads across your face. It's stupid, but you can't really help it. "Bloom is definitely special. Is it lame if my dog is my best friend?"

Luke shakes his head. "Nah Roxy's my best friend. Got her after I was discharged."

"Military?"

"I served in Iraq, yeah."

You whistle. "Damn."

Unexpectedly, his response makes you snort. Your brow furrows. "What?"

"People usually thank me for my service. I don't think I've heard "damn" before."

"Oh!" You feel like a bit of an idiot. "Oh, was that like, super insensitive of me?"

"It's kind of refreshing, honestly," he shrugs. "Maybe don't go around saying that to everyone who served, though."

"Noted."

Luke and Roxy disappear again. It's probably not a big deal, and you're definitely dramatic for worrying. It isn't like you know his schedule, so you don't actually know how much he goes to the park. You don't know anything about what he does outside of taking his dog here, either. Bloom always seems a little sad when Roxy's not around to play with.

"Your girlfriend isn't here, huh?" You ask Bloom, letting her rest her head against your leg. She's getting tired, making you gather your stuff up to head back home.

As you stand up, you hear a voice calling your name. Bloom goes sprinting off, suddenly getting a bunch of energy. You look over and make eye contact with Luke, who's walking towards you.

"Hey!" You greet him. "Haven't seen you in a few days."

"Work." He looks between you and the bench you just vacated, his face doing something you can't quite place. "Are you leaving?"

"Bloom seemed sleepy, but I think Roxy showing up changed that."

The two of you settle down. "I don't even know what your job is."

Luke grimaces. "Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

You can feel your eyes widen. "Holy shit."

At least that makes him laugh.

"You hunt serial killers, then? Sounds super safe and not at all time consuming."

You end up talking for a long time. It isn't until Bloom and Roxy come back to you that you notice the sun is starting to set. Luke looks just as startles as you.

As you pack up your things, you feel a gentle hand land on your arm. "Hey," Luke says softly. "Is it okay if I ask for your number?"

You grin.

Insomnia hits you hard a week later. It's been over two days since you've slept for more than an hour at a time. Bloom keeps whining, obviously aware that you weren't acting right. She settles down on the bed next to you, her head resting on your chest.

"Sorry we can't go anywhere, sweetie," you whisper as you pet her. "I can barely even function enough to go to work."

She licks your face.

As you're staring at the ceiling for the millionth hour, your phone starts vibrating on the table next to you.

"Hello?" You answer without looking at the screen.

"Y/N?"

Oh shit. "Luke?"

He sounds nervous. "I hope it's okay that I'm calling. You just- Roxy misses Bloom."

"Too tired."

"What?"

You belatedly realize that you should probably try making sense. "Sorry. Insomnia is really bad. Too tired for the park."

"Aw, Y/N. Is there anything I can do to help?"

You shake your head no before actually saying the word into the phone.

Bloom is ecstatic the next time you take her to the park. She drags you through the fence and you practically have to tackle her to get her leash off.

"I would have offered to help, but you looked kind of cute." You look up to see a smiling Luke. He grabs your hand to help you straighten up. "You're a little dusty now."

You snort, brushing off your shirt. "I guess you were just here for moral support, then?"

He nods. His face sobers a bit, ducking his head so he can look you in the eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"Come on. You sure?"

"Yeah. I got a full ten hours of sleep last night," you say, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. You don’t know what's wrong with you. Before, you figured that as you got to know Luke, you'd lose interest. It's what usually happened when you started talking to a guy. You weren't sick of Luke, though. Actually, your heart was racing.

His smile comes back. "Good! Roxy and I missed you guys."

You're asleep when the phone rings. "What the hell?" You ask, groggy. "It's like, 3am. The devil’s hour."

Whoever is on the other end pauses, the breaks out into laughter. It's a woman. "You didn't say she was funny!"

There's a rustle on the other end of the line, and you think you can hear the woman swear. "She has insomnia!" You can hear someone talking faintly in the background. Even if your brain is fuzzy, you can recognize Luke's voice. "You can't call her so late! Or at all!" Another pause, then his voice is louder. "Y/N, I'm so sorry about that."

"What's happening right now?"

"The team is out drinking. Garcia thought it'd be funny to grab my phone. No clue how she got my password."

"Why'd she call me?"

Luke sputters. You wish you could see his face. "I've just talked about you. And Bloom! They know Roxy made a friend."

More yelling in the background. The line disconnects shortly after, making you snort.

You just go back to sleep.

His face is bright red the next time you see him. Just like always, Bloom and Roxy go off on their own. You slide up next to Luke.

"So," you start. "Were you hungover on Saturday?"

He groans.

"You're limping!" You cry, running toward Luke and putting your hands on his shoulders. Roxy's at his side, so you unclip her before moving back to Luke. "What happened?"

"Hey, hey," he tries to soothe you, because he is a ridiculous man who is trying to comfort someone while he's injured. "It's just my leg."

"Sit down!"

You walk with him over to the nearest table, holding his hand as he gets himself situated.

He doesn't let go of your hand like you thought he would. Instead, he squeezes it. "I got grazed. It'll be sore as hell for a few days, but I promise I'll be as good as new." He reaches forward with his free hand to brush the hair from your face. Your heart freezes, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just looks soft. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Not forgiven," you grumble.

After you've known Luke for a couple months, you decide to start walking Bloom and Roxy together.

"I think they're in love," you tell Luke, watching Roxy as she kisses Bloom. "I'll start getting ready for their wedding."

Luke snorts. "This is definitely the most attached Roxy's ever gotten to another dog."

"Same with Bloom."

It's nice, walking around with Luke. He's sweet, he's funny, and you can tell that he cares about you, even though you don't know if it's platonic or romantic. Either way, you know how you feel about him. It's almost enough to scare you off, but you've planted your feet in the ground next to him. You aren't going anywhere.

"I don't really connect with people, either," Luke says suddenly, looking over at you. "So I'm glad that you met you, Y/N."

You feel warmth spread over you. "Oh. Thank you. You're not too bad, you know." You knock your shoulder against him, smiling when you manage to make him stumble. Luke is a sturdy guy. Huge muscles. You wonder how easily he could lift you, how easily he could envelop you. "How's your leg, by the way?"

"Good!" He nods. "It's all better by now."

Once the walk is over, you agree to his suggestion to do it next week, as long as Luke isn't on a case.

"Should I ask him out?" You ask Bloom, who wags her tail in response. "Is that a yes? I don't speak dog. You're not being super helpful."

She just stares at you.

Before you can ask Luke out, he asks you out while you're walking the dogs.

"Hey, Y/N." You note that he sounds nervous, his usual demenor gone. "I have something I want to ask you."

"Yeah?"

After a moment of hesitation, he continues. "Do you want to go on a date with him?"

You smile widely enough to break your face. "I'd love to."

#luke alvez #luke alvez x y/n #luke alvez x reader #reader x Luke alvez #luke alvez insert #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #dorothywrites

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percqbeths · 4 years ago

Text

someone please help me figure out what this is because it came to me in a dream yet has no reason or theme to it

Almost one week after the morning they woke up to drilling, Annabeth had long forgotten she had new neighbors. It’s not that she kept up with any news in her apartment complex in the first place, but they’d also grown silent, blending into the lull of their floor.

Most days, Annabeth doesn’t mind waiting forever for the elevator of her apartment to arrive. Their apartment is all the way on the twelfth floor, meaning the thought of taking the stairs is one she heavily ignores. What she doesn’t expect when waiting for the elevator at 9 in the morning is a small dog jumping onto her legs.

She yelps at the contact, causing the dog, a small, blonde Maltipoo, to bark, jumping up and touching her knees. She kneels down, cupping the dog’s face between her hands, “Oh my god, where did you come from?”

“Fuck, Appa, where the– Oh, there he is.” Annabeth looks up at the first syllable, raising one eyebrow at the stranger standing in front of her. Her first thought is that she hates the fact that she’s currently on the ground, because he’s tall and she hates the fact that she’s tilting her head so much to look at him. “Did you really name this dog Appa?”

He bends down, and the dog, Appa, turns away from Annabeth as his owner clips his leash onto his collar before standing once again, “I did, yeah.”

Annabeth stands, one eyebrow still raised as she studies the stranger. Now that she can properly look at him, she mentally curses the fact that she put in the bare minimum of effort this morning. Instead of her usual tennis skirts and decent blouses, she’d opted for leggings and a hoodie that was two sizes too big, and now she looks like a bum meanwhile he looks like a guy you’d see in a Hollister magazine; Broad shoulders, sea-green eyes that Annabeth already feels attached to, black, curly hair, and a navy blue shirt that only accentuates his biceps.

Annabeth looks between the stranger and Appa, an incredulous tone to her voice that she doesn’t bother masking, “You named a tiny blonde dog after a massive flying bison from Avatar?”

The stranger bends down, picking the dog up before locking eyes with Annabeth. “He’s massive and can fly in spirit.”

He says the words with as much seriousness as a person could, and it only makes Annabeth laugh. “You just– Wow, okay. I believe you.”

He grins, and Annabeth instantly notices the dimple on his left cheek, and she can feel her stomach flip. “Appa appreciates it.”

He shifts his hold on Appa, extending out a hand, “I’m Percy. We just moved in.”

The realization crosses her mind before she can stop it, and she straightens, “Wait– You were the one drilling at 7 in the fucking morning?”

His cheeks flush, and he releases Appa onto the ground before looking at her with a sheepish grin, “Uh, yeah– Sorry about that. We didn’t have any furniture and needed something to sit on, and my roommates and me all had late classes that day so we figured we’d do a little bit of building in the morning.”

“Did it have to be 7?” She grumbles, and Percy’s blush only deepens, “In my defense, I wanted to sleep too. Take that up with my roommate Leo.”

“Maybe I will.”

He gives her a smile, pointing his thumb behind him, “Apartment 1203. Be my guest.”

Annabeth furrows her brows for a moment, “You’re in the Halloween apartment.”

A look of confusion passes over Percy’s face, “The what?”

“The old people that used to live in that apartment used to deck out the front of it every Halloween. Christmas too, but Halloween’s were always really cool.” Annabeth explains, a small smile on her face, “I always wondered how the inside of the place looked, since they had good exterior design.”

“Well, I can’t promise we’ll have cool holiday decorations, but you’re welcome to come over.” He gives her a grin, just as the elevator beeps and opens up. Annabeth has a slight blush on her cheeks as she returns the smile, stepping into the elevator. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

Annabeth almost misses the way his smile grows and the small wave he gives her while the doors are closing.

Help

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #aya.txt #aya writes #i have no clue what i'm doing #i'm not joking this stemmed from a dream #percabeth au #yes he names his dog appa <3

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ladyseaheart1668 · 4 years ago

Text

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 54)

Description: A race to reach Diego and Alodia ends with a highly-anticipated arrival.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @feartheendlesssummer @mysteli @whatmcsaid@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 54 : River Skye

Jake

“Sean! Pull over!” Varyyn’s voice comes over the car’s radio communication system without warning, startling me out of an anxious trance. It apparently startles Sean, too, because the car swerves sharply for a second before reorienting on the road.

“Holy mother of god, Varyyn!” he yelps. “Don’t shout at someone who’s trying to keep three tons of speeding metal under control!”

“Is everything okay back there?”

“Alodia made contact!”

I almost drop the Prism Crystal as electric energy shoots through every nerve in my body. I suddenly feel like my stomach, lungs, and heart are playing musical chairs in my torso and getting tangled up in each other in the rush.

“What did she say? Is she okay? Where is she?!” The questions tumble out of me, and I have to force myself to bite my tongue to let Varyyn answer.

“I don’t know exactly where she is, and I’m not sure if she is alright. Sean, I need you to pull over so that I can touch the Crystal. I think I may be able to get a better lock on her now if I can handle the Crystal.”

That’s all it takes to convince everyone to pull over. We stop at the side of the road and I scramble out to hand the Crystal off to Varyyn, willing myself not to pester him as he closes it between his palms and closes his eyes to concentrate. I can’t help pacing, but I don’t pester him. Finally, he opens his eyes.

“...We are heading in the correct direction. I’m not sure how far off we are, but we are on the right track. She and Diego are in...I think it’s an abandoned house.”

“But you don’t know?” I press him. “What did Alodia say when she made contact?”

Varyyn purses his lips for a moment before answering. “Very little that was clear. She is scared, and I don’t think she is well.”

“What makes you think that?” Michelle asks.

“Her thoughts were very unfocused. And certain images that pervaded them invoked...well...fever. Illness. Pain. She seemed to confirm that she was hurt.”

“Shit!” I hiss, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and pulling viciously to keep myself from punching either a car or one of my innocent friends.

“...I-I really should go ahead,” Tahira says.

Michelle shakes her head. “No. Not alone. We don’t know who we might find there apart from Alodia and Diego, and you’re still not completely healed. It’s best if we stick to the plan. We know the Crystal is leading us in the right direction, so we stick together and follow its path.”

“And who the hell made you the dictator here, Maybelline?” I snap. Michelle fixes me with a steady eye.

“I am aware that your wife is usually the leader in our family, but given that she is the one we’re currently trying to rescue, it seems like it falls on me to be the voice of reason. Tahira might need backup. If Alodia is hurt or sick, I need to be there since I’m the only one of us with a medical degree. And if Tahira takes the Crystal ahead, we lose our only compass, and we possibly lose valuable time trying to find our way--especially if Tahira can’t get past whatever guards Fiddler might have put on them. That is time that I could have spent making sure she and your baby were stable. If you or anyone else can refute any of those points, I am happy to listen.”

Of course, no one really can refute those points. Tahira may be a superhuman, but the rest of us have actually fought Arachnid before. If they still have any of the technology they had on the island, being a superhuman might not be enough. Michelle nods, satisfied.

“Right. Good. There is just one thing first.” She pulls out her phone and taps the screen a few times. We hear the purr of the line ringing on the other end.

“What’s up, Michelle?” Zahra asks on the other end, not quite succeeding at nonchalance.

“Quick version is that Alodia made contact with Varyyn and we know we’re heading in the right direction, but we don’t know much else, and Alodia might not be in the best shape. I think I might need Iris’s medical scanner when we get to her. We’re about six hours out from Northbridge now. Can Iris track us? Like with my phone’s GPS or something?”

“Pfft. Child’s play. I’ll have her in the air in two minutes. You heading towards Northbridge or away?”

“Towards for now.”

“Good. Unless you veer wildly off course or turn around completely, I’d estimate Iris will find you in under three hours.”

“... I just hope that’s fast enough.”

Diego

Eyes screwed shut, sweat running down her ashen face in rivers, Allie pushes shaking, hissing breaths out through a narrow, round gap between her lips, gasping as she inhales. Her ragged fingernails dig uncomfortably into the skin on the back of my hand, but her grip isn’t strong enough to hurt. That’s the part that scares me. She’s feverish and weakened by captivity and infection. She can’t have her baby here. Not like this. I wait for the contraction to pass and blot the sweat off her face with what I think is a relatively clean washcloth that I found in the closet.

“...I have to get help.”

Allie whimpers, shaking her head. “...No…”

“Allie, we don’t really have a choice here. You’re hurt, you’re sick, and now you’re in labor. I--” I feel my voice catching and struggle to keep it under control. “I am way out of my depth here.”

“Varyyn is coming.” Her voice comes out in a weak, strangled moan. “Th-this is my first baby. We have time…”

“Last we knew, your baby was breech, and you were possibly going to need a C-section. If something goes wrong…” I bite my lip against the swell of tears rising from my throat. “Allie, I can’t let you die…”

“I’m...not going to die.” She opens her eyes and turns her gaze to meet mine. “...Don’t leave me alone. If F-Fiddler finds me...you won’t know where she takes me...Rourke will have River. ...Varyyn is coming. He’ll come for us.”

“...Allie…”

“Please…” she whimpers. “...I can’t do this alone. I need you. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother. Please don’t leave me alone…”

I grimace, my teeth clenched against the rising surge of terror that threatens to come out in a frantic scream. There’s no way I can leave her when she’s begging me to stay. My hand shakes as I brush the sweat-soaked hair off her forehead.

“Okay. Okay...I’m not leaving. I promise. Just...tell me what you need. What do you need me to do?”

“H-help me time the...contractions. And...I need you to help me...get my pants off…”

“Already? But...won’t you be cold?”

“I have blankets. My pants are soaked. I’ll be colder with them on.”

“Okay, fair.” I push back the blankets, wincing a little at the dark fluid stain on the crotch of her sweatpants. I force myself to smirk at her. “I won’t deny I feel weird about the idea of seeing my sister’s galleta, but I will endure because I love you.”

She rewards me with a weak smile. “And I love you for doing this.” Her smile twists into a grimace as she attempts to lift her hips to give me room to draw down her pants and underwear. “...I’m sorry...for anything else I put you through before this is over. I’ve read...everything I could find about the process...if I...say anything mean…”

I shake my head, almost smiling for real. “I won’t take it to heart. I promise. And just so you know, if it comes to it, I will absolutely deliver your baby.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that…” She abruptly falls back with a gasp, clutching wads of the blankets in her fists. I hastily peel one hand away from the blanket to hold in mine.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

“...It’s...going to get worse…” she groans through clenched teeth.

“And I’ll be here when it does,” I promise. ...Though when it does get worse, I really hope someone else is here, too.

...Hurry, Varyyn. Please hurry...

Caleb

“Zelda needs to go potty!” RJ’s singsong voice floating up from the back of the van makes me groan.

“Jesus, again? Didn’t she go an hour ago?”

“She’s a dog,” Dylan points out reproachfully. “She doesn’t understand time. Besides, she’s nervous. That makes her have to pee more often.”

I don’t particularly feel like cleaning dog piss out of the upholstery, so I grudgingly pull over to let the kids take care of their dog’s business. Might as well take the opportunity to have a smoke, too. The kids complained about the smell when I tried to light up in the van.

At the side of a long stretch of road running through a forest preserve, we pile out of the van. Dylan takes it on himself to clip Zelda’s leash to her collar, and the kids venture a little ways into the trees while I lean against the van and fix a cigarette between my teeth, lighting up with a quick snap of my fingers. I space out as I puff, just barely paying attention as the kids move through the trees. But then I see Ysa take off at a run.

