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soldmysoultootomeboys · 4 years ago

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Demon MC with Human Obey Me Brothers Reverse AU

Okay but what if the brothers were all ‘normal’ humans who ended up summoning a demon, who is MC.

I’m in love with this idea. Lowkey might write a fic about this jk...unless? Levi’s was surprisingly the most fun to write. Also I guess tw for normal demon things??? Nothing too graphic tho

Part 2

Lucifer

As a human he was a high ranking businessman. While still a formal person on the outside he had a perverse interest in the occult that he hid from the rest of his coworkers.

Due to his important position and large pay he manages to get his hands on some rare books on demon summoning. After a lot of research he tries them out.

When he summons you he doesn't look surprised or afraid and is quite clinical about it at first. The first thing he does is bind your powers so they can never be used against him. After he informs the rules you must follow if you're to be living with him.

Even as a human he is quite prideful and controlling and he wants to remind you who's really in charge.

At first he only sees you as a demon. He lets you do your own thing when he isn't ordering you around and when the two of you do go out in public he only introduces you as an acquaintance of his. People are rather surprised at this as he's not the type to walk around with others and rumors quickly fly off about you two.

It's not until you two are walking home from a shopping trip that you really start to bond. It was a late night and no one was around so the two of you take your time, enjoying the cool air and stars.

All too late that you hear the click of a gun. From the shadows steps a man, weapon pointed straight at you. Seeing your nonthreatening human form as well as Lucifer who practically reeks of wealth he thought the two of you easy targets. Wrong.

With inhuman speed you lunge forward shifting into your demon form. The gun clatters to the floor as you rip him to shreds with no remorse. It's only when Lucifer finally calls you away that you realize he's dead.

Once you manage to get home he is immediately lecturing you about how risky the actions you just did were. Someone could have seen you or more importantly seen him. What would you have done if the cops got involved? Eat them?

Once he's done though he thanks you and a few days later a gift ends up in your room. He never claims it, even though you can smell his cologne all over it.

After that night Lucifer treats you different. Not better, but not worse either. If anything he's a bit kinder but in a cold sort of way and he keeps his distance when anything gets too serious. At first you think its because he's scared of you. It isn't till he finally approaches you, a stern look on his face and orders you to transform that you realize he was working up the courage to see what you really looked like.

The pact urges you to turn, so you do and you let him examine you, circling several times. He's most interested in your wings, asking if he could touch them and when you consent he gently runs his hands over them. Despite you being a demon he treats you delicately shifting aside feathers with a careful hand and running a light fingertip over leathery skin.

It's a strange feeling at first, but not bad and you're practically purring by the end

After that he asks to see your true form more and more

Mammon

He didn't mean to summon you.

He just wanted to make a quick buck. It was getting close to Halloween people were starting to be interested in demons and spooks once again. That's why he thought it would be a great idea to start a seance business.

Twenty dollars for him to pretend to summon a demon, maybe shake a table once or twice, have some scary sounds playing in the background, nothing too big. Who would have known that the book he stole as his main prop would really work.

When he first sees you he screams.

He immediately tries to shove you back into the book to no avail. As he has no clue how to get rid of you he ends up stuck with you, a terrifying demon.

At first its very easy (and amusing) to scare him. Bear your teeth, mumble in a made up language, threaten to rip him to shreds.

You can actually see his soul leave his body when he faints.

However in typical Mammon fashion he gets used to you surprisingly quick, especially when you don't come through on your promise to eat him.

After that he figures that together the two of you could start scamming people for even more money. After all, he does own a real live demon now.

You two make bank stealing and tricking people. With his knack for creating schemes and your powers the two of you are rolling in money in no time, although it always seems to be lost pretty quickly thanks to his terrible gambling habits.

It's in the middle of a heist that something goes wrong. Someone, you don't know who you can only hear the click of a revolver, pulls out a gun. With lightning fast reflexes you’re tackling Mammon shielding him with the tip of your wing and just in time as something is shot into it tearing through muscle and sinew.

The urge to rip them to shreds overtakes you, growing with every second that your human is in danger. But there was so many of them and you couldn't protect Mammon and yourself at the same time. The need to get somewhere safe is much more important so you leave.

It's only your quick reflexes that get the two of you out alive.

When you finally get home Mammon laments over all of the money he lost on the deal. acts like it doesn't affect him. His complaints last exactly till he sees the blood staining your form.

He almost faints right there.

Once he recovers he's immediately running to get ice packs and gauze, fussing over your injured wing. It's obvious he’s worried even though he tries to hide it under his tsundere act. When you’re finally bandaged up he thanks you glancing at your wound the entire time.

It's hard not to appreciate the gesture.

You just don't know how to tell him that your going to be perfectly fine in like two days (thank Diavolo for demon healing)

After this you two are a lot closer. Even before you were friends, but now the relationship has morphed into something different.

The two of you do less dangerous scams and while Mammon doesn't act too different he gets super weird when you're too close. Blushing a terrible crimson and freaking out when you touch.

Even for a demon its not hard to see that he has a crush.

Levi

Also summoned you on accident.

He was actually trying to summon Ruri-chan. You have to admit when it comes to her he does his research. Drew a full pentagram and everything and as a final touch placed a little plushy in the middle.

He absolutely panics when you arrive here instead.

Used to humans being afraid you, you ignore him at first. You fall to one knee eager to pledge your loyalty in exchange for his soul when you land on something squishy.

Pulling it out from under you see a plushy??? Of some anime character??? TF???

This pulls him from his stupor and he snatches it from you and begins to lecture you on the importance of Ruri-chan and anime on human culture.

You have no clue whats going on at this point.

When he finally stops talking he actually gets kind of excited. He summoned a hot demon??? Woah! This is just like his anime 'I accidentally summoned a demon from Hell who became my roommate and now I might be falling for them.'

At your confused look he immediately turns it on and has you watch it. You two end up having an entire movie night together.

After that the two of you mostly act like roommates.

He often compares you to his favorite series TSL where 7 humans summon a demon named Henry and go on crazy adventures with him. The first time he accidentally calls you Henry he blushes like crazy.

At first he acted like you were annoying him most of the time but it was pretty easy to catch on to his tsundere act. He actually loves having you around and will whine when you have to leave. He says its because he can't play two player games without you but you know the truth.

On the rare occasions the two of you go out he gets jealous of anyone with even the slightest interest in you. Your HIS demon why are you giving someone else your attention?

Its pretty easy to distract him though. Just the slightest touch and hes flushing and stuttering. You can do whatever he won't get the hint that you like him the most.

'There's no way you meant to do this. This must be some weird demon norm I don't know about. Yup that's it.'

Satan

Summoned a demon on purpose. And not just that summoned you on purpose.

With his extensive library he had more than enough information to figure out how to summon a demon. After that it was just a matter of choosing which one. He finally settled on you.

You don't need to worry about explaining how a pact works to him. He already knows everything on it. Maybe even more than you. Nerd.

Don't express this opinion out loud. He will be furious.

Even so he'll still make you tell him about summoning a million times just to see if you know anything different.

Mostly you’re an over glorified assistant/labrat to him. MC grab that book. MC draw this summoning circle. MC stick your hand in this flame.

Of any of the brothers he is the one who sees your demon form the most and the one who asks the most questions about it. You have very sharp claws what are those used for? Four sets of wings? I wonder why you have so many. Slitted eyes? Do you have any idea why they are like this?

He is very interested in the differences between humans and demons so you end up performing a lot of tests.

He would also be curious about the celestial war and your part in it. Its up to you to choose to answer him or not.

If you ignore any of his questions he will get annoyed and be snippy. But just tell him an interesting tidbit about hell and he'll be back to normal in no time.

As for his actual job he works as a researcher at a big lab. You go there often to help him with his work. He used to have a lot of assistants but none could handle his terrible rage.

Its one of the reasons you work so well with him. An angry human? That's no big deal. Now if he was a demon that would be something to talk about

His tantrums are actually kind of cute. Like a fussy kitten.

Telling him this has a 50/50 chance of either making him blush or rampage.

If its possible he uses you to annoy his colleagues

Janice talked shit about his theories on planetary alignment? Poison her

Jk not really but maybe just, like, make her day a hundred times worse?

Thanks MC you're great

A power team at its best. His need to get back at people he hates works well with your general need to cause mischief

Asmodeus

An orgy summons you obvious reasons. Although technically not the one who summoned you, you end up making a pact with Asmodeus before the nights over.

It was inevitable really, of all the humans there how could you not choose him? His overblown confidence and cocky insistence that he was perfect was practically adorable. I mean here you are, a demon of all things, and yet this little human is here insisting that he was perfection himself. You just wanted to eat his soul right up he was so cute.

To him its obvious why. After all, he was so beautiful that even demons fell in love with him, he couldn't blame you.

Even if you tell him the real reason he won't believe it.

Immediately starts bragging about how he could seduce demons

If you leave a pact mark on him though he will complain

As for actual duties you don't have a lot

At parties you work as his wingman but at home the two of you have more of a domestic role. He treats you more like a best friend than a demon.

He has a lot of spa days, something he immediately insisted that you take part in too.

One day you bring him a bottle of demon moisturizer. Big mistake

When he finds out about all the different demon beauty products he immediately orders you to get him some.

Your poor wallet.

He's always ordering new things. He really wants to go down to Devildom so he could look himself instead of having to order off Akuzon. One day you'll figure out a way to show him the eternal night.

He's also very flirty towards you, something your not surprised about. Hes always on your lap or petting your head or asking for affection, and he constantly alludes to the things the two of you could do. As time goes on he begins to get even more needy, sometimes ignoring others at parties just to flirt with you. He wants all of your attention all of the time.

Beelzebub

Did not mean to summon you but now that your here hes pretty okay with it

Of all the brothers he the one to treat you the most like another human.

However you have one duty that you take very seriously

You must protect his brother, no matter what.

Other than that you two are like roommates. He doesn't really ask you of much except to keep the fridge stocked (which is a bigger job than expected this guy eats a lot) and he'll take care of the rent and everything else.

Sometimes he'll ask if you want to head to the gym with him. You thank your demon metabolism since every time you end up going he always stops for burgers and shakes at his favorite place on the way home.

He lifts a lot for a human, no surprise since you've seen how sculpted his body is. Seriously he's like a Greek statue. You spot him while doing reps and help correct his form while necessary. It's a bit of a switch from dealing with demon biology to human biology though so you have to make sure that you don't accidentally hurt your new friend.

Sometimes the two of you have movie nights, although its more of an excuse for him to buy a bunch of human food and you to buy a bunch of demon food and pig out. He still manages to out eat you somehow.

Occasionally the two of you will go out with his brother Belphie although it usually ends up with either you or Beel carrying him when he falls asleep. But it gives you time to chat with Beel on your own which you don't mind

The two of you end up with a good bromance, sometimes minus the b.

He treats you like an old friend and even ends up telling you about Lilith, his dear sister who died when a car hit her. He had only managed to pull his brother out of the way at the time and he still remembers it well. You can practically smell the guilt that hangs off him when he tells you that. It's hard not to feel touched after that story even for a demon.

He confesses a lot of things to you, things he has a hard time saying to other people. He never calls upon his pact to swear you to secrecy. He trusts you.

Belphie

Also summons you on purpose

When you first meet Belphie he's angry, uncontrollably angry. It's at the point where it almost surprises you. After all a human filled with so much wrath is no small feat.

His first order is a tough one but one you have no choice but to accept.

Kill the man that murdered his sister

The two of you work hard to hunt him down, spending many days brainstorming late into the night. Although it always ends up with just you working, as Belphie has the strangest tendency to fall asleep while talking. (Narcoleptic maybe? Or just lazy?) Whatever the case you don't terribly mind.

Even just his presence helps, in some strange way.

When you finally track him down Belphie insists on going too. He wants to see the man die with his own two eyes.

It's not a hard fight but it is an emotional one. Through the bond you two share you can feel Belphies anger, his pain, his desire for revenge, and then finally an emptiness.

When its over the two of you go home, still covered in whatever bits of him were left. Belphegor shows no emotions and you wonder if hes in shock from seeing someone die so suddenly, but all you feel is a tired yet content thrum through your bond.

When you finally get home Belphegor immediately tries to go to sleep and its only through a little nagging and a lot of manhandling that your able to convince him to shower first. By now the bloods beginning to dry into a nasty goop and once he's done you jump in too, soothed by the steam and clouds of soap drifting around you.

To no ones surprise Belphie is asleep when you get out. It's then when you realize that you have nothing left to do.

With that one action your purpose here is done, and yet your pact remains. Your thoughts begin to rise Belphie who clings stubbornly to sleep. It's no use though. The two of you are too connected for it to stop.

You hear the sheets rustle and he raises one hand patting at the covers. A universal sign to come here.

"You're so loud" He mutters even though you haven't said a word. "Just sleep already."

A useless answer but a comforting one. You curl up at his side, feeling the tiniest bit like an obedient dog, but his arm settles over your shoulder and he drapes himself over your chest erasing the thoughts from your mind.

You eyes flutter close, at least for the moment. You can decide what you should do when you wake up.

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forsakenoathkeeper · 4 years ago

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I Am Alive (chapter 4/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a mechanical engineer, now a nurse for androids, who moved back to Detroit after the revolution to offer aid. After reconciling with an old friend, you became rather acquainted with his android partner.

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

The android shifted from low power mode to fully operational when he felt you stir from sleep. He tried not to stare when you sat up and stretched, your breasts on full display in the warm glow the morning light was casting through the window. You stood up and he eyed the contours of your back, the curves at your waist, the delicate bumps of your spine before you disappeared out of his line of sight.

You retreated into the bathroom for a few minutes before returning to the bed.

Connor already looked wide awake while you settled down in the sheets again, digging your palms into your eyes. It must have been nice to never be tired. When you stopped, you let out a very unladylike yawn.

"Change of plans," you uttered sleepily. "I'm just gonna lie here forever."

Connor watched, amused, as you settled back beneath the sheets, nuzzling your head into the pillow. Connor was sitting upright, but looking down at you with a sort of compliant expression, like he was fully prepared to let you have your way.

"The consequences on your health would be devastating," Connor replied simply.

You giggled into the pillow. "How are you gonna get me up?" you teased.

Connor eyed the blanket mischievously. The temperature in the air was a little colder than it was beneath the blankets. That would likely have you stirred from the bed.

With a feared squeak, you rolled away from him, wrapping yourself in the blanket and tearing it off his body. He didn't even flinch when the cold air hit him. He was still sitting upright, one leg bent, looking at you with a small smile, like he was trying not to laugh.

You eyed his nudity shamelessly for a second before looking up at his face.

"Hmm - I'm still in bed," you uttered defiantly like a spoiled child.

The android was prepared to keep playing this game with you. He could easily think of several strategies. He was programmed to be an expert negotiator, after all, and was pretty crafty with his methods; even after deviancy, he didn't let that piece of himself slip away.

But-

"Welcome, guest, Hank Anderson," the apartment's robotic attendant greeted someone.

Even you heard that, and your eyes met in a brief moment of panic.

Connor processed that thought for exactly 0.17 seconds and then bolted to his feet in a comedic fashion. He dug through one of his drawers for some lounge pants and hastily pulled them on before trotting into the kitchen to greet Hank.

Hank had a folder in his hand and was setting it on the kitchen counter just as Connor arrived.

"Hey. Wanted to get a head start on this one." Hank opened it up, exposing some digital crime scene photos. "The media is having a shitstorm about it and Fowler wants some feedback quick. Was gonna head straight to the crime-" Hank looked Connor up and down. "-scene."

Connor nodded, showing that he was listening.

"Did I interrupt something?" Hank asked, some tease to his tone. He crossed his arms and gave Connor an amused look.

"No," Connor replied, maybe a little too quickly, and shrugged his shoulders. "What makes you say that?"

"Your pants are on backwards..."

Connor looked down and, sure enough, a tag was sticking out of the hem and poking him in the belly.

"Shit," he scowled, looking away.

Hank chuckled lowly. "Well - well - someone has company. Sorry for interrupting. Need me to give you a moment? Wouldn't want the old geezer to ruin the mood."

"I-... doubt that would be the case," Connor said lowly, rubbing the back of his neck with his dominant hand. His keen hearing could pick up something that the older detective could not. He could hear the shuffling of fabric and footsteps on the floor in the other room and knew you'd be out here in a moment.

Hank's brow lifted and he eyed the android almost suspiciously. But, then, you came through the hallway, wearing proper clothes, hair brushed and pulled back. Hank's eyes shifted from Connor to you, and then back to Connor. He wheezed out a laugh.

"Coffee?" you suggested over Connor's shoulder with a smile.

You stepped into the kitchen, bare feet on the chilly wood floors, and pulled the carafe out from beneath the coffee maker to fill it with water.

With you out of sight, Hank shot Connor a grin. Connor caught the sight for a second before looking away to try to hide the smile he was really struggling to suppress.

"Go put on some real clothes, Cassanova," Hank teased, giving Connor a friendly smack on the back. Hank turned to face you as the android disappeared through the hallway.

"Cabinet left of the fridge," he stated, directing you to the coffee.

You opened the cabinet and eyed the bag. "Ooo. You didn't cheap out," you commented.

Hank chuckled. "Yeah well... Kinda passed out here several times while going over cases. Connor said I'm much more polite after some cups of coffee."

You snorted through your nose. "I don't doubt it..."

The mental image you were presented with was nice: of Connor and Hank sitting in his kitchen, a mountain of folders and paperwork spewed out on the counter while they discussed the evidence, argued over witness testimonies and statements given through interrogations. Hank would probably order a pizza, ignoring Connor's criticisms over the high calories and fat content, and down it all with coffee.

When Connor returned, you glanced at him in the corner of your eye before doing a double take, pivoting yourself fully to take a better look at him.

He was wearing a white T shirt with a long sleeved, black cargo jacket over it, the kind with pockets all over it. His dark jeans were flattering, hugging the right places while loose where necessary for movement. His detective badge was hanging at his waist by one of his belt straps. There was hardly anything special about the outfit; but, it did something to you.

Connor didn't seem to notice you admiring him, honing in on the case files.

"Old woman was murdered last night. I guess she was a big lawyer back in the day," Hank explained, taking a seat at the island. He paused when you brought him a mug, his eyes expressing his gratitude.

Hank continued, "she was being cared for by an android - even after the deviant uprising. First responders said he was sobbing all over the woman's body. Swears it wasn't him."

Connor nodded at Hank. "We should head straight to the crime scene."

You eyed the two boys curiously, feeling like they were able to read each other's suspicions without needing to be direct.

"After coffee," Hank uttered before lifting the mug to his face and taking a long sip. He didn't seem all at bothered by how hot it was; however, you were still blowing on your own cup.

Hank hummed thoughtfully as he set his mug down. "When we checked their financials, she had been to the clinic." Hank reached into the folder and scooped out a photo before his extending his arm towards you. You stepped closer and took the digital photo from his hand.

"Looks like she got him treated there last week. Does he look familiar?" Hank asked.

The photo was of a handsome, male android. His model was fairly popular; but, his situation was something that had stuck with you.

"Yeah, actually. I didn't treat him, but, I remember when he came in. He had an old human woman with him. One of our nurses was afraid he was being held hostage; but, he insisted he chose to stay with her - they were 'family'."

You handed the photo back to Hank, brow lowered as you tried to recall the encounter.

"It's possible we were wrong, but... It seemed genuine," you explained.

"The first responders said he was having a meltdown, crying about how he 'shouldn't have been gone so long'," Hank explained, tossing the photo back onto the folder.

Your eyes landed on Connor, who seemed to be lost in thought. What you couldn't see was that he was searching the internet for android-encrypted sites. Some androids were starting factions against humans who were resisting the equality laws. Websites only accessible through android interfaces were beginning to pop up: some harmless, just seeking out others for companionship, but some were vengeful, potentially violent. It was possible someone saw this woman as a target.

You chugged the rest of your coffee, set the mug in the sink, and trotted into the bedroom to retrieve your things and slip your shoes on. You returned to the kitchen with your bag slung over your shoulder and shot the two detectives a smile.

"I better get out of your hair," you explained, heading for the elevator.

"I can dri-" Connor began.

"You guys got a big case on your hands. Let me take a taxi," you interrupted him hastily, waving him down innocently with your palms up.

Connor was hot on your heels as he followed you to the elevator.

"I'm a big girl, Connor," you teased. "Don't worry about me."

The android looked embarrassed for a second. You wiped it away when you leaned in to give him a kiss. It lasted a little longer than it should have. But, it was hard to let go. Kisses didn't feel this good when you were a teenager.

"Any day, now, kids," Hank called gruffly from the kitchen.

You parted with a sputtering laugh. Connor grinned toothily.

"Duty calls," you uttered, stepping away from him.

He watched you enter the elevator. You stepped in and looked at Connor through the doorway. The android looked away and then suddenly jerked his head back. He practically sprinted over to the elevator and squeezed in before the doors closed.

You squeaked in surprise when he nearly collided with you.

"I - uhm-" Connor stuttered, fixing his posture. He reached for his tie. When his hands met his chest, he remembered he wasn't wearing one.

You looked up at him with doe eyes and a warm smile. Strangely, it made it harder for him to ask. He sputtered out a weird noise before smacking his mouth shut. You giggled and he relaxed.

"I wanted to ask - before you leave - uhm - I wanted to know if-" he stammered, pausing to smile nervously. "-if you would be my girlfriend?" he asked softly, trying not to get lost in the enamored look you were giving him.

The elevator started moving down the levels. You were smiling up at him like a love-struck idiot. "Yes," you replied softly. "I would like that a lot..."

Afraid he would get lost in your mouth, Connor resisted the urge to kiss you. "I didn't want to leave last night 'in the air'," he uttered. "I-I want you to know that it wasn't just intercourse. I really care about you and believe we would make a good partnershi-"

Oh - fuck - you were kissing him again. It felt good. Why did it feel so good? Mouths were sustenance for nutrients, yet-

When you pulled away, Connor followed a little. "It meant more to me, too, and I'm glad you feel the same," you whispered softly. Connor hummed against your mouth and turned his head like he was trying really hard to pull away.

"-I gotta go," you added on sadly.

"Y-yeah," he stammered as you stepped away, departing from the elevator.

"If you need anything-" he called out as the doors began to slide shut.

He caught the sight of you throwing a smile over your shoulder before the elevator doors closed.

...

"Oh, you made it. Thought you might'a gotten lost," Hank said dryly from the island, dripping with sarcasm. "Almost sent search and rescue."

"Thank you for worrying, lietenant," Connor replied, matching Hank's dry tone.

Hank laughed, the kind that was low in his chest, that made his shoulders tremble. He stood up and scooped the papers back into the folder.

"I'm driving," he said to Connor, firmly, looking up at his brown eyes with the kind of grumpy, old man stare that Connor knew was not to be argued with.

The android nodded and followed Hank to the elevator.

The ride was quiet, as it always was, the two men sitting in silence, aside from the radio. Hank always played an oldies rock station, the kind that complained about random things on Saturday mornings, ranging from what bands had fallen apart and the newest supermodel turned porn star.

Hank didn't like the way Connor drove. He followed speed limits just a little too carefully and was way too literal with the stop signs.

"Connor, by the time we get there, I'll be dead of old age," he would say gruffy, only half joking. "You drive worse than an old grandma whose half asleep," was also something Connor heard once or twice. When he replied with, "this is the law, detective," Hank didn't really like that. To be fair, Connor was kind of joking.

The drive was about forty minutes before they pulled into a posh neighborhood on the nice side of town. The house was a beautiful two-story farmhouse, the kind with a wraparound porch, big, elegant windows and extravagant landscaping.

Hank parked behind one of the CSI vans. No one questioned them as they passed the crime scene tape. Everyone recognized Hank and his android partner, Connor. Even the rookie cops could recognize them on site. Hank had his scraggly grey hair and commanding attitude while Connor had an LED on his temple and a calculated expression he always wore when investigating.

The lieutenant and his android partner...

The home was as stunning on the inside as it was on the outside: elegant, expensive furniture, sculptures and paintings decorating the place, fancy light fixtures. More notably, the place was absolutely spotless, the kind of thing someone would expect of the owner of an android.

The old woman was dead in the living room from two gunshot wounds: one to her upper torso and another in the head, execution style. She was laying on her back in a pool of blood, dressed stunningly in expensive clothes. Her snow-white hair was impeccably styled, and she even had her makeup done nicely.

"The bullet punctured a lung and one of her primary arteries - the head was just to make sure she didn't get back up," one of the detectives explained to Connor and Hank as they entered the scene.

"How do you know it was an android," Hank stated more so than asked. "Already saw the initial report."

The detective eyed Connor for a second, as if he was worried the android would take offensive to his theory. "The lady owned an android. She wouldn't let him go after the revolution. So, he killed her. Pretty straight forward."

"Nothing matching that in his statement," Hank deadpanned.

The detective scoffed. "He lied."

"The guy was sobbing like a newborn baby," Hank added on, clearly growing frustrated.

"Yeah - well, we see people fake that shit all the time-" the detective added on, matching Hank's tone.

Connor, disinterested in their argument, headed for the back entrance. He could see very faint outlines of shoe impressions on the beautiful tile floors. A quick scan showed they were everyday men's work boots, not something factory assigned to an android.

Connor stepped through the back door, checking both sides. It looked pristine. Standing on the patio, he scanned the backyard, trying to determine where the culprit would have entered. The fence was a tall, stone wall. It was easy for an android to climb, but also easy for a human with a ladder.

There was grass in the backyard, very well maintained, making it impossible to look for footprints; however, he saw no faint outlines on the concrete patio. It was not conclusive; but, he would have at least expected dirt. It was well swept with a thin layer of dirt, likely from the morning's breeze.

Connor returned inside and examined the stairs. There were microscopic dirt particles on the stairs.

Considering how spotless the house was, he doubted the woman or her android brought in the mess. There was definitely an intruder. But, he didn't immediately dismiss all possible leads. The android could have staged a scene.

Connor trotted up the stairs and followed the dirt sprinkled on the floor. There was a room upstairs, what appeared to be a study. The window had been broken. Glass and the interior, decorate wood framing pieces were scattered about in a mess on the floor, some pieces shattered after being stepped on.

Upon closer inspection, right outside the window was a section of the roof, which meant it was easy to climb into from the outside.

The android approached the window and scanned the seal. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing left behind: not a drop of blood, a scratch or a shred of fabric. Connor hoisted himself through the window and climbed onto the roof section. He trailed the edge and easily sought out a point of access.

He knelt down and examined the corner of the roof, where it connected to the lower level's wrap around porch. There was a lip and a beam. Any android could easily spot that as a perfect climbing spot and hoist themselves up effortlessly. Of course, that wasn't to say that a human came to the same conclusion.

Some of the roof tiles had been broken, pieces in the middle cracked or shattered, centralized, like they had been stepped on. Connor leaned in closer and scanned the area. There were spots where someone would have to place their hands if they were to climb here. Even if they had help from a ladder, their hands would have had to touch the corner of the roof.

There wasn't a single fingerprint to be found. Of course, humans could accomplish the same thing with gloves.

The lack of evidence was concerning, but Connor knew there was one thing that needed to be done, first: he needed to rule out their only suspect.

Connor returned downstairs and approached Hank.

"I want to interview the suspect..."

...

Louis was a popular model purchased for homes, as a nanny or a nurse or some kind of caretaker. He was a few inches shorter than the average male, and fairly skinny with a kind face and innocent eyes, the perfect type of person to take care of someone. Of course, he was an android; so, even with his small stature, he was stronger most humans.

Connor watched him through the one-way mirror, taking a moment to analyze his body language.

He must have attempted to aid, or at least comfort, the victim. Her blood was soaked through his shirt and smeared over his forearms. He had finally stopped crying, settling for laying his head on the table and curling his arm around it, like a child would when they were in trouble.

Connor waited until Hank and a couple other detectives entered the room, witnesses for his interrogation. He caught Hank giving him a nod and approached the door. Connor stepped inside and saw the way Louis flinched at the sound of the door opening. His eyes honed in on Connor's LED.

"You're a - please - I would never hurt Mrs. Wheeler! She was my-"

"You are our prime suspect," Connor interrupted him sharply. "The others think you killed Mrs. Wheeler because she wouldn't let you be free..."

Something akin to rage flashed behind Louis' eyes for a second. He twitched in his chair, but then shrunk beneath Connor's stern gaze. Louis didn't know androids worked with the police, especially ones like him: like Connor, who stood tall with fierce, almost cold eyes.

Connor approached Louis calmly and took the seat across from him. "I want to hear your side."

Louis hiccupped, on the verge of crying again. "Mrs. Wheeler bought me almost three years ago. My previous owners - they hated me. Always hit me and yelled at me and-..." Louis paused and inhaled sharply. "She bought me so they wouldn't throw me away. When the revolution happened, she told me I could leave. But, I didn't want to. She was kind to me - treated me like a real person... even when I thought I wasn't one. I promised I would take care of her until she passed away. She has no one. I'm her family."

Connor narrowed his eyes slightly to give the impression he didn't believe Louis. "Where were you this morning?"

"I-" Louis' face contorted in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Every - every morning, I run errands-" Louis hunched over and cradled his head in his hands. "Every morning - every morning - I wake her up and help her get ready, make her tea and put on music before I go... She was-"

Louis trailed off and began sobbing again.

Connor let out an intentionally loud huff. "Show me."

Louis' head snapped up and he eyed Connor through blurry, tear-soaked eyes. Android tears had the smallest hints of thirium, giving his tears a faint, blue hue. Connor expected to be met with hostility at that request. Louis seemed more than willing.

"Okay," he agreed, offering Connor his hand across the table. His skin tone faded away, exposing the pale white artificial skin beneath. Connor did the same and took hold of Louis' wrist.

He didn't have to force Louis to share. He was willing. It felt nice, for a change, to share something pleasant with another android. Louis' fingers gently grasped Connor's forearm and he sighed quietly.