“Ysa!” Dylan yelps. He quickly passes Zelda’s leash to Alex, taking off after his cousin. I move to follow, shouting over my shoulder for the younger boys to stay put where they are. It doesn’t take too long to catch up to her. She’s stopped at the edge of a side road where a jeep is awkwardly parked on the shoulder. The distance is probably the equivalent of a city block ahead of where the van is parked. But I am breathless by the time we reach her.

“What the heck, Ysa?” Dylan says irritably. “What did you run off like that for?”

As I’m catching my breath, I get a look at Ysa’s face, and my gut gets cold as I realize she looks scared.

“What’s wrong?”

“They need help.”

“...Who needs help?”

“The people who were in this car,” she says shakily. “They’re in trouble.”

My eyes find Dylan’s and we exchange a bewildered glance. Clearly he doesn’t know what the fuck to make of what Ysa just said any more than I do.

“Ysa, what...what do you mean?”

“I mean that the people who were in this car are in trouble and they need help,” she replies with an impatient edge in her voice.

“How...do you know that?”

She shakes her head, scowling. “I don’t know how I know. But I know.”

“Who are the people who need help?”

“I don’t know!” she snaps, frustration clearly mounting. “There are two of them. I think. Caleb, we should help them!”

In my opinion, going on some kind of wild goose chase after some unknown people who are supposedly in some possibly imaginary trouble sounds like the last thing we should be doing. But I feel like I can probably phrase it a little more diplomatically.

“Easy, kiddo. I’m sure the people in this car are fine. They’re probably just hiking, and they’ll be back soon.”

“But it’s going to be dark soon!” Ysa protests. “And cold!”

“All the more reason we should be getting back to the van and moving on. We’re gonna need to stop for the night soon.”

“But we can’t just leave them!”

“Ysabel, we don’t know anything about these people! We don’t know if they are even in trouble at all!”

“They are!”

“Caleb,” Dylan interrupts. “...There are footprints near the car. Maybe we could follow them just for a little ways?” Just to satisfy her, is the part he doesn’t say, but I can still hear. “If the people in the car are on their way back, we’ll probably run into them pretty quickly.”

I groan. What did I get myself into with these kids? For fuck’s sake, I’m actually considering going along with this…

“Okay, fine! But wait here for a minute, okay? I’m gonna get the van and the boys and the dog. I don’t wanna leave the van on the shoulder out in the open.”

Alodia

There are ghosts in this room.

I’m being wrapped in a corset of white-hot barbed wire. My hands and feet are numb with cold, but the blood in my head has been replaced with boiling magma that melts a block of ice deep in the center of my brain and sends alternating trickles of ice and unbearable heat down my spine. I’m sweating and shivering as I cling to Diego, my brain flickering between lucidity, delirium, and something in between. In the space between, I find the ghosts. I am not the first mother to labor on this spot.

I can hear the noises I’m making. Clumsy, gulping sobs interspersed with animal groans, grunts, and howls. The ghosts hear me, too. Many of them are making the same noises in their struggle to bring their children into the world. I am one with them, with every mother in history who opened her legs on this spot to sweat and push new life from her body.

Some babies come easily. The house I labor in is new, and a young mother who is probably still alive somewhere in the world breathes through her labor and delivers her son with such quiet effort that her little daughter feels no fear as she plays at her mother’s head. The child absorbs an atmosphere of excitement as her new baby brother lets out his first cry. But not every mother is so fortunate, and as each contraction swells to excruciating heights, the lucky mothers’ happy tears are washed away in blood as an immigrant woman’s baby girl refuses to draw breath, or an indigenous mother bleeds out over her howling son.

Children born dead. Mothers killed in the process. I meet the dark eyes of a girl who can’t be more than fifteen, the first human to give birth on this spot more than ten-thousand years ago, whose ancestors had made a journey across lands that were later swallowed by the rising sea. She is not a primitive creature. She speaks in sentences. She has a family and a culture. The child she bears was conceived with a boy to whom she had given herself willingly, with the intent of creating new life. But her humanity is tested when the pain sets in, pain that has been a part of child-bearing for so long that no one remembers the days when we were apes and we gave birth with minimal effort. She is scared, and her fear is my fear. My pain is her pain. But my labor is not her labor. Hers was over ten-thousand years ago. Every other woman who has labored on this spot is past her pain, but I’m in the thick of mine. Still, their long-dead labors cling to me like the ropes of seaweed that drape treasures drawn up from a shipwreck.

She won’t die. I won’t let my baby die. I won’t let her be sacrificed to the bloodthirsty deity who has circled mothers on this spot like a vulture for ten-thousand years, choosing whether to separate mother and child in death, or whether to take or spare them both. Whoever this deity is, they can’t have my baby. They won’t have her.

...But as I feel delirium encroaching on my mind again, and pain rises to meet it, I have to admit that I am less confident they won’t have me.

Caleb

We’ve been walking for awhile now. The younger boys are starting to complain, but Ysa is insisting we push on.

“We’re going the right way,” she says confidently.

I know she’s right because the trail we’ve been following hasn’t gone cold yet. Whoever these people are, they haven’t turned back toward their jeep yet. It’s a bad sign. As late as it is, hikers would have turned back by now, or set up camp if that’s what they were planning to do. As far as we’ve come, it’s not likely they’re either hikers or campers. Even if they were hurt and unable to move, we’d have found them by now, or the trail would have dropped off. It’s looking more and more likely that they abandoned their jeep because of some kind of mechanical failure and struck out on foot. Why the hell they didn’t just stay with the jeep and call for help is anyone’s fucking guess. But I’m starting to think Ysa’s right about them being in trouble.

That feeling only grows when the area we’re in starts to look real fucking familiar…

...Oh, shit…

“Okay, that’s enough!” I say firmly, reaching out to grab Ysa’s shoulder and stop her advancing. “Time to get back to the van.”

“No!” Ysa cries. “No, we’re so close!”

“And we wanna be getting a lot farther away!”

“Caleb, what’s wrong?” Dylan asks.

“I know this place. It’s very near to where a very dangerous person lives, and we should get outta here and get back to the van.”

“But what about the people?!” Ysa wails. “We’ve come so far, we can’t just leave them!”

“Ysa, you heard Caleb. It might be dangerous. If he thinks we should go back, then we should go back.”

“No!”

I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting sweet little Ysabel to pull away from me. And I definitely wasn’t expecting her to take off running again. Where the shit does she get so much energy?

“Dylan, you stay here with the boys and the dog!” I order. “Keep yourselves hidden and wait right here! I’ll bring her back!”

Diego

“Dios te salve, Maria. Llena eres de gracia: El Seńor es contigo…”

I mutter the old, familiar words under my breath. They taste foreign on my tongue. You might think that being raised Catholic, the prayer would come naturally to me. It doesn’t. Prayer in general doesn’t come naturally to me. The God of my mother and father has been a stranger to me for so many years. The gods of my lover and my found family are...well...me, and the members of my found family, and the most powerful of them is the very woman I am trying to pray for. But prayer is all I have to turn to right now.

“Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres…”

At first I thought about praying to Vaanu. Surely if any deity could protect Allie, it would be her father, right? But Vaanu isn’t really a god. Any more than I am, or Allie as the Endless, or any of the Catalysts. Vaanu is an alien with weird alien powers, but he’s not a god to be prayed to.

“Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.”

The words are sticking in my throat. At first I tried to think back to my mother’s book of Saints, see if there was a patron saint of childbirth buried in my subconscious whose name I could invoke to protect Allie. Of course multiple such saints exist. There are patron saints of television and the internet, it would be stupid if there weren’t any saints watching over such a messy, dangerous, and common process that has been going on throughout human history. But what I mostly remember about patron saints of childbirth and mothers is that a number of them are weirdly sans childbearing organs. If I believed in a Mother Goddess, I might have called on her. Instead, I’m softly crying out to the only blessed being from the religion of my childhood that I vaguely imagine might hear me.

“Santa María, Madre de Dios…”

Allie buries her face in my chest, clutching my sleeves as she screams. Her body is slick with sweat, feeling like she might slip out of my arms. I hold her tighter, rocking urgently as I stroke her damp, greasy hair with a shaking hand.

“...Ruega por nosotros pecadores,ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte…”

Caleb

I was right about where we are. Gigi’s abandoned squat is looming in the distance, and Ysabel is barrelling toward it. Fuck, does this kid ever get tired?! Call it adrenaline or a second wind or whatever, but somehow seeing where she’s headed gives me a burst of speed, and I finally overtake her enough to wrap my arms around her and roll us both to the ground. Of course she struggles, but I’m prepared for that this time, and I don’t loosen my grip.

“Let me go!” she shrieks, desperation in her voice. “Caleb, let me go!”

“I will, if you promise to stand still long enough that we can talk about this!” Ysa rapidly stills, apparently thinking this over. I prompt her, “Do we have a deal?”

“...Yeah.”

I cautiously loosen my grip, and when she doesn’t immediately take off again, I give her space to get up. I get into a crouch in front of her and take her by the upper arms, not hard enough to hurt her, but not loose enough that she can break away again without a struggle. I hold her gaze with mine.

“Listen to me, kiddo. You don’t want anything to do with that place, okay? I know the people who hang out there, and they’re really, really dangerous. Especially for a kid like you. It’s time to go back to your brothers and cousins.”

The moon is bright overhead, and I can see Ysa’s dark eyes shimmer with tears, her lips quivering. “But...the people...we have to help them…”

I’m about to protest, but I’m interrupted by the faint, but unmistakable sound of a scream drifting out from inside the house. Fuck. Not like I’m gonna be able to convince her no one’s in trouble in there now. I groan through gritted teeth, briefly tightening my grip on the kid. I shake my head briefly to clear it, then sigh and look back at her face.

“Look...I’ll take care of figuring out what’s going on in there, okay? But while I’m doing that, you need to hide, got it? Hide in the trees, and if anyone comes after you, you scream your lungs out. Understand?”

After the briefest hesitation, she nods. When I release her and stand up, she moves back into the trees. I nod my approval, then steel myself to go back into Gigi’s squat. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to help whoever’s in there. I’ve at least got some hope that whoever it is, it’s not Gigi or any of her crew, that they really have abandoned the place. But no way Ysa’s gonna go back to the safety of her family or the van if I don’t try. I try to keep to shadows as I creep up to the front door. I press my ear to the door and don’t detect movement immediately behind it, nor are there any flickers in the front-facing windows. I know from experience that the door creaks when opened slowly, but usually if I open it fast, it mostly makes a faint squeak. I make a calculated decision and push it open quickly. Unfortunately, I am rewarded with the sustained, thunderous crash of dozens of unopened cans of food clattering against worn tile. A crude intruder alarm. Way too crude for Gigi, but it definitely destroyed any hope I had of sneaking in and stealthily assessing the situation.

Well...I’m in it now. Might as well see what the screaming is about.

Diego

I’m aware that I’m sobbing as I replace Allie on the mattress and stand with the fireplace poker clutched in my fist. Someone’s in the house. Maybe. I hope against hope that the crash of cans scared them off. But if not…

I plant my feet and raise the poker in front of me like a sword. Allie whimpers and moans behind me. I blink fiercely to clear the tears from my eyes. I need to be able to see. If I have to fight to protect her, I will. But I hope I don’t have to. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe even if the cans didn’t scare them off, it’s not actually someone who wants to harm us. Maybe it’s just someone desperate for shelter like we were. Maybe it’s even Varyyn, come to rescue us, or…

The shadows under the door shift as someone moves in the corridor beyond. The doorknob rattles as whoever it is tries the handle, but the lock holds. The next sound is a pounding knock.

“Hello?” An unfamiliar male voice drifts through the door. “Everything okay in there?”

“Wh-who are you?!” I hate how high and shaky my voice sounds. The last thing I want is to sound weak and scared, however well that describes how I feel.

“Uh...well, my name probably doesn’t mean anything to you...but I’m not here to cause trouble. It’s just I know this area, and if you’re not from around here, you probably don’t want to hang around...Listen, it kinda sounds like someone’s hurt in there…”

“M-my friend…” I hear myself admitting. I find that I’ve stepped closer to the door, too, as if drawn by the prospect of a friendly--or at least non-hostile--face on the other side. “Sh-she…she’s…”

“I’ll level with you, I stumbled across your jeep a ways back, followed the trail you left. I got a van...I could help you get her to a hospital. Or...I got a phone if you wanna call for help…”

“The phone,” I answer promptly. “Slide the phone under the door.”

“Hey, hang on. How do I know I’m gonna get it back?”

Irritation needles at me, temporarily distracting me from my fear. “My friend’s not in a condition to get out the window, and I’m not gonna leave her behind.”

He groans. “...Yeah, okay. Fair. Fine. Just a sec.”

I never thought I would cry at the sight of a smartphone, but right now, the shiny rectangle that our visitor wedges under the door is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in days. I drop the poker and pounce on it, my hands trembling as I thumb the home button. Just one further obstacle to get over.

“...Passcode…?”

Varyyn

I don’t recognize the number of the call coming through on my phone. But I answer, because the situation I am in is not one where a person ignores calls from unknown numbers.

“Hello?”

“...Varyyn?!”

My heart drops into the pit of my belly as a knot of tangled emotion wraps itself around my throat. I feel myself begin to shake.

“...Diego…? ...Diego, my darling, is that you?”

In the driver’s seat beside me, Estela stiffens. Her hand moves toward the switch that would allow our friends in the other car to listen in, but I block it with my hand, and she grips the wheel again. Not yet, I signal with a shake of my head. Not until I have something more to tell them.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me! Wh-where are you? Allie said she reached you, and you were coming for us…”

I bring my free hand back to caress the phone with my fingertips, as if I can reach through it to touch his beautiful face. My breath quivers in my throat.

“We are coming, my own sweetheart. I promise. We’re following the Prism Crystal to reach you. You...you’re together, right? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he answers with a catch in his voice. “But Allie…”

“She seemed unwell when we spoke…”

I can almost feel him nodding. “We escaped in a jeep. We were heading toward Northbridge, but it broke down. Allie was hurt, and then she got sick, and now she’s in labor, Varyyn, and I don’t know if she’s going to be okay…”

“Wait, you were heading toward Northbridge?!” I sit up straighter, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. “Where did the jeep break down?! Where are you now?!”

“We’re in an abandoned house somewhere. We were on highway fifty-eight, somewhere past mile-marker twenty-four, I think. We had to walk for awhile…”

“Twenty-four…we just passed that, just before you called! ...Estela, what…?” I suddenly realize that Estela has brought the car to a stop. She nods at the windshield. Ahead of us, I can see that our friends have stopped, and Tahira has emerged from the car with the Crystal in her hand. She turns slowly in place and leans over to speak to the others.

“...Varyyn…? Are you still there?”

“I’m here, my love. ...I…”

The radio crackles to life, and Jake’s voice comes through. “Crystal’s pointing into the trees now. Don’t think we’re gonna find a straight road through. Might be best to continue on foot.”

“Diego is on the phone!” I practically yelp in my excitement, and turn my attention back to my partner. “We’re close, my darling! Do you hear me? We’re very close now, my love, so just hold on for a little while longer and we’l--”

A massive noise that I cannot decipher on the other end of the line swallows my words. My veins turn to ice as I hear Diego cry out.

“Diego?!” I am answered only by the sound of scuffling and unintelligible voices just before the line goes dead. And then I hear my own voice, strangled and foreign to my own ears. “No!”

Diego

I’m rooted to the spot, frozen in shock as I take in Stonewall looming in the destroyed doorway. I don’t recognize the brown-haired woman grinning in front of him, nor the shaggy-haired man slumped against the wall just outside. But the woman is staring at me like she knows me and I can’t take my eyes off her face. Then Stonewall, moving with shocking speed for a man made of rocks, lunges at me. The phone slips out of my hand as he grabs my wrist. I’m pulled like a rag doll, and in the dimly lit room, I can just make out the sight of the phone being crushed under his stone foot before my arm bone and the socket of my shoulder are forcibly separated. The pain is white-hot, shooting through my shoulder like a lightning bolt and temporarily blinding me. My own scream is distant in my ears, overpowered by the screech of static as my consciousness threatens to detach from the agony. When the world finally rights itself, I am crumpled on the carpet, sobbing as I clutch my arm. It’s still attached to my body, but it won’t move. I weakly probe my shoulder, but the flashes of pain and unnatural softness I feel there make my gorge rise. I try to focus on the face above me, the grinning, girlish face of the unfamiliar woman.

“So it’s true. I do have Selected staying under my roof. And not just any Selected.” She turns her gaze toward the mattress where Allie is struggling to sit upright, a desperate attempt at a defensive posture. “...The Mystery herself. My killer.”

She turns away from me, drawing something out of her pocket as she crosses to the mattress. A switchblade. I see it gleam as she flicks it open beside her.

“Looking a little worse for wear, Alodia,” the woman purrs. “And what’s that going on with your stomach? Got a little parasite?”

“...Who are you…?” Allie croaks out the question in something that’s equal parts a whimper and a growl. The woman kneels on the edge of the mattress, trailing her fingers along Allie’s leg over the blanket.

“Not surprised you don’t recognize me. Had this pretty face hidden behind a helmet on our last encounter. But maybe you’ll figure it out when I tell you that on the day I died, you were dressed like a pirate straight out of a Disney ride. You and your friends boarded our ship, and thanks to you, I ended up overboard. I wasn’t someone anyone cared about enough to save, so I drowned.”

“...I killed you…” Allie whispers.

“Yeah, you did.”

“...You...you were holding Sean and Craig prisoner. We had to get them back.”

“Yeah, not really interested in excuses. Honestly, I find your reasoning totally understandable. I’m also probably not the only rank-and-file Arachnid you killed without regretting it.” Her hand is trailing further up Allie’s thigh now as she leans forward. “...I don’t want revenge because I think I was right and you were wrong. I want it because you killed me. And that’s just the kind of thing that needs to be answered for. I suppose if I were still dead, I wouldn’t even care. But somehow...I’m not.”

Allie’s only answer is a strangled cry of pain. It’s probably another contraction, but it makes me try to sit up sharply, only to be forced down again by a flare of pain in my shoulder that knocks the breath out of me. The woman grasps the blanket and yanks it back, exposing Allie’s naked lower body. My heart wedges in my throat as she recoils, her expression twisting in pain and terror.

“Stop!” I shriek. The woman ignores me as she grasps my friend’s knees and forces them apart.

“Just as I thought. Little parasite is probably about ready to emerge. The question now is how to play this.” The blade in her hand flashes menacingly as she brings it to hover between Allie’s legs. “I could cut it out right here. Or reach in and yank it out and brain it against the wall.”