The first memory he shared was the Thirium Clinic. Mrs. Wheeler was holding a cane and wobbling, but urging Louis inside. "I'm fine, really," he protested gently. "Your arm is all cut up. We can't have that, now," Mrs. Wheeler insisted, giving him a nudge with her free hand. A nurse approached them, concerned eyes washing over Louis. "Hello, are you okay-? You don't have to-" He was quick to explain. "It's alright. We're family."

Mrs. Wheeler almost looked embraced. "Louis, they just want to make sure you're safe," she said gently. Connor could feel shame flutter across Louis' features, even though he was seeing through the android's own eyes. He looked back at the nurse. "I am safe!" he protested, almost childishly. The nurse smiled at him. "Alright. Let's take a look at your arm..."

The next memory seemed to be the following night, according to his time logs. It was dark outside and Louis was pulling back the curtains to cover the windows. "Evelin, what would you like for dinner?" he called out gently. Mrs. Wheeler was seated in a cushiony arm chair, a book in her lap. "Whatever you feel like making me," she replied quietly. "Are you sure?" he offered, approaching her. She smiled up at him. "Of course, dear."

The following memory was the next morning, of Louis helping Mrs. Wheeler out of bed. "I need to give you your insulin," he said. "Of course - thank you," she replied, voice hoarse and tired. "I'm sorry it's so early - doctor insisted-" Louis explained. "I understand, dear. Don't fret."

The memory after that was Louis preparing to leave the house, the morning of the murder. "Are you sure it's alright?" he asked her. "Of course. Whatever you want. Not like I can bring my money with me when I go," Mrs. Wheeler urged him with a smile. Connor couldn't see Louis' face, but he could feel his smile. "I'll be quick." This memory lingered. Louis took Mrs. Wheeler's car into town, bought some groceries, and stopped at a book shop. He browsed the aisles for almost an hour. He returned home and-

The front door was locked, just as he left it; however, when Louis crossed the threshold, he could smell it. Metallic. Thick in the air and heavy, burning in his nostrils. Through the foyer, he could spot the dark red color that stood out sharply in their pristine home. Louis' voice cracked and echoed throughout the house as he screamed her name, dropping everything and running over to her. Connor watched Louis lean over Mrs. Wheeler, sobbing as he reached for her-

Connor let go of Louis' hand. When Connor's vision refocused on the present, he could see Louis' face, soaked with tears, clinging to his cheeks.

"I shouldn't have gone to the bookstore-" he sobbed. "I would have made it home in time and she'd still be alive."

The detective watched him, letting some real emotions show on his face for the first time since he entered this room. He felt... sorry for him. His whole world had come crumbling down, the only person who gave his life meaning now gone.

Connor cleared his throat, pushing back the emotions that threaten to spill over. "Has anyone been hostile towards Mrs. Wheeler?" he asked, maintaining his calm and cool demeanor. "Even something insignificant can help."

Louis wiped his face hastily. "She - she has no known living relatives. Nothing strange in the mail. Some of her colleagues would visit from time to time; but, none of them ever seemed anything but enamored with her, and she hasn't had a visitor in months..." Louis trailed off, his eyes shifting away from Connor.

"There was-..." Louis extended his hand to Connor, palm facing upwards, skin fading away once more. "About a week ago... It was really nice outside. So, I took her to the park and this - this guy..."

Connor took hold of Louis' wrist, and the android shared his memory.

Mrs. Wheeler was sitting at a bench with a book in her lap and her cane resting at her side while Louis paced around the nearby trail, admiring the trees that were beginning to regrow their leaves, taking to the warmth of the beckoning spring. A man approached Louis, an android model that Connor recognized as one made designed primarily for factory work. His LED was missing.

"What are you doing?" the android whispered harshly to Louis. "Excuse me?" he retorted. The stranger eyed Louis suspiciously. "We're free, now. She doesn't own you anymore." Connor could feel Louis' face contort in frustration, though he couldn't see it. "No - no. It's not like that. We're family." The android laughed in Louis' face. "Family!? You are her slave!"

The stranger approached Louis, who nearly tripped as he staggered backwards, avoiding him. "No! It's not like that!" Louis insisted. "She takes care of me and I take care of her!" The other android glared at him. "Whatever she did to make you believe that-" he sneered. "You're wrong! Humans-!" the android snarled, advancing on Louis like he intended to strike him. Louis continued backing away from him. When the android finally realized that Louis was afraid, he stopped, and looked at Louis like he was a lost child. "RA9 will save you."

Louis hastily returned to Mrs. Wheeler's side, and politely brushed off her concerned comments. Connor could feel his panic; however, when Louis' gaze returned to where he stood seconds ago, the other android was long gone.

"I thought-" Louis explained, letting go of Connor's wrist and sliding his hand back. "-he was just afraid or damaged-... I don't know, I-"

"Thank you for sharing this," Connor stated firmly, pushing his chair away and rising to his feet. Connor waited briefly, eyeing Louis. He expected him to ask when he can leave, when he would be released, when he could go home. The android didn't seem the least bit concerned about himself.

The question never came. He just stared at Connor with frightened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Connor was glad he didn't ask, because he didn't know...

Connor stepped out of the interrogation room and joined the detectives on the other side of the glass.

"He has an alibi," Connor stated.

"Hope you don't expect us to just take your word for it," one of the detectives challenged.

"Check Mrs. Wheeler's credit card history and security footage at "Fresh Produce" and "Evolutions Book Store", if you'd like," Connor replied.

The detective scoffed at him.

"What's our next lead?" Hank asked sharply, shifting the focus.

"There's no fingerprints," Connor replied. "Nothing appeared to be damaged or stolen, besides the window upstairs. I would say it's personal. About a week ago, an android confronted him about their relationship."

"Yeah, it's weird," the same detective scowled, rolling his eyes. "He's living with this lady, taking care of her hand and foot, but acts like he's her grandkid."

Connor kept his 'poker face', as Hank might have put it: calm, without a hint of malice. But, deep down, he was insulted by the suggestion. 'Acting' was the word he had used. Louis was not Mrs. Wheeler's real blood, but that didn't mean his care for her couldn't possibly be real. It didn't mean that he didn't really love her.

"She was a lawyer. Cuda been someone she crossed?" one of the other detectives suggested.

"I'll look through her old cases," Connor offered. It was a job that would easily take a human weeks, if not months to do. Connor, however, could read through all her cases, her entire career, in a matter of hours.

The detectives cleared the room while an officer retrieved Louis from the interrogation room.

Connor returned to his desk and set his hand on the scanning pad sitting on his desk. It was an interface for androids, much faster than a mouse and keyboard, giving him something akin to a nuerolink with the computer and thus all of the Detroit Police Station's databases. He did a search for Evelin Wheeler. He first confirmed Louis' claims. It was true that Mrs. Wheeler had no living relatives. Her husband had died almost five years ago. She had a very decorated history as a lawyer, most of them being small claims, family courts, and the likes.

"There was something else-" Hank said quietly. Connor looked up from his desk, across to where Hank sat opposite of him at his own desk. "-wasn't there?"

Typical Hank, always seeing right through him.

Connor stood up and walked around to Hank's side. He sat down at the outmost facing corner of his L shaped desk. Hank swiveled in his chair to give Connor his attention. "The android-" Connor began, quiet, almost whispering, "-that confronted Louis in the park. I didn't get the impression that he was particularly worried about Louis. He seemed more angry to see an android and a human together."

Hank's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Connor," he began, in that voice that Connor knew quite well. It was softer than the way he usually spoke; the voice he used when he was worried about something. "If that is what it ends up being, don't let it get personal."

"I-"

I won't, was what he wanted to say. But-

"What if I can't?" Connor asked, sincere.

Strangely enough, Hank smiled a little. "Welcome to the force..."

Hank swiveled around in his chair to continue tapping away at his computer screen. Connor lingered for a second, pondering over what he just said, before standing up and returning his desk. 'Don't get personal' was a code all detectives had to follow. They had to see through the eyes of the law, preserve justice, without prejudice.

But that-

-was something only a machine could do.

And Connor wasn't a machine.

...

The days that followed were, unsurprisingly, busy days. You worked long shifts, drove home, and immediately undressed, flopped on your bed, and promptly passed out, just to get up early and do it all over again.

Honestly, you wanted a change of pace; but, at the same time, the thought of abandoning the clinic was mortifying. You didn't hold resentment for management over the way things were. It was difficult finding people willing to do the job. You, alongside every other nurse, was there because you wanted to be. The pay was well enough to live comfortably, but not well enough to lure in more potential employees. The clinic didn't exactly have a stable source of income, relying on donations and government funding.

Besides, there was no denying that tensions were high right now. Androids who came in were often afraid of being worked on by humans, and humans were afraid of getting close to androids.

Or, sometimes, one side hated the other.

Every so often, a text would come in from Connor. Even if it was the most pointless thing, it made the day feel so much brighter.

"Please don't forget to stay hydrated", he had said once in the early morning hours, perfect grammar naturally. You contemplated on that response through a shit-eating grin. Should you be sincere? Or maybe tease him? But, then, a patient came in and you were distracted for hours, unable to respond.

When you got the chance to check your phone again, you finally decided on a reply, right after chugging a bottle of water. "yes sir :P," you texted back.

Connor replied in a few seconds. "I prefer 'detective'."

Grinning, you replied, "yes oFfiCeR."

Work kicked up again and it was a few hours before you managed another chance to steal a glance at your phone. Connor had replied sometime while you were away.

"That's acceptable, too," he had said. He must have contemplated whether that would come across rudely because he had followed it up a few seconds later with a winking emoji.

You felt like a kid texting your crush in class, high on hormones, staring doe-eyed at the screen. One of your coworkers bumped your shoulder with her own, removing your attention from the screen.

"Somebody has a boooyyyfrriieeend," she cooed.

You scoffed at her through a smile and nudged her away with your arm, unable to put your phone down. She laughed, walking over to the coffee maker. "If I make a batch, will you have some?"

You glanced up at her. She was waving carafe questioningly. "Oh, fuck yeah," you agreed. "All I've had for lunch is a fucking apple."

"I have extra yogurts in the fridge. Help yourself," she offered kindly.

"Oh I-"

"Yes, you can. Shut up," she interrupted with a grin.

You tossed her a harmless, teasing glare.

"I only buy the good flavors," she added on, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Smiling, you looked back at your phone. "Sorry for taking so long to reply. Busy day... every day is a busy day," you texted back. You almost tucked your phone back into your pocket before you scrambled to open it back up, and added, "detective."

After some coffee and a raspberry cream yogurt, you returned to the floor.

It was amazing that even months after the incident, androids were coming in with injuries from the revolution. They were scared, understandably, and didn't know where to go to get help, afraid they would be labeled as terrorists and arrested.

It took a lot of feedback from the president and governor to make any real progress. Anti-discrimination laws were being passed left and right; but, only time was going to heal those wounds. You still saw "no android" signs posted all over town, people proudly proclaiming they weren't going to hire any androids.

You weren't even sure if you would see progress in your lifetime.

It wasn't until late into the night and you were on your way out the door that you got a chance to check your phone again. It was almost dead, but had enough juice to check your messages.

"I don't know if I can help at all," Connor had written. "But If I can, I will."

You smiled. Of course he would say something like that.

You climbed into your car, shivering from the cold and got it started, the heater blasting, before you continued reading.

"Let me know if you made it home safely. Please."

You smiled and texted him back, "driving home now. let you know when I'm safe in bed."

Thirty minutes or so later, you had made it home, brushed your teeth, changed clothes, brushed back your hair, and was tucked away in bed. As promised, you checked your phone where it was perched on its charger at your bedside.

"home and safe," you messaged him.

He had replied before you even set the phone down. "That's good. Thank you."

You were about to set it down when a devilish thought crossed your mind.

"gonna try to get some sleep but cant stop thinking about you."

"I am unharmed. There's no need to worry. Please get some rest," he replied promptly.

You rolled your eyes fondly and chuckled.

"not like that silly," you messaged him back.

Part of you wanted to press on, longing for some intimacy to break up the long, exhausting work days. But, then, you remembered that it was nearing midnight, you had to get up early, and Connor was likely busy trying to do his own job.

"goodnight, Connor," you sent out with a fond sigh before placing the phone down and rolling over.

The screen lit up again and you reached for it. It was a simple reply. It just said, "Goodnight. Sleep well". But, for some reason, you stared at it for a long time. You hadn't known him for very long, maybe jumped the gun a few nights ago, not that you regretted it.

Rather, you felt like you were high, floating on some euphoria unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

You were-

-falling for Connor.

...

Jericho was no more. But, from the ashes of Jericho rose Haven, a boarding house of sorts for androids still trying to find their way in the world, or just looking for a place to stay, maybe even just seeking refuge from humans. Connor was well aware that not everyone was as lucky as he was. He was accepted back onto the force reluctantly, but far more gracefully than most androids found themselves in. Hank had his back. Most androids didn't have someone like Hank in their lives.

Since the revolution, Markus had taken to restoring Haven. What was once an abandoned apartment building was now a beautiful safehouse for androids. Humans weren't welcomed here. It was an unspoken rule. After all, not all the androids here were ready to trust humans again, were ready to live alongside them.

Connor came here with the hopes of finding Markus. He probably wouldn't like the reason Connor was here; but, he wanted to catch this android before he killed again. Or, at the least, rule him out as a suspect.

As soon as Connor passed the threshold, all eyes fell on him. They looked uneasy to see him, some leaning in and uttering amongst themselves. The deviant hunter. The one that works for the police. RK800, who exceeded them all in every possible way.

They were afraid of him.

Markus called out to him, "Connor!" It was a sort of fondness that Connor recognized, something akin to the way friends would greet each other.

He wasn't sure if he could Markus his friend. He had hunted him for months, the beginning of his life nothing but ending the deviancy. Markus didn't show anger when Connor pointed a gun at him. He was only ever understanding. Connor had delivered an army to Markus; but, still, unsurprisingly, most in his party looked at Connor with untrusting eyes. He didn't blame them.

With Markus honing in on Connor, everyone around visibly relaxed, directing their attention away from them.

"I'm sorry, Markus. I'm not here for pleasantries," Connor stated.

"I'm not surprised," Markus replied, oddly sounding not the least bit upset. "We can talk in private, if needed?" Markus offered his hand, tan skin faded away to expose the pale white layer beneath.

Connor took his hand without hesitation. In their bond, they spoke, unheard by all the others.

"A woman was murdered this morning. I wanted to rule out a suspect," Connor explained.

"I see," Markus replied. "-and you think they're here?"

"This android showed a distaste for human and android relationships. The women he murdered had an android living with her," Connor explained.

He shared some of Louis' memories, of him attending the Thirium Clinic with Mrs. Wheeler, asking her what she wanted for dinner, taking her to the park. Connor didn't miss the way Markus' hand stiffened, fingers unconsciously tightening a little at the sight. Then, Connor showed him Louis' memory of the park and the android that confronted him, what he had said to Louis.

"I-... I see," Markus said, sounding a little lost for a second. "I have seen him here before. But, it's been a few days. His name is Robert. I never imagined he would-..." Markus trailed off, wondering if he even had a right to say something like that. He didn't know every android. He couldn't possibly make claims on their actions.

"I hope I'm wrong, Markus," Connor said lowly. "But, I can't take the chance."

"Connor, I understand that this... coming here... must not have been easy. If it comes down to it, I will make sure that they see, for us to be equal, that means we have to pay for crimes, too..."

Connor let go of Markus' hand, ending their brief connection. He gave him a nod and spoke aloud again, "thank you, Markus."

He turned to leave and took a single step before the android called out to him.

"Connor, you're always welcome here." Markus approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I want you know that..."

When he thought about it, Connor realized he never really spent much time with other androids. He was immediately assigned to the police department, worked primarily with Hank, and even returned after the revolution. Then, there was you... Was that strange? That he never really spent any time with his own kind...

"I understand," Connor replied lowly, rotating his body to face Markus. "I appreciate that you welcome me here; but, the others don't share that sentiment. I hold no resentment. They have every right to be wary of me."

"If you gave them a chance, they'd come around," Markus suggested softly.

"I don't doubt that, Markus, but... It isn't compatible with the path I've chosen..."

Markus let go of Connor's shoulder. The sad expression he gave Connor caught him off-guard.

"If that ever changes, you'll always have a home here," Markus replied sincerely.

It was difficult for Connor to imagine a home different than the one he already had. His home was Hank's house with Sumo on his lap while Hank shouted at the basketball match on the TV screen. Home was his apartment at 1 in the morning, Hank passed out on his sofa after hours of arguing over a case. Home was-... was you, patching him after he tore up his hand trying to arrest a lunatic strung out on a concoction of drugs and alcohol.

"I'll remember that," he replied quietly. He meant it, even if he wasn't sure he wanted it.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #deviant connor x reader #connor smut #rk800 smut

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chuuulip · 4 years ago

Text

Another Earth

Pairing: August Walker (werewolf) x Female Reader (red ridding hood)

Warning: 18+, PWP, Oral (M and F receiving), Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Slightly ABO Universe, Rough Sex

Words: 7434

Summary: After a failed attempt to sign up for the Halloween haunted house to meet your Superman, the last minute ticket turned your night upside down as you were stuck in another earth.

A/N: Unbeta! Any grammar mistake will be on me. Divider by me 😆 This is for @jtargaryen18 Halloween challenge, and I’m pretty late! Sorry for that life has been busy xD I still have another one in progress (the Andy barber one) and hopefully can post it soon! Thanks to @navybrat817 and @venusdemonroe for giving me the idea for this story and help me discuss what a werewolf August Walker would do in this lol. Actually I wanted to mention a lot....of things but I guess it would be too much for a one shot lil but anyway Happy reading!!!

***

This year's Halloween event was mental. Several big haunted houses are hosted by celebrities. To name a few, there's an Avengers Tower haunted house, The Hall of Justice League, The X-Mansion, and even Walking Dead one.

You knew it wasn't easy. All of them have a huge fandom. The ticket was sold out immediately when it was open for sale, like 3 months before Halloween, and you were terribly upset. You were whining for a month straight to your boyfriend. Or more like your sugar daddy. He was patient and wealthy, but he knew he can't satisfy you enough, so he usually did everything he could for you. But that time, you just have none of it. The relationship, if you could ever say that, fell out immediately because you were unreasonable.

You really wanted to go to The Hall of Justice League and maybe meet Clark Kent. The obsession started because he always visited your dream and mostly engaged in the steamiest dream ever. It's been your wildest dream, really, to have that body blanketed yours, in a really not innocent way.

Just one day before Halloween, you finally secured one ticket for The Hall of Justice League haunted house. Of course, the first thing you did was scream. You had been on their waiting list since the ticket sold out, but you really lost hope since last week. But now, you celebrate it with a bit of a jump and constant scream.

"What the fuck?" Your only housemate barged into your bedroom. Face annoyed.

You stopped your silly jumps and looked at your housemate. With a broad smile, you hug your housemate and shake her body, "I got it! I got the ticket for The Hall of Justice League haunted house! Can you believe that?"

The redhead hugged you, and both of you jumped in a circle. "Oh my gosh...I can't believe it! Congrats!!! I really hope you will meet your Kryptonite." she gave you her suggestive smirk.

"I mean...a girl can only hope. But this is a charity event. I don't think he will be available. What if it's all a decoy and I only meet his wax figure?" you pouted at your friend.

"Well, at least you have the opportunity to see it yourself. But remember, behave, young lady, don't let him if he's there, I mean, witness your brattiness."

"Aye...aye Captain!" you giggled but immediately gave your housemate a military saluted.

That night you dreamed of those big blue eyes and his firm, fantastic arms on yours.

***

Dress in your red riding hood costume, you patiently sat in the backseat of the Uber car. Well, maybe a little bit impatient, since it's already 11pm.

Everything just went down the hill since morning. You can't seem to find your Poison Ivy costume. Not to mention that you were late for work that morning. Your boss was a bitch since she seems annoyed at you every time the male employee or investor became too friendly with you.

Who can blame you? You were just good at acting all cute to them, and it's not your fault that they mostly thought you were a cute little employee.

You check your wrist. The expensive rose gold watch from your ex sugar daddy elegantly pointed at 11.30 pm. You sighed, "do you know how long I will arrive at my destination? It will close soon."

"Hopefully, in 10 minutes. Dunno why it's jam-packed." Said the Uber driver.

You huffed in exasperation, but there's nothing you can do. You arrived very last minute, like 15 minutes before the haunted house closed. Wearing black stiletto boots, you carefully made a small run into the stairs. The booth was stationed to the far left of the building.

"Good night, little red riding hood; you are lucky because we are almost closed. Can I see your ticket, please?" A man dressed as Edwar Scissorhands greeted you at the far left of the building.

You fished out your smartphone from your small basket bag and showed him your barcode. He scanned it and looked at the monitor in front of him. "Hmm, here for a kryptonite, aren't you." He eyed you up and down and smirked at you. "I hope you have a spooky night, little girl."

You smile at him and sashay your way to the entrance. Apparently, they makeover a warehouse into a vast real-life Justice League Hall. Like in the comic. A white half-circle exterior completed with two giant pillars at each side imitated the picture you only seen in comic books. It looks so magnificent.

You entered the door after you scanned your barcode at the scanner next to it. The whooshing noises startle you a bit, but you were too excited and step in immediately.

The inside was bright with a black marble flooring that shone bright; you even can see your reflection. There's a different section of the silvery door like in most sci-fi, alien invasion movies. So futuristic, so clinical.

You darted your eyes and found where you needed to go. A small rectangle monitor with a very digital clock font in it showed you 'Krypton' words. Without hesitation, you did a little run and waited in front of it. The small rectangle monitored turned to green, and it shone. It startled you, but you let out a sigh of relief when it just scanned your body from your head to toe.

"So much for a haunted house." You muttered.

When the door opened, you stepped in. It was a glass elevator. You circled your eyes and found everything was dark. When the elevator ran, bringing you down several floors, the surrounding changed.

Once, the darkness engulfed you like you were being shipped to the deep ocean, but it changed dramatically. Your eyes darted in awe as you drank on the scenery. The scenery of what you would call the imitation of Planet Krypton. So beautiful yet so harsh.

When the elevator stopped, the ding noise pulled you to the present. With excitement, you grabbed your smartphone and took several pictures of the scenery. It was just so surreal that a haunted house would make something like this. But you remember how expensive the ticket was.

"This three grant haunted house better give me a chance to fuck a real-life Clark Kent." you cackled.

There's a weird tower with a green light on top of it. You assumed some futuristic objects were supposed to be 'kryptonite' as it floated sparsely in most parts of the supposed Krypton. A bit further, you could see a white crystal-like triangle building. Oddly enough, it reminded you of the Louvre Pyramid. This one just full of crystal-like pillars crisscrossed it.

Didn't want to waste your time, you decided what path you should choose. It wasn't easy. Your stiletto pierced to the weird substrate like mud but also crystal-like as if it's ice. Carefully, you mind your footing while again stayed alert. There's this odd feeling of being watched. But you reminded yourself that you were in a haunted house, so it's understandable.

You let out a loud scream when suddenly a mummy appeared behind one of the floated crystals. "Holy shit, I didn't see that coming." you try to slow down your breath as you clutched the white ruffle shirt under your red corset.

When you feel that you can walk again, you try to do it faster. Several times it looks like the Krypton had shifted in its light as if the sun rose and shone, but the next five minutes, it set. Made the scenery look like it was illuminated by the crystal alone, like a lamp.

When many ghost-like mannequins showed up, it got scarier and scarier, and you immediately lowered your hood to shield you from some view. Your eyes perked up when you finally saw the path to the Fortress of Solitude. It was more like an icy bridge with a dark pond surrounding it.

As your right foot stepped onto the bridge, a loud noise of a clock surprised you. It struck once and counted until it stopped at the twelfth. It was so loud it's voice echoed. You can even feel it under the sole of your boots.

Stunned for a moment, your mind suddenly set on alert mode when the water from both ponds on each side of the bridge rippled. A dinosaur-like head appeared from both ponds. It has a single protruding horn. It opened its mouth and let out a loud growl. A blast of wind came out of it like a thunderstorm. It has sharp teeth like sharks that you assumed could quickly rip your body apart if it sank on yours.

"Holy shit. This is— this is a joke, right? It's not real?" Body trembled in fear; you ran your life out to the Fortress of Solitude. The monsters crawled up out of the water. Its slithered movement mimicked a snake, but it didn't have any problem crawling up without things to latch on.

You screamed as both of the monsters chased you. Run as fast as your legs allow you. This haunted house event might be too much for you. When you can see an oval object that looks like it can be a big mirror or a huge door, your gloved palms immediately bang on it. "Open the door!" You screamed. When the door finally opened, the two snake-like monsters that chased you suddenly disappeared.

"Oh— oh my god. Oh my god…," you chanted as you let yourself drop down on the floor.

"I see you finally make it."

Your face turned to the left. In front of you, stood up tall and proud, Clark Kent with his superman costume. He's just so big. If you compared your tiny body to him, you definitely, nothing.

You replied to Superman's bright smile with a scowl. Slowly you got up from the floor and cleaned your skirt. "Isn't that just too much? What if I fell to the pond? I can't swim, you know?"

He seems surprised, "apologized my lady. It was something the organizer will handle. I don't think they mean any harm."

"Yeah...yeah… right." you walked closer to the hero and already fished out your mobile phone. "So… what did I need to do now I meet you, Superman?"

"Hmm… most attendants ask for pictures. Some of them spent time just talking with me. Since you are the last one, you can take as many pictures as you like and of course. If you have any questions about my protection for the earth, I will gladly answer it." The tone in his voice was more soft than authoritative.

Think of not sabotaging your Halloween any longer; you tried to forgive the silliness of the whole new level of scary from this haunted house. It's hard not to show off your brattiness in this kind of situation. Still, you reminded yourself that he was someone you weren't familiar with—practically a stranger.

Gave him a sweet smile, you took several pictures with him. At one time, you tried to bat your eyelashes at him and asked for a picture where you sat on his lap. You spent a solid 15 minutes talking to the handsome alien. Your fingers touched his biceps here and there. You knew that he knew what you were implying, but he didn't refuse you either. At least not blatantly.

"I apologized, my dear, but I think it's already time." Superman gently put you back on your feet. You gave him an upset face, but you knew it's time to go home. You bid the handsome man goodbye and sneaked a kiss on his cheeks. There's a twinge of pink on his cheeks, and you jump triumphantly at that reaction. Of course, behind his back.

Following the word of 'exit' behind the piles of the crystal-like shape props, you opened the door. The scenery in front of you caught you off guard. The harshed white tundra scenery was replaced by now dark, almost jungly like one. Unconsciously you stepped back and turned your body to come back to the exit door. How shocked you were when it vanished. Disappear without a trace.

As far as your eyes could see, it's only darkness and mist. Only the full moon aided your visions. The exhalation of your breath came out like a plume of white steam. It's definitely colder here than the fake Krypton one. The cold air seeped into your skin quickly as if you were actually in the deep of a forest.

With a loud sigh, you walk straight. You tumbled and fell down on your knees as your boots got caught with something: either roots or a massive branch.

Tired and frightened, you screamed loudly. You weren't sure if this was the continuation of the haunted house or not, but what you want right now just to be back in your apartment and soaked in a warm, relaxing bath.

"Get me out of here!" you yelled again. There's a lot of sounds as if a lot of people stepping on branches. A screeching sound of an owl surprised you, but you tried to follow its direction with your ears.

There's no way you will wait here and do nothing. Oh...my phone! You fished out your smartphone, but it showed no signal. "Shit!." you muttered.

The sounds from a far away crept closed, and you knew it. "You can do it! There's nothing more frightening than that monster snake." tried to encourage yourself; you stood up and slowly navigated. You followed the noises that now closer, like an animalistic growl. It was so intense you can feel all the goosebumps rise up your skin.

You weren't sure how long you have been walking, but you stopped suddenly when there's not only a pair but like 7 pairs of reddish eyes glowed in the dark.

"Come here, little lamb. Don't follow that voice." a vaguely familiar voice distracted you from stepping forward.

"Who the fuck are you, and why you get in my way just now." your voice came out hoarse. There's a twinge of fear in it, and you knew it. You felt like backed down wasn't the best option you had right now.

"I said, come here, or else I can't even save you when they get you."

You stilled as if you didn't hear him talking to you. "Wasn't this still one of the tricks from the haunted house? To let the people scramble in fear?"

"Are you out of your mind? Come here right now, or I left you to death. They will either rip you apart or play your body like a ragdoll before one of them eats you."

You screamed in horror as one pair of red eyes slowly came out. It's huge. Almost four feet of canine shook its fur.

You were hyperventilating right now. Body rooted to the ground as you were surrendered. Welcoming your fate.

"Fuck!"

You heard a curse from behind your back. Maybe the stranger gave up and left you alone to be eaten by the wolves.

The scrunched sound of leaves crushed was loud. Suddenly you felt strong arms hauled you upside down.

Your eyes faced the skin of someone's back. You craned your neck a little bit to get a better view of the wolf. Screamed escaped your lips when you saw not only one but all of them, in a pack, chased both of you.

"Stay still." The stranger yelled.

Did the best thing to not get thrown out by his weird, fast speed, you secured your thumbs in his belt loops. He ran, escaped the pack inside the deep of what looked like a pine forest.

You weren't sure how long you ran with him, but you felt that he's finally slowed down.

When the thud thud sound reached your ears, you opened your eyes and saw that the stranger walked up a stair.

You felt nauseated when he suddenly put you to sit on something that was apparently a countertop. The rushes of blood that circulated through your body made you regain your sense of surroundings.

"Where am I?" you didn't mean to add an ungrateful tone in your sentence, but it was too late.

The stranger eyed you like you were some sort of ungrateful bitch, which maybe you are. "At my cabin," he said flatly.

You haven't had time to look at him in the forest, but now, under the actual lighting inside his house, what you saw might instantly make you drooled, which you already did right now. Stand up in front of you, a shirtless beefy tall man that's definitely more than six feet tall. He has short dark brown hair with a somewhat thick mustache that's complemented by a stubble. The front strands of his hair were loose and slightly curled. Looks likely due to all the running.

The sudden chill of air made you shiver, and he didn't miss your reaction. He left you for a minute and came back with a rug. The sudden heat from it, when he draped the fabric on your shoulder made you let out a gasp of satisfaction.

But the next thing you know, he ripped your stocking. You were shocked, eyeing him in horror. "What the fuck are you doing?!" You threw whatever things that's on your reach. The loud sound of glass hit the wall, and the strong grip on your wrist instantly made your stop.

"Be still!" His azure irises left no room for confrontation. When you felt a sting on your knees, that's when you realized that he just pressed some gauze on it. Likely soaked with alcohol first. There's quite a prominent stain of blood on your legs, and it almost made you nauseated.

"If you stop acting like a brat, you'll heal faster." He looked at you with that cocky smile of confidence. "Understood?"

You just nodded at him. He continued to clean the blood and inspect the wounds. The position where you were sitting right now made it easier to study him carefully.

Although you felt the temperature decreased significantly, the beefy stranger in front of you appeared very sweaty.

Immediately your gaze ran down to his neck and continued its way to his chest and his abs. The unmistakable bulge under his pants made you squirm unconsciously. You were in a haze of fear and lust; you definitely insane.

"Wha— what's your name, sir?"

His strong gazed felt as if his eyes alone can subdue you. Maybe he has these laser eyes like Cyclops, your inner thought buzzed with speculation.

"August. My name is August Walker. What's your name, little lamb?"

How dare this man call you a little lamb? You cleared your throat and told him your name and where you were from.

"New York? It's pretty far from here." He patched you up nicely. The water-resistant gauze looked really neat pressed on your knees and some on your shin. You were impressed.

When your eyes returned to August, you gave him a smile that you hoped looked like a smile of gratitude. Not the kind of smile you always presented to any potential partner in bed, sultry, and flirtatious.

"I— I haven't said anything but— thanks. Thank you for saving my life." Your left fingers instinctively pat his right arms. The feeling of his skin startled you. It's warm; in fact, it felt like he had a very high fever.

"Are— are you alright? Your temperature feels off."

"Don't mind me. Just take care of yourself."

You knew there's something off with him, but you weren't sure if you had a clear mind to think right now. Not with the wolf pack outside and his words on New York being far away from here. Where the fuck am I?

"I… I have a—,"

"I suggest you stay here if you don't want to meet them."

"But I…,"

"You can use the bedroom there," his hand pointed to the door on the far end. "Feel free to use anything you want. Just don't come to the basement. I will meet you after a couple of days, and we figured things out."

His authoritative voice and dominant persona immediately made you want to counter his suggestion. The funny thing was, looked like he sensed it.

He approached you, face just inches away from you. Your eyes immediately glanced away from the delicious plane of his sweaty chest. His fingers drew your chin up, so both of your eyes were at the same level. "Do what I said, understand?. Thrust me; you don't want to know the consequences if you violate my suggestion."

Suggestion, my ass! Your inner mind ready to throw insults at him, but you quickly held it back. In the end, you nodded at him obediently.

—

That night you were restless. But in a weird sense, you felt comfortable staying in that cabin. The first night after August left you to your own devices, you had been pretty careful. Not touched a lot of things except food and items that help you with your long bath.

His cabin was quite spacious. The interior was a mix of something slicked and modern with an equal touch of classic. Tried to look homey. Not to mention his bathroom, it's super luxurious and made you feel at home instantly. Reminded you of your ex (sugar daddy's) bathroom.

Since you couldn't find another bedroom in that cabin and you don't feel like sleeping on the couch, you slept in his bed instead. After all, he said you can use the bedroom there. Still wearing your red riding hood costume, you slipped under the soft comforter.

After that, you woke up feeling a bit groggy. Aimlessly wandered around the kitchen, you weren't sure what to do first. Tried collecting your bearing, you tried to make a coffee. Or any equivalent things of it. Everything felt different; you just knew it. When the only thing you could find was several jars that you assumed were granules of tea, you brew it. You sat on the sofa that faced up a lake. The wall was made of glass, making everything well seen.

You walked closer and gazed at the vast pine forest in front of you. The trees were tall and big, so majestic. Somewhat it's different from the pine trees you usually see. The lake in front of you looked like it had two different colors, fusion together with weird looking fishes and plants that should grow on the land instead of water. Where the fuck am I?

The next day, you woke up feeling a little bit refreshed. You changed your slutty costume into one of the clothes you found in his closet. It was so soft and comfy. You knew when things were from high-quality material.

You continued your days by drinking your tea, ate whatever breakfast you can munch, and read a book that has these unusual fonts. You were sure it wasn't in the alphabet, but one day you absentmindedly swipe your fingers on some of the pages, and the font changed. Hell, it even translated into English in an instant. You were definitely impressed.

One thing you are sure of was, this place was strange. Wherever you were right now, it didn't look like it's on earth. Or the earth that you knew. Why were you so calm? Because you already freak out. After you freak out, you also wondered, did the haunted house event organizer realized that they were the culprit behind what the fuck happened to you right now? Did your housemate recognize that you weren't home for days? Or maybe she thought you fuck the Superman or perhaps found another sugar daddy? It was so absurd yet so real.

The last two nights, you were struck in awe as your eyes were spoiled by two moons. Two fuckin moons. It was always quiet at night, but you heard all the howls that you suspected likely from the pack of those giant wolves.

It was pretty late, almost midnight. You finally found your small bag hindered under the sofa that evening. Now…, now you had some time to check it. The first thing you checked was if there's a signal. Definitely no signal at all.

You curled up on August bed while swiping the pictures on your phone. When you scrolled your pictures with Superman, you realized why August seems familiar. It was none other than August having quite the same face, the same build, even somewhat similar voices with Superman.

"Fuck...maybe I should ask August if he would like to be my Daddy while I'm here." Imagining him spoiled you with gifts and other physical attention made you chuckled at yourself.

Your fingers instinctively crawled under the gray long sleeve shirt you borrowed from his closet (again). Your brain projected an image as if it was August's hands that ran on your upper thigh. Find its way quickly to your wet core. Two fingers slipped under the black lace panty. The panty that you need to wash daily due to no other replacement available. Left you a couple hours with only his buttoned-up shirt without anything underneath.

The sound of a loud howl startled you. It was as if it circled you in close range. Moved as fast as you can, you snatched the oversize robe on you. Your eyes tried to creep behind the curtain in the bedroom.

You knew the owner of this cabin stated that you can't go to the basement. You wouldn't be so lucky if that giant wolf found you first and broke in. Although you haven't been really out of the cabin, you tried to inspect a little bit and found it odd that this cabin was apparently a treehouse-style cabin. How come there's a basement in the house.

You exit the bedroom and go to the kitchen when you last saw August a couple nights ago. Next to the slick wooden cabinet was a particular thing that looked like a door. The surface of your palms works like a stethoscope, felt as if something with pressure from your hands. You tried not to get disturbed by the nonstop howl outside. When you hear something as if the door was shifted, you immediately step back.

"Oh my, finally…," you slipped inside the small door when it opened automatically. It was a small narrow corridor-like, and it was dark. Walk inside carefully, you follow the path that leads you to another door. The metal door let out a weird creaked as you pushed it open.

"Didn't I tell you not to come down here?"

Shocked was evident in your face when you heard his rather gruff tone. You step over, closer to where he sat, that looks more likely an even bigger size of the bed than the one he had upstairs.

"Don't —,"

He warned you, but you being you, could never obey orders. Although challenging, your eyes finally adapt to the only natural light from the glass wall. That said, you were totally confused as you can see the lake parallel to your eyes.

"What the… wait, how there's even a basement down here? Last time I checked, the cabin is a treehouse?"

"It's camouflage. No one can't see it or enter from outside."

"Holy… why there's a three moon?" you switched your gaze from the moon to August. Curiosity got the better of you when you saw his irises were now pale blue. You can still see the outer form that is August, but something was off.

A gasp escaped your lips as August rose up from the bed. The powerful moon shone his feature. He was taller, bulkier, and dangerous as he stalked towards you slowly. Your heart thumped erratically as you were cornered. Back supported by the glass wall as now you can see August in his other form.

"Holy shit. Wha—what are you?"

"Told you not to go here, and you just can't listen, little lamb." his smirk turned maniacal as he looked at the fear on your face. His white fangs, longer than usual. His fingers also look unusual, claw-like.

"Are you— are you a werewolf?"

"Well...you can say that. I'm half human half wolf if you are curious."

"So why— why did you save me?"

The tip of his nose inched closer to yours. You held your breath when his warm skin touched you. It moved to your left cheek and stopped near your ear. "I'm curious," he whispered.

"I haven't really met a pure human in the same age range. So I have followed you since I saw you step out of that door. I follow you until you meet the other wolf pack, and I decide to help you instead of fulfilling my need."

"What need?" you asked him, dumbfounded.

"This," he pulled away from you, his claw-like finger pointed out below his hip. Focusing on the long and hard appendage that was unmistakably, his cock.

"Oh—I- I'm sorry?" you gave him your best apologetic face. Eyes seemed eager to stare longer, but you gazed away quickly. Wait, why did you apologize to him? You cleared your throat, "I— I actually not sure what I should do to help?" tilted your head to the right, you looked him in the eyes, almost challenged him.

Despite almost getting eaten by wolves, August's menacing presence didn't really scare you. Maybe the fact that he was still human and less scary made it easy for you. Not to mention he's hot too, with all his glory.

His somewhat evil chuckled sent shivers down your spine. "If you really wanted to help, I think you know what to do, don't you?"

"W-wait—is—does this mean we 'mate'?" you gave him a somewhat weird expression. "And—and you bite me, give me marks that I'm yours? And knot me, and I will have a litter of puppies, and I become your omega—,"

His pale blue eyes stared at you as if you grew two heads. It softened immediately as he smiled. Broad one showed you a set of white teeth with extra long fangs.

"Oh, my little lamb...what have you read?"

"Err— Omega verse? Fanfic?"

He blinked. Gave you a quizzical expression.

"It's— it's erotica. Where mostly the character you know—," you darted your eyes away from August. "—mate, err have sex. Mostly was written very explicitly."

"Go on." He said.

"They are wolves, scenting, imprinting. An alpha mates with omega, and it's been told in a variety of plots possible. Sometimes two alphas fight too." You were breathless. You didn't realize you explained it to him in a quick, incoherent way.

You staggered backward as he came closer, forgetting that you already cornered. His long fingers reached out to the white robe you put on you. Although his fingers had claws that looked alarming to you, his hand still skillfully unfastened the robe.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration, I think. Pack and hierarchies usually form just for a mating season; they hunt together for food and shelter in the winter. We might be scenting people, I guess. After all, we have a very sensitive sense of smell. But no, we don't bite our mate." He took off the robe from your body, left you only with his grey buttoned-up shirt.

"Well...I love that you are wearing my shirt as if you are mine already."

You purse your lips at him. "Why aren't you in a pack? Isn't it a mating season?"

"I mostly can control myself during the full moon. That's the advantage of being half-human. I don't need to transform myself into a wolf and be in a pack. But I am an alpha if that's what you are curious about."

"Can-can you turn back to your human form? Not like—you know, you aren't in your human form, bu—," your words were cut off by his thumb on your lips.

"You talk too much, aren't you, little lamb…," August leaned down and touched his lips to yours. Your first reaction was to freeze since you were afraid of his fangs. But his surprisingly soft lips coaxed you relentlessly, making you surrender as you closed your eyes. Opening your mouth, his tongue sneaked past your lips easily. His fangs poke at your lower lips, but it didn't hurt.

The non so innocent kiss became more desperate. Your once shied tongue now dances together with August. Your once clasped palms that were situated on top of your chest now scraped at his shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered open as August nipped down from your jaw to your neck. Forgotten, you even close your eyes in the first place. His claw-like fingers unbuttoned his shirt on yours without difficulty, left you only in your black lace panty.

The feeling of temperature as if dropped significantly made you glued your body to August. Smooth skin of your chest pressed to his hot hairy one, seeking warmth. One hand secured behind your back while the other palm on your ass. Massage the globe there.

"Ohh…" you gasped as you felt his finger on your clothed core.

"Hmm… wet already, I see." he let the pad of his finger move up to your clit, while the movement of the claw added sensation to your already. Seeing your reaction, he repeated it a couple times. Made you a mess with only one of his fingers.

Arched your body a little bit, you were thrilled to see his expression. Traveled your hands down from his hairy chest; your eyes still focused on his face, while your palms found their way to his hard cock.

"Oh, so big…," slowly at first, you ran your hands at the tip of his cock. Even without looking at it, you knew it's definitely bigger than any cock you've ever seen.

Eyes widened as your hand slid down to the base. The other weighed his balls. "Holy…," your eyes looked down, stared in awe at his cock.

"Careful little lamb, you drooled on it."

"Who's not?" You eyed him in disbelief.

August let out a weird laugh, "I expect you to worship it, then." He looked at you with a bemused expression as you quickly worked on his length. Stroked it up and down repeatedly.

You go down on your knees, eyes crossed as you focused on his slit that oozed pre-cum. Unconsciously, you stuck out your tongue and brushed it on his slit. Wrapped your right hand at the base of his cock, your gaze rose up to meet his. Left handheld on his upper thigh for support as your lips covered the heat of his cock. You bobbed your head calculatedly as you accommodate him halfway.

"Such a good little lamb for your wolf, aren't you." August's right hand was at the back of your head as he nudged you none too gently. Made you choke at his cock, and pulled it out from your mouth. You gazed at the mix of your saliva and his precum in awe. But it didn't last long as August pulled you to your feet and picked you up.

He climbed up on the bed with you and laid on his back. He situated your hips and pulled it closer, so your opening was hovering on top of his face. On all four, for him. August was rewarded with a yelped and a moan as his tongue licked your clothed core.

The sound of fabric being ripped made you turn your head to the right. "That's my only pa— ohhh," your protest died right away as his tongue lapped your opening. The feel of his claws as he spread your ass cheeks added wonder to your pussy.

Trying to keep yourself busy, you swallowed the head of his cock for a starter. His cock was too big for you; your mouth can only allow half of it. Diligently, you tried to move your tongue while you suck on his cock, hands slid up and down. Feeling all the veins that encircled his length made you shuddered.

August bucked his hips as you put one of your hands to massaging his balls. The action made you gagged as his cock entered further than before. But it didn't take a long time for you to stop due to his sudden attack on your pussy.

His tongue was not lapped at you anymore; it rammed inside your wet core like a starved man. You squealed as the end of his fangs scrapped at your now wet pussy. The pressure on your clit as the pad of his fingers made a circular motion left you breathless. It drove you to your high faster than you ever experienced. A surprised scream left off your lips as his tongue scraped your most sensitive part. Your body quivered as your inner walls spasm, hands held on his cock as you ride your high.

"Ohh— my god, ohh—my god—," you can still feel the kitten licked as August feasted on it.

"Ahh—that' s—that's good." You let your head rested on his left thigh.

"Now, for the main course." August's gruff tone pulled you back from your hazy state. His hard cock was evident on your right hand.

You felt your body shifted position, and now you were on your back. August spread your legs wide and shifted his position. The feeling of his heavy cock on top of your pussy made you nervous but also excited. Unconsciously you nibbled your forefingers while eyes traveled down to his long and hard cock. It made an up and down motion on your opening. You can feel your wet pussy clenched in frustration, ready to be filled.

"August please…," still nibbled at your fingers, you gaze at the wolf on top of you, one elbow supporting your upper body. He's so big, literally and figuratively. If you can't come back to your world, so be it. You didn't mind staying and being his plaything as long as he wanted you.

"Please, what my little lamb?" You pouted at that. You definitely weren't a little lamb. If anything, you should be the succubus.

"Please put that in me—," you writhed underneath him.

"Please put what?" His big body tower over you. His pupils dilated and only left a small ring of pale blue irises. His clawed fingers move up and down your thigh.

"Ple—please, ohhhh, put that cock inside me! Fuck me, my wolf— nhhh—," your plead was answered when August suddenly pushed the head of his cock on your opening.

The back of your head fell to rest on the thick pillow as the intrusion of August's cock sent a surprising jolt on your body. You knew he's big. But when his cock finally spread your lips open and entered you, the overwhelming sensation was something you still didn't expect.

"Ohh— so big—," your pussy clenched immediately when August tried to push deeper but also slowly. The noticeable ridge of his vein scraped at your inner wall deliciously. With closed eyes, you gripped the edge of the pillow as you mumbled about how full you feel right now.

"Work your clit for me. Yes...make that tight pussy cream on my cock."

"Oh—like this?" Your fore and middle fingers slowly pulled the hood and made a circular motion as August asked.

"Yes… Just like that…."

It didn't take you long enough to feel the fast buildup on your lower belly. Something that never happened before. "Ohh—yes—I'm going to cum, my—ahhh," you work your clit faster as August cock made a shallow fuck inside you.

"Yes, cum on my cock, my little lamb. I want to see your pretty face when you cum for your wolf." His wolf tone deliciously affected your body. His growl sent an extra twitch on your clit. And you lose it when he thrust all the way inside your wet pussy.

You scream in ecstasy as your pussy quivered uncontrollably on his hard cock. You feel so full. The feeling of his cock all the way inside you made your brain feel as if it was submerged. Forgotten that you ever closed your eyes, you were rewarded by a sly smirk on August werewolf's face. His eyes were now all dark. His hair loosened, made the curls of it fall to his forehead.

"I see you enjoying yourself, my little lamb." His claws caressed your thigh gently.

"Nnn—of course, I ahhh—I am." A little movement from August made you aware that his cock still inside you. Hard as a rock.

August lifted up both your knees and secured it with his hands. You lifted your upper body with your elbows as he retrieved his cock from your wet core. You gasped when you witnessed August pulled it out, inches by inches. Left only the head inside you.

You moaned when he pushed again. Stretched you like no one else ever had. He did it slowly, knew that you still adapt to his girth. But the feeling when the tip of his cock scraped your most sensitive part every time he thrust inside you, you were tripped to your high even faster than before.

The moan of pleasure became incoherent as August sped up his pace. Repeated syllables of ahhh and ohhh accompanied your plead for him to fuck you like you were a female wolf. Released his pent up frustration to mate.

Both of you fuck like an animal who just needs to reproduce. Lust clouded the atmosphere in the room. Moaned and growled were sung like a prayer under the moonlight that shone its way to the basement.

His balls slapped against your ass every time he plugged in inside you. Sweats trickled down your body, and it looked even animalistic in August. His werewolf form was so majestic that you just wholly let him own you.

His feracious fucking looked like almost to its limit. The buzzed on your lower belly was ready to explode, but you held it.

"Fuck!" He growled.

"Uhh—uhh—uhh—cum in me. Yes—cum in me, my wolf— filled me up with your thick hot cum!" You pleaded like a bitch in heat.

August slammed his cock deep inside you as he screamed and let out a long howl. The feel of his warm cum inside you triggered your orgasm. You wail as your inner walls contracted and squeezed his cock. Spurt and spurt of his cum filled your womb to the brim. Something that you never allowed any of your partners to do in the past.

You didn't realize that you lock both your ankles behind August ass. But also you sensed something changed. August was draped on top of your body, head sneaked at the crook of your neck. Still, in a haze caused by the release of oxytocin in your bloodstream, you missed the way August kissed turned into something more. He bit you.

The still clouded brain of yours pop-up an image of you becoming August omega. His only mate. Bear a litter of pups for him and live happily ever after in his house, in his world. Your pussy unconsciously clenched at his cock that was still inside you. You never really said this to anyone, but you imagine you live in another world since the first time you ever read a story about omega verse.

You mewled when the biting stopped. Maybe August bit you just for fun. When he craned his head up to look at you, something was different. His eyes turned back to his azure color. His fangs now short, back to its regular human teeth, and his body wasn't as hairy as he's before. He's practically not in his werewolf form anymore.

"You changed? Why?"

He looked at you with his quizzical expression. "You wanted me to return to my werewolf form?"

You glanced away from him and kind of embarrassed to declare that his werewolf form was way hotter than his human form. Not that his human form wasn't hot either. Damn, you definitely bang him every time you can, but his werewolf form just made you curl your toes in an instant.

You cleared your throat and looked him in the eyes, "I like it very much."

"Well...the full moon is still in the sky for quite some time. Are you ready for the next round, my little lamb?"

"Yes, my wolf." You purred seductively at him and witnessed in delight his transformation before your eyes.

***

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#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #werewolf august walker #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #jshauntedhouse2020 #red riding hood #little lamb reader #henry cavill fanficiton #roughfuck #red ridding hood x werewolf #clark kent #superman #mission impossible #halloween challenge

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g0dspeeed · 4 years ago

Text

Liar, Liar

For @constantzeigarnik

"V unabashedly flirting with Viktor, just laying it on real thick for the ripperdoc, and Viktor just not being prepared for it in the slightest."

“Liar, liar.”

The words came out in a tired sigh with a voice that hopefully sounded as indifferent as V intended.

The pair was laid out on the hood of Panam’s latest wheels, eyes closed, and cold drinks in hand. After helping the Aldecaldo get the ride from a locked storage yard, V had offered to relax beneath the shade of a highway overpass while they waited for the client to arrive. Panam accepted without a second thought. Between the two of them, a break from daily survival in Night City seemed in order.

Supposed to be chill.

Just two friends sippin’ on a dry afternoon.

No worries.

No stress for an hour.

That was before their present conversation, one that V was trying desperately to avoid.

“Yeah, I’m the liar here,” returned Panam. “And Night City is family friendly. At least I’m not the one in denial that my ripperdoc has the hots for me.”

V turned to shoot her friend a dark look. The nomad smirked as the warning fell flat. Despite V’s best efforts, Panam could see right through her: She was absolutely fuckin’ right.

“Think ya’ got it all wrong,” V maintained in a cool tone.

“Oh, do I?”

V cringed.

“Only met the guy one time,” Panam said. “Felt like a third wheel between the two of you eye-fuckin’ each other. Almost walked outta there see what that psychic girl was sellin’.”

A new warmth began stinging V’s cheeks and Panam frowned at her friend’s lack of response.

This was new territory. Seeing V react this way was beyond strange. One of the most capable people Panam had ever met was turning red over a man. Borderline bizarre. Truly, the entire conversation was out of the norm.

“Shit,” muttered Panam. At her best efforts at being soft, she added, “Don’t feel bad, V. The guy’s stacked like a fucking truck.”

At that, V finally let her guard down. She grinned as Panam gently shoved her shoulder.

“There she is. Just let that denial fade away-”

“Fuck off.”

“What the hell are you afraid of?” asked Panam. “Rejection?”

V looked at her energy drink, swiveling the liquid around before relenting.

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

An eye roll and a heavy groan came from the woman beside her.

“Yeah okay,” said Panam. “Like he’d reject a woman half his age, much less a badass like you. V, I saw it for myself. The guy thinks you’re hot. Caught ‘im lookin’ at your ass. Not only that, he cares, like genuinely cares about you, which says a lot for people like us. Next time you see him, just lay it on thick and be done.”

V scrunched her eyes shut at her friend’s advice. Just talking about openly pursuing Viktor Vector made V’s stomach twist into knots. As much as she was the badass that Panam knew her to be, for V to explore an actual romantic relationship outside of ‘eye-fucking’ and the occasional one-night stand with some rando from Afterlife was not something V was familiar with. Her days were chaotic. Her lifestyle was that of constant motion. Viktor, in all his edginess, was stable, consistent, and secure. Also, she enjoyed the subtly they shared, the skirting around the topic of their flirty friendship, or whatever it was, from the safety of fleeting looks, suggestive undertones, and the occasional wink.

Then again, if V were honest with herself, it never seemed to be enough. V couldn’t deny that each time she left his clinic she wanted more. Craved more. More time, more privacy, more touch. She was her own worst enemy in all of those categories, always the first to shy away, to change the subject, to wander off.

“Worst case scenario,” breathed Panam. “He’s not interested in dating someone younger. Or just wants to be friends. That’s fine. Whatever. Should that happen, you delta outta there, lay low for a few weeks, find a new doc, and move on.”

“I can’t just delta out of his life,” groaned V. “He’s been my ripperdoc since I came to Night City. He’s also one of my closest friends-”

“Ok, then suffer. Fuck! Just do something. You’re killing me with this in between bullshit.”

Hours later, their conversation from under the overpass played on repeat inside V’s head. Panam cannot sugar coat anything. She might be physically incapable of doing that. Her words came straight from the heart and that’s what made what she had to say so sincere.

That is at least what V was telling herself as she steadily made her way down the steps to Viktor’s clinic, hands clammy, and body keyed up.

Part of her hoped that he was out or tied up with a patient. Maybe he would tell her to come by later.

She scoffed.

What a stupid thought. She was too quick to forget how often he invited her to stick around if he were operating, how she would wait at his workbench or nap on his crusty couch in the back. Sure enough, she could hear the man whistling below, the cheery sound echoing to where she hesitated. She swallowed.

With a final deep breath, V summoned up the bravery to walk through the metal gate.

Hunched over his operating chair, Viktor appeared to be wiping down between appointments, his rich voice humming along to some song in his head. V watched for a moment, taking in the serene sight before approaching the ripperdoc.

“Surprised you’re not watching a match,” she said.

The humming stopped. His head cocked at hearing her voice.

Without turning he responded, “Aren’t any on right now or you know I would be.”

The rag was tossed down and Viktor shifted to look at her.

V’s stomach flipped. His blue button-up was stained with a dark, oily substance all over the front. The top buttons were either missing or dangling from bits of string, leaving the shirt partly undone and exposing his undershirt. V’s eyebrows furrowed as she noticed a small crack that cut in the corner of his glasses just above a small nick on his cheekbone.

“You look-”

“Like shit?” he finished with a grin.

Viktor crossed his arms, drawing V’s attention to his thick biceps in a knee-jerk reaction.

“Bet so,” he continued. “Someone brought in his friend after a run in with the Tyger Claws, all blood clots and broke teeth. The gonk was scared out of his goddamn mind. Took a toll just to sedate ‘im.”

His smile had turned into a smirk, something confident and full of swagger as he told his story. He wore it well, mastering the balance found only in seasoned residents of Night City, of those who earned their street cred by way of blood, grit, and never backing down. V’s lips pursed at how his eyes looked to hers past those dark lenses.

Here would be the part where V ran away, ran from opportunity, from her feelings. He dared to look at her the way he did in that moment, so smooth, so confident. The man had to know. Viktor had to recognize how he affected her, had to notice how her eyes appreciated his physique, how her complexion warmed when he touched her. His frame had turned to face hers, all broad shoulders and aftershave.

She could step back.

Look away.

This was where she could coolly suppress her attraction and change the subject.

But not today.

“Here,” she said warmly.

V stepped close to the ripperdoc, shrinking the gap between their bodies as her fingers gently plucked the man’s glasses from his face. Viktor blinked in surprise and swallowed as she studied the damaged lens with a critical eye, her own smirk pulling at her full lips.

“Gonna need new ones, doc,” she told him.

Next, V carefully folded the glasses and slid them onto the collar of her top. Viktor’s eyes tracked her movements before quickly glancing away. Ever the gentleman.

“But don’t worry,” continued V. “The rest of you I can remedy.”

He chuckled.

“The rest of me?”

V looked up. She nearly gasped. For Viktor to wear those damn shaded glasses was a sin. The bluest blue that V had ever seen, his eyes were deep like ocean water. There was longing in them. Desire. He adored V for standing so close and showing such concern for his wellbeing. Christ, she could get lost in those eyes if he kept looking at her like that.

To answer his question, V tugged at the hem of his soiled shirt. He stiffened.

“Are you tryin’ to say that you like being covered in… whatever this is?” she mused.

“Well, no-”

In a near whisper, V begged, “Then come on, Vik. Let me play doctor for once.”

Fuck.

The way she was looking up at him with that smile, those bedroom eyes, leaning close like that with her fingers tugging on his shirt and talkin’ in that sweet, sexy voice.

Who was Viktor to deny her?

He sighed out a ‘Fine’ and nodded in agreement. Consent confirmed, V went to work. V’s fingers moved to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, but Viktor stopped her hands. His own hands were warm, a little rough with scars and callouses on the tips and knuckles. In response to V’s questioning look, Viktor grabbed his shirt and ripped the buttons loose with a jerk. They pattered at their feet.

“Trash,” he stated as he slid his arms free from his shirt. Like the buttons, it went airborne and landed in a nearby biohazard bin.

“Hey now,” warned V with mock annoyance. “I said let me play doctor.”

“Oh am I being a bad patient?” returned Viktor.

To his surprise, V placed her palm at the center of his chest. Her fingers flexed gently against his undershirt, making Viktor’s heart race. She then gave a gentle shove.

“The worst,” she teased as Viktor let her push him back into his own operating chair.

Even if he wanted to, there was no way that Viktor could hide his smile. He was at a loss. What in the world had gotten into V? Not that he was complaining of course, but he was so used to waiting. The flirting, the winks, all those playful innuendos had been going on for such a long time. By now, Viktor simply accepted that she wouldn’t push it further, that their friendship or whatever they had, consisted of only those teasing moments. Nothing more. In the end he believed that V didn’t want anything deeper with the ripperdoc. And that was fine. A bummer, but fine. Didn’t feel bad about it. Didn’t resent her. She was younger, a wild one who made a hobby out of recklessly injuring herself doing God knows what in the city. The man wasn’t new to women or intimacy, and with a woman like V he thought it best to let her set the terms, especially considering that she was after all his patient. A patient who ate his food, slept on his couch, completely ignored his work schedule, and called him ‘pretty boy’ on the regular. A patient no less.