“No...please…”

“Leave her alone!” I plead. “Please don’t hurt her!”

“Gigi, stop!” The male voice from earlier apparently belongs to the man who was slumped outside the bedroom door. The room is suddenly brighter, and when I realize his hands are engulfed in flames, it hits me who he is.

The woman--Gigi--turns to raise an eyebrow at Caleb. “Really? You’re going to threaten me with fire in an enclosed space like this? You think you can burn me without burning up this bitch or her crotchfruit?”

“I might be reckless enough to try.”

“No you’re not. I know you well enough, Caleb. You’re a weasly, immature anarchist. But you have a soft spot for kids. You always have. And you don’t want a repeat of the DMV again. You don’t ever want to come that close to burning a kid alive again.”

Caleb clenches his fists, lowering them slightly, but the flames don’t go out.

“...You’re right. I don’t.” He raises his head, smirking. “...So I’ll let someone else worry about taking you out.”

A terrible noise drowns out whatever response Gigi might be making, a deafening cacophony of twisting, groaning metal, splintering wood, and crumbling masonry. I instinctively curl in on myself, screwing my eyes shut as a blast of icy air washes over me. Even as the noise fades, I don’t let my eyes open again until I hear a familiar voice.

“Nice of you two to join the party,” Tahira says blithely. “How did you find me?”

I open my eyes and crane my neck to take in the scene through a slowly settling cloud of dust. Tahira--or Dragonness, I guess I should call her while she’s in costume--has Gigi by the throat and pressed against a wall with one hand, held up so her toes are barely touching the floor. It looks like she decided to rip the entire window out of the wall to get inside, frame and all. Talos and Minuet are in the doorway, with Minuet holding Stonewall captive in a shimmering time field.

“Got an anonymous tip that you might need help,” Minuet explains. “Kinda seemed like a trap, but also too much fun to sit out.”

“We’ll probably want to stake out the perimeter once we’re clear here.” Dragonness turns her masked gaze to me and Allie in turn. “How’re you two holding up?”

“Th-think we’ve been better…” I manage to croak. “...Is...is Varyyn…?”

“He’s not too far behind,” she assures me. “Jake and Michelle are with him. And Sean, Estela, and Rebecca.”

“...Jake…?” Allie whimpers.

“He’s coming. So you two just hang tight for a few minutes. In the meantime, Marci, can you connect me to emergency dispatch? Get the coordinates for this place ready for them, too.”

Michelle

The sounds Varyyn heard as the call from Diego was cut off finally convinced us to let Tahira suit up and fly ahead. Luckily, by that point, Iris had reached us, and it was simple enough for her to connect with Marci in order to keep the rest of us on the right path.

We arrive at the abandoned house to find a fresh gaping hole in one wall. Surprisingly, we also find Minuet outside, holding two figures face down on the grass in front of her in a shimmering time field. Light pours through the hole in the wall--and unmistakeable cries of pain.

“...Alodia!” Jake picks up speed, sprinting toward the door, Varyyn close on his heels. Iris has already flitted in through the hole.

“Emergency services are on the way,” Minuet tells me. “Dragonness has gone after Caleb and Talos is inside with Alodia and Diego!”

“Caleb was…?” I shake my head. “No, never mind. Are you all right out here?”

“Wouldn’t object to you sending the bronze idiot to give me a hand. Can’t hold these assholes indefinitely.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Oh, and watch for the canned goods in the front hallway!”

Sean, Estela, Rebecca, and I make it to the front door and pick our way over the scattered cans before following the light and noise to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Jake and Varyyn are already there, cradling their respective spouses in their arms. They both look to be in bad shape. Unfortunately, I am only one doctor, and at a glance, it’s pretty clear that Alodia needs my help first. I strongly suspect Diego would agree with me, too. Jake looks fearfully at me as I approach.

“She feels like she’s on fire…”

I kneel beside her, giving her a quick once-over glance. The degrading bandage on her lower back doesn’t escape my notice, nor does the faint, foul odor wafting off it. It looks like sweat has been wearing away at the medical tape. But that’s not my primary concern at the moment. I quickly tie my hair back, securing it at the nape of my neck, and open my bag. I need hand sanitizer, and a fresh pair of vinyl gloves.

“Iris, what’s the medical report?”

“Alodia’s temperature is one-hundred two degrees Fahrenheit. Pulse is one-hundred thirty. Rapid respiration, BP is 90/60. Staphylococcus aureus infection is detected. She is also in advanced labor. Cervix is dilated nine centimeters. Fetal heart rate is 149. Frank breech position is detected. No signs of fetal distress.”

I can feel my own heart pounding frantically against my ribs as I pull on my gloves, but I manage to keep the tremor out of my voice as I respond. “Thank you, Iris.”

“What does that all mean?” Jake asks anxiously.

“The baby is doing fine,” I reply with practiced calm. “Alodia has an infection that will need to be dealt with, but the priority now is going to be getting the baby out. Iris, what’s the report on Diego?”

She rattles off his vitals, and her assessment of his condition: mild hypothermia, mild dehydration, anterior dislocation of the shoulder.

“Rebecca, do you know how to stabilize a dislocated shoulder?”

“Yeah, I’ll get on that.”

“Thanks. There are cold packs in my bag. Should help with the pain for now. We’ll hold off oral rehydration as long as his symptoms stay mild in case he needs sedation for reduction. Alodia? Can you look at me, sweetie?” It clearly takes effort, but Alodia lifts her head off Jake’s shoulder and meets my gaze. I smile. “Good girl. I’m gonna help you through this, okay? But I’ll level with you that I’m a little outside of my wheelhouse. So I’m just going to make sure I’ve got someone over my shoulder to guide me. Sean, I need you to get my phone out of my pocket, and I’ll tell you the number to call.”

Sean does as I tell him, setting the phone on speaker beside me once it’s ringing. It’s barely two rings before I hear a voice on the other end.

“Northbridge General, Labor and Delivery.”

“This is Dr. Michelle Nguyen. I need to speak to the nearest OBGYN, midwife, or L&D nurse. Tell them I’m in an abandoned house with a mother in labor and the baby is presenting breech. I’ve got EMS en route, but it’s not likely they’ll make it before she delivers and I could use a little advice.”

“Understood, doctor. Someone will be with you in just a sec.”

Jake

I don’t understand most of what’s said between Michelle and whoever she got a hold of at the hospital. Maybe I’d understand a little better if I paid more attention, but I can’t think about that right now. All I can think about is Alodia. All I’ve wanted for...how many days or maybe weeks now is to have her back in my arms safe and sound. Now she’s back in my arms, but she’s not safe. Her skin is searing hot against mine and she’s drenching in sweat, even though she’s shaking like she’s been out naked in a snowstorm. I try to steady her against me as she whimpers in pain, her teeth rattling in her mouth.

“She’s shaking like a leaf, Maybelline. Should we get her warm or something?”

“We’re gonna keep her cozy as we can,” Michelle agrees. “But shaking during labor is pretty common. She’s doing a lot of hard work here.”

“What can I do? How can I help?”

“She’s the one to ask there,” Michelle replies, gently but pointedly. I feel a little stupid, but my embarrassment is fleeting. I look down at my wife’s flushed face, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek.

“What do you need, Princess? What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

She brings a hand up to wrap her fingers around mine. “...Don’t leave me…” Her voice is weak, but the message is clear. I kiss her hot, sweat-salted forehead, and bring mine to rest against it.

“I’m right here. I ain’t leaving you for a second. I swear. ...Don’t you leave me, either, okay?”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and their implication hangs heavy in the air around my head. I’ve been imagining my daughter’s birth for months, letting so many scenarios play out in my head like movie scenes. I knew it would hurt Alodia. I thought she’d have the option of pain relief, but I knew I’d be holding her hand through some rough moments. I didn’t always imagine the perfect happy ending, either, with River healthy and perfect in our arms. I let myself imagine complications. C-sections, River having trouble breathing. I even let myself face the possibility of a stillbirth or some other tragedy. Maybe it’s just my military background, but I felt like I had to at least acknowledge the worst-case scenarios. But now that the moment is here, I realize that I never did face the worst of the worst possibilities. I never accepted the possibility that Alodia would die in childbirth.

I look over at Michelle, knowing she heard what I said. She meets my eyes. Her gaze is steady, but there’s concern that can’t be totally disguised.

“...You said the baby was doing fine...” I murmur. My emphasis is subtle. I can’t ask the question out loud. I don’t want to ask it where Alodia can hear me. I don’t want to ask it at all.

“Alodia’s vitals are concerning,” Michelle confirms. “Most likely due to the infection. But that can’t be dealt with until the baby is born. We have to focus on what we can do here and now. Alodia, it’s almost time, so we’re gonna get you into a good position. We’re going to try getting you upright since the baby’s coming breech. Sean, grab my phone, please. Rebecca, please grab that folding chair by the desk. Nurse Michealson, are you still there?”

“Still here, doctor,” the man’s voice on the other end assures her. “Let me know when you’ve got the mother in position.”

I feel Michelle is a photographer, posing us for the world’s weirdest family portrait as she directs us to get Alodia in position. I’m instructed to sit on the chair with my knees apart and let Alodia straddle my lap so I can support her from behind and help her keep her legs open. Sean and Estela kneel on either side, supporting her feet and ankles and giving her something to push against. I wrap one arm around her chest, taking her hand with the other.

“I’m right here, Princess,” I murmur into her ear. “I gotcha.”

“Jake…” She whimpers, her free hand shaking as she reaches back to caress my cheek with sweat-damp fingertips. “...She won’t die. River won’t die…”

“You’re right. She won’t. She’s gonna be just fine.”

“...I’m scared…”

“I know. But you got this. You’re not alone. We’re right here. You can do this.”

“Okay, Alodia, this is it.” Michelle grips Alodia’s knees, smiling encouragingly. “You’re almost through this. Remember you’ve got millions of years of instinct behind you, so don’t be afraid to trust it.”

Alodia nods, and I feel a wave of calm washing over both of us. There’s no more choice in the matter. Nature has taken over, swept up my wife and child, and there’s nothing for Alodia, River, or me to do but let the currents carry us to shore. I brush my wife’s ear with my lips.

“I love you more than anything, Alodia Rose Chandler,” I whisper.

“Deep breath, Alodia,” Michelle instructs, her eyes never leaving Alodia’s face. “And...push.”

I close my eyes as Alodia goes rigid in my arms, her hands squeezing me for dear life. I grip back, speaking whatever encouraging words I can come up with into her ear. It’s not like I have to think hard to come up with them. I’m barely thinking at all as I tell her that she’s the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known, that I love her with my whole soul, that I’m right here with her, that I’m never going to leave her. I can’t take her pain away, and I can’t labor for her, but I’m riding the currents of it right beside her, responding to keep her feeling secure and protected. She pushes. She rests. Push. Rest. She stiffens with a weak cry, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It hurts…”

“I know, Princess. It sucks, but I’m told having a baby tends to kinda smart.”

“Bottom’s getting ready to deliver, Alodia,” Michelle says. “It’s going to sting for a moment or two, but then the worst will be over. Need you to pull back a little, just small, gentle pushes.”

Alodia gathers her strength, and I try to add mine to hers. I dare to glance down, and catch a glimpse of tiny feet and legs. Then, a moment later, she’s here. My daughter is here, shrieking her little lungs out like she’s come out ready to fight the whole world.

Something halfway between a laugh and a sob tumbles out of me as I look down at the furious creature flailing and howling on the blanket at Michelle’s knees while she clamps and cuts the umbilical cord. She’s like something out of a horror movie, wrinkled and wet with blood and god knows what else, but she’s so goddamn beautiful. I kiss my wife’s cheek over and over, rocking her as gently as I can manage with all the emotion coursing through my veins.

“You did it, Princess. She’s here and she’s perfect…Princess…?” Her grip on my hand has begun to slacken. And just like that, elation turns to terror as my wife goes limp in my arms. “Alodia!”

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buildingcages · 4 years ago

Text

Box Boy Enrollment, part 2

whew, this got long! part one is here.

masterpost

(Warnings: dehumanization, objectification, financial coercion, forced nudity (mostly nonsexual), slavery, humans as pets, victim blaming, psychological manipulation, corporal punishment)

The lady behind the desk was plump, comfortably middle aged with little gold glasses on a chain around her neck. She smiled brilliantly at him as he came in, gesturing to the chair across from hers.

"Come on in sweetie, you're here to sign up aren't you?"

"Oh uh. Yeah. Is it that obvious?" He dropped into the chair, feeling embarrassed and transparent. God, but he must look pathetic. "I'm here about the uh, the debt forgiveness program?"

She chuckled. The name plate on her desk read 'Miss Delilah'. "In my line of work you learn to read people, is all. It looks like you've got some paperwork for me hon?"

Nodding, he slid the folder across the desk. The very sympathetic bank manager had given it to him when he suggested he come here. She picked it up and thumbed through the contents with pursed lips. He slid his hands under his thighs to keep himself from fidgeting. 'It's not going to work. She's going to tell you it's too much and you're not worth that much and they can't help you, and you will have humiliated yourself for nothing-'

She snapped the folder shut and smiled at him again. "You're doing the right thing sweetie. I'll just get some forms for you and we'll get you all set up."

He slumped with relief and she chuckled again, reaching across the desk to ruffle his hair.

"Aw were you worried? You're a good boy aren't you? You're gonna do just fine." She set a small stack of forms in front of him and then tapped something on her computer screen. "You just fill those out and I'll let the intake boys know to get a space ready for you ok?"

He closed his eyes for a minute. This was the last moment where he could turn back. He picked up the pen. Name, date of birth, medical history, fingerprints. The questionnaire about his sexual history, identity, and attraction gave him pause, but he decided not to think about it and filled it out as fast as he could. He hesitated for a long moment before signing, then pushed the paper back across the desk. His mouth was as dry as the desert he'd driven through on a road trip once. It was done.

The recruitment lady- no, Miss Delilah- looked up from her computer and smiled at him again. She pulled something out of her desk drawer and came around behind him before he could catch a good look at whatever it was. When he tried to twist and look at her she put a hand on his shoulder and he stilled.

"Easy now sweetie, I'm just putting your collar on you. You understand you're going to have to wear this from now on, right?"

Oh.

"Oh. Of course. Um. Can I ask. What’s next?" The collar was stiff, high enough that it kept pinching him when he slouched.

"Well just this once, since you've been so good for me. Next, someone will come from intake to bring you up to your temporary quarters, then after a little while you'll be taken to the training facility. Once you're there, they'll start teaching you how to be a good little pet. Won't that be nice?"

He kind of doubted it would be. 'It's worth it, whatever happens, if this saves everyone else then it's worth it. Be good and maybe they'll go easy on you. Then when they sell you as a companion to some little old rich lady you can run away if she's mean.' He took a deep shaky breath.

"Ok. Thank you for telling me."

"You can call me Miss, dear. It's important for you to learn how to show respect for your betters, isn't it hon?"

Meek, he reminded himself, you are going to be meek. He made his voice as small as he could.

"Yes, Miss."

While he sat there trying to steady himself, Miss Delilah was bustling around pulling a stack of 3 nested plastic bins out of another drawer. She set them on the desk and smiled again.

"Ok sweetheart go ahead and strip. Clothes in this bin, shoes and belt in this one, personal effects in here."

He looked around the little office, at the glass door with all the people typing away in their cubicles behind it, at the lack of any clothing visible to replace what he was wearing.

"Don't pets get clothes, um. Miss?" The question came out a little choked, and he knew he must be as red as a boiled lobster.

"You're not a pet yet honey, you're a trainee. You've got to earn the ability to call yourself a pet, and you do that by being good and doing what you're told. Come on hon, you've been so good, don't make me punish you already!"

He took another deep breath, the way he’d been taught when he was overwhelmed as a kid. 'Just start with your shoes. You can do this. One thing at a time.'

He slipped off his worn but comfy boots, and put them in the tray. Then belt and socks. His heavy rings, the leather bands he wore around his wrist. His hands shook so badly taking off his shirt that a button came free and pinged off into the corner somewhere. Miss Delilah made a disapproving "tsk" sound but didn't say anything. Finally he stood there in a collar and boxers. Maybe it would be enough. Miss Delilah raised her eyebrows at him and he knew it wouldn't be. He squeezed his eyes shut and slid them down his hips, setting them in the plastic tub.

When his shoulders tried to rise defensively the collar bit into him. Miserably, he wrapped his arms around his middle.

"See? that wasn't so bad was it honey? You just keep doing what you're told like a good boy and you'll be just fine. Now come sit by me--NOT on the chair, good heavens, you can kneel right here, and I'll give you a little something to calm your nerves. I've got a couple other things to set you up with and then you'll be all ready for intake and training."

He knelt. He felt detached and cold, and like some distant part of him might be screaming, but he fought the prickle of tears behind his eyes and accepted the pill and the little paper cup of water. When he looked up again, Miss Delilah was holding something that looked a lot like those piercing guns you saw at the mall. Something on her computer beeped, and she took a little chip out of its slot and plugged it into the thing in her hand. Then she grabbed his ear, hard, and he flinched back on instinct and fell right over on his back.

"Oh, honey, and you were doing so good too."

Her voice was sad, and she was reaching for something on her desk. The next thing he knew, the world whited out with pain. He heard a scream he belatedly recognized as his own, tapering off into pained gasps. A shock collar, of course, he should have known he was so stupid-

"Now are you gonna be good for me? Or are you gonna make me do that again?"

"No, please, I'm sorry," he gasped, trying to coax his limbs to cooperate, "I'll be good Miss I promise."

"Good boy. Up on your knees now, and hold still."

He pushed himself up with arms that felt like overcooked noodles. It was a piercing gun after all, and when he raised a hand furtively to touch his ear he found a flat plastic tag like they used to mark livestock. It hurt, but not as much as the shock collar. He thought maybe the little pill she gave him was starting to work, because he felt kind of soft and floaty.

"There, see how much nicer it is when you do what you're told?" She patted his cheek kindly, "Now remember, the money to pay your debts is coming directly from your sale. If you're really good and we don't have to keep paying for extra training we can pay that debt off free and clear, ok? Just keep reminding yourself that this was your choice. Everything that happens to you now is something you signed up for of your own free will."

It was true, and he thought maybe it would make it easier to deal with, if he reminded himself that he’d had some kind of control. It wasn’t like he didn’t know this would be humiliating. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt the tears sticking in his eyelashes.

Behind him, he heard the door open. Miss Delilah smiled down at him again, and clipped a lead to one of the rings on his collar.

"Here's intake now, you're going to be a good boy for them and do everything they say, aren't you?"

He nodded miserably. When he looked over his shoulder he saw two men in white with long batons hanging off their belts. He suspected he didn't want to know what those were for, and he also suspected it wasn't going to matter. Delilah handed one of them the end of his leash.

"Up, trainee." His voice was sharp, and there was no warmth in it. He got up. It was dawning on him that he was about to be paraded naked in front of a whole office full of people, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Sure enough, the man holding his leash turned and walked back out the open door without so much as a backward glance. He stumbled and walked quickly to keep up, sure that any delay would be punished. As they passed the cubicles he could see that most of the office workers were ignoring him completely, but one had been watching through the glass door intently. He was smiling slyly, one hand rubbing his trousers under the desk.

"Eyes forward trainee," the intake man behind him punctuated this by tapping his baton against his captive's turned cheek. It buzzed against his skin, clearly a warning. He snapped his eyes forward and concentrated on walking, trying to ignore the flush he could feel creeping across his chest.

~*~

Please let me know if I’ve forgotten any warnings! A big thanks to all the folks involved in building this lovely whumptastic sandbox <3

#bbu #box boy multiverse #box boy whump #trans whumpee #fake nice whumper #wru recruitment tactics are dirty #it's all even further downhill from here #box boy 583299

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lilixloveswhump · 4 years ago

Text

Collar

Whumptober 2020 - Day 2 (Prompt: Collars)

start//end masterlist

TW: swearing (one word), mention of rape, collared and leashed, electricution/taser, pet whump, lady whumper

“Oh, you’re awake!” Her voice was chipper, sending a jolt through Felix’s body as She flipped on the light. He shielded his eyes as he peered up to look at Her, watching as She swiftly entered the cage, just as She always did. He whimpered as he struggled to drag himself backward, tripping over his limbs, unable to even crawl properly with how weak he felt. It was too cold down there, he was always shivering and he hadn’t had a proper meal in, what, days? He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, whether it was day or night, September or October. All he knew was hunger, cold, darkness,

And Her.

She smiled at him, Her lips covered by the mask but he could see the crow’s feet at Her eyes. He couldn’t tell if there was genuine happiness or not. He couldn’t tell which he preferred.

His breath hitched as She reached a hand out at his throat, freezing him in place as She wrapped it around his neck, the smooth leather of her gloves caressing over the fine hair running down the nape of it, sending shivers down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to slip through when he couldn’t even manage to utter a desperate “please.” He was like a baby doe in the headlights when it came to her, halting all movements and willing himself to completely disappear from existence. He whimpered quietly as he felt something wrap around his throat, slight pressure on his adam’s apple following.

Felix caught the amused chuckle that escaped Her chest as She did so, and it only made the tears fall faster. She enjoyed his fear, and he could hardly even blame her. It was silly, She hadn’t even done anything to him, yet, and he was still a blubbering mess. She pulled back and Her hands were gone, but the tight sensation on his neck remained when he opened his eyes. His hands immediately reached up to feel it, eyes widening at the leathery texture and twinkling in confusion at the subtly ‘clink’ when his fingers grazed the front.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah!” She waved a finger, ending in a crude point. “Hands down.” He stopped, his hands falling to his lap as he feared the consequence of continuing to mess with it. A collar, it must have been a collar. Would it shock him if he touched it? If he tried to take it off? God...would it tighten? Could it cut off all of his airways, would he slowly suffocate if he tried to figure out what on earth was hanging from the front? He didn't know, and he didn't care to find out.

"Don't worry, pet. You'll see it soon." She said, tilting her head to rest it on her hand. She heaved a satisfied sigh, eyes crinkling up as she smiled at him. "You've been so good, my sweet little angel." She uncrossed her arms and dug into her pocket, pulling out something pink and wrapped up into a coil around her hand. His jaw wobbled as She approached, his mind jumping to all the possibilities of what the thing could be. Was She going to whip him? It didn't look like a whip, no, no. It looked…it looked like string, but…it was far too thick to be…oh. His heart stuttered as he heard the click, the woman's face suddenly down next to his. He hadn't realized until it was on, drooping down from his jugular and swooping back up into Her hand. It was a leash.

"Stand up." He barely heard her, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was leashed. He was collared and leashed like some kind of animal. It was a nice leash too, a silky little pink color, one he figured was probably used for bedroom purposes. Was this what this was? Holy fuck, was She going to rape him? The shame crept at his face, staining a bright crimson color up to his ears. He was sure he'd begun to cry again. A slight tug pulled him from his thoughts, the flimsy rope bouncing on the air between them. "Up." She repeated and he pushed himself to his feet. He still didn't know what the collar did. It was best not to test it.

The woman reached into Her pocket once more, pulling out a small capsule. She shook it in her hand first once, twice, a third time, then cleared her throat as Felix flinched back, a long cane-like rod protruding from Her hand. She pressed a button and it zapped, little bolts of electricity lighting up the sides as She presented it like some kind of show.

He got the message, swallowing hard as She turned around, tugging on the leash gently to egg him along. He followed Her out of the cage, the first time he'd set foot outside of it since he'd been there. She led him to the stairs and he reached for the railing, halting as She spun around, reaching the cane out to where his hand hovered. "Ah, ah." She tsked, shaking Her head and watching as he brought his hands back together, clasping them in front of him before nodding approvingly. "Good boy." She sang, flipping back around and continuing up the steps.

Felix could feel the temperature change even before he stepped through the door. Her house was nicely decorated, and he figured She must have been wealthy, which only scared him more. If She was a powerful person who knew powerful people, She could totally get away with this sort of thing. There were a lot of windows, he noted the pulled curtains as he followed Her through the house. It must have been night as there wasn’t any light seeping through the cracks. There was no point in hoping a nosy neighbor would spot him.

She stopped suddenly at a mirror, a fancy one mounted to the wall at shoulder height, framed with shards of opal and pearl. “What do you think, pet?” Felix found himself in the mirror, slightly less horrified than he expected to be, but then again, things were always worse in his head.

The only part of his face that was sunken was his eyes, heavy bags laying underneath them from sleeping on a cold floor, but he didn’t look starved. He wasn’t as pale as he thought he’d be, and it made him wonder if he had been exaggerating his shivers. Around his neck was a leathery, baby pink collar, a bell hanging just beside the clip to the leash. Next to it dangled a piece of metal; a nametag, in the shape of a heart. He moved his head a bit to get it to shift in hopes to read what She’d named him.

“It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” She chimed, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his reflection long enough to look at her. “I was originally going to go for black, you know. But…” She wrapped Her hands around the back of his neck, a few fingers creeping up to comb through his hair, “I think the pink suits you well.” She whispered into his ear and Felix felt each individual goosebump rise on his skin. “Now, pet, what do we say when someone gives you a gift?”

He finally moves his eyes, widened with horror as they laid on the serpent of the woman standing next to him. A gift? He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t ask for any of this. So he just stared, mouth agape, wondering how anyone could be so twisted.

“Oh,” She tutted, taking a step back from where She was hugged up on his shoulder, shutting her eyes in disappointment. She shook the capsule again, the cane coming out with a sharp ‘thwap!’ “I don’t own dumb pets.”

It only made contact with his skin for half a second, but it sent Felix to the ground, clutching his calf and shaking in disbelief.

“Now, love,” His eyes blew wide as the tip of the cane was pressed under his chin, lifting his head up to look at Her, the crow’s feet once again in the corner of her eyes. “What is it that we say?” She didn’t even give him the grace over hovering over the button, her thumb instead placed on top and he knew all She needed to give was slight pressure to fry his brains.

“Th-thank you.”

A noise of satisfaction leapt from Her throat, her shoulders bouncing happily as another hand found itself tangled up in his hair. “You’re welcome, Angel.”

#whumptober 2020 #no.2 #collars #start//end #writing #pet whump #rape #mentioned noncon #electricution #tasers #whump #whump writing #whump drabble #my writing #my ocs

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stilesssolo · 4 years ago

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“I can’t do anything right.” I could totally see this prompt in WTWTA

Lol another Halloween one AND a TBT! Idk why when Jon’s friends are here things always get super long but alas. The rest and the insta post are under the cut!

1. “I can’t do anything right.”

Jon has been nervous, originally, at the prospect of moving into his friends’ apartment with a wolfdog puppy— not because he was worried about living with Grenn, Pyp, and Sam, but because he didn’t think they truly understood what they were signing up for with Ghost. That first week, he’d been certain that they were on the brink of kicking him out at any given moment, because puppies, while adorable, were exhausting.

Two months later, those fears have all but disappeared, because it’s beyond clear that his flatmates fucking adore his dog.

It helps that Ghost is— so far, at least— remarkably well behaved for a wolfdog. Jon had heard plenty of stories in his research of their destructive tendencies, their high energy, their skittishness and hesitancy towards people. But he’s the sweetest puppy, and the most destructive thing he’s done so far is trip Grenn while doing his nightly routine of running circles around the living room.

“I’m back!” Jon hears Sam’s voice echo down the hall, Ghost standing up from his spot on Jon’s lap, tail wagging as he barks at the newcomer.

“S’alright, boy,” Jon laughs, looking away from the match on television. Grenn and Pyp look up as well as Sam enters the living room, shopping bags in hand.

“Did you get food?” Grenn asks, Pyp cackling as Sam gives him a disappointed look.

“Of course I did,” Sam responds. “Though I don’t know why I keep cooking for you. You’ll never learn on your own this way, you know?”

“Aye, and I also won’t starve,” Grenn rebuts. “So what’s for dinner, then?”

Ghost, finally deciding the prospect of greeting Sam is more tempting than continuing to get belly rubs from Jon, leaps off the couch, scrambling over to Sam on his too-big paws. Sometimes Jon looks at him and realizes how fucking massive he’s going to be some day. It’s more than a bit sobering.

“Hi, Ghost!” Sam says, kneeling down with a wide smile to pet the dog. Ghost basks in the attention, rolling over as his tail wags a mile a minute. “I got something for you too, you know.”

Jon’s brow furrows. “You did?” he asks. Sam looks almost guilty, reaching into one of the bags.

“I hope it’s okay, Jon,” he says. “I just saw this walking by the pet aisle and thought it was nice and festive for him.”

Jon laughs when he sees what it is— a little pet Halloween bandana. He keeps forgetting Halloween is tomorrow— time still moves at a different pace for him, it seems, since he got out of the hospital.

“Don’t apologize,” Jon says. “Anytime you lot want to get things for him, be my guest. Go ahead, put it on him.”

“Sit, Ghost, okay?” Sam asks, Pyp standing and ambling over to assist. He holds Ghost’s wiggling body in place as Sam fastens the bandana to his collar.

“Look at you,” Pyp says, grinning widely. “How’s it possible for somethin’ to be so fuckin’ cute?” Ghost barks, tail wagging as he climbs onto Pyp, licking at his cheek.

“Wait, wait!” Grenn says. “I… where’s that fuckin’ thing I had yesterday, I want to put it on him.”

“The antenna?” Jon says with a laugh. Someone at work had given them to Grenn, to get in the ‘holiday spirit.’ “I think they’re over there, by the TV.”

“Ghost, c’mere!” Grenn says, grabbing the fuzzy green antenna. His dog bounds over, nipping at Grenn’s hand playfully as he tries to put them on Ghost’s head, succeeding with a bit of effort.

“Oh my gods,” Sam says. “He looks adorable.” Ghost tilts his head to the side, the antenna bouncing, making all of them laugh.

“Jon,” Pyp says. “You have to put this on his instagram.”

Jon makes a face. Sure, Rickon had set it up for him before he moved down here, but he hadn’t actually planned on using it. He bloody hates social media.

“Do I?” he asks. His flatmates, clearly, are not to be swayed.

“Stop it, you do,” Grenn insists. “People need to see this, trust me.”

Jon concedes— it’s easier to give in to them sometimes, he knows. Plus, he’e just really grateful they love his dog that much. “Okay, fine,” he says, Ghost following behind him as he goes to the kitchen to grab some treats. “Ghost, sit.”

Pyp takes out his phone to snap a photo of Ghost, but not even a second later, he’s frowning. “The ambiance is no good here,” he says. “The bloody couch is ruining the picture.” Jon signs, trying not to laugh.

“Where d’you want him, then?”

“What about that park across the way?” Pyp says, and Jon’s eyes widen.

“Wait, what—”

His flatmates don’t seem to be talking to him, though, continuing on. “That’s perfect,” Sam says. “With the leaves falling it’ll be great. Jon, where’s his leash?”

Ghost is running excited circles around all three of them, yipping with excitement. “Really?” Jon asks, almost laughing. “We’re going to go walk across the street for this? It’s just a picture.”

“What the fuck else do we have goin’ on?” Grenn says. “Gods, Jon, let us have a photoshoot for your dog.”

Jon grins, because sure, this is absolutely fucking ridiculous, but gods, it feels good to just laugh and do something stupid again after… everything. Maybe he deserves something as trivial as goofing off with his flatmates.

Ten minutes later they’re in the park, Jon on his knees coaxing Ghost into sit with treats, Sam arranging pumpkins or something behind him, Grenn and Pyp squabbling over the camera. “Stop it,” Grenn says, grabbing at the phone. “Seven hells, Pyp, you’re not even puttin’ him in the middle of the frame.”

“Well, I can’t do anythin’ right, can I?” he retorts, but he gives Grenn the phone. “Over here, Ghost!”

“Ghost, look at the camera,” Jon says, and he swears his puppy must understand, because he looks right at Grenn, Pyp waving wildly over his shoulder to keep his attention.

“That’s it, good boy!” Sam says, Ghost’s attention span finally expiring, and he bounds back to Jon, jumping up onto his chest. One of the antennas practically hits him in the face.

“Here you go,” Grenn says, handing over the phone as Jon clips Ghost’s leash back on. “Look at these. Gorgeous, if I do say so.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and become a photographer, then?” Pyp retorts, earning him a shove from Grenn, Sam laughing.

“Thanks, guys,” Jon says, scrolling through the photos. Ghost races through the fallen leaves on the path ahead, pulling on his leash. “I suppose I will post a few.”

“You have to, Jon,” Pyp says. “Dogs are a thing on Instagram, y’know? You could become famous or somethin’.”

Jon laughs, Grenn leaning over to ruffle Ghost’s ears as the four of them walk back along the path.

“Maybe when all seven hells freeze over,” Jon says. “I don’t even know how to work Instagram. Famous on it, please.”

#wrote half of this at lunch and half rn and did NOT proofread for continuity lol #idk if i like this one or hate it #but the picture was cute so I had to #where the wild things are #drabbles #my writing #Anonymous

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spookyboywhump · 5 years ago

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Previous Parts

Tag List: @constellationwhump, @what-a-whumpy-world, @faewhump, @inky-whump, @slaintetowhump, @sodapigeon, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @insanitywishes Please let me know if I missed you or if you’d like to be added!

I recovered enough to post this part which was gonna be longer buuut I felt it was better to separate them

(if I’m being completely honest I feel like this series isn’t turning out the way I originally said It would but it’s turning out the way I picture it so I’m just gonna... keep... going...?)

***

Wren was vaguely confused when he woke up, confused by someone gently shaking him awake, confused by the fact he was in Zander’s bed while Zander lay on the floor, only half awake himself. It was Cain standing over him, that smile on his face sending Wren into immediate unease.

“Come on now pup, we have to get going. You want that reward, don’t you?”

His reward. Fuck, he thought, eyes growing wide as he recalled the night before, that fucking reward. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to forget long enough to even sleep. When he still didn’t move Cain finally grabbed his arm and yanked him out of bed, ordering him to change his clothes so he’d look at least vaguely presentable. Zander started to get up too, and Cain turned his attention to him.

“You can stay. Vanessa won’t be there so there’s no reason to drag you along.” He said bluntly. That caught Wren’s attention, he looked over to the two men, specifically Zander, worry all over his face. He liked having Zander with him, someone strong and brave who knew what to expect. Zander might have been angry and intimidating but his presence was comforting nonetheless.

“I… I think I should be with him for this though…” he said hesitantly. “I think that he would like that too…”

“Aww, how sweet, are you starting to get protective of the little pup?” He asked mockingly, causing Zander to glare at him. “You know you shouldn’t care about him, you know what will happen if you start to care.”

“It’s not that! It’s just, fuck, look at him! He’s already so scared of what you’re gonna do to him, doesn’t he deserve some comfort?!”

“So you told him then?” He asked, ignoring everything else Zander said. “He wouldn’t be scared if you had kept your mouth shut.” He could see it on Zander’s face, the realization that he shouldn’t have said anything, be it towards Wren or Cain. He was supposed to have let him blindly believe that he would receive something good for once. If he’d known it would get Zander in trouble, he wouldn’t have wanted him to say anything at all.

“Of course I told him! Why would I let the same thing happen to him that you did to me?!” He snapped.

“I’d think you’d do it because you didn’t want me to punish you.” He raised his hand as if to slap him, laughing when Zander flinched away. “Not now, I’ll deal with you later.” He turned his attention back to Wren who had been watching them with wide eyes, but quickly finished getting dressed. “Come on, I don’t have all day.” He told him, and he nodded quickly, finally approaching him when he was ready. As per usual a leash was clipped to his collar, but Cain still wasn’t as rough as he could’ve been, despite the fact his mood had clearly changed. Wren just had to hope that for his sake, it didn’t get any worse.

***

If he was being honest, he wasn’t worried so much about the pain. What upset him the most was knowing he would be marked, permanently, by Cain. Even if he survived this, even if he escaped, he would be marked as Cain’s forever. If the brand was somewhere he couldn’t hide he would have to explain that away for the rest of his life. If it was placed where Zander’s was, he’d have to be careful to always hide his arms, for the rest of his life.

“Wren” was a temporary cover, this job was a temporary assignment, this was not his life now, this was temporary. He would go home someday, he would go back to work, he would continue his life because this was not it. It was never supposed to be permanent, nothing was supposed to be permanent, but a brand would be there forever, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

He wasn’t quite sure how he expected this to go down, but being strapped to a table definitely wasn’t at the top of his list. Cain had wrestled his shirt off him before ordering him to lay down on the table and be patient, leather straps securing his wrists and ankles in place.