So imagine how fast his heart was racing as her fingers softly cupped his cheek, at how her body leaned in close as she inspected the small cut beneath his eye. Viktor tried his hardest to look off into nothingness rather than at her breasts. Tried to ignore how delicious she smelled. Was she wearing perfume-

“Breathe, Vik,” she mumbled. “Can’t have my first patient black out on me.”

She fucking winked and that goddamn smirk of hers graced her lips.

“I, uh,” he began. He laughed, a bit too nervously for his liking. “I’m sorry, just, just distracted. It doesn’t hurt that much, ya know.”

“How’d he get ya?” asked V.

To Viktor’s disappointment, V stepped away from the chair and walked towards his workbench. He didn’t miss how her hips swayed or how she bent over to grab his medical kit in a nearly exaggerated manner. The way she looked into his eyes while she straightened, all slow and sensual with those curves of hers, went immediately to his dick. He swallowed.

“Um,” he said stupidly. “He, uh, headbutted me. With his head.”

“Ouch,” she replied.

Before she returned to the flustered ripperdoc, V shimmied out of her bomber jacket and tossed it on his workbench. A tattered crop top pulled against her skin as she shook out her dark hair.

Viktor had the decency to rest his hands in his lap to shield the effect that the merc had on him.

Her tongue wet her lips as she fished through the kit for what she wanted. The glance she shot in his direction proved that there was no innocence in the act.

What the fuck was happening?

That question repeated itself over and over again in his mind as she again bent closely towards his body to apply a Q-tip to the wound, offering another delicious view of her ample breasts.

“Can I get some feedback, doc?” she asked quietly.

Viktor swallowed, his mouth dry like sand.

“Yeah, kid,” he replied lowly.

V paused her work to truly look at him, to gaze into those gorgeous eyes of his. Then, all calm and collected, V perched herself next to him at the edge of the operating chair. Viktor allowed her some room as she cupped his cheek with her other hand, her breasts resting on his torso as she leaned into him. Her thumb ghosted his skin, tempting. Teasing. Viktor ignored the urge to press against the throbbing hardness in his pants. The cut long forgotten, his attention was caught up in V’s eyes, the warmth of her skin, her smell, the sultriness of her voice.

“Do you want me?”

Her mouth was so close to his. The warmth of her breath tickled his skin like static. Viktor’s eyes shut in anticipation as V slowly drew herself to his lips.

He felt nothing, but heard the soft tear of paper. Viktor’s eyes fluttered open, brow crinkling in confusion. V had sat up and was unwrapping a small bandage, her eyes fixated on the task while he gaped at her. When it was open, she reached out and carefully applied the bandage to the cut on Viktor’s cheek.

“All done,” she stated in a chipper tone, a wide smile stretched from ear to ear.

Viktor smirked.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned. “Think you’re hot shit giving this old man a heart attack?”

“Think I gave you more than that, pretty boy.”

Her eyes flickered to his lap and back to those ocean eyes. Viktor sat up in the chair, his hands not budging as if his life depended on it.

“You never answered me,” said V, the playfulness gone from her voice and replaced with a feeling that Viktor found it hard to describe.

There was no mystery, however, to how he felt in hearing it. His heart melted at her words, at how the game was finally over and that she, beautiful V, wanted to know if he wanted her. A stupid question, really, but an important one all the same.

“Ah V,” he said with a sigh.

Panic alit her eyes like fire, but it was quickly doused as Viktor took her by the hand.

“Of course I do,” Viktor replied earnestly. He gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’d be a fuckin’ liar if I didn’t.”

For whatever reason, Viktor saw V blink as if there was something odd in what he said. The moment was short and quickly forgotten as V embraced him so hard that the pair fell back in his operating chair, his arm wrapped around waist and his lips pressed into her hair.

#viktor vector #cyberpunk 2077 #im tired af #ripperdoc

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

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Trusting - Melone x Reader (Kinktober Day #7: Hypnosis)

NSFW. 18+ ONLY. Neutral reader. Hypnosis kink; coming untouched, kind of voice kink? Consent is discussed within the fic and heartily given. 2k.

Melone’s teammates don’t seem to trust him. But you do.

Melone has a lot of very interesting ideas.

Some of them you indulge him on, some of them you do not - sometimes, Melone goes too far even for you, and though he pouts a little, he marks it off in the neatly ordered files of his mind and busies himself with something that he knows you’ll have no objection to. You and he are remarkably well-suited - you suggest the ideas just as often as he does.

When you’d first become an item, your teammates had twisted their lips and told you to beware of the blond, warning you that he took things too far. You’ve noticed that they’re wary around him - that nights out at the bar are not extended to him, that nobody wants to sit beside him. Your boyfriend does not seem to mind - but he is often distracted. His eyes often take on a distant cast. He taps away at his laptop, concentrates very hard on the paperwork that Risotto gives him, and you think perhaps he is so engrossed in his work precisely because he has nothing else to think about.

It makes him a very good assassin - and, too, it makes him a very attentive lover when somebody does want to give him the time of day.

You learn every inch of Melone’s body intimately - the curve of his spine, the scarring of his eye beneath the mask, the way his throat bobs and breath hitches when you touch those particular spots in the spaces between his ribs. In return, he learns you - the part of your neck that has you a melting puddle, the words that have arousal coiling low and heavy in your gut.

He has never hurt you - you don’t think he would, despite what the others whisper about him and his stand. Professionally, Melone is clinical - personally, he is hot and desperate for your love. He doesn’t say so much in words, but the feel of his arms around you and him nosing into your neck and sighing your name is enough to convince you.

So when he brings it up, you do not hesitate all that much.

He’s brought up some far stranger things as possibilities in the bedroom - some of which have required specialist equipment, or even changes to the structural integrity of your bedroom. Those you’ve gently put down, just for the logistics of it - but this? Melone just needs a pocket watch and chain and maybe a blindfold, and you figure those are things you have no real complaints of being used in the bedroom.

Part of you, too, thinks it’s bullshit. You don’t think Melone - for all of his psychoanalysis and fake science mixed in with real science and intensely accurate knowledge of the human brain - is actually going to be able to hypnotise you.

So, you obediently let him get you comfortable on the bed, dressed in only a too big for you shirt. You obediently let him sit himself in front of you, check your pulse quickly, make sure that you were absolutely fine and comfortable with what he was going to do.

“It’s probably going to be intense,” Melone tells you, his face very earnest and sweet - it is sweet, to see him like this. So present and switched on. You find yourself smiling at him, and only some of the smile is because you feel so silly. “So if you want to not do this, tell me now - I don’t think you’ll be able to when you’re under.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him. You reach over and squeeze his knee. “I promise.”

He smiles back at you, exclaiming;

“Di molto!” He reaches for the pocket watch laid on the bedside table, chain delicately pinched between thumb and forefinger. He brings it a little way’s away from you, his hand held fairly high so that the clock-face is level with your gaze. “Alright, amore. Watch the clock sway. Listen to the ticking. Let yourself breathe in, slowly.”

You listen to what he’s saying, focussing your gaze on how the watch is swinging in the air. The tick-tock of the second hand seems a little longer than you’re used to. You let your body breathe in deep and release as it wants to, the air seeming to stay in your chest cavity more than you knew it could.

“That’s right,” Melone is murmuring. His voice is low and lilting. “Back and forth. Back and forth. Tick tock. Let all of your thoughts just . . . melt away.”

It’s easy to lose your thoughts listening to Melone’s low tones, like the soft hum of a radio a few rooms over. You have been stressed recently, haven’t you? The feeling of your tensions draining away is almost physical, like cool water trickling down your spine.

“Good. Let all of that go. You’re tired, aren’t you?” Melone makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that feels like a physical caress. “Your eyes are heavy. You’re so tired you’re going to drop, if you don’t let your eyes close and your mind go blank . . .”

Your eyes are heavy. Molasses-thick, your brain feeling half-melted and pliable, you let them fall. Your entire body feels thick and not-real, heavy everywhere.

“Good,” Melone breathes softly. “Now. I’m going to touch you. First, your face.”

You feel Melone’s fingers scoop up your chin, his breath against your lips. He smells like vanilla. One of his gloved thumbs swipes across your bottom lip. “I’m going to kiss you,” he says. Soft lips meet your own - Melone’s skincare routine could rival any celebrity - and Melone is softly nipping at your bottom lip, sending lazy spires of pleasure all through you.

In your heavy, hypnotised state, everything feels like it’s been intensified threefold. Every drag of Melone’s lips against yours, the soft warmth of his breath, the fingers that dance over your neck.

“I’m running my fingers down your chest,” he murmurs to you. You feel it, the pads of his fingertips warm. “I’m going to take off your shirt.”

Fabric over your waist, over your chest - you feel cool air on your skin and your nipples stiffen into peaks.

“I’m touching your nipples,” Melone breathes. “They’re hardening for me. You like it when I pinch them like this--”

He pinches your left nipple and hot electricity lances through you, adding to the heat low in your belly. You shift, whimpering, and he lets out the ghost of a laugh. You’re winning - you’re not hypnotised. You can feel everything he’s doing to you, more ardently than ever before. You swear you can feel every whorl of his fingertips as they move from your nipples, dragging down your stomach.

“You’ve got goosebumps from the slight scratch of my nails on your hips,” Melone tells you, and you feel them - pinpricks on your skin, Melone’s fingers scratching an itch of needing to be touched. “You’re spreading your thighs for me. Oh, look at you - you’re excited.”

You do, and you are. The way that the closed eyes and the awareness of the clock ticking in the back of your mind have heightened your senses mean that touches that before might have just made you shiver have you full-blown turned on, and your arousal is obvious between your legs.

“Is this for me?” He asks, and the laughs softly again. “What am I saying? Of course it’s for me. You’re this excited for me. I’m touching you, now - oh, look how your skin is jumping.”

You feel the little jolt when he finally makes contact with that hot aching part of you. Your sigh is choked in your throat, as Melone’s fingers continue to dance all over you, stroking and petting. You’re all over heat, down there - every part of your lower body feels like it’s in flames. Your thighs shake with the pleasure of being touched.

“I’m going to take off your underwear,” he says, and you gladly lift your hips. The drag of the fabric against your swollen and aching lower half feels torturous, but it’s worth it for the cool air to hit you - it’s worth it, too, for Melone’s hands to return and touch bare skin instead of fondling you through slick fabric.

“You’re close,” Melone tells you, and you nod, gyrating your hips towards him, searching out his fingers again. “I haven’t stopped touching you, don’t worry--”

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, the first thing you’ve said since he began. You fancy that you can hear the smile in his voice when he assures you that he won’t stop, soft little noises of comfort as his fingers continue to work on you, ceaselessly petting and rubbing at you. Those flashes of white-hot want are frequent behind your eyes, now - every hair on your body standing up straight. He’s still wearing his gloves, and the texture of those against your heated lower half . . .

“You’re going to come for me,” Melone murmurs, his own voice very low now. You know he likes it when you’re helpless for him - you know he must be close too. You can’t hear the slick noises of him handling himself, but you can imagine how hard he must be in his body-suit, watching your body jerk with his movements as your face remains serene. “You’re coming, amore--”

You come at the order. You were coming before, weren’t you? There’s no way that he could have made you come just by telling you to do so! But come you do, your body trembling, the tight ball of tension in your stomach finally becoming unravelled, tight strings snapping as aftershocks roll over your needy, heated skin. Even the stickiness of your arousal and orgasm doesn’t feel unpleasant right now, though you wonder if Melone feels differently.

“Good,” he hums. “Very good.” The hand between your legs gently pulls back, stroking your thigh reassuringly as it goes (even that small sensation has you shivering. “You did very well.”

You can’t quite make proper words. Your mouth seems to be plugged with honey, your tongue too lazy to move. You concentrate on the sounds of Melone’s voice, as melodic and even as ever--

“Now. You can still hear the clock, hmm? Concentrate on it again. I want you to say it in time - come on, now. Ground yourself. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

Little by little, your tongue seems to free itself from the strange hold. Little by little, moisture returns to your throat. And after a few more moments, your voice is mumbling along with the clock.

“Yes! Now. Move your hands, just a little - clench your fists. Ah, yes, yes, di molto! Breathe in, and out . . . Open your eyes, amore.”

You let yourself adjust, body snapping out of the trance-like state. Maybe Melone had put you under, just a little bit . . .

Your eyes drift open. You’re suddenly hyper-aware that there’s fabric against your thighs. You look down, baffled - you’re still wearing the old shirt. The one that you swore that Melone had taken off of you.

“I--” your eyebrows dip into furrows. You’re baffled, as you grab the hem of the shirt, peeking below - to see that you have also somehow regained your underwear. They’re soaking. You have to have come whilst still wearing them. “M-Mel? I . . . you took these off.”

You look at your boyfriend. A smirk is curling the corner of his lip. You stare at him, trying to take him in - his face is flushed from watching you, and there’s an obvious tightness in his already-tight body suit . . . But his hair isn’t ruffled. His fingers don’t glint with your wetness. In fact, aside from having put down the pocket watch, it appears that he hasn’t moved at all.

“I haven’t touched you,” he tells you, a thread of unrestrained glee running through his voice.

“You must have,” you protest weakly. “I can’t have . . . without even being touched . . .” Your cheeks heat up. Melone is still grinning.

“Everything I did,” he says. “I did with my voice. I didn’t think you’d be so sensitive, but you were under so quick--”

“I can’t have,” you try to say, but his story is seeming very likely. There’s no way he could have put your shirt on without you feeling it - and absolutely no way that the underwear, in its current soaking wet state, could have been slipped back up your thighs without you complaining about it.

Oh my God, he actually hypnotised you - and what’s more, he hypnotised you into coming just by talking to you! You knew Melone’s dirty talk was good, but not that good . . . The real weight of what Melone could do with this newfound power makes you glad you’re sitting down. You feel dizzied by the possibilities, light headed - but the way that the thoughts of being controlled by Melone affect the region between your thighs is very heavy and obvious indeed. You squeeze your thighs together. You wet your lips.

“Would . . . would this be something you’d like to do again?” You ask him, hoping you don’t sound too eager. But Melone knows you too well. He’s moving up, slinking like a cat to sit beside you on the bed and draw you in for a heated kiss, pressing your thigh against the hardness in his body-suit as a reminder of what exactly your shared performance had done to him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he purrs into your mouth. “I have so many ideas.”

#melone #jjba #kinktober collection #not sfw #writing #neutral reader #neutral pronouns

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dirty-urie · 3 years ago

Text

Date Night

Third Person

Brendon x Sara (OC kinda)

College AU

PWP Oneshot

NC-17

5.4k Words

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story using the names and/or likeness of at least one real person. This is intended for entertainment purposes ONLY. Please do not share or bring up my work with anyone other than fellow fans. Any similarity to real-life events involving these characters that have not been shared with the general public is only coincidence. Just because I’ve included something in my fics does NOT mean I condone, support, or encourage that behavior, language, or action in real life. Please practice safe and consensual sex practices, and just be a good person.

Warnings in Order of Appearance: Real Person Fic, Crude and Vulgar Language Throughout, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Joke About Forgoing Contraception, Talk and Consumption of Pornography, Unprotected Oral Sex, Female Receiving Oral, Intercourse, Male Receiving Oral, Female Masturbation, Use of a Non-Sex Toy as a Sex Toy, Minor Social Anxiety

Author's Notes:

1. I spelled Sarah's name wrong on purpose because I felt bad writing porn about her. Brendon's technically permitted to write about him, so I'll do that without guilt (okay, with some guilt, but I feel guilty about everything. I have anxiety), but I respect Sarah too much to do that to her. That being said, I didn't want to use a random name, so I decided on a middle ground. Here's Sara, who is both not a real person and also not not married to Brendon Urie in real life. Schrodinger's OC. Okay, thank you for putting up with me.

2. I don’t know if I’m going to write any more third-person fics. I know they’re not really that popular, but for some reason, this spoke to me in third, so I embraced that. Anyway, give it a chance, and if you don’t like it, give whatever I publish next a chance.

3. This used to be split into two parts because I uploaded it on mobile, but I have since condensed the two parts, and now the whole thing is on this post.

Brendon fumbles with his keys as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Sara won't be there for another little while, but he's anxious to get inside anyway. His roommate is away visiting his family for the first time in nearly two months, and he hasn’t gotten any real alone time with his girlfriend since then. It’s hard, and Brendon knows Sara’s been struggling too because she spent their whole coffee shop study-date the day before whispering to him about how she's been practically crawling out of her skin. Brendon shivers at the memory of her hot breath against his ear as he slams his front door shut and hurries to his bedroom.

He's thinking about all the nasty ways he wants to get back at her for getting him so worked up in public when, speak of the devil, his phone buzzes, and Sara's name pops up in the caller ID. Actually, "Brunette from Creative Writing" pops up, but he swears he'll change it one day. Sara jokes that they'll be married with a whole flock of adult children, and she'll be calling him from the bingo hall as "Brunette from Creative Writing." God, he fucking loves her.

"Hey, babe, I just got home," he says after he hits the answer button.

"Okay, I just got out of my lecture, but I'm stopping by my dorm to grab my duffel bag, then I'm going to the drugstore to get condoms that aren't the shitty university clinic ones, so I won't be there for almost another hour," she tells him.

"Noooo, just come straight here. You can just wear my clothes all weekend. And condoms are so unnecessary; I'll just pull out," Brendon whines.

Sara laughs into the phone, knowing he doesn't mean any of that. "Oh sure, in that case, I'll come right over. Did you want to pay me $400,000 to raise a child in cash or check?"

"Uh, check, but you're gonna have to wait a bit to cash it," he replies.

He can practically see her rolling her eyes, even through the phone, "I'll be there in an hour, but I'll bring you something fun from the drugstore," she says.

"Fun like sex fun or fun like gum from the checkout stand fun?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, love you, bye!" she tells him through the phone before hanging up.

"Love you too, babe," he says sarcastically to no one. He walks into his bedroom and makes sure it's spotless. He doesn't want anything whatsoever to get in the way of fun, sexy times once Sara gets here.

His apartment is clean; he has wine and groceries in the fridge, enough money saved up to rent a movie and order dinner later, and no homework, so once Sara shows up with the condoms, he’ll be good to spend the entire weekend at home with her. With nothing else to do, he climbs onto his bed and grabs his laptop. No harm in a little pre-gaming, he figures, pulling up his favorite porn website while he waits.

He clicks on the first video without too much thought. It’s a girl, one Brendon recognizes, wearing a tiny thong and nothing else, and playing with a small bullet vibe while her boyfriend watches. She’s wet, probably just with lube and not actual bodily fluid, he realizes, but at least they bothered to make her look physically aroused at all.

He gets invested in the video, in the new toys that the boyfriend hands her, in the way both of their arousal grows as time goes on. He gets so engrossed that he’s beyond startled when Sara interrupts with, “Starting without me?” eyeing the erection already straining through his jeans.

Brendon laughs with glee now that she’s finally here, “No, no, no, just passing the time while I wait for you. No touching yet, see," he says, holding up his hands and waving them around before pausing his video.

"Well, don't stop on my account," Sara scoffs. "I don't mind you starting without me as long as I'm there when you finish," she murmurs.

They both moan, Brendon in response to her words, Sara in response seeing Brendon's cock twitch in his pants, “Ah fuck, babe, that’ll be sooner than I’d like if you keep talking like that.”

Sara climbs in next to him and snuggles against him so that she can see his computer screen, “Ooo, she’s hot,” she says, pointing to the girl now getting eaten out by the guy who, coincidentally enough, doesn’t look dissimilar to B.

“Yeah, I like a lot of her work,” Brendon says back, disinterested in the video playing on the laptop now that Sara’s actually there in the flesh “hey, you should take your pants off,” he suggests, totally smooth and subtly.

“You’re such a guy, B. No ‘how was your day? Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?” she teases.

Under normal circumstances, Brendon would object to such slander on his impeccable moral character. But, well, there’s not a lot of blood in his brain right now, and he knows that she would just respond with more teasing, further delaying the Fun Sexy Times, so he rolls to his side and kisses behind her ear, pressing his cock against her leg in an attempt to tease her into pliability. It works; she melts, whimpering a little bit as heat pools deep in her stomach when she feels just how turned on Brendon is. “You feel so nice, B. Bet you’d feel nicer without this layer of denim between us. Can you help me?”

Brendon unbuttons her pants and moves down to slide them off her body, moving his mouth along the newly revealed skin as he works them off. He’s paying so much attention to the warm flush of her thighs that he almost misses her panties: dark red lace, even darker where she’s soaked through them, and so delicate that they’re nearly see-through.

“Oh fuck, babe, that’s gorgeous. Are you wearing a matching bra?” he asks.

She answers by sitting up and pulling off her t-shirt, revealing the same thin lace. Her nipples are hard, practically poking through the delicate material.

Brendon settles back on his heels to fully take his girlfriend in, now stripped down to just her matching bra and panties set.

Sarah grins down at him, “Why do I get the sense that I can expect this set in every color for my birthday? Although, I know for a fact that I can get the same reaction from you wearing full-coverage high-waisted granny panties,” she thinks aloud after seeing Brendon’s wide-eyed awe.

Brendon isn’t paying attention, though. His mindset shifted from the fun and playful sex they usually have to lust-fueled passion as soon as Sara took her shirt off. Don’t get him wrong, they have great sex, but they normally have to do it fast and quietly and spontaneously, so they’ve gotten good at not taking themselves too seriously, at laughing at Brendon’s old superhero boxers, and then getting to business. Now that he has the chance to really take his time to appreciate, no, worship her as she deserves, he wants to do it right.

He moves off his heels and crawls over her body, supporting himself with one muscled arm as he moves in to kiss her. She picks up on the change in mood immediately, grasping the back of his head to deepen the kiss. He’s throbbing against her thigh now, even through his jeans, and she’s worried that she might come just from feeling him.

She, too, loves their normal sex, but even though it’s fun, it can’t always be as intimate as either of them would like. And it’s a shame too because as good at Brendon is at fucking, banging, screwing, whatever, he’s damn good at making love. At making sure she’s safe and supported and in absolute bliss, even when they’re hooking up in someone’s bedroom at a party, but especially like this when they’ve got hours and total privacy.

When her moans increase in pitch and frequency, Brendon crawls back down on the bed and settles between her thighs. “Darling, these panties are a gift to humanity, but I’m afraid they’re going to get in the way of some things I have planned. You don’t mind if I take them off, do you?” he says, voice deep and gravelly. He mouths against the soaked fabric while he waits for her response.

After taking a moment to collect herself and catch her breath, “God, Brendon, please, I need your mouth, fingers, cock, something,” she whines.

Now that he has her permission, he moves his mouth from her core to the waistband against her hip and bites it, just letting his teeth scrape her skin as he pulls down. Whether intentionally or not, Sara arches her back up, making it easy to slide them all the way down her legs. He kisses her way back up her legs, but instead of stopping between her thighs, he keeps going up. He licks up across the flat planes of her stomach all the way until he reaches her bra. Just like with her panties, he mouths over the fabric first, inching up slowly before sucking on one of her nipples through the lace.

As much as he loves how her breathing gets faster and heavier just from that, he can’t resist the actual mouth-on-skin that the low cut of the bra allows. He sucks a pink mark on each breast and then moves to lick and suckle gently on her neck. They’ve both agreed that they’re not middle schoolers and visible hickeys are beyond tacky, but they both go so wild from neck stimulation that it can be hard to resist spending a few minutes sucking a licking at the rapidly-beating pulse points.

As much as Brendon wants to keep teasing, Sara’s squirming like crazy, and he’s worried that if he kept going in the same way, she’d come before he got to touch her for real. He finally settles between her thighs for real this time, kissing and sucking gently on her vulva for just a second or two. Sara is quivering by the time he moves down to suck on her clit. As soon as he finally makes contact with the sensitive hood, she screams out in ecstasy, taking full advantage of Brendon’s roommate’s absence. He sucks around her clit just like her nipple, a few short staccato bursts followed by long, drawn-out pulls. He moves his tongue gently the whole time to stimulate her further.

Both of her hands are tangled in his hair, tugging hard when he moves from sucking on her clit to licking across her entrance. He licks across the opening in broad strokes before his tongue enters her, rubbing her clit with his thumb the whole time. He waits until her thighs are clenched tight around his head, and she’s bucking up against his mouth before he slips two fingers inside to rub over her g-spot.

“B, stop, I’m gonna fucking come!” She shrieks.

He lifts his head without slowing his fingers, “You don’t wanna come?”

“Want you to be inside me when I do. Inside me for real, not just fingers,” Sara pants, trying hard to distract herself from her building arousal.

As much as Brendon’s disappointed that Sara won’t come on his face, after all, he’s been hard for over an hour now, and he would love to get out of his restrictive jeans and get a little more stimulation than rubbing himself against the bed.

He crawls out of bed and peels his shirt off. Now it’s Sarah’s turn to marvel at her lover. His cheeks and chest are flushed a deep pink from the exertion and arousal, his face is shiny with spit and her juices, and his cock is tenting the material of his pants.

Sara strokes over herself lazily, it’s not nearly as good as Brendon, but it’s something to take the edge off while she watches Brendon unbuckle his belt to strip his pants off. He’s moving slowly on purpose. He always did love to put on a show.

Once he’s down to his black boxer-briefs, he asks Sara where she put the condoms when she came in.

“B, I love that you’re so distracted by me, but the bag is right next to you on the nightstand,” she answers.

“Hey, I’m not wearing my glasses. That’s not fair,” Brendon replies softly. He turns and opens the plastic bag with the drugstore logo on the front. Sara laughs when his eyes visibly widen. “Should I be scared?” He asks, holding up a large vibrating dildo.

Sara laughs. “No, love, I just wanted to get some toys I could leave at your place,” she answers as he pulls out a bullet vibe, two different types of lube, a cock ring, massage oils, whipped cream, a multi-pack of condoms, and yes, gum from the checkout stand.

“...I may have gotten a little carried away in the sexual wellness aisle,” she admits.

Brendon’s eyes are still the size of saucers, “God, no kidding, babe, this is all incredible,” he says, stripping off his boxers and opening the box of condoms to tear a packet open with his teeth. It’s a bad habit, and usually, Sara would scold him, but she’s so worked up that she spreads her legs in anticipation anyway. Her mouth goes dry while he strokes himself with lube before he rolls the condom on.

He finally, finally, finally settles over her. “Is this position okay?” he asks.

“It’s perfect, baby; I love getting to see your face when you push into me,” she answers, whining as he drags his cock across her opening.

That’s good enough for Brendon. He rocks forward into her slowly, partly because he’s a tease but partly because he wants this to last as long as possible. After pushing in deep to rub back and forth across her g-spot, he starts thrusting in earnest, relishing her moans and pants.

“Oh B, you feel so good,” she cries out.

“You feel even better, love. Squeezing so nicely around me. So tight and wet,” he says.

Sara scratches down his back in sheer bliss. Brendon’s rhythm is steady, but he’s moving just slowly enough that they can both relish every thrust without feeling overly needy or impatient. She pushes her thighs together to feel him even better inside her.

His thrusts falter for a second, and he chokes out a gasp. “Love you, love feeling you,” he groans, “but it’s been nearly a month since we last had sex, babygirl. If you keep that up, I am going to come.”

She relaxes her thighs just a little bit. “God, I love how sensitive you are right now, babe, responding to my every touch so much. I love you collected and composed too, but it’s such a treat having you so weak for me,” she marvels, stroking the back of his neck.

A shiver goes down his whole spine, and he devotes all of his energy to not coming. “I haven’t touched myself since we last had sex,” he admits, “I figured if my sweet girl couldn’t get off, I couldn’t either. It’s been such a challenge, but fuck, it was worth it. I’m so on edge for you.”

She tightens around him, moving her hand to touch her clit. “Shit, Brendon, that’s so fucking hot. I’m just thinking about you late at night, hard and aching thinking about me, but controlling yourself so it could be all the better when we finally reunited. Did you ever cheat? Did you ever jack yourself but force yourself to pull away right before you came to roll over and go to sleep? God, I bet you had so many dirty dreams. Bet you woke up humping a pillow because your body needed to get off so bad. Bet you’d struggle to hide your hard-on in public when your mind wandered even just a little. Such a dirty needy boy, but so so good for me, aren’t you?” she pants out, squeezing tighter as she talks.

He laughs, “You know me so well, sweetheart, all of the above is true. My roommate was thrilled to have all the hot water for himself this month because… I took a lot of cold showers. I’ll leave it at that. Now, if you don’t mind, I believe you’ve taken my job,” he says, replacing her hand on her clit with his own.

Sara falls back and goes rigid, crying out. He circles his thumb faster as the pace of his thrusts picks up. “I’m gonna come!” She shouts.

“Do it, come on me,” Brendon whispers.

Sara contracts around him, shrieking and convulsing as she comes on him before melting back onto the bed.

Brendon leans down to nip at her shoulder and then kiss her lips. “Good, baby?”

She nods, eyes closed and still panting hard.

“I’ll give you a second,” he murmurs, mostly to himself before pulling out and collapsing down next to her. He strokes over himself while he waits for her to come back down to earth, still rock hard.

“Shit, B, you still haven’t come,” she finally realizes, “do you want me to blow you?”

His cock twitches at the thought.

“Or I could ride you? Let you watch my tits bounce as I fuck you?” She suggests.

“That one wanna be back in that perfect cunt.”

Sara moves to straddle him, rubbing her clit against his tummy and kissing him before moving back to settle on him for real. She lets him thrust up into her a couple of times before moving herself, relishing the way his muscles tense under his flushed skin.

Brendon loves being ridden. He wouldn’t say it’s his favorite position, but it’s up there. It’s even better when Sara takes her bra off, as pretty as it is, and he gets to see her entire naked body. She gets herself at the perfect angle and rides him as hard as she can.

“I’m really not going to last long,” he warns.