“Where do you think would be best, pup?” He asked, looking him over. “I can give you one the same place as Zander, then you can match the mutt. Maybe the opposite arm?” He ran his finger tips down the center of his chest, causing him to shiver. “Maybe I should turn you over and put it on your back? The lower back maybe, a tramp stamp would fit you well.” He laughed, and Wren wished he could hold back the whimper that escaped him. His hand left his chest, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at him. “What’s the matter, hm? Speak.” He ordered, and Wren couldn’t help but be thankful to finally be given permission.

“I… I don’t… I don’t want this…” He murmured, keeping his eyes averted.

“Zander scared you, didn’t he? Whatever he said was that bad?” He asked, and he quickly shook his head. Zander was in enough trouble, he didn’t want to make it worse, especially when Zander had said nothing at all really. “You don’t need to worry, it will only hurt for a moment.” He assured him.

“I don’t… I’m not… I just… I just don’t want people to see it…” His voice was soft and strained, even when given permission he was terrified Cain would punish him anyway. He just laughed though.

“That’s the whole point though, isn’t it? The whole point is to make sure everyone knows you’re mine, no matter what happens, you will always be mine.” His grip tightened, he dug his nails into his skin. “So you’re going to take it like a good dog, and then you’re going to thank me, because you want to be good, don’t you?”

“Y-yes sir, I- I want to be good…” he murmured, staring at the ceiling so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. Of course he wanted to be good, because being anything less would mean pain and punishment and he knew he couldn’t handle much more of either of those. If the pain and humiliation of being branded didn’t kill him then he swore to himself he would be good until he finally escaped.

“I thought so. You really are better than that fucking mutt, huh? I could never wrestle those words out of him” He laughed. Wren felt sick, he didn’t like being compared to Zander like that, especially when he knew he wasn’t better. Zander was so brave and strong and defiant and Wren was anything but that. “Maybe I’ll just leave him with Vanessa and keep you, he’s probably more useful to her than he is to me by now.”

“N-no!” He said, quicker than he intended. Cain gave him a look and he immediately bit his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for him to hurt him for speaking out. It never came though, he opened his eyes to see Cain looking him over, almost amused.

“You and that mutt are starting to get attached… I wanted you two to get along but this… is definitely better.” He grinned. Wren didn’t know what he meant by that, especially after what he’d been saying to Zander before they left, but he didn’t have time to question it.

“Did you decide where you want it?” The woman handling the iron called back to him.

“Yeah, the left arm. Opposite of Zander’s ya know?” His stomach dropped, he knew it would happen sooner or later but god he had been praying for later.

“Is he going to fight like the other one did?” She asked. He closed his eyes as he heard footsteps, any moment now and he’d be marked forever.

“No, this one is much better, knows how to behave. He might move a little bit I’ll hold him.” Hands gripped his shoulders tightly, digging bruises into the skin. He nervously bit his lip, his hands clenched into fists already, her footsteps were closer, he couldn’t escape, he didn’t even struggle because he knew there was no hope, why did this have to be done he wondered why couldn’t they knock him out, why-

His thoughts cut off abruptly, his world exploding into a white hot searing agony. His scream was more of a disparate wail, he tried to jerk away but the straps and Cain’s hands held him in place. His back arched off the table as more pressure was applied and he couldn’t hold back the sob that forced itself from his throat.

“No-no more please!” He screamed, tears running down his face, chest heaving from each deep breath he took.

“Calm down, you’re doing so good pup, it won’t last long.” Cain assured him, but his voice was anything but comforting. “Honestly it’s just one little brand, you don’t need to be so dramatic.” He laughed. Wren didn’t think he was being dramatic, but he knew better than to argue, wasn’t even capable of arguing right now.

It felt like an eternity before the brand was finally ripped away, no doubt taking some skin with it, and eliciting another cry from Wren. Much like when he’d had his tongue burnt, the pain was slowly fading into numbness, yet he couldn’t stop crying.

He was branded, like an animal. A letter C burnt into his skin, big and ugly and there for everyone to see. He was marked as Cain’s for the rest of his life, he would always belong to him, always have something of his with him, forever. Cain had quickly and effectively made himself a permanent part of his life, something he would never get rid of. He choked on a sob, only one thought circling his mind. This was never supposed to be permanent.

“Come on pup, what do you say?” Cain urged him, cold hands resting on either side of his face. He opened his eyes to see him through his tears, leaning over him and still smiling. The words came out in a broken sob, but it was enough to satisfy his handler.

“Th-thank... thank y-you, sir...”

#whump #my writing #my oc's #Wren #Zander #Cain #pet whump #dehumanization #branding #i fucking LOVE branding #Wren has a Bad Time

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switchseb · 4 years ago

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If I Lay Here | Seblaine

Who: Sebastian Smythe & Blaine Anderson @blaineandersonsub

When: Thursday 2.11.21

Where: Blaine’s Apartment

What: Scene - pet play. Cuteness ensues.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine took a deep breath as he finished rinsing the remainder of the hair gel out in the sink, then slowly stood at looked at himself in the mirror. His gaze trailed over the dampened curls that stuck to his forehead, and also the ones that sprung up literally everywhere else. He had such a love hate relationship with his hair, which just meant that some days he liked it, and other days he hated it. It tangled, it didn't cooperate, and God forbid he ever purchase a hairbrush again. Nodding once, he put a stop to the invasive thoughts, instead turning his attention to the scene he was about to have with Sebastian. He'd rediscovered his love for puppy play with Max, and as much fun as he'd had in his time with her, the one thing missing from that equation was a man. Someone he could actually delve into it with. Granted, this one was straight, but it was a step in the right direction. He grabbed a towel and began carefully scrunching his curls to dry them just as there was a knock on the front door. Stepping out of the bathroom, he moved to open it, grinning up at Sebastian as he set the towel aside somewhere and stepped aside to let him in. "Hey, Sir. I made coffee, in case you needed it. Or, if you're hungry, I could make something for you there too before we... uh, get started."

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian had no idea what made Blaine so much different than the other men he was talking to. He chalked it off to the way they met and how engrained he was in the school culture. Blaine just knew too many people that Sebastian knew and it was unnerving. Not to mention he was actually taking the time to get to know him instead of just fucking him and using him for sex like he was with the other men in his life currently. Before he knew it, he was already in too deep and that meant one thing. Blaine was dangerous so the only thing they could be was friends. Sebastian needed to be careful and tread carefully around him. Though even with all of that precaution, he was still caught off guard when the door opened and he was met with possibly the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Sebastian's lips broke out into a giant smile as he surveyed the man in front of him. "You weren't kidding about the hair." He stepped inside and placed his hands into his pocket as he followed Blaine further inside. "I think the coffee will be fine for now. Are you nervous about today?" He asked, only because that's what he was feeling too.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's cheeks reddened when he noticed Sebastian seemingly taking him in in his naturally curly state, his grip on the doorknob tightening just slightly as he took a deep breath through his nose. Maybe letting the curls out was a bad idea? He couldn't tell if that was his anxiety or common sense talking, so he forced himself to drop it. When the other spoke, he let out a breathy chuckle and closed the door behind him. "I... yeah. It's a little on the... unmanageable side today. Sorry. I need to do another hair mask, I think. I sometimes wish I could just... permanently straighten it," He smiled, moving to get two mugs down on the cabinet once he'd reached the kitchen, then started to pour the French pressed coffee he made into each one. "I'm... actually not nervous about the scene itself at all. I think it's going to be a ton of fun, Sir, and I can't wait to get into it. Are you?" He asked, turning and extending one of the mugs out to the other man as he took a few swallows from his own.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian had no self control and leaned up to play a bit with the edges of Blaine's hair. He was intrigued. Smitten even. When Blaine pulled back and offered his stammered response, Sebastian realized his mistake. "No, I don't think you should straighten it. I like it. I like it more that not a lot of people get to see you like this." There was something insinuated there, but Sebastian would leave it at just that and let Blaine interpret it how he saw fit. Leaning against the counter, Sebastian took a sip from his own cup and sighed contently at the taste. "You always make the best coffee," he commented but stopped mid sentence when Blaine's words registered. "I'm also looking forward to it. Though I have to ask, if you're not nervous about that, what are you nervous about then?"

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine mulled those words over, and he couldn't help the wide smile that was fighting it's way to his face as he looked down at the mug he was now holding in both hands. He likes it more, knowing not many others have seen it like this? I... wow. "Well, it's going to stay that way. And, I wouldn't mind you seeing it more often like this, maybe. You haven't made jokes about how my sexuality pertains to my curly hair yet, so that actually puts you ahead of most heterosexual New Yorker men. So, congratulations I guess," He teased with a half shrug, physically feeling his shoulders relax and his posture soften as he got more comfortable. You make me nervous, in a good way. In a scary way. In an unobtainable way. "I was nervous you wouldn't like my hair," He explained, moving his gaze back up to meet Sebastian's with a small smile. "I'm thinking something along the lines of Husky today. I'm feeling pretty energetic." He winked.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian was taken back by the comment and chuckled. "I can't imagine what comments would be said by my counterparts, but I assure you I'm not like most heterosexual men you've ran into in New York." Perhaps that was giving himself away too much but he didn't mind it. He stuck to his guns and he continued to be strong when he was with Blaine so that was a win in someone's books. "Well you can rest easy because that's not the case at all." Sebastian reached up to twirl a strand of hair around a finger, just to punctuate his statement. "A husky, hm?" Sebastian noted. He took another small sip then tipped his head towards the living room. "Ready to show me those husky ears?"

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine laughed softly and grinned up at Sebastian, his cheeks heating up a little. "Oh, just... like I'm about as straight as my hair, things like that. I'm out and proud, it just got annoying after a while. Not so much hurtful," He explained, winking over at Sebastian as he took another sip from his mug. "I can already tell you're different than most straight men though. It's nice, you're nice," He said, leaning up into the touch on his hair as his eyes fluttered some. Maybe bad timing, but his hair was a weakness for him, and just imagining what Sebastian's fingers would feel like threading through his hair in a completely difference sense had him clearing his throat softly and taking the opportunity to get away from the feelings he definitely should not be feeling. "Husky it is, right this way, Sir." He winked, then set his mug down on the counter. He made his way over to the bed, got down on his knees and pulled a black case out from under it. He quickly put in the combination before lifting the top to expose several tails, ears, hoods, toys, and lots of other accessories like leashes and temporary collars. "I also have a cage, but that's in storage right now for obvious reasons," He explained, moving to pull the husky ears and tail from the pile. "These. What do you think?" He grinned. "The tail is softer, and probably one of my favorites."

Sebastian Smythe

"That's the best they could do?" Sebastian asked with a raised eyebrow. "They could have at least come up with something more original." As Blaine went on, Sebastian didn't know how to respond to the compliment. It wasn't one he got often and there was too much to unpack to really delve into it. "I'm not as nice as you think, sweetheart." He'd been saving the nickname for their time on Saturday, but it just slipped out. Not that he was going to bring any attention to it. Sebastian set his mug down as well and followed Blaine into his bedroom. He took it upon himself to take a seat on the edge of the bed while the other man pulled the box out. "Oh, you've got quite the collection there." Sebastian took the ears from Blaine's hand and studied it. "I suppose that's exactly what I was picturing when you said husky." He held it out with both hands. "Go on, put it on. And the tail. Show me your process when getting into the headspace."

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's cheeks flushed slightly as he carefully took the ears back, sliding the headband down into his curls before quickly shifting them to conceal it as much as possible. "You're... nice to me. So even if you're not as nice to other people, that doesn't really change my opinion of you. And, for the record, you calling me a 'sweetheart' sounds even better in person than I thought it would." Once that was completed, he hummed softly and picked the tail up. "This part is a little tricky to do by myself, otherwise it just ends up off-center. Do you mind just clipping it to the back of my pants?" He asked, extending the tail out to the other man with a small smile as he turned to the side to make it easier for him to reach and do. "Usually it doesn't take long once I get my donut out," He grinned, motioning to a stuffed pink donut that had fake sprinkles stitched on.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian wanted to tell Blaine that there was a reason he was so nice to him. But this wasn't the time or the place, not that there ever would be. So he dismissed that comment as well as the comment about his newly acquired pet name for the other man. Only because of the way his chest constricted when he heard those words. He was beyond distracted and only refocused when brown eyes looked up at him. Sebastian took the tail without even realizing what Blaine was asking, at least not until he turned to his side. "Oh, yes." This was far too intimate than it was supposed to be. Sebastian's eyes diverted several times to the way Blaine's ass look while he was on his hands and knees like that. His throat went dry but he focused on the task, only letting out a breath once he was sitting straight up again. "Alright. Get your donut."

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine was too preoccupied with thinking about how he was going to proceed once the tail was put on to notice anything about the way Sebastian was looking at him. However, he was pulled from his thoughts when Sebastian spoke, and he glanced back at his tail before moving to pull the donut from the case, playing with one of the edges for a moment. "I also follow commands too. Because I forgot to mention that before," He quickly informed before sinking his teeth into it. He crawled over and nudged the other side of the donut against Sebastian's hand, already starting to feel the mental shift into the puppy headspace. "Tug?" He murmured around the fabric, moving his gaze up to look at the Switch with wide, excited eyes as he dipped his head down just enough to express playfulness.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian didn't really know what to expect once the scene got started. He was just going to follow Blaine's lead, but as the scene went on Sebastian realized that this was exactly what he should have expected. The corner of his mouth quirked upward as Blaine played with the donut. He didn't even consider giving commands, but then he realized that he should have expected that too. Sebastian couldn't remember the last time he saw the physical shift in someone's eyes as they fell into a different headspace, but with Blaine it was obvious. His eyes were big and hopeful and Sebastian couldn't help but comply. He grabbed the other end of the toy but didn't really tug. He just held it tightly and waited to see what Blaine would do with it.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine got visibly excited when Sebastian grabbed onto the other end of the donut, and he couldn't help but smile around it as he started pulling on it eagerly. It wasn't necessarily hard enough to pull it out of the other man's hand, just enough to create some tension to get the tug of war effect he was looking for. That went on for several minutes, with Blaine rolling around, pulling on the donut, and even shaking it vigorously from side to side while it was still grasped in the Switch's hand. After a few moments, he paused and dropped the donut before shuffling closer and sitting at Sebastian's feet with his hands pressed into the floor, and he leaned forward until his chin rested on the other man's lap, a soft whimper sounding through pursed lips.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian didn’t really make any other moves while Blaine pulled and tugged at the donut. His eyes were transfixed, impressed by how easy it was for Blaine to fully commit to his role, even rolling around on the floor as he did so. When Blaine dropped the toy, Sebastian did as well before wiping his hand on his pants and pressing both palms into the mattress. When Blaine sat at his feet, he almost pushed him back, but he didn’t. And when he rested his chin on his lap, he should have pushed him back, but again he didn’t. His mouth went dry and his body stiffened. Fuck did Blaine look good on his knees like that and it felt way to good to feel the weight of his head in his lap. “Is this what you want?” Sebastian asked, running his fingers through his hair.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's eyes fluttered a little at the fingers that moved through his hair, the whimpering quieting to a halt as he looked up to watch Sebastian closely. He hadn't been this close to another guy in way too long, and even from down here, the Switch was insanely handsome, but Blaine quickly pushed that thought from his head. He couldn't think like that, he couldn't let himself think like that. This guy is straight, and the last thing he wanted to be was that predatory gay. Sebastian owed him nothing, and he couldn't let himself jeopardize a potential friendship with someone he got along with this well. He simply nodded in response, and stayed there for a few moments before pulling back and crawling over to the case to start picking through the other toys. He came across a squeaky toy and chewed on it a few times, letting out a soft giggle at the noise it made. Gripping the toy between his teeth, he moved to crawl up onto the bed and dropped the toy onto the mattress, then started pressing both hands into it to start making it make even more noise.

Sebastian Smythe

There were a few seconds there where Sebastian got completely lost in the moment. His hair was soft and the stroking movements calmed him like nothing else. It was quiet, very quiet, but Sebastian was content with that. Blue eyes flicked back and forth between Blaine's face and his hair, letting his mind drift to places it shouldn't be. It was only when Blaine pulled back that he snapped out of it. Blaine move towards his case of toys and jumped onto the bed. And Sebastian made himself more comfortable, kicking off his shoes and moving to sit back against the headboard. He crossed his feet together and settled his hands in his lap as he watched Blaine play with his toy. He couldn't remember the last time he was content with with just watching someone else in their element, but he was entranced. Sebastian let that go for a little while before finally giving into the urge he had the entire time he watched Blaine play. "Okay, c'mere." He patted his lap and invited Blaine to come lay on it and snuggle with him. It was toeing the line, but Sebastian had the guise of him playing a puppy, and that was good enough for him.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine paused with the toy when Sebastian spoke, tilting his head to the side as he watched the other man patting his lap. He could feel his stomach filling with butterflies, which caused him to bite his lips to keep from smiling because God knows he didn't need to make Sebastian feel like this was too intimate, even if it very much was. He wasn't complaining though. The more he talked to Sebastian, the more he enjoyed being around him. The more he wanted to be around him. For now though, he pushed that thought aside, deciding to let himself actually enjoy being close to another man, even if it was probably going to be very short lived. He slowly moved closer and moved to lay down on his side with his head on Sebastian's lap, letting out a soft whimper as he leaned up to nuzzle the other man's hand. "Pet?"