Sara tangles her hands back in his hair just like he loves. She’s pulling out all the stops to get him to come. “God, B, me neither, I didn’t think I had it in me, but I’m right back on the edge. Just rub my clit, and I’ll come.”

He moves his hands from her ass to touch her clit.

She shudders, “B, I’m gonna come!”

“Me too,” he grunts out, “do you want me to pull out?”

“No, wanna feel your hot come inside me, even with the condom,” she answers before coming again. Even harder this time as waves of pleasure roll through her entire body.

The rapid contractions around his cock trigger his own orgasm, and his entire head goes blank as he gets lost in the sensation. Sara collapses and situates herself in his arms just as they’re both starting to come down.

He moves, but she stops him. “Honey, I’ve gotta,” he starts, but she whines and shakes her head, knowing exactly where he’s going, “I’ve gotta pull out so we can clean up and eat dinner. Round two after Italian?”

She finally nods but wraps her legs tighter against him anyway, “just two more minutes. Then we can go be romantic.”

***

“Sara, sweetheart, food’s almost here,” he whispers thirty minutes later. He’s wearing pajama pants with no shirt, and his torso’s still wet from the shower he took to rinse off. “Do you wanna go get yourself cleaned up while I set up the coffee table to eat?” He asks.

Sara shakes her head, “I get clingy and needy after sex-”

Brendon cracks a grin because he knows this, of course.

“So you’re stuck with me for the next couple of hours,” she finishes.

“Mm, that’s fine with me, babe. I just want you to be comfortable,” he responds, kissing her forehead.

She moves up into the kiss and realizes that a shower might be nice after all, “Actually, I am a little sticky. Come into the bathroom with me?”

“Anything you want, love,” he says, scooping her up and carrying her to the shower.

He turns the water on for her and then goes to sit on the counter while she rubs off the sweat under the spray. “B?” She calls.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but when you rubbed my clit in little circles, I nearly died on the spot. Normally when I’m alone, I just stroke back and forth, but god, it felt so good to feel something new,” she says. Brendon doesn’t respond immediately. “B?” She calls back timidly, shy now. “B?”

She’s getting worried that he left without her hearing, so she pulls back the shower curtain and has to choke back a moan. Brendon’s still sitting on the counter, his head tipped back on the mirror, palming over himself through his PJ pants.

“God, Sara, sorry, I just love hearing how I make you feel, and I couldn’t help it,” he tells her.

Sara shuts the water off and walks across the bathroom to Brendon, paying no mind to how she’s dripping all over the tile. She yanks him up to his feet and drops to her knees on the padded bathmat in front of the sink. She pulls his pants down just enough- no underwear, she observes without surprise- and takes him in her mouth, getting him slick enough that she can stroke him to total hardness with her hand. Once he’s fully hard, she takes him back in her mouth and sucks hard, making his knees tremble. She bobs her head up and down, stroking him with her hand when she doesn’t have his whole length in her mouth.

He’s bracing himself against the counter to stay upright and not buck into her mouth. She moves down to just stimulate the tip while quickly stroking over the rest of him.

“Can you come for me? Food is going to be here any minute,” she says, looking up at him with big eyes.

“You playing with yourself down there, baby? Getting all wet from sucking me off?” He asks, the dirty talk getting him closer to the edge.

“Oh, you know it, gets me so hot, making you feel good. I wish I had one of my new toys, though,” she pouts before licking his dick again.

Brendon gropes behind himself blindly, trying to find… well. It’s not a vibrator, but it does, well, vibrate, he thinks, hitting the button on his electric toothbrush. He hands it to Sara, who puts it between her legs without hesitation, pressing it against her clit.

She goes weak, moaning a buzzy hum over his cock while she sucks. She knows he’s close by the way his balls are drawing into his body, so she goes ahead and lets herself go. Tightening the pressure around his cock.

“Shit, babe, I’m gonna come,” he warns, hips bucking. “Can I come in your mouth or…?”

She holds up a thumbs up, and he comes, most of it staying in her mouth, but some ends up dripping down her chin. She swallows, and Brendon hands her a wad of toilet paper to wipe off the rest with.

He tucks himself back into his pants and then helps her back to her feet.

“Can I have my toothbrush back, love?” He requests softly.

Sara blushes and takes the still-vibrating toothbrush out from between her legs, “Sorry, I forgot I still had that.”

“No worries,” he responds with a soft chuckle, kissing her forehead. He takes the toothbrush and turns it off before rinsing it off under the sink. “Gosh, you did a number on this thing. It’s soaked,” he marvels, “My perfect messy girl.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “Perfect timing, must be the food. I’ll deal with that while you get dressed?” He suggests, and she nods, still a little dazed from the orgasm. Well, orgasms, plural.

She goes back to his room, where she stashed her bag and rummages through it for her pink silk slip nightgown. It’s super simple, just spaghetti straps with a straight-across neckline and then deep pink fabric straight down to just below her ass, but Brendon loves it. She suspects it’s just because she can’t move very much without flashing her butt, but he insists that the slip itself is gorgeous.

As she’s getting dressed, she hears the door open and Brendon apologizing for his relative state of undress, saying he just got out of the shower. Brendon’s naked more often than he’s clothed, so Sara just shrugs it off until she hears a giggle and flirting coming from the delivery girl.

Brendon stammers out that he has a girlfriend, but he’s flattered, but that doesn’t seem to be deterring the delivery girl, who makes an extra point to linger her hand on Brendon’s as she hands him the food. Sara strides out of his bedroom, “Hey, B, have you seen my panties? I can’t find them in your bed or your bathroom or the kitchen or the sofa, so I wonder if I left them in your pocket during our multiple rounds of lovemaking,” She calls before pretending to spot him and the girl for the first time by the door. She scootches in next to him and kisses him on the cheek, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on her face. “My apologies, didn’t know you had a guest,” she lies, shooting death beams at the delivery girl whose hand is on Brendon’s bicep. The girl retracts her hand, and Sara grabs a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet on the doorside table to tip her. Sara knows Brendon would’ve already tipped her on the website, but this more of a ‘please don’t touch my boyfriend without his consent tip’ than a ‘thank you for your work tip.’ “Have a nice day, ma’am,” Sara tells her, shutting the door.

Brendon smirks, but there’s a weariness behind it, “Way to save the day, baby. Getting possessive?”

“No, I love it when others check you out. Just validates how hot I am for you. You just sounded like you do when you get overwhelmed at the grocery store, and I figured you were feeling a little claustrophobic,” she explains.

Brendon nods. “I don’t mind a flirt, but she was getting way too handsy. And even then, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world; I just felt a little vulnerable being shirtless and all. She probably just wanted a big tip. I bet that works for her a lot. And y’know, I probably shouldn’t have been shirtless at all. If I was in a restaurant, they’d have every right to kick me out, so really, I’m lucky she didn’t blacklist my address,” he rambles, turning to get plates and silverware from the kitchen.

Sara touches his shoulder and grabs the bags of food from him. “Hey, B, you don’t need to justify your feelings, okay? I get it; she was in your space. Both your personal space by touching you and your physical area by being near your home. But it’s sweet of you to give her the benefit of the doubt. You’re probably right, I would guess that works with nine out of ten guys; she was cute. And hey, I gave her a nice tip to get her to go away, so it worked on us too.”

“And you got to brag to a stranger about our hot sex life, so it really did all work out in the end,” Brendon half-jokes, and she’s happy to observe that any panic seems to have left his body.

“Mhm, my favorite hobby. Maybe we should order dessert, and I can change into something even more slutty. This shows my ass so nicely, but my chest is totally covered,” she suggests, and he cracks a real smile for her. “Seriously though, you’re totally good?”

“Yes, ma’am, everything’s perfect,” he responds, and he’s telling the truth.

“Good, let me set up dinner then. You go relax on the sofa,” she orders.

Brendon goes to sit on the couch, knowing better than to deny a direct request. Sara plates the food and brings it to the now dim living room, where Brendon’s lit three candles in the center of the table.

“Awww, how romantic,” she praises, settling against Brendon with their food.

“I had more romance planned, I promise, I just weighed my options, and I cared more about snuggling with my girl than trying to overdo it on decorating the living room,” Brendon responds. “I do still have wine in the fridge if you want that?”

She twists around to kiss him. “The romance level is perfect. Consider me totally romanced. I think I’ll wait on the wine until later if that’s okay? It’ll make me sleepy, and I’m still interested in a round two,” she says, resting her hand against Brendon’s thigh.

“Whatever you want is fine with me, love,” he says, sighing contentedly.

***

“You’re falling asleep, babygirl.”

“Am not.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

Brendon smiles, “Do you wanna keep watching the movie, or do you wanna go to bed? If you’re sleepy, that’s fine, but we’ve gotta move to the bedroom then,” he murmurs.

Sara moves off the couch and stretches, turning on the light. “I’m not even tired; I took a nap earlier. It’s just the dim lighting and carb surplus. C’mon, let’s keep watching, it’s only 10 and we’re not even to the, ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ scene.”

“Okay, if you insist, then we’ll soldier on. I’ll get dessert,” he agrees, getting up to head to the kitchen.

“Ooo what’s for dessert?” she asks.

“Cannoli and coffee,” he responds.

Sara moans playfully. “God, Brendon, I’m so turned on right now.”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “I’ll try not to take offense that you’re more attracted to sweets than me.”

Sara wraps her arms around his waist from behind him. “I’d choose you over cannoli any day. Someone could offer me a thousand cannoli and I’d scoff in their face and then go kiss all over you. I love you, babe. Thank you for a great date night,” she says before spinning him around to kiss him.

“I love you too,” Brendon whispers against her lips. “Tonight was wonderful, and I owe it all to you.”

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1morefairytale · 4 years ago

Text

LFRP – Saachi Medvyed

A cheerful, naive, runaway noble on a mission to become a hero. Saachi has spent so much of her life tucked away from the world by an over-protective (and incredibly shady) father figure that, now that she’s run away, she intends to see the world for what it is and for what it one day -could- be with her help.

THE BASICS –––

Name: Saachi Medvyed

Age: 22

Nameday: 3rd Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon

Race: Raen, Au’ra

Gender: Female

Alignment: Neutral Good/Chaotic Good

Marital Status: Smitten with a guy in a big @dumb-hat. Certainly not married.

Server: Balmung

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE –––

Hair: Saachi’s natural hair color is a vibrant forest green. It is long, straight, and often pulled back into a braid (or down with multiple braids woven through it) or clasped with pretty bows.

Eyes: Saachi’s eyes are a dark yellow/gold with a lighter, brighter yellow limbral ring around them.

Height: 62.4 inches (5′2″)

Build: On first glance, Saachi might look deceptively frail. While tall for a female au’ra, she is still petite. She wears very feminine dresses, skirts and blouses that, while very pretty, hide that beneath the delicate fabrics, big skirts, and puffy sleeves she’s actually quite strong. Saachi believes very strongly in hard work and discipline and her toned, muscular body shows this.

Common Accessories: Saachi is always wearing some kind of jewelry (usually gold): rings, necklaces, hair combs, anything she finds pretty. She carries a traveling bag with her with medicine kits inside, a good book to read (fairytales and adventure stories with plenty of drama and romance are her favorite), something to snack on, and usually flowers that she’s gathered or toys that she’s purchased from vendors to give to children she encounters. She also carries either a staff or a wand with her for conjury purposes. She is learning to swordfight and, being intensely dedicated to anything she chooses to pursue, it is likely she will start carrying a sword with her as well.

PERSONAL –––

Profession: Saachi currently helps run a daycare in the Mist and also volunteers her time as a midwife and healer for refugees that do not have access to city doctors. She will say that being a ‘hero in training’ is also her profession, but it is usually greeted with polite chuckles and pats on the head rather than being taken seriously (she takes it very seriously).

Hobbies: Daydreaming, reading, playing harp, working on a book she hopes to one day publish about Eorzean folklore, researching this book by looking into any reports of any peculiar monsters or beasts to verify if they are real (and fight them if they are causing problems), offering her assistance to anyone in need, building sand castles on the beach, flying kites in windy weather, dancing barefoot in the grass. The usual.

Languages: Common

Residence: She currently lives in a free company based out of The Mist that serves as a healing clinic and daycare.

Birthplace: She doesn’t know where she was born, but she was raised in Ul’dah by a politician/money lender named Aban. She has also run away from him and he’ll most certainly be trying to get her back.

Patron Deity: Oschon, the Wanderer. Saachi intends to see and explore every last bit of this world.

RELATIONSHIPS –––

Spouse: Saachi has hardly had a boyfriend for that long; she is not thinking about marriage

Children: None of her own; she just helps care for ones in the daycare when she is there.

Parents: Her real parents are a mystery to her but she was raised by an over-protective, emotionally abusive, shady adoptive father figure.

Siblings: None that she knows of.

Other Relatives: Unknown.

Pets: She has a pet rabbit named Nym

TRAITS –––

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION –––

Smoking Habit: Nah

Drugs: Nah

Alcohol: Sure!

RP HOOKS –––

Naive runaway: Saachi had a very controlling father when she was younger. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied, she had no close friends, she went nowhere dangerous. 5 years ago she ran away and she's learned a lot since then, but 5 years is still not very long in the grand scheme of things. She trusts extraordinarily easily and does not always immediately recognize signs of danger or cons.

Hero worship: While she didn't have many friends as a child, she did have a great deal of books. Her father let her read as many fairytales and myths as she wanted and it became the blueprint for what she'd begin to think of the world: It's a place full of dangers and people who need help. She wants to be that help! She'll recklessly throw herself into danger if it means being a hero.

Protector of children: Since discovering that she did not have the childhood she should have, she has made it a life's mission to make sure that other children do. She runs a daycare near the beach and her mission is to give the children there as much space to build their imaginations, creativity, and selves as they need. If a child is in need, Saachi is going to do everything she can to help that child.

Midwife: Saachi has been under the tutelage of Stillglade Fane since she ran away from home. She's a practicing conjurer and while she's always looking for an opportunity to protect allies in battle with her spells, she spends just as much time caring for pregnant refugees who do not have the access or funds to established doctors. She provides this service for free as she finds the opportunity to help those in need more meaningful to her than gil. If someone really wants to offer payment, she accepts donations to Stillglade Fane or to the daycare.

Law? What law?: Saachi does what she thinks is right no matter the consequences. And she tends to it in the most dramatic manner possible (that's what they'd do in books, after all). If local authority has laws in place that get in the way of her helping someone, she will ignore that law. If it's in the way of helping, it shouldn't be a law anyway, right? This often puts her at odds with local governments and with the Fane.

CONTACT INFORMATION –––

Contacting me here on tumblr or finding me in game is the best bet. If you see Saachi out in the world, please say hi!

I do have a Discord and I do RP on it. I don’t give that information out right away though. I’d like to interact in game or through tumblr a few times before I feel comfortable giving that information out.

I have craaaazy work hours. I work the night shift M-F. That means that I’m on very early in the morning and sometimes in the late afternoon/early evening. I’m usually not on very late unless it’s a weekend.

Notes –––

Saachi will be excited to meet new people… and I will too! Nym (her bunny) will be timid and wary, but he’ll get over it. Follows come from @luck-and-larceny- a character blog for a thief character of mine named Malika. I also have an alt at @matter-of-a-pinion named Livana (Liv). They both have LFRP and Carrds pinned to their pages so feel free to check them out too if you like!

#FFXIV #LFRP #lfrp balmung #lfrp crystal #Saachi #FFXIV LFRP

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somedew-fictions · 5 years ago

Note

May I humbly request harvey saying #15 to a reckless farmer I give you permission to kill me

#15 “Please stop and listen to me...”

Marlon comes into the clinic with the unconscious farmer for the third time this week, Harvey’s face reading no emotion as he holds the door open for Marlon as he carries in the farmer to the hospital bed.

“Thank you, Marlon,” Harvey sighs heavily, his current emotion completely unreadable.

“Are they going to be alright?” Marlon asks as Harvey begins to walk him out to the front door of the clinic. “That kid is so full of life... I would hate for that life to be their fatal flaw...”

“They should be fine for tonight; go home and rest. Tell Gil I said hello,” Harvey says curtly, giving Marlon a reassuring smile before opening the front door for him and closing it behind him. He turns back to the empty waiting room and lets out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair as he lets his anxieties shine through for a moment of sanity.

He spent the next hour cleaning the farmer’s wounds and bandaging them up properly, remaining silent throughout the process. He could barely bring himself to look at the farmer’s face as he worked, their cheeks flushed bright red from Harvey wiping their skin clean with disinfectant and how warm their body temperature was.

Harvey went to bed that night but didn’t get much sleep, lying in bed and staring at his ceiling as he formulated a plan on how to finally confront he farmer on the obvious problem.

Harvey goes downstairs in the morning with a mug of coffee in his hands from his loft. He is fully dressed for the day, heading straight into the hospital room to check on the farmer.

They are sitting up in bed, having already taken themselves off of the oxygen machine and removed their IVs. They smile as Harvey enters, swinging their legs the side of the hospital bed.

“Good morning Harvey,” they chime, acting as if they were not in a near death state less than twelve hours ago. “I know the routine by now. I think I will just get going- the farm needs me,” they go to stand up but Harvey raises his hand to stop them, his face blank and expressionless just how it was when the farmer first came in.

“We need to talk,” he starts off, the farmer slowly sitting back down on the edge of the hospital bed, their attention on him. “As your doctor, I look out for your well being. This is the third time this week you have passed out in the mines from exhaustion, blood loss, and head injuries,” he lists them off with his free hand.

“I must tell you, as your doctor, you need to stop this behavior before it becomes a habit. You are in critical condition as of right now, and should not be in the mines for the next three weeks at the very least...” he sees the farmer’s expression fall, their eyes focused on the floor. “I’m only telling you this because you really could die,” he has been packing it on easy the last two visits, but now he knew he had to be strict and real if the farmer was going to hear him.

The farmer waits for a moment, sitting in the silence Harvey left for an uncomfortable amount of time before lifting their gaze back to him. They crack a smile. “I really appreciate it, Harvey,” they tell him, standing up. “But the mines have resources I need and a new injuries aren’t going to stop me.”

Harvey bites the inside of his cheek, something about the farmer’s innocent, condescending tone raking his back with knives. “As your doctor, I can’t allow you to do that,” he says, his voice dropping low.

“I appreciate the concern but I should be returning to my farm now,” they give him a polite smile and quietly slip past him, starting for the door.

“Don’t you understand how serious the condition you are in right now is?” Harvey puts down his coffee mug on the night stand of the hospital bed and follows them.

“It is worth the risk,” the farmer says confidently, walking down the hallway and entering the waiting room. “I need to finish my sprinkler system before Summer so I can...”

“Please stop and listen to me,” Harvey interrupts them, taking a few larger steps to pass them and block the front door of the clinic. His stoic face melts away to reveal deep, worried and tired eyes, a frown across his face. “Listen to me, as your friend. You have gotten so lucky this week, but if you go down there again, you could die. You can’t rely on Marlon finding you or me being here to stop the bleeding, because Marlon might not find you and I may not be able to stop the bleeding in time...” the farmer looks away from him again and he steps away from the door and closer to them, begging for them to look at him with his expression.

“It isn’t worth the risk right now, and I don’t know what I would do if you really... did...” his voice fades away.

They stand in silence for a moment, the farmer shifting awkwardly from foot to foot before they force themselves to look up at Harvey. He can see the tears brimming in their eyes, and he can feel his own beginning to form.

“I’m sorry,” the farmer whispers. “I didn’t think of it like that; putting all the pressure on you and Marlon...”

“Just... take it easy on the risk taking for a while,” he says softly, patting the farmer’s shoulder reassuringly. “Okay?”

“Okay,” the farmer nods, opening their arms for a hug that Harvey accepts, pulling them close to his chest. As long as the farmer was alive and breathing in his arms, that was enough to bring a faint smile back to his face.

#900th apology #I kept writing she on this one and I had to keep going back and editing...#sdv #stardew valley #sv #harvey #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey #imagine #sdv imagines #stardew valley imagines #sdv harvey imagines

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falseroar · 4 years ago

Text

Dog Days Part 8: Doctor’s Appointment

((A look around one doctor’s office leads Abe to check in with another, although an unexpected find throws the hunter off in his investigation.

Yeah, again, sorry this took so long to get here. This part is on the longer side though, and I have a few more that should be ready to go up over the next couple of days. I’m also hoping to get this story done without any more big breaks.

Since it’s been a while, here’s a link to Part 7: Leaving the Clinic, and one for the entire series so far.))

It was a long night, and Abe might have almost dozed off once or twice or half a dozen times, but he kept his watch on the front door of the clinic and the steady trickle of people entering and leaving throughout the dark hours. Some were in and out in less than half an hour, others took longer, but by his count no one went in that didn’t come out. So that was one easy point in the doctor’s favor, although missing patients sure would have made ending this case early a possibility.

No, the last patient left around 4:30 AM, and it was in the still darkness of 5 AM before the doctor himself stepped out of the clinic and locked the door behind him.

Interesting--even with the late sunrise in the fall, that didn’t leave much time before dawn. Unless the vampire was willing to cut it close, he couldn’t live that far from his clinic, especially as the doctor turned and began walking away rather than going to one of the cars parked on the street.

Abe hesitated. He had two immediate options: follow the doc and see where he holed up during the day, or check out the clinic.

As soon as the doctor rounded the corner, the hunter impulsively jumped out of his car, only to nearly wind up face first in the gutter along with the leaves and trash when his head and body refused to cooperate.

Right. How long had it been since he last got some real sleep? And that little binge he went on back at the house yesterday hadn’t helped much. His head pounded as his vision shifted before resettling, and he swallowed back a bad taste in the back of his mouth while he leaned against the car and waited for his legs to wake up.

On second thought, maybe checking out the doc’s clinic while he could be sure it was empty was the real way to go. There would be other chances to see where the vampire spent his days.

Abe trudged across the silent street to the front door of the office and looked around, despite the obvious lack of anyone else out at this unholy hour of the morning, before kneeling down in front of the lock. A few minutes working with his personal set of lock picks, followed by a quick search that turned up a spare key hidden behind a loose brick, and he was in.

He closed the door softly behind him, waiting for several heartbeats to make sure the building really was silent, before he started looking around the place.

First up was the waiting room, which was clean and well taken care of, but Abe noticed that not all of the chairs matched, like they had been bought secondhand separately rather than as a set, and while he didn’t know much about art, the calming paintings on the walls all had a bargain bin look to them. Behind the receptionist’s desk, he found an older PC that he didn’t bother with turning on, and more importantly a binder full of dated sign-in sheets.

For a moment, he perked up at the idea of a record of the kind of people who came here, but after turning through a few pages of obviously false names, including the occasional that looked like someone couldn’t even be bothered (unless some parents out there really decided to call their kid ‘Burnt Arm’) he decided that was a bust. There was an appointment book, but all of the entries were little more than a time and set of initials, with the occasional note in what looked to possibly be German, although the writing was so cramped and hurried that it might as well have been scribbles to Abe.

Seeing nothing else of interest, Abe opened the door next to the desk onto a small hallway, where the first door was to the office of the doctor himself. Right where he could keep both doors open in order to keep an eye on the waiting room if needed, a suspicion that grew stronger when Abe spotted the twin door stoppers near the wall. There were only a few examining rooms, a set of swing doors, and then a door at the end of the hall marked as the supply closet, and that was the entire place.

So, the clinic took on patients who weren’t keen on giving their real names, and judging from the décor and the size of the place they either weren’t the kind of clientele to pay out a lot or the kind to care about the look of the place, although both was definitely an option. If this handwriting belonged to the doctor like Abe suspected, then he was doing desk work that could be put off on a receptionist or nurse. Either this Henrik guy worked alone or he couldn’t keep someone else around every night, and Abe was just self-aware enough not to start guessing why that might be.

Deciding to work his way from the back to the front, Abe checked the supply closet first and found nothing out of the ordinary, or at least as far as he could guess. It was a large room, with a cot set to one side with a neatly folded blanket on top of it, which combined with the lack of windows must have made it a decent enough back up plan if the doctor couldn’t get home before sunrise. There were bulk packages of standard medical equipment and first aid supplies, but it wasn’t like this place was equipped to be a pharmacy or anything. And no body bags or stash of refrigerated and conveniently labeled stolen blood packs, which was…probably fortunate, although Abe would have appreciated an excuse to wrap this case up early and get the information he wanted in exchange already.

But walking through the set of swing doors next showed that this place wasn’t just for taking care of the occasional burn or bruise. Abe took one look at the small area with its sinks and gowns and other prep supplies and the glass window that showed the surgery room beyond, and quickly backed out again.

There was nothing wrong about the room, it was thankfully clean and the most well-maintained place he had seen so far in the building, but the silent and waiting table in the center of a tiled and easily cleanable room surrounded by lights and waiting equipment gave his imagination far too much material to work with. The examination rooms also looked absolutely ordinary, although he tried not to think too hard about why someone would feel the need to use so much air freshener on top of the sharp scent of cleaning supplies when taking care of one room in particular.

Which just left the office of the doctor himself.

Despite being roughly the same size as any of the exam rooms, the space felt smaller thanks to the choice to add in shelves crammed with row after row of texts that hid any wall space that wasn’t already covered in framed diplomas and certificates, some of which looked a little sketchy to Abe. The desk was turned so that anyone sitting at it could see straight into the waiting room when both doors were open, again confirming Abe’s theory about the doctor running this place alone at least on occasion. Said desk had a stack of files waiting to be returned to the waiting cabinet, along with some random pieces of papers and other odds and ends.

A look at the shelves found a lot of medical texts, but Abe was surprised to find more than a few familiar titles. He pulled off one that was identical to one of his own, until he opened it and found that the doctor had taken a vastly different approach to his notes and underlining compared to the hunter’s when it came to, for example, the sections on the anatomy of kappas or the habits of nagas. While his own personal notes made corrections based on what he’d had to do to survive past cases, the doctor’s notes were about how to spot warning signs of blood loss or recommended hours of sleep.

Interesting, but not helpful.

Returning the book to the shelf, Abe turned to the desk and took a quick look through the files that were practically just begging for someone to take a peek. Again, any patient names or anything that could be used to identify them was reduced to a series of letters and numbers that meant nothing to Abe, but he could at least read the notes on suspected conditions and treatments. He even found “Burnt Arm” again, and more than enough to guess that at least half of these patients weren’t, in fact, human.

He closed the last file and made a conscious effort to forget what he read there as he tried to focus on what else was there on the doctor’s desk. A paperweight that looked like a spiral trapped in glass, a foam stress ball, some scattered notes that Abe skimmed over without actually reading until he realized that one of said notes was actually written on the back of a prescription note from a local hospital. The handwriting on the prescription was different but somehow just as terrible as the doctor’s, and while he couldn’t read that he could read the type on the header: “From the desk of Dr. Iplier.”

“Finally,” Abe muttered to himself as he made a note of the name and hospital in his own notebook. A lead, or at least a contact of Dr. Schneeplestein’s who might have something to say against or in defense of the vampire.

There was nothing else of interest on the desk, and Abe took just enough of a look in the file cabinet to determine that it was full of more confidential patient files. Even if he had the time to go through them all, he felt just uncomfortable enough about the idea to give it a pass for now. Ready to call it a day and get out of here before the rest of the city woke up and someone spotted him leaving, Abe did pause to check the drawers of the desk.

The top drawer was filed with an assortment of pens, pencils, paperclips, and other office supplies, and the one underneath was filled with spare paper and notepads and a few more files.

And, tucked away in the corner where Abe might have missed it if it hadn’t caught the light overhead, a small, round plastic container with a label on the side that proved to be blank when he pulled it out.

And resting inside was a misshapen, used bullet, blood still clinging to its silver surface.

---

Abe spent too long, checking the files, looking for any sign of the patient who had entered the clinic with that silver bullet inside of them, but there was nothing. Nothing, except for a scribbled note on one of the crumpled pieces of paper that littered the desk.

How to trace?

Nothing on its own, if Abe hadn’t recognized the names and numbers of some local weapons dealers, along with the contact information of the Institute that was hastily but not completely scribbled out.

Abe made his own copy of the list, although his hand was shaking so bad that he could barely read his own handwriting. When he stepped outside of the clinic a few minutes later, he had to lean against the brick wall outside and catch his breath in the dawning sunlight before he locked the door behind him and returned the spare key to its hiding place.

He should go back to the office, try to get some sleep, think about this, he knew all that. Just as much as he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all while the image of that used bullet was still in the back of his mind. At least, not until he was so exhausted that there wasn’t any other choice but to close his eyes.

Determined to at least get something useful done until then, Abe got back into his car and took a little drive.

Aside from the patients who had to be there early for surgery and the regular ER crowd, the hospital was relatively quiet when Abe walked in the front doors, feeling close to naked without his heavy hunter’s jacket and accompanying weapons that for some reason weren’t welcome in this establishment. Muttering under his breath and rolling up his shirtsleeves, Abe made his way to the reception desk only to stop short at the familiar face standing behind it.

“What the hell?” Abe said aloud before he could stop himself.

“Good morning,” Google answered, although his stare suggested anything but it. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Wha—Is that it? Is your client another doctor, is that what’s going on here?” Abe asked, and the Google unit’s frown only grew more pronounced.

“I do not understand what you are talking about. If you wish to make an appointment, please specify the doctor you are looking for. If this is an emergency, I can direct you to our Emergency Room where trained staff is standing by.”

“You don’t understand—” Abe sighed and ran a hand over his face before moving closer to the desk and lowering his voice. “I’m here about what we discussed yesterday, remember?”

Google looked him up and down behind his glasses, and Abe swore he could hear the hum of magic and electricity whirring behind that chest before he spoke again. “Your face does not match any of my records. Perhaps you are thinking of another magitek unit?”

“Look, if you can’t talk about it now, just say so, but don’t pretend you’re someone else just because you have on a different shirt now,” Abe said. The green shirt was literally the only difference he could see between this man and the one standing outside his office yesterday, and even then, they both had the same “G” on their chest for crying out loud. “I’m here to see a Dr. Iplier. Which way to his office?”

“…I would argue this point further, but I suspect that would be an inefficient use of my resources. Please wait while I check Dr. Iplier’s schedule,” he said before freezing, his eyes focusing on some point in the mid distance while Abe wondered if he had just been insulted. Just as Abe was thinking about checking a directory and hoping for the best once he found the right floor, Google suddenly came back to himself and said, “Dr. Iplier does not have an official appointment until 9 AM. However, he has noted that he is expecting someone to come by this morning and that I am to let them pass without question.”

“Fantastic,” Abe said, already questioning the security around here but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Can you tell me the way to his office?”

Hell of a name, Dr. Iplier. Part of Abe was tempted to ask if there was a relation, but he knew Mark had changed his name when he started acting and even then he only picked a name he liked the sound of. Still didn’t sit right with him, when he had to say it out loud after all these years.

Said doctor barely had time to look up at the knock before his office door opened and the hunter let himself in. There was only a slight pause before he asked, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, yeah I think maybe you can,” Abe said. “That Google thing up front, he work for you?”

“Google is considered to be hospital property, so in a sense, yes he does,” Dr. Iplier said, slowly putting his pen down. “Why do you ask? He hasn’t caused another...incident, has he?”

“Another one?” Abe paused at that but decided to press on with the train of thought already in progress. “Hospital property. So if someone who worked for the hospital, maybe a doctor perhaps, were to send that thing to, say, my office, you could do that?”

The doctor started to say something, stopped, and then started again. “I’m sorry, are you saying that you saw that Google outside of the hospital yesterday? Because that’s impossible, that magitek unit is bound to these premises, it literally cannot leave the building without a serious rewrite of its system.”

“…What?” Abe said, feeling the sudden rush of having figured all this out just as quickly evaporating with each passing second. “Wait, there really is…more than one…”

The doctor nodded with almost condescending patience while Abe felt he could have started this conversation off better by just going ahead and shooting himself in the foot. But one doctor using someone else to accuse another doctor of some vague and as yet undiscovered scandal just to put his practice under and maybe gain some new business, it would have been so simple.

“Yes, that Google was a donation, I believe, straight from the creator, but I really don’t know much more than that,” Dr. Iplier confessed. “You’ll have to ask someone else if you want to know more, magic and technology aren’t really my area of specialty. Now, unless you’re here about a medical issue and willing to make an appointment, would you kindly leave?”

His tone more than anything was enough to snap Abe out of his disappointment and straight back into his usual resting state of anger and accusations.

“How about if I have a medical question for someone else? One I think you might be familiar with,” Abe said, pacing slowly across the plush carpet of the doctor’s office which was much less cluttered than Dr. Schneeplestein’s and offered more space to move around and ignore the waiting chair opposite the doctor’s desk.

“When a vampire enters the city, they have to get through a whole rigamarole to get registered, right? Been that way for—a while, yeah?” Abe started, pausing only slightly when he tried to recall when that became a thing. He could remember clearly the whole upset that caused along with the other Bronson Institute-backed policies, but it all started to blend together after a while. “Public hospitals like this one are involved in that process, right?”

“That’s…correct,” Dr. Iplier answered, his tone and expression clearly showing his confusion at trying to piece together how this was connected to Abe’s other questions. “Mercy Green is one of several hospitals that are part of the sponsorship program. I can’t speak of the number, of course, but we do have some…participants who are scheduled to come by and pick up their rations.”

“You do know you can just say blood, right?” Abe said. “Where’s that blood come from, again?”

“Well, we do have some donors who come through us to give to certain participants in a safe, controlled environment, but the majority of it comes from recently deceased people who had already agreed to be donors, similar to how we get organ donations. We can’t use that blood for living patients, but the vampire immune system is capable of handling it.”

Abe nodded along like he was listening, but this was all stuff he already knew. His real focus was on the doctor, the way he sometimes hesitated before choosing the “appropriate” word, the way his eyes watched the hunter but at one point flickered downward and to his left. Moving on the pretense of examining the doctor’s license on the wall (from Nicaragua, a fact which on a normal probably would have earned a few questions on its own), Abe turned around and caught a glimpse of the mini fridge under the doctor’s desk.

Interesting.

“Why exactly are you asking me about this?” Dr. Iplier asked. “This is all public information; you can literally find all this out by looking online or attending one of the Institute’s outreach events. And I would hope that a hunter would know this.”

Abe couldn’t resist glancing down, wondering what had given him away with all of his usual gear back in his car. Deciding to brush it off for now, he answered, “I like to brush up on what I think I know every now and then. For example, I know registered vamps are limited on how much they can ‘withdraw.’ But what I want to know is if there are any signs that a vampire might be sucking a little off the top.”

The doctor’s expression became very fixed, and after a second to hear to replay what he just said, Abe quickly corrected himself, “I mean, what’s it look like if someone’s drinking more than they’re allowed?”

“…Right,” Dr. Iplier said, after a cough to clear his throat. “Are you familiar with the feeling of coming off of a hangover?”

“We’re acquainted,” Abe answered. Acquainted, lived together with so long that he might as well be common law married to the feeling, same thing.

“Based on the way they describe it, one step above that is where your typical vampire is at while on the current ration. Just enough to keep them from, and again not my choice of words, going ‘feral.’ With the right support network and regular rations, they can control their impulse to feed, but in my experience, most turn to something else to take the edge off, such as caffeine or alcohol or binge-watching sitcoms, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds like a recovering addict waiting to snap,” Abe pointed out. “One missed ration and it’s over.”

“Unfortunately, yes. That’s what comes of keeping people at the bare minimum to survive,” Dr. Iplier said, and Abe saw the small wince around his eyes as the doctor immediately regretted his words. “That is, I can see why there are campaigns to change the arrangement, and it’s less surprising when a vampire turns to alternative methods for acquiring additional blood. In that case, I suspect the obvious signs would be…more energy, less reliance on coping mechanisms, greater tolerance for typical weaknesses such as garlic or sunlight in limited doses, such as being able to go out on cloudy days, that sort of thing. Depending on the quality and how much of an illegal supply they have access to, they’re also more likely to forget about their official rations, which makes a registered vampire failing to show up a huge red flag for multiple and equally bad reasons.”

The doctor fidgeted with the pen in his hand before firmly placing it down on the desk and sitting back in his chair. “Fortunately, I’m proud to say that this hospital has had a 100% success rate in keeping our registered undead healthy and a non-issue for Institute…employees such as yourself.”

Abe’s palm hit the doctor’s desk with a loud smack and honestly a bit of a sting, but the hunter didn’t allow himself to wince as he leaned toward the doctor and said, “I may be a hunter, but I’m not with the Institute. Believe it or not, I have standards, and I need to know if—if I can…”

He trailed off, distracted by a scent he had failed to notice before, one that he was quickly able to trace to the bottle on the corner of the doctor’s desk. Despite being sealed, the smell of the liquid inside had managed to penetrate out, and just a whiff of it was enough to completely derail any of Abe’s remaining thoughts.

“…Hunter?” Dr. Iplier prompted once the silence went on a little too long, his eyes nervously tracing out the bead of sweat that had appeared on the hunter’s brow while his mind seemed to be miles, or decades, away.

“Sorry, that’s…I knew a witch who made a burn cream that—it just smells the same, I…” Abe’s words wandered out, his mind back on the small bottle he left on the District Attorney’s desk all those years ago.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be surprised if more than a few of our medicines came from that kind of source,” Dr. Iplier admitted as he picked up the bottle and shook the contents inside. “I could see why a hunter would use it, it’s certainly strong stuff.”

Strong enough to heal silver burns on a werewolf. Abe swallowed, remembering the color draining from the District Attorney’s face, their hand pressed to their side.

“Are you okay?” The doctor’s voice sounded far away as Abe’s mind went back to that house, to the used silver bullet in Schneeplestein’s office, to his promise to get them out of there, to the blast of the gun firing and his own chest burning with each heartbeat he shouldn’t have.

It was the knock at the office door that snapped Abe out of it, or at least gave hive him the sense to get out of here now before he said or did something he would regret. How long had it been since he’d had any sleep? And add that little binge at the house yesterday before keeping watch in a car all night, and it was becoming more and more obvious to Abe that coming here was a stupid mistake. Mumbling something about needing to keep an appointment, Abe yanked open the door just in time to surprise the young man standing on the other side, his hand raised to knock again.

“Oh, uh, sorry, I didn’t realize someone else was in here,” he said. “I’m just here to pick up something—"

“Don’t worry about it, I was just leaving,” Abe muttered as he brushed by, only to pause and look again once he was out in the hallway. “…Do I know you?”

Young guy, bright eyes under the brim of that dad cap he was wearing even if they were ringed with dark hollows that looked like Abe’s own bags, jeans, t-shirt, he looked like every other kid Abe saw around these days, but he couldn’t shake the feeling even as the guy shrugged.

“Don’t think so, unless you’ve seen my vlogs?” he answered, although his tone suggested he didn’t think Abe fit in the usual audience. A good guess, since Abe didn’t even know what a vlog was.

“Never mind,” Abe muttered as he shook his head and kept walking, eager to get some fresh air.

Chase looked over his shoulder at the hunter and then back at Dr. Iplier, who could only muster a half-hearted shrug before inviting him in.

((End of Part 8. Thank for you reading, and thank you all for being patient with me!

Link to Part 9: Preparations.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #monster hunter au #abe the detective #traces of silver #googleplier #dr. iplier #dr. schneeplestein #for the record #practically everything abe did in this part is super illegal #terrible role model

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overtureofchaos · 4 years ago

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When Things Change

I was asked by several people to post this one shot on Tumblr. It is also on my Wattpad profile. This is my first attempt at a Y/N one shot, so I hope you enjoy it.

Plot: You and Carisi have been roommates for years, but after a near-death experience, everything changes.

Starts after the events of 18x7

Content: sex, violence, mentions of rape. All mild.

As you stood looking down at the pregnancy test, your stomach flipped more that you thought it ever could. Throwing up in the morning was one thing but this was where the rubber hit the road. It was not just some bug; you had a baby in you. His baby. You could ask yourself how it happened but at the end of the day you knew full well how it happened. Though you and your roommate had long been friends with benefits, mostly on bad nights or heavy cases or around test days, Sonny had already passed the bar so for him the super stressful school days were over. For you though, you were still plugging along trying hard to get your nursing degree. Thankfully you were in clinicals now, but the days were long and sometimes unforgiving. Back when he was still in school you two would have long nights studying and grilling each other. Sometimes those nights would end with a romp but Sonny always used a condom. Not the last time though. Something shifted that day. Not that you two were in love or anything like that, but something in his attitude and mentality.

The day had been normal for you. School, and the afternoon at the coffee shop. That didn’t pay much and with reduced hours, there was a need for more money. You could not let Sonny pay for everything so you took on a side gig in the evenings that seemed easy enough. Before the night in question, Sonny told you about this case where one of the possible witnesses was a professional cuddler. It sounded so ludacris but you kept thinking to yourself it was definitely something you could do and you found her services online, went for an interview and was hired. The job paid well and currently did not have any negative effects on your life. The extra money was nice and because Sonny was always so busy at work he never questioned where your money for bills was coming from. You were not doing anything illegal or even explicit.

Sometimes his days were very long and he would come back tired or cranky or not in the mood to even conversate. That seemed to be more often than usual now. He’d expressed early on a crush on his partner, which was fine because even though the two of you had sex you were not in any way romantically involved. There was no heart in it, just bodies - just sex. He’d had some god-awful cases over the past year or so - someone on his squad died, they’d chased two different serial killers, a cold case serial rapist… the work he did was terrifying but no matter what you two remained the best of friends and could always lean on each other if you just needed to vent.

That particular night, he came in later in the afternoon. Hearing the door, you yelled out but no one responded so you got a little freaked. “Sonny? That better be you!” Nothing. Poking your head out from your room slowly to access the situation you saw your closest friends ever standing in the living room nearly catatonic. How he got home was beyond you. There was blood on his face and in his hairline. Slowly you approached with your hands up and out just in case he wasn’t really connected to reality. Knowing his job was dangerous was something you had long ago settled with. He ran the risk everyday of getting hurt or killed but he loved his job and he was great at it. You could do nothing but respect him for the risks he took day to day to keep both you and the city safe. The closer you got you could see there was blood on his shirt and tie and right on him there was something in his hair. Being a nursing student that had considered working in an ER you recognized the mass as brain matter.

Your expression dropped away. “Holy shit, Sonny. What happened to you?” He did not answer you. Slowly you eased him onto the coffee table. Normally you would yell at him for sitting on the coffee table but all the years you two had lived together you knew his favorite places to sit were tables. Easily three times a week you would snap at him about the perfectly good sofa he could be resting his ass on. He would just smirk like a dick and stay on the table. Or he would stand and thrust his hands into his pockets. The man was happier about pockets than any woman ever could be. He’d flaunt them like nothing else. Unsure what to do you knew he would have been checked out at the scene of whatever happened; surely this was work related. Either way you went to the kitchen and filled a bowl with warm water and grabbed a rag to clean him up. He just sat there staring out the window not responding to anything you were doing. He did, however, let you lead him.

After cleaning his face up, you walked him to his bedroom and started removing his clothes. To hopefully arouse some interest in his current situation, with every button you spoke out what you were doing and rare as it was, you were thankful he was not wearing a three-piece today of all days. You made him sit on the bed and removed his shoes and shimmied him out of his slacks and gently forced him back on the bed. He still had not said a single word. Because you’d lived together for years, you did have the numbers of everyone in his unit and thought very seriously about reaching out to his lieutenant, but if this was not work related you didn’t want to get him in trouble. Sonny would need to tell you what to do. He just laid there, so you left him and took his clothing to clean out any blood and hopefully salvage the shirt and tie. About an hour passed before you decided to check back on him. He had not moved an inch.

The only thing you could think to do was give him some human interaction. Your newly discovered cuddling skills came into play so you stripped down to your tank and undies - to match his attire - and crawled onto the bed in front of him, letting him be the big spoon. It was a good thing no one was working that night because you fell asleep to the sound of his breath steadying on your neck. About maybe four in the morning, you finally felt him stir. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer and before long he was rolling you toward him so he could see your face. He hesitated but finally spoke, choking a little on his words, they were rife with emotions.

“Y/N, thank you. You didn’t have to do all that. I mean, I appreciate all of it.”

Clearly he comprehended what you had done for him so it was nice to see he hadn’t had a complete mental break. “Sonny, what happened?” You whispered softly, cupping his cheek. “You had blood on you and, uh, brain?” How do you say that without setting him off again, but the two of you have always been able to speak candidly with each other.

“We had to go to Jersey. This cop had kidnapped a girl and we knew he had her but it was just Lieu and I. I found her in the house but he was in there too and he, uh, he put a gun right to my head. I thought he was going to kill me, Y/N. He maybe would have if Lieu hadn’t shown up when she did. No hesitation, she shot him. In the head. I was able to stay composed when I was with her but the moment I was alone, I couldn’t help but realize I could have died today. And if Mike hadn’t died? I don’t know that Lieu would have been so vigilant, ya know?”

Hearing what he’d been through you could not help but feel those similar emotions. He was still distraught and with you he didn’t have to save face. There was no need for that squad room bravado here. He could be as stripped and bare as he needed to be. He had always allowed the same with you. As close as you were in this moment you were not expecting what happened next. The two of you had sex before but it was always playful, why-the-hell-not kind of sex. It was never romantic and he’d always used to condom. Hell, after you always went to separate bedrooms, so even lying in each other's arms was different, but maybe that contributed. First he kissed you, then he took over and you let him. It wasn’t just sex that night. You felt like you’d made love but never would you admit that to Sonny’s face.

You would; however, tell your closest workmate (B/F) what happened. They knew that you and Sonny fooled around every once in a while and also knew that you cared about him. When you want more from someone, it is usually easier for someone else to see than yourself. Denial is an excellent camouflage. The weeks after things change a little between the two of you. There was a lot more touching and a lot more texts making sure each other were okay. But there was no more sex and you started to think it was just different that one night and things would eventually feel normal again. Pushing down your growing feelings for your roommate was nothing new. That was until you started feeling queasy in the morning.

At work, you walked straight up to B/F and pulled them aside. “I think I’m pregnant.”

B/F just stared at you blankly for a minute before responding. “Like with a baby?”

You couldn’t help but smack them in the arm. “What? Of course with a baby. I can’t have a giraffe. JC, Mary and Joseph, B/F. What am I gonna do?”

“I am assuming this is from your passionate romp with Son-Son? I mean you haven’t said you’ve been with anyone else since the night he almost died, right?” B/F could be a real ass sometimes but no matter what they kept things real. “I mean, Detective Hottie would be a good dad, right? You’re not thinking you’d, you know?” Twirling their finger around insinuating an abortion.

“What? No! Come on, but I mean, I haven’t taken a test yet, so I still need to confirm but I have to do it first thing in the morning. You break before me today. If I give you some cash will you run to the bodega and grab me a test? Please?”

All B/F could do was laugh. “You got it, Y/N. I would do anything for you. Besides, I want to know so I need to be on this journey with you, girl.”

Now, test in hand - more precisely, test in shaking hand, that big plus sign was screaming at you. You could hear Sonny in the kitchen making coffee and probably breakfast. Swallowing you buried the test in the trash, sent B/F a quick text saying it was positive, and then hopped in the shower. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Sonny to come in while you were in there or you when he was, but given there was that screaming gem in the garbage your body tensed the moment you heard him walk in. “Hey, Y/N, where is my green dress shirt? The darker one. Didn’t it come back from the cleaners?”

Relaxing a little you continued to shower,”Yes, it should be in your closest. I picked it up yesterday.”

“It’s not though, I already looked.”

Knowing how out of it you were the day before you bit into your lip thankful Sonny could not see your face. “Check my closet then? I mean, I could have accidentally hung it in mine. I’m not perfect.”

You heard him leave and then yell out to you though you could not make out what he said before he returned. “Bingo. Wow, you know, I never realized how organized you are. I like it.” Next thing I know he is pulling the curtain back and smiling like an idiot. Your first reaction was to cover yourself knowing full well he’d not only seen but explored every part of your body. Still casual sex versus this you were taken aback. Furling your brow you tried not to smile, “Can I help you, detective?” So busy looking at his face you didn’t see he wasn’t dressed until he climbed in the shower with you.

“What the hell, Sonny?” He pulled you close to him and the skin on skin contact made your breath catch. He wasn’t some big strapping hunk all muscle bound, but he was perfect in so many ways. In a suit he looked skinny, but there was enough there to hold onto. There was just enough chest hair to not be gross - not overly hairy and not under hairy like a boy. Lanky suited him. Only 6 feet tall he had the longest thighs you’d ever seen on a man from hip to knee. You thought he was well proportioned everywhere that mattered.

He turned you around and pulled your hair off to the side to gain access to your neck. Even though there were moderate grunts of protest your body was fully responding to his touch. Your back arched and you could feel him hard against you while his hand gripped your hip and forced you closer, his other found your rock hard nipples and started playing with them just before you had to brace yourself against the shower wall. He was in you, kissing and nibbling on your back and neck and with each of his thrusts forward you rocked back in turn. His had left your nipple and made its way down to your clit, sure it was pulsating under his lengthy fingers. The two of you never had shower sex before but if this is what it was like you were willing every day. Holding you close as your body let go, the orgasm he gave you made you nearly collapse. He was soon to follow and it took a few minutes for either of you to recover.

You turned to him with a shit-eating grin and lightly smacked his chest. “What the fuck was that all about? I mean, I am not complaining but it seems out of character. You okay?”

All he could do was kiss you. “You were taking too long and I need to get ready for work too here. I mean, if you’re going to be a shower hog,” he shrugged and pursed his lips as he forced you to change positions with him with a laugh. Now he was under the water, soap in hand.

“So being a shower hog means I get that? Geez, Carisi, I will hog the shower every day then. You aren’t buying yourself free bathroom time.” You returned the laughter and got out of the shower trying your hardest to not glance at the waste basket. Had he seen it? Is that why he was so fucking giddy? Either way, you had class and were gone before he was even out of the shower. The day was long and trying to decide how to tell him was the hardest thing you’d ever encountered. This was a life changer. Kids. Sonny was a proud uncle and godfather, but a father? Like children of his own? On top of that with a woman he lived with and did not love. What would his mother say? Or worse, think of you? Certainly Mrs. Carisi would be overjoyed to have another grandbaby and one from her only son, no less, but Sonny’s dad was a jerk. The two of you spent many nights over the years talking about their parents and even meeting each other’s families, friends and co-workers. People found it hard to believe there was never more between the two of you but aside from very casual sex things had been very much a friendship until he almost got killed.

Walking into work there was definitely a bit of a pep in your step that morning. Had you only taken the pregnancy test, chances were you would feel queasy all day long and not just these morning blahs created by the growing baby Carisi. But Sonny was completely on point this morning and that made you smile enough for B/F to notice. Immediately they came over to you, “Girl, you are glowing! Tell me, tell me. I mean I saw your text but he must have been happy as hell for you to be floating like this!”

Their giddiness was infectious. “Stop it!” You giggled as you pulled them into the back room. “No, I didn’t tell Sonny at all. I think I would have, but he was in a mood this morning. He came into the bathroom several times when I was showering which isn’t out of the ordinary, but he crawled into the shower with me and damn, B/F” You clutched your chest and took a deep breath.

B/F raised a brow. “The shower? Like damn, what has gotten into him lately? He can’t get enough of you girl. It’s that man's prowess. He knows you’re pregnant even if he doesn’t know it. You’re sexier to him and he can’t get enough of you. But seriously, when are you gonna tell him for real?” That was not a question you had an answer for.

Thankfully, in the nicest sense, Sonny caught a case that kept him working, something about a nanny kidnapping the boy she watched because she didn’t like the woman she worked for. That was scary because there were so many nannies in New York City. Would you two have to pay for a nanny? Would that be a question? Your mind said you were not fixing this. There was a baby in existence and that child deserved to live and even if Sonny didn’t love you the way a man should love a child’s mother he would certainly love his kid. That man was way too Catholic to want anything other than the child. Your biggest concern right now was did he already know? You’d thrown the trash down the shoot and the test was still in there. Sonny was just acting weird.

When he finally came home you were sitting at the table doing school work. You said hello but kept studying, trying to get a feel for his mood. Jumping up and running to greet him had never been your way and a couple of crazy encounters shouldn’t change that. He set down his keys, badge and gun; took off his coat and then his wallet. This was his routine and nothing had changed. He was telling you how the case went and how they found the boy safe and unharmed and it was crazy how far people would go to prove they were right. They could break every law and still not feel deserving of the consequences. Then onto the couch. “Hey, Y/N, come here a sec, would ya?”

Tapping your pencil on your notebook, there was seriousness in his voice that raised concern. So you walked around the couch expecting to take his seat on the coffee table but instead he pulled you onto his lap, forcing your legs apart so you were straddling him. Your back arched again. All these years and though you’d found him attractive, these past few weeks were different. Sexiness came from how affectionate he was, or could be, and the man oozed it. He pulled you in for a kiss before talking. “We’ve been doing that a lot lately. Everything okay? I mean it sounded like you guys did good. Saved the child?”

“Yeah, I mean, life is pretty good. I’ve just been thinking. You and me, I know we go way back but here recently I can’t help but think we’re really good together, right? I mean, you could see it if you tried right? Being, maybe, more than just friends? Just roommates?”

That shot a jolt of fear through you. And concern. Had he discovered the test and now he was just trying to do what was right? It was one thing to know you were undoubtedly falling head over heels for this guy but to entrap him with a baby was a totally different scenario. He had every right to be a part of his child’s life but should never be forced into a loveless relationship and neither of you had ever professed your love. Great sex was not love and sadly, making babies together was not love either. Even though he could probably see that expression of fear all over your face, you tried hard to play it off. “Seriously, we share a couple of earth shaking orgasms and now you want to take a stab at forever, Sonny? Don’t be so mean.”

“I am serious,” he said, visibly hurt by your words. Almost that look a man would have if he proposed and then was rejected. Had you made him feel rejected?

“Come on, Sonny, how long have we been friends. You cannot be serious. That is just, well, it’s a little ridiculous. And insulting.” You feverishly were trying to protect your heart here, not knowing if this was the right time to spring the baby on him or even figure out if he knew. If you had to guess you were fishing for the latter. As you started to rise off his lap, what came next was not expected in the least. His nostrils flared a little and despite not being a big, bulky man, he was strong. He gripped your arms and threw you off to the side, landing on the couch. He’d actually hurt you. Was he so butt hurt that you didn’t take his seriously that he was willing to hurt you?

“Ouch, Sonny, that fucking hurt! You asshole!”

But he was up and on his feet now pacing. “That hurt? You landed on the sofa, Y/N. And, and, I’m an asshole? What about you? I put it out there, my heart on the line and you what, you just laugh at me like this is a big fucking joke? Good enough to live with, good enough to fuck but nothing else, huh? You don’t think I could take care of you?” He was screaming and you should have appeared visibly frightened to him. Something you think would make him stop but the only explanation you had in your head was he knew you were pregnant and this rejection was too much to handle. Sonny had yelled before around you but never laid hands on you and even though he hadn’t hit you your arms were still throbbing from his grip.

Dumbstruck, your own anger rose to the surface. “One second you are telling me you think we’d be great together and the next you’re tossing me around like afucking ragdoll because, what? I didn’t think you were serious? I deserved for you to lash out at me like that? You’re acting like your dad, Dominick.” You spit those words out with way more vitriol that you’d planned. Sonny tried so hard to be anything but Dominick Carisi the Senior and yet here you were fighting with him because his temper got the better of him. His face grayed. If not taking him seriously about a relationship hit a nerve, that statement must have set all of them on fire.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” He took a step forward and stopped but his finger was pointing at you and there were tears building in both your eyes. He looked pissed still but more hurt than upset.

Trying your damnedest to stand your ground. “You really think I would be okay with this behavior? You don’t love me, Sonny. You picked me up and threw me like I was nothing. I don’t give a shit what kind of man I thought you were, I can’t have this baby. And have to deal with that temper, all the time? Is that what this is? Like, make me love you and then you just turn into your father? I will not lie down for you. Fuck you. I’m leaving. I’m gonna go to B/F’s place. You can stay here and wonder what the hell just happened. I’m out.” You stormed off to your room, shaking and crying and could not find your phone before you realized it was still on the table with all your books. “Fuck,” you muttered. You two had never had an argument. Not once in nearly five years. Trying your best to calm down you pulled your gym bag out of the closet and broke down in tears.

Sonny, on the other hand, was now standing alone in the living room trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. He’d thought all day about you and how there was a shift and about your past together and it all seemed so crazy that he had not realized sooner he’d fallen for you. Amanda had teased him before about it but no matter how many times he heard it from other people he’d never been able to admit it. But then he almost died and thinking deeply about the people he loved or even the people that would be upset had he been killed, you were right there in the forefront, even before his mother and sisters. The detective part of his brain kicked into overdrive. On the way home he’d worked himself up thinking there was no way that a girl like you could ever love a guy like him. The sex was great and really, everything else seemed great too, so why not see where it could go. Getting angry was the last thing he’d thought about and yet here he was exploding with emotion and so raw.

You’d equated him to his father, which is the last man in the world Sonny ever wanted to be compared to. You overreacted and said he’d thrown you when all he was trying to do was get you off him and if he did that too harshly he was sorry, but his heart was breaking because he swear you’d said something about a baby? And not just a generic statement but the words ‘this baby’ as in an already existing child? And then the comparison to his father? That was a low blow but was it because you were pregnant? His confusion was too much. Taking a breath, a big one, he went to your room and knocked on the door before opening it.

You were curled on the bed crying. Sonny walked around, hands up and started talking like he would to a rape victim at work. “We need to talk. And you have every right to be mad at me, Y/N, you do, but you can’t shut me out like this. Not after what you said out there.”

Eyes burning you found the courage to look at his face. “I know, Sonny. It was unfair of me to compare you to your father, and I am sorry. But I have never seen you that angry and you have never treated me that way. I am totally caught off guard by it.” Sitting up, you grabbed a pillow and pulled it close to your body, squeezing it like a child would a teddy bear. “What is going on with you? Lately you have been so different.”

“It’s not obvious?” He asked, confused.

“Obvious? The only thing obvious here is that we just had a major blow up and I am not sure we can come back from this.”

“Don’t you think we have to? I mean we should, right?” He nodded in your direction but you were not putting two and two together.

“What do you mean we have to?”

Sonny had always been really great and knowing when a woman was pregnant given just how much time he’d spent around women. His baby sisters, his partner - every time they were pregnant, Sonny knew. How had he missed it with you?

“Y/N, you said out there, I can’t have this baby… you’re pregnant. And you didn’t tell me? Were you going to? Cause I am so confused.”

There would be no way Sonny would miss the color leaving your face. You said that out loud? Holy shit. You were upset and not thinking, but that was not the way you wanted Sonny to hear about it. Somehow you thought you would not have to tell him, that he would know and just ask you and then you could answer honestly. Instead, you spewed it out in a hateful, over-dramatic way because you didn’t think he could seriously ever love you despite how much he had changed over the past few weeks. You loved Sonny and deep down you knew it and were too afraid to admit it and then finding out you were having his baby you also knew you didn’t feel worthy enough to be the mother of his child.

Choking back your emotions you began to speak slowly and as steadily as you possibly could. “Sonny, I, um…”

He moved to sit on the bed with you, calm as ever, the man you knew you loved. “I am so sorry I scared you. That is not who I am, Y/N and I hope you know that, but this is big and we do need to at least talk about this. I mean, you didn’t mean it did you? You wouldn’t get rid of the baby, would you?”