Sebastian Smythe

There was a swelling in Sebastian’s chest when Blaine made contact. And there was a moment where he didn’t quite know where to put his hands. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t touched a man recently, it’s that he hadn’t touched a man this way. Blaine laying with his head in Sebastian’s lap was far more intimate than anything he’d done with anyone else at the academy. Eventually, he settled on placing one hand on Blaine’s leg and the other on top of his head, just because it was the most comfortable. At his request, Sebastian simply nodded and slipped his fingers through Blaine’s curls. It was only then that he let out the breath he’d been holding since Blaine’s head collided with his lap.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's eyes flickered down to the hand resting on his leg, which slightly confused him, but he decided not to make a big deal about it. It was still low enough to be appropriate anyway, and it wasn't like he didn't enjoy the intimacy behind it all. Letting out a soft breath through his nose, he leaned further up into the hand that was moving over his hair. He loved his curls getting played with in any capacity, but especially like this. When fingers were moving through it, and he got this tingly feeling at the base of his neck as a result. It wasn't long before he felt his eyes getting heavy, and he let out a soft whine and turned his head, looking up at the other man with a content smile.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian studied and memorized each move that was made by the submissive. Each twitch and turn. The way he pressed his head into Sebastian's hand and the goosebumps that rose on the back of his neck as he did so. His other hand itched to move up his leg and rest on Blaine's hip. He wanted to scale up the other man's back and feel his bare skin flush against the palm of his hand. Blaine caught him off guard when he turned to look up at him. He looked so adorable, it was hard for Sebastian to take his eyes off of him. "That feel good?" Sebastian asked in a voice that was far softer than he ever used. But this moment called for it. "If you want to go to sleep, you can," he cooed.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine nodded slowly but just laid there, studying Sebastian's face for a few moments. "It feels good, yeah," He murmured, trying hard to hang on to the small amounts of puppy space he still had left. However, he found himself slowly coming out of it as the sleep drew nearer and nearer. "You sure? I don't want you to be stuck here, but I am probably going to pass out in a minute. So, if you want to go, you can. This was fun," He chuckled softly, leaning further up into the touch on his hair. He hoped he wasn't crossing a line here, and if he was, he was prepared to move without any hesitation whatsoever.

Sebastian Smythe

His heart beat was unsteady his breathing ragged as he stared down at Blaine. His eyes were fluttering and his breathing slow and rhythmic, it was easy to fall under his trance. It's what made him feel comfortable enough to run his knuckles along his cheek, feeling how soft his skin was. It made his stomach flip at the intimacy of it. And while his brain screamed at him to stop and pull away, he ignored that voice and kept going. "I'm sure." He nodded, wanting nothing more than to watch Blaine fall asleep. "I'll stay for a little bit and let myself out. I had fun too." Sebastian pulled the ears off of Blaine's head, giving him more access to really run his fingers through his hair. "Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's heart almost leapt out of his chest when Sebastian's knuckles brushed his cheek, and he instinctively leaned into it. The truth was, he was touch-starved after going so long without anything even remotely close to this, and that small act alone had him wanting more. After the ears were removed, and Sebastian gave him the confirmation that he'd stay for a little while, Blaine couldn't help but smile softly as he guided Sebastian's hand back to his cheek. It was warm, soft, comforting and exactly what he needed. Only once he'd gotten the Switch's hand where he wanted it did he relax completely. "Thank you, Sir," He murmured gently, then allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he slowly and lazily ran his thumb along Sebastian's knuckles. He wanted to return some form of consolation, and in their current position this was the best he could do. It didn't take long before he was out, his hold on the other's hand loosening just slightly as his breathing evened out and slowed.

Sebastian Smythe

Just like he promised, Sebastian stayed put, keeping his hands where Blaine guided them and continued to run his fingers up and down Blaine's cheek. Sebastian could feel Blaine's body relax as he watched the muscles in his face do the same. It seemed like a small thing, falling asleep with someone, but there was a level of trust that was needed. In Sebastian's mind, it was a dangerous thing to hold. He didn't recall how late he actually stayed. Just that the sun was almost completely gone and he was starting to get hungry. Only then did he gently shuffle off of the bed, replacing his lap with a pillow and covering Blaine's body with a blanket he found at the edge of the bed. There was a strong urge to lean down and press a kiss to the top of Blaine's forehead, but Sebastian refrained. He'd already let down his guard enough tonight. He slipped his shoes on and turned off the light, before making a swift exit.

#blaine #para: blaine #para: if i lay here #( you're gonna be wounded ; you're gonna be my wound )#( the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you )

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 5 years ago

Text

A Dream Within a Dream

This was too short for me to post on Wattpad and I was doing some writing exercises to help keep the juices flowing. So this is the result.

Calum really wants to pop the question. But will fate be nice to him? Will he get a different end than his parents?

Calum Hood x BlackOC

No applicable warnings. It’s just all fluff.

_______

The piano echoes throughout the house. Alana barely hears the clink of the plates as she cleaned up from dinner. Calum had cooked and she agreed to clean. Normally, Calum would’ve helped regardless. He would’ve scraped the plates. He would’ve held both glasses in his hands, waiting for more space to clear on the counter before adding them to her dwindling pile. He would’ve taken up the dishrag next to her and dried a fork for three minutes while he listened to her talk about the day.

But there was something heavy on his soul. He cleared his plate, brought the glasses into the kitchen and then disappeared to the back of the house. He had been quiet all day. When he woke up, he didn’t talk hardly at all. Calum didn’t talk a lot to begin with. But there was a certain noise that he made, a hum while he got ready, or him singing lowly as he played music over the speakers. Him narrating what he was doing to Duke, that was always fun to listen too. The way he explained in-depth the ins and outs of the bass to his little dog. The day was just silent though. He didn’t offer much even if Alana brought up the topic. There seemed to be no words that Calum could muster for long.

Alana knows, beyond just a bad day, that something is wrong when the first note strikes the house from the piano. The bass, even if it played a melancholy rhythm, even if it sounded like the instrument was croaking out tears meant a better sign than the piano. Her heart aches, listening to the sobering twinkles swelling throughout the house. What was it about today? She hadn’t missed his birthday. It was coming up in 8 days. They didn’t normally do much for Valentine’s Day. Things were great at Christmas and New Year. He had spent most of the time with his family.

Alana sets the last cup into the drying rack and sighs. She’ll let the dishes sit there, drying her hands on a towel. Not even the suction of the drain taking down all the dirty water registers like it normally does. Duke sits at the edge of the kitchen, his big eyes turned down a bit. He knows something is wrong too. Alana squats, scratching at the top of his head. “I don’t know, bub. I don’t know what’s gotten into Papa. I hope we can get it out of him.”

Duke just watches as she stands. The floor is cold, a slight chill finally taking over now that January has settled in. The wood doesn’t make a sound under her feet, no creaks. Alana takes a small moment and finds a sweatshirt in the bedroom. It’s his old Drop Dead one. She unearthed from the depths of his closet while doing some spring cleaning a few months back.

Alana finds her hair scarf, settled on top of the dresser. Unraveling it, she folds it diagonally and then folds it longwise, making it into a makeshift headband. The loose space buns at the top of her bed, bunch up a little but it’s fine. She knows she’s been wearing the style out but she needs to stretch it out for a couple more days until she could properly wash it. Which was going to be after dinner, though, now that will wait for tomorrow. Calum worries her.

From the entryway of the music room, she watches him huddled into the corner, his back facing her. Alana knows she won’t be heard if she tries to interject now. So she pads over softly to the couch and settles down. Duke hops onto it and settles in her lap. Both of them watch Calum, his head low on his neck. His eyes are closed. His fingers slide over the keys with feeling, not a lot of thought.

He’s dawned in a t-shirt and his compression tights with basketball shorts over them. The blue’s fading just a little, as the hair grows out and she wants to trace the hairline with her nails. She wants to kiss across his neck. She wants to crawl into the space between the piano and his lap and just settle there, hold him tight in her arms until all the sadness is gone. Alana really wants to crawl into his chest and pluck anything heavy on his heart. She wants to follow the cavity up, stopping to kiss his eyes and then settle into his mind and dust away those dark corners.

If she could pull the anxiety and pain from the inside and knock it out his ears, she would. If she could sweep it all up and throw it away for him, she would. She’d do anything to see this man smile. He repeats a refrain twice, she only catches it halfway through and then the notes echo into the still air. The clock in the room ticks and it’s the only sound. Not even Duke’s tag are clinking. “Sorry, off day,” Calum finally says and shuts the lid over the keys.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Calum shrugs. There’s something about fate, about seeing what happened to his parents that make him so scared of failing at love. Alana sets Duke onto the bench and stands before gesturing to his lap. “Mind if I take a seat?”

Normally, he would laugh at this. Maybe he’d even wiggle his eyebrows at her and make a dirty joke in return. He even sees her waiting, wishing for the chuckle to leave him but it never does. “I don’t mind.”

She straddles his lap, arms snaking around his shoulders. Their gazes meet, dark brown meeting dark brown. Her nails lightly trace over his neck. “I’m always here if you ever want to talk,” she assures. “Always.”

Calum buries his face into her shoulder. His arms are tight around her waist. He knows she is. He knows she’d go through hell and high water for him. He just doesn’t want to fuck things up. He thinks about the ring, the way it’s hidden in the drawer at the desk right across from them. But god, he doesn’t want to fuck it up. His parents were in love but that marriage didn’t last. There was no recipe to life, no list of instructions. No one knew what marriages would last.

He just doesn’t want the same fate. He wants kids with her. He wants to grow old. He wants to have his little girl sitting between his legs while he does her hair. He wants to take his little boy out to the park, kicking around the soccer ball. He wants to be there for all the birthday cakes, to watch every single birthday candle flicker out. He wants to be there for the first steps. He wants to be there for their first word. He wants to there for everything. He just doesn’t want to fuck it up. He can’t fuck it up. Not with Alana. Not with her.

He turns his head, lips brushing over her neck as he speaks. “I love you.”

She hums, hands pressing into his shoulders. “I love you, baby.” Her lower back is pressed slightly into the cover the keys and it definitely hurts but she doesn’t move. Not for the moment at least. The haunting cry of the piano plays in her ears still. She wraps Calum’s head up in her arms, pressing him into her body. She hums as if that squeeze whatever is plaguing his soul out of him. As if that will bring back her smiling boy. It is the only shot she has though.

Calum inhales, smelling mostly her faint shea and hibiscus body wash. Her flesh is warm against his lips for sure. He takes in the slight pink undertone to her black skin. It reminds him of twilight when the sky is mostly black but there’s a moment where the purple of the setting sun hasn’t quite faded. It reminds him of being in the car and watching the trees blurring by as the car glides over the asphalt. It reminds him of sitting outside, sometimes after a game, and reveling in the feeling of being small in the universe, of being normal.

Alana rests her cheek against the fading blue of his hair. “I was tempted to change your name in my phone to Blueberry.” She’s not sure why the thought falls over her lips but she lets it linger before another one falls out of her mouth. “Now I want blueberry muffins.”

“We could go get some,” Calum offers, his voice low and wispy. “And while I object to the name change, it is kind of funny.”

“If you feel up for it, sure,” Alana returns, her arms falling and brushing her fingers over his back.

He really likes the feeling of being in her arms though. How secure she makes him feel. Maybe he won’t meet the same fate as his parents. Maybe things could be different for him. Calum straightens but not before kissing her smooth cheek. “Let’s go.”

Alana climbs off his lap, the sweatshirt falling and just barely covering her ass. Her current shorts have hitched up and she straightens them. Alana’s not sure whether to curse her thighs or to bless them. She was not blessed with boobs, all of that went to the thighs. Shopping for tops was easy, her size straight forward no matter what. It was a terrible time finding any jeans that fit over her round ass and solid thighs.

Calum wiggles his fingers for her to take and stop fussing with her shorts. “Just change them if they bother you that much.”

“Either I need to lose the ass or you need to buy bigger sweatshirts so I’m not hanging out for the world to see.”

He didn’t want to smile. She had what everyone in this town wanted and she had it naturally. “You say that but if you lose too much of it, you’d be begging for it to come back.”

Alana releases his hand, taking a side step into the bedroom. “No one told you to be right all the time,” she huffs. It’s a quick change into some cycling shorts before the pair ventures for the front door.

She can hear Duke at her heels. She looks up to Calum before reaching for the leash. He nods and she grins. They won’t be gone long but it wouldn’t hurt to bring him along. She clips the leash into his collar and they set out. Duke gets to sit in her lap and watch the world fly by him as Calum drives. At every light, Calum takes her hand and kisses a different knuckle.

Calum didn’t think people were doomed in the debate between nature versus nurture. He didn’t think that being raised in a certain household meant that someone would be defenseless and finding themselves in the same thing all over again. He just wasn’t sure how to learn from their mistakes. What could he do that would be different?

Alana and he had their disagreements. He had a hard time communicating. A really hard time trusting that even if she didn’t get what he was saying, she would listen and she would do her best to try to understand. It led to a lot of misunderstandings. The irony never ceased to piss Calum off a little. His wanting to open up but being afraid of being misunderstood landed him in a lot of positions of being misunderstood.

She had a hard time of trying to please everyone. She said yes to a lot of things just because she couldn’t confront others and she was always stretched thin. It made an already difficult situation of Calum constantly traveling, even more difficult when she had planned well into the months sometimes. It had, at the begining of the relationship, started to make Calum feel secondary. He wanted a partner that kept fairly busy, that understood his schedule. But not so busy that there was no time for the two of them.

They had worked well through most of it. But sometimes, when Calum just wanted time with her, she was off doing everything under the sun. And when she asked what was wrong, Calum still shut her out. Was he doing it right now? Was he too far focused on not fucking something up that he was fucking it up? In the parking lot of the bakery, nearing it’s closing time, Calum takes her hand. “I’m terrified of fucking this up,” he admits.

She furrows her brow. “Fucking what up?”

“Us. I’m don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to get a divorce. I don’t want us to ever get into a position where we feel like we can’t resolve it. I don’t want that.”

“Divorce? Baby, just take a breath.” She watches for his chest expanding, his inhale and she watches for the exhale. “Can’t divorce if we’re not married. They’ll be some arguments, ya know. Some things will require some extra work from the both of us. We’ll just keep learning on how to communicate with each other.”

“I want to marry you. I just don’t want my parent's fate.”

Alana smiles, cupping his cheeks in her hands. Her chest flutters and her skin is clammy. Her ears, she can’t believe her ears. “You wanna marry me?”

“Of course, angel.”

“I want to marry you too.” She can’t tell if this is a proposal or not. She knows Calum is a romantic and he couldn't possibly do this without a ring.

Calum stretches up, just a little to press their lips together into a kiss. “You’ll know when I propose for real,” he promises. Duke lets out a small bark and they break away from each other. The small dog’s intrigue is captured by a bird passing the front windshield.

With blueberry muffins obtained, they settle back into the house. The couch fills in around them as they sink. Alana sits with her legs crossed next to Calum. “Weren’t you going to wash your hair today?”

“It’s gonna take too long now. I’ll do it in the morning.”

A crumb of the muffin clings to the side of her mouth and Calum takes his thumb to brush it away. “Can I help again?” He enjoys the shampooing, working diligently at her scalp. He gets to play in her hair and she can’t fuss either.

“Yeah.” Alana reaches up to clear the crumbs from the side of his mouth as well. “Wanna deep condition together? I doubt you’ve done it since I forced you to the last time.” Her nails trail over his scalp.

It did make his hair feel really soft. So he nods. “Why not. Why do you do it again? Why should I?”

“You dyed your hair. So it requires more moisture than before. Deep conditions help keep your hair soft and moisturized. I do it because my hair is really coarse and more fragile the drier it is. Same outcome just different reasons.”

In bed, Calum looks at a picture of the ring he bought. Part of him worries. “What do you think about a ring like this?”

Her gasp is soft and she sits up. “It’s gorgeous.” She takes his phone zooming in to see the details. The way standing up there’s a heart right under the main stone. She stares at it with a little bit of blur from her tears. Calum throws his arm around her waist, finding her cheek illuminated from the screen of his phone. The awe on her face is enough to ease Calum’s fears. Maybe he won’t fuck this up.

____

Alana hums at the slight scratch at her scalp. Calum’s fingers work in circles and he grins watching the way her eyes flutter shut. “I always loved going to the hair salon but only for the shampooing. Hated being their all day.”

Calum hums. The wafts of her shampoo fragrance, between a hint of fruity and floral, settle into his nostrils. They stand in front of the bathroom mirror and Calum just watches her. The way content washes over her face and settles into a smile around her full lips. It’s moments like this that turn Calum into a sucker. He can’t help but want to kiss her when they share moments like this, where they communicate in just the simplest of touches.

He settles her back into the small folding chair and she reclines her head back. The detached shower head already rests in the basin of the tub from her rinsing out the hot oil treatment. Calum tests the water on his hand first, finding the right mix of warmer water with the cool before rinsing the shampoo out.

It’s quick when Calum bends down to kiss her forehead, working to get the shampoo from the back of her head too. She reaches up, one hand cupping his forearm. For the moment, it’s like he tattooed her hand onto his skin with the way her skin matches the ink already etched into his skin.

And he wonders for a moment he wonders what her initials would look like etched amongst the assortment. With the shampoo completely rinsed, Calum reaches for the jar of her conditioner situated onto the counter already. “Comb from the ends up,” Alana reminds.

He nods. “Aye, Captain.”

She snorts, tapping at his thigh before she stands and moves the chair for him. “Shut up.” The joke is a good sign. It means he’s feeling better. Calum double checks he has the appropriate amount of product for the first section. With the curt nod, he applies it to her strands. He’s gently combing through her ends and slowly works his way to the roots. Occasionally there’s a particular stubborn snag or knot and she works it out, attempting to show him the right way to go about it.

Soon all four sections are detangled and clipped up. “You got the hang of it,” Alana notes as Calum slides the plastic cap onto her head.

“Have a great teacher.”

“I’m flattered. Your turn.”

Calum situates in front of the sink while she runs the water of his close crop. It’s only a minute before he’s situated into the same chair as her, holding the towel around his neck. She rummages for a moment before finding a small white packet. “I can’t use yours,” he pouts for a second.

“I’m using the same one as last time. You liked it and it says for color-treated hair.”

“But then I won’t smell like you.”

Alana shakes her head. “We’ll use the same leave-in conditioner then. How about that?”

“That works.” It’s not too long before he too has his strands lathered in covered in a black plastic cap. Alana will wash his out first since his hair is significantly shorter. Right as she clears away the already used products, Calum pulls her into his lap. He taps the end of her nose.

“The plastic cap is a look, angel,” he grins.

“Yeah, I bet.”

Calum’s hair is rinsed first and she puts just a little leave-in conditioner onto his strands. Her deep condition still has another twenty minutes to go. “Want a snack? Still have two blueberry muffins left,” Calum offers.

“Yes, please,” she grins, slightly sidetracked by her phone, situated still in the bathroom. Calum nods. His feet are carrying him away from the kitchen. Why does it feel so right to do this right now? He finds the ring, still tucked into the drawer of his desk in his music room and pockets it. He travels back up into the kitchen, peeking to see that she’s still on her phone.

The box still holds the two muffins. It’ll be a little messy, at least for the box but he slips the small velvet box into the container with the two muffins. She doesn’t even blink when Calum holds one muffin and holds the box out to her. He takes a bite, his stomach knotting. “Thanks, baby.” She finally casts her gaze down, fingers already tracing the edge of the last muffin when she spots the navy blue box.