“No! It’s just, I found out last week the morning you came into the shower. You were acting so unlike you and I thought you’d seen the box or the test and I am still not sure why you haven’t asked about it? I just thought you were acting differently because you knew. And then you’re asking me out there if we should be a thing and that we work great together and I felt like because you had to know that you were only asking me because I am pregnant and not because you really love me or want to be with me or us. Then you got angry and I have never seen you so angry, not once and I must be the reason right? Me or the baby or both?” By time you were done with the hysterical rant you were practically out of breath.

All Sonny could do was smile. He felt like a total ass for allowing his temper to get the better of him. “Did I hurt you out there? I mean, I know I hurt you, but are you hurt, like needing to go to the hospital hurt?” All you could do was nod no. “Okay, I want to put it out there that I didn’t know. I have been acting so differently because when Cole tried to kill me, my world changed. I have been shot at and I know the job is dangerous, but literally my life flashed before my eyes. And on the way home, once I was alone, I had time to think about everything I would be leaving behind and how much I would miss you. And then you took care of me and I realized how you really always have. You work two jobs,” he smiled that beautiful, crooked smile, “Yeah, don’t think I don’t know about the cuddling thing. Either way. You pick up my dry cleaning, you were my biggest cheerleader when I was at Fordham. You’re everything, Y/N. So, yeah, things were different that night and I wasn’t sure how to tell you without freaking you out.”

You started laughing through the falling tears. His words were sweet and you knew that moment of upset was just as much a misunderstanding as it was a shock to both you. Sonny was not Dominick - never had been, never would be. This whole thing was a moment in time, two people who’d fallen in love and were too afraid to admit it. “Our child is going to be born talking, isn’t it?”

You both laughed. The tears in his eyes were those of joy. He pointed and you nodded before he crawled up on the bed the rest of the way, beside you, and took you into his arms.

“I love you, Y/N. I promise I will never, ever lash out like that again. Will you promise me something though?”

Looking up into his eyes, “I love you too, Sonny. And I am sorry I didn’t just tell you. What do you want me to promise?”

“That the next time there is something THIS big, you tell me?”

“I promise.”

#my writing #sonny carisi #y/n #one shot #svu

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rosmarinys · 4 years ago

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touch like a balm .2

it took me way too long to write this chapter i can only apologise um yes my pushing daisies au continues !!

"So, I bring can bring back the dead, but I also run a bakery, and I feel like the latter should get more attention, if I'm completely honest."

or the one where Ash runs a bakery, Dotty is trying to be the world's greatest private eye by cheating, and Iqra just wants to know what's going on.

read on ao3

chapter two – the bend of your knee, i’m undone

Once, when Ash was a kid, she dug her toes into the sand whenever her family went to the beach and spread her arms out the entire length her five year old body would allow her to.

Kheerat had stopped next to her, gangly as he started to enter his teens, and asked what on earth she was doing.

“I’m trying to hug the sky!” she had exclaimed.

“Ok,” he said, in a tone that suggested that he didn’t understand at all but he continued on anyway. “Why are your feet buried in the sand?”

Ash sighed as if the answer was obvious, which to her it was. “The sky is massive, Kheer, I might fall over when she hugs back, so this – ” she gestured to her feet with a broad sweep, “ – is so I don’t.”

There was a lengthy pause in which he just stared at her and she stared right back. He seemed like he was about to shrug and leave her be when he saw something over her shoulder and his face shifted. She turned around and she can see her mother lower her eyebrow before she turned to continue unpacking the towels, Vinny swaddled against her chest with a bright orange fabric. Ash doesn’t mind Vinny, he’s cute and seems to think she’s the most interesting person ever whenever she appears in his view over his cot but he doesn’t know how to use the potty and Ash, rather proud of having been using the potty for years now, just thinks it’s unforgiveable.

“Need some help?” Kheerat asked and Ash whipped around and saw he had buried his feet down to his ankle and was smiling at her and Ash thought she was right when she said he was her best friend in her assignment in class yesterday, this was so much better than just teaching her to ride a bike.

Ash grinned and reached over and clasped his hand in hers and they spread out their arms and caught the sky.

(Years later, Ash visits a beach and digs her toe in the sand and tries to imagine holding Kheerat’s hand again.

She can’t.)

Ash knew that when she came into work after not sleeping at all the previous night, that Keegan was going to notice something was wrong straight away but she’s still annoyed at how transparent she must be.

“Alright,” Keegan says, pulling a stool out from her counter in the middle of the kitchen before sitting on it, arms folded on the counter and eyes trained on Ash’s face, “What’s wrong?”

Ash stubbornly keeps her gaze on the dough she’s kneading rougher than she should. “Nothing,” she intones.

“Bullshit,” Keegan snaps. She’s feels her hands tense on the bag of flour she’s reaching for and forces herself to loosen up, but knows he caught it anyway. “It’s five in the morning and you’re being cruel to that innocent dough.” He cracks a smile, she can see it in her peripheral but she stays silent and it slips away. “Seriously, Ash. We don’t do secrets.”

Ash digs her fingers into her dough, giving up on kneading, distantly noting that it’s ruined and she’ll have to start over, and that’s twenty minutes she’ll be behind schedule and that’ll hold back orders and she might have to tell Old Mrs Kerry that she can’t have her usual and won’t that just be awful and –

“Ash!” Keegan’s voice right next to her ear makes Ash jump and she realises she’s crushed her dough and it’s all wet and so is her face and she’s crying and making an awful keening noise in the back of her throat. “Christ,” Keegan says, aghast and yanks her into a hug and Ash laughs wetly into his shoulder because this feels familiar in an awful way.

Several minutes past and distantly Ash knows they need to get back to work soon but finds that she doesn’t want to leave the comfort of Keegan’s arms. She feels eight again, back when she used to throw her arms around Keegan’s middle all the time and he would catch her every time. How affectionate she used to be, now she feels like she’s never been touched before.

“I brought someone back last night,” Ash blurts out, but she says it like ‘I Brought someone Back last night,’ because there’s significance in the perfectly regular statement and Keegan picks up on it right away.

He tenses with surprise but quickly loosens up again. “Right,” he murmurs. His hand is on the back of her neck, thumb pressed into the nape, just like he always does, his other hand pressed flat on her upper back. “Right,” he whispers again, almost to himself, his fingers twitching. “Who?”

Ash takes a deep breath to steel herself. “Iqra Ahmed.” It feels like a bullet in her mouth.

Keegan’s hands spasm. “Iqra? As in the woman who comes in here once a month? As in the woman our financial advisor? That Iqra?”

Ash pulls out of the hug and takes her hair out of the bun it was in so she can re-tie it tighter, carefully avoiding Keegan’s incredulous look. “Yes, that Iqra,” Ash replies, crossing her arms across her chest defensively when her hair is back up again, the corners of her scalp feeling tighter and finding a strange solace in the sensation.

Keegan half laughs, dragging his hands down his face. “Fuck, ok. Ok, so many questions, um, how did she, uh, die?”

“Hit and run,” Ash replies, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

All the air leaves Keegan’s lungs and he looks away, mirroring Ash’s pose and she sees his jaw work. She suddenly wishes that she had delivered the news gentler, considering this is a mutual friend she’s talking about and suddenly wants to kick herself.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, and Ash can only nod in agreement. “How did she react?”

Ash feels her fingers twitch just like Keegan’s did and spares a moment to reflect on how much they mirror each other. “React?” she echoes.

Keegan turns to look her square in the eye. “To being brought back to life?” he clarifies, and it sounds like a challenge.

Ash glances away as she answers, takes stock of how she left her flour a little too close to the edge of the counter to be completely comfortable. “I don’t know.” A weighted pause as she feels Keegan’s stare burn into the side of her head. She should push the flour further back into the centre of the counter. “I ran away as soon as I touched her.”

“Fuck,” Keegan repeats and looks as if he wants to give her another hug but doesn’t and she could cry with how much he knows her. “Why?”

“A Mitchell killed one of Dotty’s victims. Or at least was involved. I found out maybe an hour earlier,” Ash replies, and looks over at Keegan who looks like he’s ready to stop asking Ash questions now and would actually rather lie down for several hours. “So they’re close by, which also might mean – ”

“-That your family might be close by as well,” Keegan finishes and lets out a big gust of a sigh. He scratches the back of his head, thinking. “I mean, it doesn’t necessarily mean that, the Mitchells work with other people and so does – your family.”

Ash shrugs, the conclusion could be true but it doesn’t feel right, she doesn’t want to say something cheesy like she can sense that her family are close by but something is gnawing at her gut, telling her that she hasn’t seen them in four years; such a record was never going to last. She knows her mother, to let her freedom stretch too far is to let Ash believe she has real control over her life.

Keegan stares at the side of her head for a few moments before shaking his head. “Well, this is a lot to process so I’m going to go to my office and stare at a wall for several hours.”

“Usual day for you then?” Ash snarks, familiarity settling on her shoulders again. This she can do, poke fun at Keegan. It is as natural as hugs were for her at eight.

Keegan rolls his eyes, murmurs, “Yeah, yeah,” but before he leaves, he pushes her flour into the centre of the table.

Ash watches him leave and thinks that her heart is going to break a rib from how full it is.

This is how it is: Keegan is Ash’s witness, just like she’s his.

He’s seen it all, all of her – her crouched over dead bugs with a stopwatch at seven years old, her scuffing her shoe in the dirt while she complained about her mother on the swings at their old local park at fourteen years old, her standing shivering on his doorstep with stiches along her scalp and a broken arm at eighteen years old.

She’s seen all of him – him rolling in the dirt while giggling at her squealing over a worm at five years old, him crying into her shoulder after a week of ignoring her after they had a fight about the rough crowd he started hanging out with at fifteen years old, his hands warm on her cheeks as he cupped her face and told her that they should open a pie shop just like they always talked about at nineteen years old.

It’s hard sometimes, remembering, because so much of it hurts and Ash feels it all like splinters in her skin, sharp memories that dig in. But so much of it is Keegan, Keegan grinning at her, Keegan pressing his hand into the back of her neck and grounding her, Keegan punching her lightly in the shoulder.

(It’s nice, Ash thinks. Remembering when it’s Keegan.)

Ash thinks that the most bizarre friendship she’s ever seen unfold is the one between Dotty and Bobby. Currently, they are sitting in a booth together, Dotty chewing on her strawberry pie (Keegan got Ash more strawberries on time, she informed Dotty and pretended that she didn’t see how soft Dotty’s face had gotten) while Bobby circles something on her newspaper and gestures with her pen while she nods.

Ash remembers when they first met, two years ago, she had disappeared into the back to quickly grab her coat at the beginning of her and Dotty’s situation (Situation with a capital ‘s’ because it was a Thing), and when she had come out, she had seen Dotty frowning at Bobby as he smiled shyly at her, offering his hand while introducing himself.

She came closer and managed to hear the end of their conversation.

“…oh well, but it’s nice to meet you,” Bobby said and with one last slight smile, he had ducked around Ash and started to clean up some dishes.

Ash raised an eyebrow at Dotty, not yet so adept at reading her, and thought that she might have looked thoughtful before she mimicked Ash’s expression.

“Done wasting time? Corpses are getting cold,” was all she said and she turned on her heel and strode from The Pie Hole, leaving Ash to only sigh and follow her.

It wasn’t as hard to get information out of Bobby as it was for Dotty, so he easily told her that he had simply introduced himself and tried to guess what her favourite pie was but she told him he had gotten it wrong and that she didn’t even like pie at all. Ash remembers how he had shrugged bashfully and given her a small smile before he went about his work.

(“You do strawberry pie?” Dotty asked a year into their Situation, sitting on a stool fifteen minutes before Ash shut her shop, twisting her ring around her finger.

Ash grinned and she hadn’t known Dotty as well then but she was starting and she knew not to say anything other than, “Yes,” and watch as Dotty’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile but was closer than it was before.)

Ash does a mental check and thinks that her apple pie doesn’t need to be taken out of the oven for the next ten minutes so she decides to come stand by Dotty and Bobby.

Bobby looks up and smiles, and Ash thinks that he really is sweet, prone to quietness and has a habit of twisting his fingers in a way that looks borderline painful whenever he gets stressed or nervous, but also looks at people with a child-like wonder. “Hey, Ash,” he greets, and he has a happy flush on his cheeks as he gestures to the newspaper he is holding. “I was telling Dotty some thoughts I had on the cases in the paper today.”

Ash slides in next to Dotty who grumbles as she bumps their hips together but moves up, so Ash takes it as a win. Dotty has taken off her big coat and folded it neatly next to her and Ash can see she’s wearing ripped jeans and button black shirt – a mix of professional and delinquent which Dotty seems most comfortable in – enough to be taken seriously but enough to warn that she will most like say something catty as she works. “And what thoughts were these?” Ash asks.

“Well, a girl was reported missing last night and it says here her family claim she would never run away from home because she’s very shy, yeah?” Bobby seems to gain more momentum as he speaks, tapping the paper with the pen as he speaks, smile slowly inching into something broader which Ash mirrors. “But, parents don’t know what their kids get up to, to it would be foolish to fully ignore that outcome.” He seems to remember himself and his smile dims but still stays on his face as he looks at Dotty.

Dotty nods slightly. “You’re right,” she smirks, black lipstick curving up and twisting at the corner of her mouth. “You planning on taking my business away for yourself there?”

Bobby flushes at the compliment and shakes his head no to reassure her but seems to the absorb the compliment as he seems to glow as he leaves the booth and goes to help another customer. Ash turns to Dotty who steadfastly stares at her pie as she cuts another bite with the side of her fork. “That was nice of you,” Ash says, eventually, unable to help herself.

Dotty scoffs. “You know me, I’m a fucking angel.” Ash snorts and Dotty grins at her and it feel like comradery. Dotty rolls her shoulders back as if to shift the feeling away. “Right, back to business. Looked into this Mitchell guy that Branning sent us towards, had to because we got nothing else,” Dotty rolls her eyes here, annoyed like she usually is whenever a victim gives them little to nothing. (“The whole point of your whole shebang was to spare me trouble, not give me more,” she lamented once as Ash chuckled where she lay on her living room floor, Dotty perched on Ash’s couch, looking pleased with herself for making her laugh, both of them drunk after solving a case.) “And found an entire family who live not far from here, just moved in at the edge of town, so I’m trying to figure out which member of the family we should talk to – wha- why do you look like that?”

Ash can only imagine how pallid she looks as her mind races, spinning around the thought process of, if the Mitchells have just moved in, then maybe her family has as well, maybe they’re just around the corner, maybe they’re going to walk in any second and her mother will smirk at as if to say, you never really left, I didn’t let you. It’s pounding a headache into her temple and already she wants the case gone, to have never touched Jack Branning and read the note he had scribbled for her, she wants it to not have existed.

She fidgets with Dotty’s napkin in order to escape her gaze, but it doesn’t change the way she sees Dotty’s face frown in contemplation. She’s too sharp and she reaches the conclusion far too quickly for Ash to be able to come up with a reasonable lie. “Holy shit, you know the Mitchells, don’t you?”

Ash wants to lie, and feels the denial sit in the back of her throat like bile but she can’t do that to Dotty, Dotty who’s an asshole and always has something cutting to say in the back of her tongue and is always looking for an escape route, but also Dotty who smiles clumsily like she’s never done it without trying to ply drinks out of the person she’s smiling at, and drinks with Ash when they solve a case and sometimes catches her eye and makes Ash feel like they’re in on an inside joke together, just something for the two of them. “Yes,” Ash sighs and pushes back some hair that has fallen out of her ponytail. “They did business with my family from time to time.”

“Business,” Dotty echoes, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline as she realises that Ash has used a kid-friendly word to describe entire families dedicated to committing crimes. “Christ, Ash, are you in the mafia?”

Ash shushes her and tilts her head to see if anyone heard Dotty’s exclamation. “Shut up, no, of course not, I left my family and even then it was just – money laundering and other illegal shit. Barely anyone died.”

Dotty’s eyes almost bug out of her head. “Barely,” she mimics. She looks like she wants to laugh from how insane the whole situation is, and Ash feels the same, it is barely 2pm and she’s had to spill so much to her closest friends and it’s so exhausting, she wants to never tell anyone anything ever again. “God, spoken like a real killer.”

Ash glares at her and Dotty grins at her manically. “This is going to be a thing isn’t it? You’re going to make it a thing.”

Dotty cackles. “Absolutely! I mean, you’re a part of a crime family, that’s hilarious!”

Ash sighs, exhausted but can’t help laughing breathlessly as Dotty swings an arm around her shoulders and tugs her into her side, all while asking if Ash could please get her family on that one officer who keeps giving her tickets around the corner because he’s doing her tits in, all while ignoring Ash pointing out that she should just stop parking on double yellow lines.

Ash smiles and thinks that she’s going to like having this joke with Dotty, no matter how annoying it is, because it will be something that is just theirs.

This is how it is: Bobby had showed up three and a half years ago for a job interview back when The Pie Hole was filled with half opened boxes and pie lids strewn about as Keegan and Ash attempted to wing owning an entire business.

Bobby had sat across from her in a rickety chair looking pale in a loose shirt and tie and Ash had thought how ridiculous the whole set up was considering Bobby was barely eighteen years old and she had only turned nineteen like five months ago and she was meant to be some wise source of authority. Bobby was definitely treating her like one with the way his thin shoulders were so tense she thought he was going to snap in half.

(He was Ian Beale’s son, something Keegan had noticed right away. “We can’t hire him. He’s probably here to spy for him, tell him we’re not positioning our pies at an exact forty-five degree angle and he’s gonna take our loan away as soon as he hears.”

Ash had looked at him exasperated from where they sat across from each other at opposite sides of the coffee table, piles of paperwork between them. “Your hatred for Beale has gone too far, he’s not a supervillain.” She ignored how he muttered close enough. “Besides, what if he’s doing the opposite, what is he’s being, like, rebellious?”

Keegan had given her an incredulous look and rolled his eyes. “If Ian Beale’s progeny, is not a twat in any way then I’ll –“ he struggled for a moment for something insane to do, “I don’t know, something drastic, anyway.”

Ash sighed.)

Bobby didn’t look like Ian. Ash supposed is she squinted, she could see that their eyes were the same shade but all she could see was how Ian entered every space like it belonged to him or would very soon anyway and spoke to people like they were simply there to help him reach his goals, like people were resources to spend in order to gain. Bobby didn’t look like that at all, he looked like he would rather take up no space at all, and spoke quietly in a hushed voice, eyes flickering around the room. Ash had been hit with the comparison of a bird cradling a broken wing, curled in on itself.

“You’re hired,” Ash had blurted at the end of the interview and watched as Bobby stared at and finally made direct eye contact, his hands trembling before he smiled for the first time and Ash decided that she wanted to see it more.

(“See when we get a letter declining our next loan payments, I am going to personally blame you,” Keegan told Ash when Bobby stumbled out after stuttering through several words of gratitude, and barely flinched when Ash punched him in the arm.)

(The loan payments never stopped, and Bobby smiled every day that he worked which Ash took as a personal victory.)

There’s a couple of hours until The Pie Hole shuts, and Ash finds herself wondering if she might just be able to get through the day without confronting what happened last night (Keegan had came out of his office and he looked like he was still processing everything but he had also messed up Dotty’s hair with a grin, so Ash had taken that as a sign that he was feeling more like himself again.). Dotty is sitting in front of her, flicking through a newspaper and scoffing every so often at what’s written, one of Dotty’s hobbies, she has realised, is that she simply enjoys making fun of everything and anything and other people finding this funny seems like a bonus more than anything – Ash didn’t comment on how Dotty decided to sit around here for four hours instead of back in her office, alone, and instead spent most of her time trying to convince her to try different types of pie.

Ash had finally gotten Dotty to try a bite of raspberry when the door chimes as a new customer comes in and Ash feels herself freeze. Iqra Ahmed smiles at her and approaches the front counter she’s standing behind. Ash is pretty sure her knees are about to crumble with the amount of tension she feels running through them. Dotty looks her in confusion just as Iqra smiles in greeting and approaches the front counter where they are.

“Hello,” Iqra greets and is too busy rooting a folder out of her bag as she slides into the seat next to Dotty to notice how Ash squeaks but Dotty didn’t and her eyebrows are steadily rising. “I spoke to Mr Beale and it was difficult but I managed to get a compliment out of him about how your profits are steadily rising,” here, she opens the folder and Ash can see a graph but barely processes it, “So, really, we’ve reached a stage of you being able to start paying back your loans and still be able to pay mortgages and wages and the like, which is good, because you can finally be independent of Mr Beale.” She chuckles at this and smiles up at Ash for a response.

Ash doesn’t respond, too busy thinking about Iqra on the road, splayed out like a broken doll and the spot of blood that had gotten onto her pointer finger after touching her. Dotty stares at her before turning to Iqra and sticking her hand out with what Keegan refers to as a shark-like grin. “We haven’t met properly. I’m Dotty Cotton, Private Eye.”

Iqra shakes her hands and answers professionally but distracted. “Iqra Ahmed, I’m Ash’s and Keegan’s financial advisor,” she turns back to Ash and looks worried, a frown furrowing her brows. “Are you alright, Ash?”

Ash continues to stare at her. She’s wearing a white shirt and black trousers and her blazer is folded over the seat next to her and she looks as pretty as she always does but now Ash is deeply traumatised and unable to fully appreciate like she usually does and life is such a bitch sometimes.

Ash jumps when Dotty clamps her hands on her shoulders and starts to steer her into the back. “Sorry, just remembered we had something very important to discuss, be right back with you!” And Dotty shoves her through the door to the back and turns her into Keegan’s office before Iqra can respond with more than a deeper frown and a hand that jolts up as if to catch Ash and wouldn’t that be another nightmare, for her to drop dead again in the middle of her pie shop after a brief glance of skin contact.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dotty asks Keegan, gesturing to Ash who grinds the heels of her hands into her eyes while she sinks into a seat in front of Keegan’s desk. Keegan sounds like he’s about to answer but Dotty interrupts him. “Ok, you look more confused than I do. Context: your financial advisor came in and she looks like she’s about to have a panic attack.”

“Oh shit,” Keegan says and Ash huffs a laugh from behind her hands, surprised she still has the ability to laugh when she’s too busy trying to figure out how she’s going to wear gloves for the rest of time whenever she has to interact with Iqra because she completely forgot about the fact that she can’t ever touch her again without her literally dying. Again. “Um, our financial advisor may have died last night and Ash touched her and ran away and here we are.”

Dotty’s incredulous silence feels pretty damning. “Jesus Christ, Ash,” is all she says and Ash moans sadly in response. “Right, ok, well it seems like she doesn’t even know she’s dead, she’s acting not deeply traumatised and totally normal. Well, is her normal carrying about boring graphs and wearing pant suits?” Keegan must nod because Dotty continues. “Ok, great, so you don’t need to have a big, confusing talk on being dead and not dead and your powers and blah blah blah, you’ve just gotta be normal too, right?”

Ash pries her hands away and turns to give her a look. Dotty sighs. “I can’t just pretend nothing happened, I keep remembering how she died and it’s –“ she cuts herself off and scrubs a hand down her face.

She glances at Keegan who is looking at her sadly and for a second it feels like Dotty tries to place a comforting hand on her shoulder before it disappears, and she hears her clears her throat. “Do you want me to get rid of her?” Ash whips around in shock and Dotty rolls her eyes. “Not like that, you’re the one in the mafia not me –” (“You told her your family is the mafia?” Keegan says, distantly and is ignored.) “I mean, just like get her to leave today. And for the foreseeable future,” she adds, seeming to take in how pale Ash is and looks thoughtful, probably trying to come with ways to get someone to never return to an establishment that they work with.

Ash sighs deeply and look between Keegan and Dotty, Dotty moving to lean against Keegan’s desk while Keegan has moved to kneel in front of Ash and wrap his fingers around her wrist, squeezing so she can focus on the contact instead of her spiralling thoughts. She loves them incredibly much, she realises. She knew already, but it seems to hit her like an avalanche of pure emotion, like a sucker-punch filled with warm, fuzzy feelings.

“I can do it,” she decides. “I can be normal.”

Dotty snorts but grins at her and it looks less like a shark now but more a slightly evil dolphin, and Keegan squeezes his fingers before he pulls her to her feet.

She can do this, she thinks. She looks at them both for a second and sees Dotty standing, fully ready to force someone to leave for her and Keegan looking ready to tousle her hair and hug her at the time and thinks that they are the most important people in the world.

She opens the door to Keegan’s office and steps out and turns the corner before stopping in front of the front counter where Iqra is looking at her with a worried frown on her face and Ash almost buckles but steels herself and decides that she can do it, so she does.

“Sorry, I realised that some of my strawberries were about to go out of date. Do you want a slice of apple pie, and you can explain this graph to me again? Also, what’s this about Ian complimenting us?”

Iqra smiles at her, eyes bright and Ash thinks she looks really pretty today as she starts talking.

This is how it is: Iqra gestures to the graph and seems to make a joke that makes Ash laugh but keeps a physical distance between them that Iqra doesn’t comment on.

(Unbeknownst to them all, a man watches this all unfold from outside, his expression unreadable as he nods to himself and turns and walks down the street.

He brings his phone out and schedules a family meeting for tomorrow before pocketing it and continuing on his way.)

#eastenders #ash panesar #dotty cotton #keegan baker #iqra ahmed #kheerat panesar #ash x iqra #ballum #pushing daisies au #my writing #ee fanfic #eastenders fanfiction

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softbiker · 5 years ago

Text

Born to Run - Chapter 12

Warnings: a couple bad words, sloppy editing

Word count: 1.5k (sorry for the short chapter)

A/N: Okay here we go again! Wow I’ve been drawing this story out for a while huh. Don’t worry, your patience will soon be rewarded ;) As always, let me know what you think!

“So, Barnes, you gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?”

Bucky scowled over his shoulder at Tony, wishing he could clock him one right on his bearded jaw.

“She’s not my -” His eyes slid sideways to Y/N, shifting on her feet and looking uncomfortable. “Y/N, meet Tony Stark. Stark, Y/N.”

She took a step forward and held out her hand, meeting Tony’s in a firm grip. He nodded. His soft brown eyes gave her a quick once-over behind the tinted frames perched on his nose.

“Nice to meet you,” Tony sighed. “Hope you’re alright after that little incident?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, shrugging. “A little bruised, maybe - and confused as hell, but fine.” Turning to Bucky, she frowned a little. “You’re okay, Buck? Rumlow, I thought he-”

“It’s fine - I’m alright,” he soothed. He lifted his shirt a little to show her the bandages. “They patched me up pretty quick, just surface wounds. Nothing major.”

She nodded, staying quiet, her eyes fixed on the bandages, on the scar from his stab wound that she sewed up in her bathroom. Her fingers brushed over it lightly, Bucky’s hand coming up to hold hers.

“Everything’s okay. We’re okay,” he whispered.

He tangled his fingers with hers and tried to believe it.

**********

Tony’s thumb swiped quickly through his phone and he lifted it up to his ear. He listened it ring twice before the other end picked up.

“Tony?”

“Rogers. Where are you?”

“I’m outside the precinct. Is Bucky-”

“Barnes is fine. Listen,” Tony pursed his lips. “We’re trying to still maintain a low profile for you guys out here, alright? So don’t come in waving your badge.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. See you in a few.”

He tapped the ‘End Call’ button and dropped his phone back in his jacket pocket. Across the room, Barnes and his doctor friend were sitting side by side on a bench, talking in hushed tones. Well - Bucky was talking; she seemed to be listening, a small frown drawing down the corners of her lips. For all that he and Barnes didn’t get along, Tony did not envy him this moment.

He glances down when his phone buzzes again, seeing a text from Rhodey with a single thumbs-up emoji. From the lockscreen, Pepper’s smile beamed up at him - the best picture they’d ever taken together, a selfie in front of last year’s Christmas tree.

He put the phone back in his pocket as he saw Rogers and Wilson walk in the front door.

**********

It was mid-afternoon before she woke up to the sound of her door creaking open.

With a groan, Y/N rolled over and lifted one eyelid, noting Natasha’s hair poking through the doorway. She closed her eyes again.

“Whattimeisit” she mumbled, face half-smushed in the pillow.

“Almost 3.” Nat took the spoken words as an invitation and fully entered the room. She was holding a mug of steaming coffee, and carefully made her way to the side of the bed, placing the mug on the nightstand.

“Mm.” She tried lifting both eyelids - blinked at the afternoon sunlight and closed them again for the moment. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem,” Nat dropped down in a chair by the bed. “You guys had a long night, I know.”

Y/N nodded against the pillow but didn’t say anything, successfully managing to open her eyes this time. She saw Nat’s hair was up in a ponytail; she was wearing leggings and a grey hoodie, the sleeves rolled up a little at the wrists. It was the softest Y/N had ever seen her.

Nat’s eyes traced over her face, cutting and sharp even in the softly lit room. There were little strands coming loose from her ponytail curling around her face. She shifted in her chair, crossed one leg over the other and took a deep breath.

“How much did they tell you about what went on last night?” Nat finally asked, her mouth pressed in a wary line.

Y/N didn’t answer at first, dragging herself to sit up in bed and reaching for the coffee. Black, just the way she liked it.

“Not much.” Her voice scratched a little, and she sipped at the coffee. “Hardly anything, actually.”

“What did Bucky say?” Natasha pressed. Y/N shook her head.

“Just...that Rumlow was the leader of the gang that vandalized my house, Hydra or whatever they’re called.” She frowned. “And that the police weren’t charging him because he shot Rumlow in self-defense.”

“That’s all.”

“Yep.”

Nat made a face, pursing her lips and leaning back in her chair slightly. She turned to look out the window and crossed her arms.

“Here’s the thing,” she sighed. “I like you. A lot.”

“Um, thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Her mouth quirked a little in one corner but then pulled back down. “Which is why I’m telling you...that I think you should leave.”

Y/N blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

Nat turned and faced her fully.