“Not hungry?” Calum asks, shocked at the way his voice doesn’t waver.

“What is this?” Alana takes the whole bakery box and pulls the ring box out.

“Oh.” His voice finally croaks and he takes a moment to clear his throat. But it’s too late. The emotions have already broken the damn. “I wanted to ask this for a while. And yesterday, I hit the wall. It had been so invisible to me because why would I buy a ring four months ago and not ask then. But when you said you wanted to marry me too. I knew I couldn’t wait much longer.”

He takes a breath and takes the box from her hand. He cracks open the top and the same ring from last night stares back up at her. It’s even more breathtaking in person. “So, Alana Rya Jones, after three years together, being my North Star when I truly thought I’d be lost at sea, and dealing with me being everywhere in the world but at home and still loving me, will you marry me?”

Her hands finally leave her gaped mouth and she nods. The tears run down her cheeks. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Calum slips the ring onto her finger. He feels the trembles in her hands and rubs her back as they embrace. The sob echoes a little followed by Calum’s soothing shushes. “Angel,” he coos and she continues to shake.

“It’s not--,” she hiccups for a moment. “They’re happy tears I swear.”

They face each other, pulling away from the hug. Calum sees the smile on her face, even if the tears are still rolling. “I love you.” He loves her more than he has words for, more than he can put into anything verbal--no sound, no lyrics will encapsulate it.

“I love you.” She wipes the tear and kisses him. Her heart flutters. It’s the same Calum, the same kiss, but also is not. It’s not the same because she is his and he is hers in an entirely different way.

Calum rinses her deep condition out. “Can I twist it too?”

“Of course.”

They move their camp to the living room. Calum settles into the couch and she sits between his thighs. He has a towel draped over his lap too just to keep the cushions dry. Alana’s already explained her twist out routine and as she hands Calum the various products, leave-in, comb, curling cream, and oil, she makes sure to do so with her left hand. The ring reflects in the high noon rays.

“Do you mind if I take a picture?” she asks.

“I don’t mind.” Calum gently guides her head back, fingers holding the strands separate. He kisses her forehead and then she returns to her previous position so he can finish the twist. She finds her phone and angles it up a little, posing with her chin resting in her left hand. The ring faces out. Calum’s attention is zeroed in on the twist but she snaps a photo.

“Shit,” he mumbles at the too loose twist. He unravels it before starting over. He’s not as skilled at her. He’s watched her do it without a mirror and he’s sure it’s just a matter of time. She’s been doing it for eight years now and he’s only tried it a handful of times.

“You’re going good, baby.”

“It was too loose. Gonna try again. I think when I kissed you I let it go a little.”

“It’s in the back anyway,” she laughs, looking at the recording phone. “No one will know if one twist is a little loose.”

“I’ll know.”

She commends the drive to get it perfect and ends the recording. It’s another half hour before Calum finishes and he knows it would’ve taken her less time. But he’s proud of his work. He snaps a photo in the bathroom lighting and instantly posts it to his Instagram story. It’s in the bathroom that she notices the mess of the muffin container and jewelry box. She rearranges it like Calum did, but this time with the box in the center and snaps a quick photo.

Calum’s phone dings with a notification. He doesn’t pay any mind and helps clean up the towels and the hair left behind. He even has to get Duke to give up the fight on the last hand towel too so he can start the load of laundry. It takes a bride but Duke immediately lets it go for the treat. Alana finds Calum, on his way out of the laundry room and wraps herself around his waist.

“You made me blubber like a baby.” She knows it’s not hard but she likes to think she’s tough. A happy dog, or a beautiful sunset usually spark her tears.

“But for a good reason,” Calum counters. She can’t deny that.

There’s a wave, as she calls her mother, who already knew the question would be happening soon since Calum had conspired with her about the ring and sizing. It’s not until he gets off the phone with Alana’s mother that he ever gets a chance to check his own. There are a couple missed calls but tons of texts. His groupchat with the guys has exploded, which isn’t hard to do when the most consistent thread is just of memes, and he grins at how excited his friends are.

When Calum checks his Instagram, the notifications are a mess to read and he spies the posts that started it all. He swipes through the photo of her staring at the camera, with the ring on her finger, the video of him about the twist and the muffin box with the ring box inside. Get you a man who can do both. Learn the wash day routine and propose. Alt Caption: I cried into his chest for like half an hour (I know because he proposed while I waiting on my deep condition to finish) and I really don’t have any words besides I am so incredibly lucky to love and be loved by such a caring man. Yes, he proposed by using my love of baked goods and hiding the box in with last muffin. Yes, it might’ve been in the middle of our bathroom. But hell no, I wouldn’t ask for it any other way. I just can’t believe it’s real. I, from the bottom of my mushy heart, love you, Calum.

Alana listens from the living room, her book in hand. Hearing the piano plucked to life. She waits, pausing at the end of her paragraph. The keys are played in faster succession than the day before. The lethargic wail that once shook the house turns into something cheery. The keys sound like they are dancing. Never jumping in front of the other but happily following the lead.

Her book forgotten she follows the chipper notes down to the music room. She watches from the doorway. Calum’s sitting up straighter, hands bouncing along the keys. Her entrance is quiet and the bench creaks just a little when she settles down next to Calum. She makes sure to keep out of the way, watching his fingers move so deftly. His eyes are closed, a feeling guiding him rather than meticulous thought. The progression comes to a twinkling end. Alana rests her head onto his bicep.

“I’m still not the greatest,” he offers. “I’ve just been messing around mostly in the studio.”

“You sounded lovely playing. Loved even your sad song.” There’s a moment of silence and Calum wraps his arm around her shoulders. She taps at one of the keys, intrigued.

Calum’s voice breaks the silence. “Nothing to do this weekend?”

“I made a note to say no to plans to hang out with you.”

The smile is soft against his lips, but she notices the crinkles around his eyes. “Want a crash course?”

“You’d teach me?”

He nods. Her grin is infectious. “Of course, I would.” Calum gets her situated, standing behind the bench. His chin hovers over her shoulder, his chest almost brushing along her back. Calum’s voice is smooth and low as he explains the keys. He guides her hands for a moment, instructing when to press down on the pedal and which one.

“When did they put a motor into a piano?” she questions.

The comment sends Calum into a fit of giggles, burying his face into her shoulder. “t’s always been this way, angel.”

“I don’t buy it. But what’s next?”

“Now you play,” he manages to get out after collecting himself. The first time is a little clunky, her still getting comfortable with the keys. Alana cringes hearing how bad it sounds but attempts the chords a second time. Calum’s hand direct less and slowly he removes them, watching her play. It’s not perfect but it’s good and his heart soars. His attempts at teaching her the bass went well, but she always opted to watch him play because he was much better at it.

Alana won’t lie. She had wanted to learn the piano since she was a little girl but her mother couldn’t afford the lessons or the keyboard. So she put the dream sit up on a shelf, thinking she’d get to it someday. She knew Calum knew how to play but that shelf felt a little higher up and she was always doing something. Calum was always doing something, so the dream sat, and not once was it dusted off. Until now.

Calum pulls out his phone and records just a few seconds of her hands on the keys, working through the chord progression a third time, much smoother than the other two attempts. Alana pauses, looking out the window that the piano faces. “I’ve always wanted to learn the piano.”

Calum, in the midst of his draft, stops and watches her. “You could’ve told me. I could’ve taught you.”

“Part of it felt silly.”

With one arm wrapped around the front of her chest, Calum kisses her temple. “It’s never silly. We can have lessons, okay?”

She kisses his forearm. “Okay, thank you, baby.”

I can’t say get you a man who does both. But I can say that two dreams are coming true today: Alana learning the piano and her becoming my wife-to-be. This is only the first lesson but I’m already incredibly proud of her. Today’s only the first stop on our engagement but she’s made me a lucky man and I adore her from the bottom of my mushy heart. I love you, angel. (And yes, I might’ve proposed to her in the middle of the bathroom floor. But to be fair, I have no excuse except I really wanted to ask her at the moment, so I did.)

Alana reads Calum’s post, yet again, buried in the sheets of their shared bed. “We’re nothing but cornballs.”

“Only corny for you.”

#calum hood #calum hood fluff #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #calum hood x black oc #calum hood x black reader #michael clifford #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #h writes

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comphersjost · 6 years ago

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Secrets ➸ Nolan Patrick

HI im back from a very very very long writing hiatus with some Nolan Patrick! there most likely be a part 2 to this so lets hope i can get around to that asap ajsdaksd

summary: reader is TK’s sister and wants Nolan really bad. they both can’t sleep n some stuff happens :)

warnings: nothing really

word count: 1354

find part 2 here

find my masterlist here

“Can’t sleep?”

The voice behind you made you turn around from where you knelt on the counter.

“Nolan,” you started, “hey, yeah, I haven’t had issues sleeping in a while but, uh, I guess they’re back. You too?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “Insomnia’s a bitch. Just ran out of my meds.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” you grin.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

“Because, you’re staying here this week, and so am I,” you smile shyly at him, “We can keep each other company when we can’t sleep.”

“Yeah we can,” Nolan smiled, eyes flickering to the mug in your hand.

“Hot chocolate?” You offered.

“No thanks, maybe some of that amazing tea you always make?” You give Nolan a look. “Oh come on, please? If I make it, it won’t be as good.”

“Flattery only gets you so far, Noles,” you shake your head and turn to open the cabinets in your brothers kitchen, searching for a packet of black tea and mint.

“It worked with you didn’t it?” he laughs quietly, before noticing your endeavor. “It’s up here.” Nolan steps up behind you and reaches to the top shelf of the cabinet, bringing down the packet containing a tea bag and the mint in one hand. His breath fans gently over your neck, the curve of his bicep blocking your view of anything else.

“Thanks,” you murmur, he seems to take his time stepping away from you. “What kind of dumbass puts the necessities on the top fucking shelf?”

“Your brother, apparently.” Nolan finally steps away after setting the tea on the counter, and you can still feel the tightening in your stomach. He smells really, really good.

“Yeah, Travis is a dumbass,” you joke, trying to get ignore the heat pooling in your gut. Nolan laughs softly before opening the pantry.

“I’m gonna make some of the popcorn you brought with you and pick a movie okay?” He leans around the door to wait for your approval.

“Yeah, go for it.” Nolan disappeared into the living room of Travis’s apartment while you put water in pot and flipped the switch. You leaned against the counter, trying to control the overwhelming desire you felt for you brother’s teammate. You shouldn’t feeling like this, you shouldn’t want him like this. It was wrong, everything was all so wrong.

“Y/N,” Nolan hushed call comes from the living room.

“Hmm?” You pop your head out to answer him.

“Home Alone 2 okay?”

You grin. “Always.” Nolan beams at you as you retract your head back into the kitchen. The water boiler switches off, signaling the water’s done, so you put the water into a mug (one you gave to TK), a spoonful of sugar, mint, and milk. At the same time, the microwave goes off, the popping from the bag inside slowly coming to a stop. Nolan walks in and searches for a bowl to put the popcorn in. “I’m gonna take this to the living room okay?” You gesture to the mug of tea in your hand.

“Oh, you angel,” Nolan grins and strides across the kitchen and plants a kiss on your cheek. Unfortunately for him, he missed, and his lips ended up on the corner of your mouth. Nolan’s eyes widen at his mistake, and instead of saying anything, he turns back around and retrieves the bag of popcorn from the microwave.

You want to die. What the f u c k. It seems like he doesn’t want to make this easy for you, and now you just want him even more. You set down his tea and your hot chocolate down on the coffee table and gently brush the corner of your mouth with your fingertips.

Nolan peeks into the living room to see you hand brush your mouth, and a dazed expression on your face. He squeezes his eyes shut and scolds himself for being so careless.

“I could only find one bowl,” you hear Nolan say as he plops down on the couch, “Hope that’s okay.’

“Uh, yeah of course,” you try (and fail) to seem unaffected. “Hand me a blanket, will you?” Half a second later, one of your mom’s knit blankets (that TK STOLE) was thrown over your face. “Thanks my man, thats what I really wanted, to be suffocated.” This send the two of you into a fit of giggles.

“Anytime, Y/N, just let me know.” You scoff and toss a pillow at his face. An “oof” sounds from underneath the pillow. A whine sounds from the kennel next to the TV.

“Yikes, someone needs to do his business.” You get up from your seat to go lead the small golden off of his bed. “I’ll be right back.” You clip the leash to Parker’s collar and step outside the door, waiting on the dog to relieve himself. Once he was done, you led him back inside and let him off the leash. He immediately jumped onto the sofa chair and sat down.

“Looks like someone else can’t sleep, huh?” Nolan remarked.

“That might be our fault, Noles,” you said, “ We did make a little noise. He’ll go back into his bed when he’s ready to sleep. Until then, he can watch the movie with us.” Nolan laughed, and only then did you realized how cold it was outside. You hastily locked the door and set the leash on the table. Your body shook - violently. Your steps around to the couch were slow, filled with shivers.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re freezing,” Nolan gasped. “Hey, hey, come here.” Before you could even comprehend his words, he had pulled you into his lap. He took the blanket he threw at you and the on he’d gotten for himself and covered the two of you with both of them. “There you go. You weren’t even outside for that long, what happened?” He rubbed slow circles into your back.

“I-I don’t know,” you said softly, partly because of the cold and partly because you were on Nolan’s lap. “I’ve always gotten cold really easily. TK’s the opposite, he loves being in the cold. I only like the cold if it’s outside and I’m inside.” Another shiver racked your body.

“Hey, I got you,” Nolan rubbed your shoulder and pulled you in tightly, laying your head on his chest. He pressed play on the movie and settled into the the couch. Parker watched you carefully, also settling into his spot comfortably.

At some point during the movie, Nolan’s warm (and giant) hand had found its way just underneath your t-shirt, rubbing gently, soothing circles. You hum contentedly and bury yourself deeper into the warmth, arms circling around his huge torso. You’d lost track of time, but you didn’t care. This, the two of you - it was perfect. Your legs were tangled together on the other end of the couch, two blankets enveloping both of you in warmth.

“Y/N,” comes Nolan’s soft voice.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

Always with you, comes the invasive thought before you could stop it. “Always,” your lips say. You mentally scold yourself for the words, and decide to attribute your stupidity to your exhaustion.

“Y/N.” You ignore him, too humiliated to look up at him. “Hey, Y/N, look at me.” You decide you have nothing to lose and tilt your head up to meet his lips, and kiss him. The reaction from him is delayed for a few moments, before he reciprocates full force. A moan slips from your mouth, and you adjust your body to face him. A rumble escapes Nolan’s chest at you brush your tongue against his bottom lip. The hand on your back slips down to cup your butt and push your body up against his. A whimper escapes your lips before he jerks away.

Your noses are brushing and your eyes are locked, your breaths heavy and mingling. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Nolan breathes.

“No one has to know,” you murmur, kissing him again, gently. “No one.”

“Y/N,” comes Nolan’s mumble, before succumbing to his own desire and giving into you. “No one has to know.”

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #travis konecny #tk #philidelphia flyers #philidelphia flyers imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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natasharomanovs · 6 years ago

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This Is Not A Puppy Love | bucky barnes x clint barton

Prompt: winterhawk Valentines fluff (pre-relationship)

Pairing: Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes

Words: 1899

A/N: This is dedicated to @awstark, happy valentines my babes, here’s finally some Betty Barnes content. Also it’s 1am so please excuse any mistakes x

READ IT ON AO3

Valentines Day was shitty generally shitty for Bucky nowadays.

Sure. Once upon a time he would have a girl on his elbow, a dance partner for the night, someone to spend some quality time with, someone to romance, and then the next day they would go their separate ways and he would find someone new.

But as he said, that was all ‘once upon a time’.

The past few Valentines Days (the ones he could remember anyway) he had mainly stayed holed up in his room, avoiding anyone and everyone. That included every mention of the day where romance was high in the air and everyone seemed to be having a good time getting along and enjoying the peace.

Steve liked to worry about Bucky, a known fact amongst everyone, but days like this were days that he got free of the constant limpet on his shoulder, shadowing his every move due to the other jobs that needed to be taken care of.

No matter how much he loved that man, sometimes he just needed a break.

And if Bucky had pulled the “aw, shucks, I’d really hate to be the reason you didn’t show, Steve” when his friend was desperately looking for a reason to skip the kissing booth at some event, then who was Steve to know that Bucky had only made up being busy so that he could see the ridiculous pictures of Steve online later.

Except he wasn’t exactly fibbing, he did have plans.

On Valentines Day.

For once.

Except it wasn’t anything romantic, it was just him and Clint meeting at the dog park to watch their two dogs run around like idiots and wait for the inevitable mess that the two would get themselves into. Of course, Bucky’s dog Betty was much better than Lucky, but Clint had yet to come around to common sense on that one.

As if hearing him thinking about her, the giant alaskan malamute made her way over to him, plopping her head on his knee and letting out a little huff of breath, causing him to let out a little laugh as he ran his hands down her neck and then back up to scratch behind her ears, moving her head from side to side as he did so, “You ready to go, baby girl?”

And yes, he was such a hopeless pushover for the dog that he called her every nickname under the sun and spoiled her rotten, but who was he to deny those big deep brown and soulful whines? So shut up Steve, he had it under control.

Besides, Betty was his dog and he could treat her however he wanted - and anyway, the best girls deserved nothing less than the best.

Clipping the leash to her collar he pulled the black beanie he’d stolen from Clint the last time he’d been over at the other man's apartment and left, locking the door behind him before making his way down to the lobby and outside.

It was only a quick walk to the park yet Bucky still found himself there sooner than he thought he would have. It could have been due to the fact that Betty was desperately trying to get to their destination as fast as possible and Bucky allowed himself to just get dragged along, but it could also have been partly due to the fact that spending time with Clint was something that he genuinely enjoyed these days.

During the first weeks that they had met he wasn’t sure how to view the archer. He hadn’t really known much about him, yet when they had met he had found himself weirdly underwhelmed. It wasn’t like he was expecting anything though, which was the strangest part, but he assumed after meeting all of Steve’s other super-hero friends he had put them all on a pretty high mental pedestal of ‘out of my reach’.

Except then one day suddenly it all made sense. Clint was just a normal guy living an irregular life, and somehow that was the most startling fact to Bucky.

Between Clint when he stumbled awake at 2pm and heading straight for the coffee, to the Clint who loved and adored his trash dog, and even to the Clint who got snippy with people when he was running low on sleep yet running high on paranoia, Bucky couldn’t help but feel himself begin to get comfortable with the man.

The only flaw though, as Steve liked to point out, was that Bucky never seemed to do something like falling in love by halves, and when Bucky became to get comfortable with the man, he knew it was only a matter of time before the wax poetry started.

Steve.

Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, hunching his back as he slipped easily through the gate, holding it open with his hip for Betty to go running through, excited to see all of her friends. Catching Clint’s eye when he looked up, the man sitting in their usual seats, Bucky couldn’t help but bitterly think that even when his friend wasn’t around, he still seemed to be annoying Bucky with his smug knowingness.

He’d have to go deal with Steve, imaginary or no, later though.

“Hey! You’re late! Was beginning to think that I’d have to call Lucky and go home.” Perking up upon hearing the other dogs name, Betty’s tail started wagging and she leaned closer into Bucky whilst looking around, trying to locate her friend.

She hadn’t needed to though because it was only a few moments later that the other dog came running over, the two sniffing each other and then running off when Bucky managed to click off the leash, “I would say blame Betty, but she loves coming here. I swear she has some sixth sense whenever we start heading this way, she always seems to speed up.”

Clint let out a laugh and shuffled over a bit on the bench to allow more room for Bucky which he accepted with a small smile, the two sitting in silence for a moment before Clint pulled out his phone with a slight sheepish look on his face, “So I wanted to wait until we met but I couldn’t help myself.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned closer in, trying to get a good view of the phone even though he knew Clint would accommodate to his line of sight, “I told you you’d do this, can’t wait for a damn thing.”

Letting out a wounded noise, Clint leaned away slightly and put a hand on his heart, pout firmly on his face, “I am nothing but reliable! So what if I had a sneak peak, there’s probably so many more pictures of Steve now - Tony’s probably even made an appearance by now.”

Letting out a little snort and shaking his head, Bucky easily snatched the phone from Clint and opened the Twitter app, searching up ‘Captain America’ and instantly laughing at the pictures showing up.

Just as he had assumed it looked like his friend was having the time of his life.

“Oh my god! Look at his face when he saw Tony walking up!”

Bucky pushed the phone into Clint’s face and the man immediately lit up with laughter, gripping the edged to try get a clearer look as he kept laughing, “That’s brilliant! Oh man, you think he’s gonna get a PR call to at least act like he wants to be there?”

“Probably sooner than he’s wanting, maybe even more than once. Man, that face makes it seem like the depression was one giant vacation.”

Clint let out a loud cackle and his head fell back as Bucky grinned shyly up at the other, turning his attention back to the phone before he could get too lost in the view of the happiness and ease littered across the others face.

They continued looking through Twitter before putting the phone away and just talking, catching each other up on the things that they had missed in the two days they had been apart. You’d think two days wasn’t enough time to have full on stories, but no one could really ever explain how Clint got into the messes he did.

“-and you would have thought that I would have learned my lesson from the last time but apparently we all had too much faith in me. We really need to stop doing that, it’s getting my hopes up.”

Bucky shook his head, about to open his mouth and reply when Betty came running up to him, covered in mud, “Doll! What the hell?”

“Oh god.” Lucky came running up then, somehow covered in even more mud than Betty and both men groaned as they stood up.

“Your dog is trash and a terrible influence.”

“You only think that because you think your dog is perfect.”

“Think? That’s an insult to my baby, she’s the best girl, aren’t you? Yes you are, yes you are!”

From where he had crouched to try pat any clean spot on Betty, he looked back up at Clint to find the other man smiling down at him fondly. He couldn’t help but grin back before Betty tried to jump onto him and he let out an ‘oomph’ as he was crushed under the weight of the dog.

Bucky scowled as he managed to get Betty off of him and stand up, but the damage was already done and some of the mud had already rubbed off of her and onto him. He sighed and looked to where Clint was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Shut up, she’s still better than your mutt.”

“Whatever you say, Barnes.”

The two stood there grinning at each other for a moment or two before Betty let out a whine, rubbing herself more firmly against Bucky’s leg, causing the two to look down at their two dogs.

Coughing a little, Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck and looked towards Clint, trying to feel more confident than he felt, “So uh, my apartment’s closer and it’s… Probably more ideal to try clean these two at the same time so uh, wanna come to mine?”

“Why Mr. Barnes, are you asking me to spend my Valentines with you? I could have a hot date lined up for all you know.”

Bucky snorted, “You’ve got a hot date like I’ve got any date at all.”

He started walking out towards the gate and Clint bumped shoulders with him, grinning, “Well now that’s just offensive, I’ll have you know that I’m a very hot date. And so are you,” he scrunched up his nose and looked down at Betty before looking up, teasing glint in his eye, “Preconceived ideas about your dog and all.”

So yeah.

Previous Valentines had been doomed from the start, but as the two of them kneeled on the floor of Bucky’s bathroom later, trying for their dear lives to clean their dogs with as little mess as possible, teasing each other along the way and Clint pecking Bucky on the cheek sweetly when they were done with that task, Bucky thought that this Valentines really couldn’t get that much better.

At least until he saw a compilation a few hours later of ‘Captain America Doesn’t Wike It’ from the kissing booth and yeah.

Best Valentines ever.

#winterhawk #clint barton #bucky barnes #sniper husbands #buckyclint #writing from nz

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lokikingofasgardslover713 · 6 years ago

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Special Forces: Daisy Part 1

Aesthetic provided by the LOVELY @prettybubblesintheair ! Thank you sweetheart!

Masterlist

Part 2 Part 3

Total words: +2,800

Warnings: Cursing, nudity, blood, harmful thoughts? No body shaming.

Bucky Barnes x OFC plus!size Reader

Summary: Bucky never thought that he could use a service dog, more specially one that was trained to help with PTSD until he meets an unlikely friend during a rough episode that had left him alone on a park bench to sort it out alone.

Trotting across the lawn following the same scent every day for the last month that told her he was sitting at the usual spot and needed someone to check on him. Summer coat shining in the bright noon day sun, this was the first time she didn't hide in the shadows, it was time to introduce herself because the scent in the air told her he wasn't having a good day. PTSD had a scent and he carried it with him every time he entered the park but today it was worse. It pulled at her very soul, knowing the feeling all too well. Sensing the strange looks she was receiving, some even tugging others out of her way as she reached his park bench.

Light on her paws he never heard her approach, head buried into his hands. Today wearing jogging shorts, running shoes and a long shirt despite it being early July, left hand gloved and both woven into his long shaggy auburn hair. Setting herself directly in front of him noting the ear buds while she sat within reach. The depression and the like pouring off of him so thick it stung her nose. Reaching out her fur covered muzzle to gently press a nose into his knee pushing hard to get his attention.

It felt odd being nudged, it wasn't human and cautiously he looked up to confirm his guess. Taken aback he pushed himself to sit, slouching into the bench taking a moment to register what he saw. Pulling ear buds out to look around for a person, but all he spotted was the large 200 lb. wolf that looked at him as if waiting for a response.

A wolf there was no mistake there was a full-blooded wolf in the middle of the city and it was sitting before him patiently. Its Y/E/C eyes watched him relentlessly and he swore he saw concern in them. Its short Y/H/C coat showed a well taken care of animal, not a lean body, which meant it had to be eating well. Cautiously he leaned forward stretching out a gloved hand to see if it would allow him to pet it, super soldier or not he still didn't want to get attacked.

Gentle, God was he so gentle as he petted over her head the animal dipping it, so he would continue to do so. Intently watching a smile creep into his features gloved hand going to hold under her chin which scented of metal, shrugging it off as possibly his occupation.

“You're a good…,” he paused looking to see exactly what sex she was before proceeding.

“Girl,” he finished with a smile.

Hands still gentle feeling over where a collar should be but of course he knew they wouldn’t be one. Anxiety easing as he continued to pet her, maybe there was something to therapy animals after all, but he wasn't about to tell Sam he had come to the realization.

His fading anxiety excited her more than what she thought was possible prompting her to allow the playful pup to get the best of her, bounding on to the bench next to next to the man to lay her massive head into his lap. Lying sprawled out across the bench, hanging off of it. He had gone rigid on her, but it began to ease once he continue to pet over her head and down her back.

“You're a big girl,” he began earning what he would have taken as a warning glare where she human putting her head back into his lap for him to continue.

“Meant nothing by it doll,” he drawled, giving her a smile leaning back onto the bench and relaxing for the first time in a long while.

Immediately he lost track of time, only the vibration of the cell phone in his shorts brought his attention to how long it had been, meaning he was late getting back to the compound. Begrudgingly fishing it out of his pocket that she laid on, the wolf sliding down his knee, so he could retrieve the offending object, ears pinned as he swiped the green button and put it to his ear.

“Hey,” the man began laying his hand gently on her shoulder blades to pull her back up to his thigh, obvious he didn’t want her to leave.

“Hey Buck. Where are you at? It's been 2 hours,” came a strong female voice from the other end.

“At the park. You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” he smiled down at the wolf who laid her head on his chest apparent the feeling was mutual.

“OK it's dinner time if you're hungry,” the woman responded.

“Great! Mind if I bring a friend,” he laughs lightly eyeing the booth over at the dog park that sold collars and leashes.

“Sure, hope she's pretty,” the woman laughed.

“Oh, she is,” he snickered before hanging up and putting the phone back into his pocket.

Looking over the massive creature he pondered on how he would do this should he chance carrying her or should he try to lead her over? Glancing at the kiosk she followed his gaze shocked that he had decided that quickly. Strong arms wrapped around her to carry her obvious he wasn't wanting her to get away.

“Please don't tear my throat out sweetheart,” he begged before he lifted her up taking notice she went limp, so he could carry her.

The wolf realizing his left arm didn't feel at all like his right and buried her nose into his shoulder taking in a long loud breath. It didn't worry her just perplexed her as to why it scented the way it did.

“It’s not real,” he caught himself explaining to her as though she were a person, she seemed content with the explanation and leaned back into him as he stepped to the kiosk.

“How can I be…,” the attendant began, the young woman turning to help the two.

“Wow! That's a big dog,” she breathed meeting the man’s smile with one of her own followed by a nervous laugh.

The wolf let out a long-exasperated huff at the accusations of the woman even though she meant well.

“She's a special breed,” he laughed holding the wolf close.

“Lost her collar and leash in the park somehow,” he explained to the bewildered woman.

“OK, let me find you something manly,” the young woman smiled sweetly, turning to reach for the generic brown leather leash and matching collar.

“How about that turquoise set,” he pointed out on the opposite side of the kiosk, the silver studs on the collar catching his attention.

“It will look beautiful on her but not very manly for you,” the woman chuckled but exchanged the brown leather for the turquoise leather collar studded in silver squares and its matching leash.

“Not worried about being manly, just want her to look good,” the man smiled at the small blonde-haired attendant who cautiously came forward, taking her time while she put the collar around her neck snugly, attaching the leash and looping the handhold onto his gloved hand.

“Thanks,” he laughed squatting down to place her on her paws, noting that she didn't have the typical dog smell.

“How much do I owe you,” he asked quietly, getting to his feet to dig into the pocket of the shorts pulling out a money clip and finally looking up at the woman.

“I thought I recognized you,” she spoke kindly meeting his gaze with a gracious one, something he still wasn't used to.

“You've paid enough,” she continued to smile sweetly, turning back to her kiosk.

After several minutes of bickering slightly back and forth, the wolf watching intently between the two, taking a seat while the man tried to pay for the set until the woman had a thought.

“Tell you what,” she smiled, “let me get a selfie with you and your dog and we'll call it even. My husband won't believe I met the great Bucky Barnes otherwise.”

“Sure thing,” he laughed kneeling with the woman next to the wolf that leaned heavily into his side while he pulled the glove free to give a metal finger peace sign.

Holy shit! How the hell did she not know who he was!? No wonder his left arm seemed different she befriended none other than Bucky Barnes himself, an Avenger.

“Thank you,” the woman spoke snapping the wolf out of her thoughts in time to get to her paws and trot after him.

“Hope you can keep up,” he smiled down at her.

“We need to run,” Bucky finished, picking up the pace that seemed to be easy for her to keep up with.

Bucky wasn’t concerned about taking her into the compound, he knew Tony would flip his shit when he seen her, but what was new? Trotting proudly into the compound with her at his side was getting looks but when he looked down at her he couldn’t help too notice she held her head high as well.

Getting onto the elevator leaning on to the rail while the wolf rested against his legs her back hitting him mid-thigh. His mind beginning to wonder and question if she had just gotten off her leash then again there was no mark on her fur of a collar. Promising himself then and there that he would pay whatever it cost to keep her.

“What am I going to call you,” Bucky asked, speaking to her like a human, smiling down cocking her head giving him a look that had him questioning if she understood him and scratching behind her ears when the doors opened to The Avengers floor.

Well, her name was Y/N, but she knew very well that she wasn’t about to let him know that. The idea of reveling her true self to him made her insides knot up, but he could call her whatever he wanted. All she wanted was to see him happy, not sure why that mattered to her at the moment, just glad that she had found someone to relate to.

Holding onto her leash obvious he was nervous despite the fact he was a highly trained super soldier he couldn't help but to hope no one lost their shit. Not realizing he had paused until he felt a gentle head butt in the back of his leg that hinted to him to step off the elevator.

“Daisy? How about I call you Daisy,” Bucky spoke proudly for coming up with the name and coming out of his frozen state.

Stepping out of the lift the bombardment of scents had her forcing herself to take it all in stride, so she could identify each one. Noticing what she scented was laced with the acrid taste of depression, hate, self-loathing, and more notable battle fatigue. Oddly enough it relaxed her, something she had lived with for a long time it was how her pack smelt before….

Dinner! God did it smell wonderful!

“Holy shit,” came a woman's voice one she recognized from the phone, a redhead kneeling in front of her and the two stopping so that the woman could fawn over her.

“You got a dog,” came a man’s voice.

“She's a wolf,” Bucky spoke up watching Natasha continue to gush over her like she was a puppy.

“A wolf,” Sam quipped, coming forward to get a better look evident Natasha could care less as she continued to love all over the Y/H/C coated creature that looked to be enjoying the attention.

“What is her name,” Natasha asked massaging over her ears while she stood up.

“Daisy,” Bucky spoke proudly, the moment Steve came around the corner of the cabinets.

“You took Sam's advice,” Steve snickered squatting to reach out to Daisy who stepped forward to scent over him his hand inching closer to scratch under her chin and rubbing over her neck.

Scenting PTSD on him also though not as strong as it was on Bucky though she had a feeling he could use the comfort also.

“No, she found me in the park, so I figured I would bring her with me,” Bucky smiled smugly over at Sam while Steve stood.

“Tony's going to shit,” Steve breathed, looking down at Daisy who took a seat back on Bucky’ running shoes proudly.

Everyone noted Daisy seeming to sit protectively against Bucky, leaning into his palm so he was able to pet over her ears.

“Well, he'll get over it,” Sam spoke up matter of factly.

“She could do is all some good,” Sam finished before turning to head back into the dining area.

“You can take the leash off Barnes,” Natasha hinted to the tight grip he had on the leash.

“I don't think she will go anywhere on the top floor.”

Natasha turned to step back into the kitchen the sound of dishes clanking, and a water bowl being filled telling them all they needed to know. Daisy watching Natasha closely when she returned to sit the dish down out of the walk way, but obvious it was meant for Daisy. Getting to her paws to get a drink, not realizing just how thirsty she was until she took the first tongue full into her mouth. Lapping quickly but being careful not to make a mess, she was a lady after all and a gentle pat on her shoulders told her Natasha was grateful for it.

“What if she belongs to someone,” Steve brought up, always the realist and watching worry cross Bucky’ features.

“If she makes Barnes this happy,” Natasha began leaning on the counter to look down at the wolf who finished and ran her tongue over long white sharp fangs.

“And you,” Natasha hinted at Steve who was scratching over her ears with a smile on his face.

“I'll pay them whatever they want. Besides I'm not worried about it,” Natasha smiled hinting to them to follow her to the table.

Following alongside Bucky, the large wolf, who was now called Daisy, didn't go unnoticed especially by Tony who had gotten out of his seat to see what all the commotion was about.

“When did we get a dog,” Tony began, coming forward to see what followed Bucky in.

“Her name is Daisy,” Steve smirked taking a seat, Bucky doing the same but the wolf pausing to look at Tony who now stood in front of her.

“And she’s a wolf,” Bucky added, scooting his chair in but keeping an eye on the two.

“We'll talk about this later, but I don't want her table. So, shoo,” Tony tried to wave the wolf back only to witness her stand her ground.

“You're not afraid of me are you,” Tony’ exasperated sigh huffed out, his arms folded across his chest watching her step forward to scent over him.

Damn he was almost as worse if not so more so than Bucky. The anxiety making her own bones ache as it seemed to pour off of him in torrents. Locking gazes with him, muscles tensing as without warning she stood on her hind feet to place her paws onto his shoulders, so they were eye to eye.

“Daisy, NO,” Bucky shouted his chair screeching across the floor and taking long strides to pull her back and freezing the instant she laid her head on Tony’ shoulder almost as if she was comforting him.

No one knew what to do, should they pull her away, or stand back and watch it play out? The entire room letting out the breath they didn’t realize everyone held the moment she fell back to all fours.

“I guess she can stay,” Tony lamented when her paws where flat on the cool tile and trotting over to Bucky’ seat and laying under it.

“But don't you dare feed her from the table,” Tony scolded as everyone took a seat, everyone knowing immediately that he would be the first one to break the rules.

That night after dinner, Bucky was sure to take Daisy out one last time, still not sure just how house broken she was, but it seemed Daisy had a handle on it. Even sleeping on the blanket, he threw down for her at the side of the bed in front of his night stand.

“You're a smart girl,” Bucky praised her while taking a seat on the bed, watching her make a few turns before laying down.

Looking at him as if she was thanking him for the soft blanket and leaving him to wonder how long she had actually lived out in the park.

“I take it that’s better than laying on the hard ground,” he smiled, daisy laying her head onto the soft blanket and letting out a contented sigh, watching him pull his feet into bed before cutting the lights out.

“Night girl,” Bucky spoke right next to her, his warm hand reaching out to stroke over her shoulders one last time before he tried to fall asleep.

I have a thing for werewolves what can I say?

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