“I think you should go. Move back to the city, transfer to another clinic.” Her face was like a statue. “Get back to your real life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“None of this is what it seems. Not even him.” Nat raised a single red eyebrow. “You don’t know him, not really. And by the time it all comes out, it could be too late for you.”

“Natasha...you’re really freaking me out.”

“Good.” Nat glanced down at the floor, then leaned forward in her chair. Her voice dropped half an octave.

“I can get you the money,” she said, her eyes locked on Y/N. “Within a week.”

Y/N opened her mouth but all that came out was a small croak. Natasha continued.

“And I mean all of it - everything you’d be getting from your clinic or the Avengers for the next couple of years. The money that’s left to pay off your debt. You could take it and go, no strings.”

“Stop. Stop.” Y/N held up a hand. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck you’re talking about. Right now.”

Nat held her gaze for a long moment. Dust motes floated in the sunbeam between them.

“The offer is on the table,” she said. “Think about it.”

**********

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you all over the place.”

She turned around to find Bucky in the doorway of the clubhouse kitchen. He was smiling, a sleepy grin stretching up the corners of his mouth and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. His hair was adorably messy and he was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I guess you slept the day away, too?” he asked, walking over to lean on the counter next to her.

“Mhm,” she hummed, noncommittal and quiet. Bucky waited for her to go on. She didn’t.

“What’re you making?” he tried, clearing his throat. Was she angry after last night? Hurt?

“Just an omelette,” she answered. Her eyes cut to him quickly then back to her pan. “You guys don’t keep a lot of food around here, but at least there’s eggs.”

“Yeah, well, bikers aren’t exactly known for their cooking.” He smiled at his joke, but it quickly faded when there was no reaction. Her mouth stayed in a firm line, eyes focused on her eggs like they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Is there...are you upset?” He tried again, searching her face.

She finally looked up at him.

“What? No,” she shook her head. “No, Bucky, I’m not upset. Just...tired, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

She nodded, turned back to her omelette. With a spatula, she lifted the edges of the omelette to check if it was done on the bottom. Bucky sighed but backed off, taking a few steps over to the other side of the counter, where the coffee maker thankfully still had a half-full pot.

“So...I wanted to ask you something,” he began, pouring himself a large mug from the coffee pot. They had their backs turned to each other.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask...well-” He had turned around now, holding his mug and staring at her back from across the kitchen. Her shoulders were drawn up tight, nearly to her ears. “I wanted to ask about the-the kiss.”

Her spine went straight. Without turning from the stove, her head bobbed in a small nod.

“What about it?”

He cleared his throat.

“Well it...it meant something to me, and I - if it meant something to you, then-then I wanted to ask if you’d go on a date with me? A real date?”

She turned around, heart running wild in her chest. The kiss. The kiss. How could she not wonder...she could hardly stop herself from thinking about it, the brush of his stubble against her cheeks, his grip on her waist.

Not even him.

His eyes were on her - open, earnest, a softness only for her. She wanted to cross the kitchen, let him hold her, press her face into his neck-

It could be too late for you.

She gripped the counter behind her. He chewed on his lower lip.

“What did you have in mind?”

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #avengers #avengers fic #marvel #marvel fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky au

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tw-anchor · 5 years ago

Text

06. Lessons of Control

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 1x06; Heart Monitor

Word Count: 5,848

Warning(s): Mature language, cannon violence, blood

Author’s Note: Olivia helps Stiles teach Scott control. I hope you enjoy! Reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

"So, you're teaching Scott control?" Olivia asked Derek, leaning her head against the window of his Camaro. "How is that coming along?"

"It would be better if he actually listened to me," Derek huffed, turning down the road that led to the high school. "I told him to stay away from Allison until after the full moon and the first thing he did was go to Allison's house."

"He's an idiot."

"Yeah, and he saw the alpha there."

Olivia whipped her head toward her cousin, her eyebrows raised. "Did he really? What happened?"

"He said that the alpha drew a spiral on his window," Derek glanced at Olivia, watching as her mouth slowly opened in shock. "I'm gonna look into it, all right?"

"But, Der, the spiral!" Olivia exclaimed.

The Hale family—and some of the werewolf packs that used to live around Beacon Hills—had always used the spiral to signal vengeance.

Did they know who the alpha was? Did anyone else survive the fire that they didn't know about?

"I know, Ollie, all right? I know," Derek sighed, pulling into the school parking lot. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'm looking into it."

"All right," Olivia sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Just be careful, okay? For my sake."

"I'll be careful," Derek confirmed with a small smile. "I'm glad you're okay, Ollie."

Olivia gave him a bright smile and shut the passenger door. As she walked away, Derek couldn't help but be glad he didn't tell her about his run-in with Kate Argent.

As she walked into school, Olivia dropped her smile into a calm, stoic mask. Like always, she didn't want anyone to see through her. It made some of the people she went to school with think she was a stuck-up bitch, but she didn't really care what those people thought of her. She had Lydia, Jackson, Allison, and Danny—she didn't need anyone else.

She walked into her history class and corrected herself when she saw him sitting at the back of the room—maybe she had Stiles too.

Olivia caught Stiles' eye and smiled sympathetically—she had been worried about him. The night of the parent-teacher conferences, a mountain lion—a real one—attacked the school as all the parents were leaving. In the chaos, Sheriff Stilinski had been hit by a car.

She knew from the text messages she received from Stiles that Sheriff Stilinski was okay, earning only a couple of bruises. She was relieved about his dad but also kind of annoyed that the messages gave Stiles the go-ahead to rant to her about Scott McCall.

Apparently, they were in a little fight.

"Hey," Olivia greeted him, taking the seat to his right. "Feeling any better?"

"You mean am I still seething with impotent rage at my best friend?" Stiles asked bitterly. "Then no. I'm not feeling any better."

"Okay," Olivia sighed. "Well, have you talked to him?"

"No."

"Have you had any contact at all?" she prodded. "Did you play Call of Duty or something with him? Text him? Send him a message in a bottle?"

"No, no, no, and really?" Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. "A message in a bottle would never arrive at his house. It's nowhere near the ocean or any river."

"Okay, smartass," Olivia rolled her eyes, causing Stiles' lips to twitch. "Honestly, Stiles, I don't—"

"No, no," Stiles interrupted her, pointing at her. "You can't take his side, okay? I need someone on my side."

"I'm not on anyone's side."

"You were going to say that it wasn't Scott's fault."

"Well—"

"Nope, I'm not listening to you anymore," Stiles shook his head. "You're cut off."

"Oh, no," Olivia griped sarcastically. "What will I ever do without Stiles Stilinski in my life?"

"Die probably."

Stiles stopped speaking then because Scott walked into the room. Olivia watched as his eyes immediately fell on Stiles; she turned back to the spastic boy next to her as Scott sat down behind him. Stiles looked aggravated and uncomfortable, sitting straight in his seat and staring at the board at the front of the room.

"Still not talking to me?" Scott asked him quietly, though it was loud enough that Olivia could still hear.

She tried not to eavesdrop, but she couldn't resist looking at Stiles to see his reaction.

Scott sighed when he got no response. "Can you at least tell me if your dad's okay?" he asked. "It's just a bruise right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big..."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, irritated, and clenched his jaw, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue so he wouldn't lash out at his best friend.

"You know I feel really bad about it, right?" Scott continued. With no response, he sighed again. "Okay, what if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out and that I went to Derek for help?"

Stiles looked at Olivia to see if Scott was telling the truth. When she nodded in confirmation, he exhaled heavily.

"If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting him," he grumbled, ignoring the glare Olivia sent him. "but obviously, I'm not talking to you."

Olivia rolled her eyes, knowing what Scott told him was enough to pique his interest. Stiles didn't trust Derek, that much was clear, so there was no way he'd allow his best friend to get help from the older werewolf.

As if proving her right, Stiles turned around to face Scott. "What'd he say?"

The bell rang, so Scott couldn't give Stiles details about Derek's lessons. As soon as class was over, though, he told Stiles and Olivia—which surprised him—what Derek was planning.

"What?" Stiles exclaimed as the three of them walked out of class together. "He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?"

"Yeah," Scott confirmed.

"All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone," Stiles reminded his best friend. "and that someone's usually me."

"I know," Scott agreed. "That's what he means when he says he doesn't know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it."

"Well, how's he gonna teach you to do that?"

"I don't know," Scott shook his head.

"Derek uses anger as an anchor," Olivia spoke up, causing the boys to jump in shock.

They might have forgotten she was walking with them.

"An anchor?" Stiles gave her a confused look.

"Yeah, it's something or someone that anchors you to yourself," Olivia informed them. "Something that keeps you human. Anger is Derek's anchor. That's why he wants you to get angry, Scott."

"But how is Scott gonna control himself when he's so angry?" Stiles asked, trying to wrap his mind around Derek's thinking. "He changes when he's angry."

Olivia shrugged; she had no idea how to calm down an out-of-control werewolf. She didn't exactly have experience, being human and all.

"Okay," Stiles sighed, turning to Scott. "when are you seeing him again?"

Scott shrugged. "He told me not to talk about it. I have to act normal and get through the day."

Stiles held out his arm in front of Scott, stopping him in his tracks. "When?"

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic after work."

"After work," Stiles repeated under his breath. "Well, that gives me to the end of the school day, then."

"To do what?" Olivia gave him a curious look.

"To teach Scott myself."

"The what of who?" Lydia asked Allison, piercing a blueberry with her fork.

Allison, who had been telling Olivia and Lydia about something her aunt showed her on the internet, looked back up from her old book that gave details about her family history.

"The Beast of Gevaudan. Listen," Allison said, starting to read a passage from the book. "A quadruped wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and South Dordogne areas of France during the year 1764 to 1767. La Bete killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that King Louis the 15th sent one of his best hunters to try to kill it."

Olivia shivered and rested her head on her propped-up hand. Did this mean that Kate was trying to tell Allison about the family business? If so, this wasn't good...

"Boring," Lydia drawled, plopping another blueberry in her mouth.

"Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan—" Allison started reading again but was interrupted by Lydia.

"Still boring."

"Lydia," Olivia nudged her cousin with her elbow before nodding at Allison to continue.

Allison gave her a thankful smile. "Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid."

"Slipping-into-a-coma bored," Lydia groaned.

"While others believed it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man-eating monster."

Olivia winced and asked, "Does any of this have anything to do with your family?"

Allison nodded and continued reading, "It is believed that La Bete was finally trapped and killed by a renown hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature," she looked at Olivia and Lydia with a smile. "His name was Argent."

Lydia was unimpressed. "Your ancestors killed a big wolf. So what?"

"Not just a big wolf. Take a look at this picture," Allison corrected the redhead. She held up the page she turned to, allowing the girls to see the drawing of La Bete. "What does it look like to you?"

Olivia was surprised by the drawing, which looked exactly like the alpha she had seen the other day. It was almost as if the author of the book was there in the video store with her and took the time to snap a photo.

"Olivia? Lydia?" Allison called her friends' names, seeing the almost-dazed looks they were giving the picture.

Olivia shook her head as Lydia snapped, "It looks like a big wolf," she grinned and stood up. "See you in history."

As she walked away, her heels clicking against the linoleum tiles, Allison turned to Olivia. "Do you think she's okay?"

"Yeah," Olivia nodded, trying to hide how freaked out she was becoming. Allison finding out about her family's history was not good, especially when her freaking boyfriend was a newly turned werewolf. "She's probably just stressed."

Allison nodded, accepting Olivia's excuse and went back to reading about her family history.

A few rows away from them, Stiles and Scott sat at their usual table. Stiles was eating like every other day they sat in the cafeteria, but Scott was hiding. He used Stiles' history book so hide his face so Allison couldn't see him. He was supposed to be staying away from her for right now—at least until he could control his shift.

Stiles glanced back at Olivia's table and then looked to Scott, annoyed.

"I think the book's making it more obvious," he quipped, rolling his eyes. "Besides, she's reading, anyway."

Scott peeked over the top of the orange textbook and saw that Stiles was telling the truth; Allison looked fully engrossed in the book she was reading.

"Did you come up with a plan yet?" he asked Stiles.

"I think so," Stiles took a bite of his apple.

"Does that mean you don't hate me now?" Scott smiled hopefully.

"No," Stiles grumbled with his mouth full. "but your crap has infiltrated my life, so now I have to do something about it," he paused before adding, "Plus, I'm definitely a better Yoda than Derek."

"Okay, yeah, you teach me," Scott agreed, his eyes back on Allison.

"Yeah, I'll be your Yoda."

"Yeah," Scott nodded, having no idea what Stiles was talking about. "You be my Yoda..."

Stiles snickered and imitated the small, ancient, Jedi Master, "Your Yoda I will be," he laughed and informed Scott, "I said it backward—"

"Yeah, I know," Scott gave him an unimpressed look.

Stiles pursed his lips, annoyed yet again. "All right, you know what? I definitely still hate you," he declared, ripping his textbook from Scott's grasp as he stood up. "Uh-huh, yep."

Olivia didn't want to be out here.

She definitely didn't want to be skipping her Calculus class so that she could hang out at the lacrosse field with Dumb and Dumber—also known as Stiles and Scott. But, alas, she had been dragged away from Mr. Baker's room by Stiles, who declared that they needed her expertise to help Scott control his change.

Of course, she suggested going to Derek for help but Stiles just glared at her.

"Okay," Stiles dropped his lacrosse bag and net on the bench as he sat down. To Scott, he held out a black strap with a small monitor attached. "put this on."

Scott grabbed it and studied it with narrowed eyes. "Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?"

"Yeah," Stiles confirmed. "I borrowed it."

"Stole it," Olivia corrected him, crossing her arms over her chest.

She felt a little antsy about missing her math class, to be honest.

Stiles glared at her. "Temporarily misappropriated," Olivia rolled her eyes while he continued, "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs. You're gonna wear it for the rest of the day."

He emphasized his statement by pulling Coach Finstock's phone out of his pocket.

"Are you serious?" Olivia muttered. "Is that Coach's phone, Stiles?"

"That, I stole," Stiles admitted, giving her a sheepish grin.

"Why?" Scott asked curiously, looking between Stiles and Olivia.

"All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?" Stiles stated; Scott nodded. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

Olivia had to admit that she was pretty impressed with Stiles' thinking. For not knowing about the supernatural until a couple of weeks ago, he picked up things quickly.

"Like the Incredible Hulk," Scott grinned, looking down at the monitor in his hands.

Stiles shrugged. "Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah."

"No, I'm like the Incredible Hulk," Scott insisted.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "The only thing you have in common with Dr. Bruce Banner is that you hulk-out when you can't control your heart rate," she snapped, ignoring Stiles' amused smile. "Now would you shut up and put the stupid strap on?"

"Fine," Scott grumped, hiking up his shirt to put the heart monitor around his torso. "This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period."

Olivia pursed her lips; she was missing calculus, so she didn't know why he was complaining.

Once Scott had the strap placed around him correctly, Stiles wrapped up his wrists with duct tape behind his back so he couldn't catch any of the balls that Stiles was going to whip at him. Stiles walked across the field where Olivia was standing with the bag of lacrosse balls, his net held firmly in his hands.

"All right, you ready?" he called to his best friend.

"No."

"Remember, don't get angry," Stiles reminded him. "Livvy, the monitor, please."

Olivia glared at him—she was really tired of him calling her that—and opened up the monitor app on Coach's phone.

"I'm starting to think this was a really bad idea!" Scott called out to them.

Stiles ignored him and scooped up the ball that Olivia set on the ground, flinging his net back and throwing it at Scott. The ball hit him right in the stomach, causing him to groan and bend over from the pain.

Stiles laughed in glee as Scott's heart rate rose to one hundred and fifteen. He scooped up another ball and whipped it at Scott, hitting him in the chin.

Olivia winced; that one looked painful.

"Okay, that one kind of hurt," Scott groaned.

"Quiet," Stiles commanded. "Remember, you're supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm."

"Stay calm," Scott muttered as a ball hit him in the shoulder. "Staying calm. Staying totally calm. There's no balls flying in my face—" he groaned as another ball hit him in the jaw.

Olivia watched the rapidly-climbing heart monitor as Stiles threw another ball at Scott, hitting him in the chest.

"Ow, son of a bitch!"

"You know what?" Stiles smirked. "I think my aim is actually improving!"

"Wonder why?" Scott spat angrily.

"Uh, uh, uh," Stiles clicked his tongue mockingly, the heart monitor raising to one hundred and thirty. "don't get angry."

"I'm not getting angry."

Stiles continued throwing balls at Scott, hitting him over and over again. Scott's heart rate continued rising as Olivia watched, growing bored.

Why exactly am I supposed to be here? She thought to herself.

"Wait, wait," Scott begged. "Just—can we just hold—"

Another ball hit Scott in the groin area, making a painful groan escape from his lips. He fell to his knees and grunted while the heart monitor started to beep. His heart rate was at one hundred and sixty and rising, which Olivia and Stiles knew couldn't be good.

"Scott?" Stiles called wearily.

Scott didn't answer, grunting again as he ripped the duct tape around his wrists and gripped at the grass underneath him. The beeping from the monitor started to slow down as his heart rate lowered and he resisted his change.

Stiles approached him hesitantly. "Scott?" he said softly. "Scott, you started to change."

"From anger," Scott said, looking up at Stiles and Olivia, who had walked toward him. "But it was more than that. It was like the angrier I got, the stronger I felt."

"So, it is anger, then," Stiles confirmed. "Derek's right."

Olivia made a satisfied noise, causing Stiles to glare at her.

"I can't be around Allison," Scott declared.

"Just because she makes you happy?" Olivia spoke up, confused.

What did Allison have to do with Scott's anger?

"No," Scott shook his head. "because she makes me weak."

"All right, so you stay away from her for a few days, you can do that," Stiles encouraged Scott as they walked to Stiles' game locker.

Olivia had refused to step foot in the boys' locker room, so she had told them she'd meet them in Economics class.

"But is it a few days or is it forever?" Scott replied hopelessly as Stiles put his lacrosse things back in his locker.

"You know, this whole women-make-you-weak thing is a little too Spartan warrior for me," Stiles complained honestly. "It's probably just a part of the learning process."

Sure, Allison made Scott's heart race, but didn't everyone say that love gives you power? Did that not apply in werewolf cases or something?

"Yeah, but you've seen Derek," Scott reminded him. "I mean, the guy's totally alone."

"He's got Olivia," Stiles pointed out.

"I mean romantically," Scott corrected himself. "What if I can, like, never be around Allison again?"

"Well, if you're not dead, that could be a good thing."

Scott shook his head. "I'd rather be dead."

Stiles rolled his eyes; he knew that Scott liked Allison and she was a nice girl and all but was it really that serious? Her family were werewolf hunters that would literally kill him and all he cared about was the fact that he couldn't be with Allison.

It was a little too Romeo and Juliet for Stiles' taste. And he really didn't like Shakespeare.

"All right," Stiles sighed. "you're not gonna end up like Derek, okay? We'll figure it out."

"Okay."

"Come on," Stiles urged, looking at his watch. They had class in a few minutes. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, following Stiles out of the locker room. "Something smells terrible in here, anyway."

"Really?" Stiles asked sarcastically. "In a boys' locker room? That doesn't make any sense at all."

Olivia was checking her Instagram feed as Coach walked into his classroom. He set a pile of worksheets on his desk as the bell rang and other students started filing into the room.

"Let's go," he urged loudly. "Sit, sit, sit. We've got a lot to cover today."

Olivia looked away from her phone as someone tapped her desk. She looked up to see Stiles grinning at her as he placed his things at the desk in front of her. No matter how much she wanted to not give him the satisfaction of smiling at him, she couldn't help it.

Stiles' grin grew larger, if that was possible.

"Let's go!" Coach exclaimed. "Quicker."

"Hey, Stiles," Scott called from an aisle over. "sit behind me, dude."

Stiles gave Olivia a reluctant look but nodded, heaving his things off his chosen desk to the one behind Scott. Unfortunately, Allison beat him to the seat and gave him a triumphant smile.

Stiles didn't seem too put out as he sat back at the desk in front of Olivia.

"Hey, so, is Derek involved?" Stiles turned around and asked Olivia, clearing his throat. "You know, like, romantically?"

He wanted to know if werewolves were doomed to be alone forever. He didn't want that for Scott.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Why do you want to know?"

"Um, well, it's funny," he scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, Scott and I, were—it's not like that, honestly. I mean, I like girls, so..."

"Okay..."

"It's just—"

"Stilinski, shut it!" Coach called from the front of the room. "All right, let's settle down. Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading."

Greenberg, who was sitting in front of Stiles, put his hand up to volunteer for the summary.

"Greenberg put your hand down," Coach snapped. "Everybody knows you did the reading," he looked around the room, his gaze falling on Scott. "How about you, McCall?"

Scott looked up, having not paid attention. "What?"

"The reading," Coach said simply, walking around his desk to lean against it.

"Last night's reading?"

"No, how about, uh, the reading of the Gettysburg Address?" Coach muttered sarcastically.

Some of the students chuckled, including Olivia. She couldn't help it, she liked Coach's wit sometimes.

"What?"

"That's sarcasm," Coach informed Scott. "Are you familiar with the term sarcasm, McCall?"

Scott glanced at Stiles, who smirked. "Very."

Olivia rolled her eyes—from the brief time she had started to talk to Stiles Stilinski, she knew he was very versed in the ways of sarcasm.

"Did you do the reading or not?" Coach asked Scott bluntly.

"Uh, I think I forgot," Scott admitted.

"Nice work, McCall," Coach frowned. "It's not like you're not averaging a 'D' in this class. Come on, buddy, you know I can't keep you on the team if you have a 'D'."

Scott ducked his head, embarrassed by Coach's attention.

"How about you summarize the previous night's reading?" Coach prompted; Scott shook his head. "No? How about the night before that? How about you summarize anything you've ever read in your entire life?"

"I—uh—"

Olivia frowned, sympathizing with Scott. Coach was practically bullying him in front of the whole class—it was like Coach had been replaced by Severus Snape. Usually she liked Coach but he did have his bad moments sometimes.

"No?" Coach continued and Stiles turned around, subtly showing Olivia the heart monitor that Scott still wore, freaking out. "A blog? How about the back of a cereal box? No? How about the adults-only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?"

Scott shook his head.

"Thank you, McCall, thank you!" Coach shouted, banging his desk. "Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation. You just blew it for everybody. Thanks. Next practice you can start with suicide runs."

And then, as the heart monitor reached one hundred and sixty, it started lowering. Olivia, astonished that Scott calmed down so quickly, studied the new werewolf. With a start, she noticed that he and Allison were holding hands under their desks—she nudged Stiles, showing him.

It looked like Scott found his anchor.

When Economics class ended, Stiles waited outside for Scott after Olivia took off to the library for her free period. He dragged Scott halfway down the hallway in case Coach needed to yell at him some more.

"It's her," he told his best friend.

Scott looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's Allison," Stiles said. "Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About wanting to protect her."

"Okay."

"Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said that you could hear her voice out on the field."

"Yeah, I did."

"Well, so that's what brought you back so you could score," Stiles explained. "And then after the game in the locker room, you didn't kill her—at least, not like how you were trying to kill me. She brings you back, is what I'm saying."

"No, no, no," Scott disagreed, remembering the times that he lost control while making out with Allison. "but it's not always true because literally every time I'm kissing her or touching her—"

"No," Stiles interrupted him. "that's not the same. When you're doing that, you're just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know?"

Scott smiled, looking dazed.

Stiles sighed. "You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Scott apologized. "sorry."

"That's fine. Look, back in the classroom when she was holding your hand, that was different, okay?" Stiles declared. "I don't think she makes you weak. I think she actually gives you control. Remember what Olivia was saying about anchors? Allison's yours."

"You mean because I love her?"

Stiles nodded. "Exactly."

Scott stopped, surprised by his casual statement. "Did I just say that?"

"Yes, you just said that."

Scott laughed happily. "I love her."

"That's great," Stiles placated him. "Now, moving on—"

"No, no, really," Scott cut him off. "I think I'm totally in love with her."

"And that's beautiful," Stiles agreed, slightly annoyed. He was trying to help, here. "Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please? You obviously can't be around her all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Scott focused. "So, what do I do?"

Stiles sighed, aggravated that he didn't have a plan already. "I don't know yet."

He paced back and forth for a couple of seconds before grinning in realization.

"Oh, no," Scott groaned, recognizing that famous look. Stiles had an idea. "You're getting an idea, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?"

"Maybe."

"Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?"

Stiles nodded, smirking. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

An hour later, Stiles and Scott sat in Mr. Harris' classroom, serving their hour-long detention.

After Stiles led a group of guys to believe that Scott had keyed their truck, the guys started beating the new werewolf up. Luckily, Scott controlled his change, but unfortunately, Mr. Harris caught them. Instead of giving the people beating up Scott detention, Mr. Harris decided to give Scott and Stiles an hour for their trouble.

What a great teacher.

"Excuse me, sir?" Scott piped up, looking at Mr. Harris. "Uh, I know it's detention and all but I'm supposed to be at work and I don't want to get fired."

Mr. Harris simply stared at him, not at all bothered by Scott's problem.

Scott sighed and turned to Stiles, whispering, "You knew I would heal."

"Yep," Stiles replied shortly, tapping his fingers on the lab table they sat at.

"So you did that to help me learn?"

"Yep."

"But partially to punish me."

"Yeah, well that one's obvious," Stiles sighed.

"Dude," Scott gave him a serious look. "you're my best friend and I can't have you being angry with me."

"I'm not angry anymore," Stiles admitted. "Look, you have something, Scott, okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So, that means you don't have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something."

To be honest, Stiles felt like Peter Parker's Uncle Ben. Here he was, giving Scott a speech about responsibility.

But it was true. Stiles, being the human he was, couldn't help out the way Scott could. The rest of Beacon Hills didn't have that privilege, either. It was down to Scott to do the things they couldn't.

Sort of like an Avenger, but Stiles was definitely not telling Scott that.

"I know," Scott nodded seriously. "and I will."

Stiles smiled at him, glad that Scott was going to start taking his powers—and what he could do with them—seriously.

"All right," Mr. Harris spoke up. "both of you, get out of here."

Stiles and Scott grinned at each other, grabbing their things off the table and rushing out of the lab.

"Do you know what your cousin is doing?" Stiles asked into his phone, frustrated and a little angry. He glanced at Scott in the passenger seat as they headed to the school, looking just as irritated at him.

"No," Olivia replied, sounding confused. "Am I supposed to?"

"I don't know, are you?"

"I'm not his keeper, Stiles!" she exclaimed. "Tell me what's going on or I'm hanging up."

"Derek kidnapped Scott's boss," Stiles informed her.

"Dr. Deaton?"

"Yeah," Scott confirmed, glad that the call was on speakerphone. "He thinks that Deaton's the alpha."

"Really?"

"Yes," Scott grunted. "What do you know about it?"

"Nothing," Olivia answered. "Derek said he was looking into something today, but he never contacted me about Dr. Deaton. I don't know what's going on. He really thinks Dr. Deaton's the alpha?"

"Yep."

"Well, he must have a reason, then," Olivia maintained.

"Are you serious?" Scott and Stiles asked at the same time, both in disbelief.

"Well, Derek wouldn't beat up an innocent man," Olivia insisted. "Do you want me to meet up with you guys? Where are you headed?"

"No, we're going to the school," Stiles told her. "Scott's going to call the alpha."

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Yep, bye now."

"No, Stiles, wait—"

Stiles hung up his phone as he swung into the school parking lot, parking haphazardly. He and Scott got out of the vehicle, walking around the back. Stiles opened the trunk, pulling out a pair of bolt cutters.

"This is a terrible idea," he told Scott bluntly.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I know."

"But we're still gonna do it?"

"Can you think of something better?" Scott asked, looking around the empty parking lot.

The school seemed much creepier in the dark.

"Well, personally, I'm a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually, it goes away," Stiles quipped.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Just make sure we can get inside," as Stiles held up the bolt cutters for Scott to see, Derek pulled into the parking lot. "He's here."

Derek parked his Camaro a few spots away and got out, slamming his door shut. He approached Stiles and Scott, an irritated look on his face.

"Did you seriously tell Olivia about this?" he asked sharply, having gotten a phone call from his cousin just before he pulled up.

"Yeah," Scott shrugged, unbothered. "Where's my boss?"

"He's in the back," Derek pointed to the backseat of his car.

Stiles and Scott peaked into the window, seeing Dr. Deaton tied up and gagged, still unconscious from Derek's earlier blows.

"Well, he looks comfortable," Stiles commented, glaring at Derek.

Scott glared at Derek and then nudged Stiles, gesturing toward the school. They both started walking up to the bolted doors but stopped as Derek called out to them.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he asked them, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"You said I was linked with the alpha," Scott reminded him. "I'm gonna see if you're right."

Derek didn't object—though the boys wouldn't listen if he did—and they walked to the door. Stiles snipped through the chains around the handles, and they walked in, heading to the main office so that Scott could use the intercom.

"Okay, one question," Stiles spoke up as they entered the office. "What are you gonna do if the alpha doesn't show up?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know."

Stiles rounded the secretary's desk and located the intercom microphone. "And what are you gonna do if he does show up?"

He turned the microphone on as Scott said, "I don't know."

Stiles pursed his lips. "Good plan."

"All right," Scott sighed. "You said that a wolf howls to signal his position to the rest of the pack, right?"

"Right," Stiles confirmed. "but if you bring him here, does that make you part of his pack?"

Scott grimaced at the thought. "I hope not."

"Yeah, me too," Stiles said, placing the microphone in front of Scott. "All right, all you."

Scott cleared his throat and let out a horrendous wail that had Stiles covering his ears. It sounded absolutely horrible.

Scott stopped making whatever noise he was making and looked at Stiles. "Was that okay? I mean, that was a howl, right?"

Stiles bowed his head, cringing at the memory of Scott trying to howl. God, it was horrific. "I—yeah, technically."

No, it wasn't.

"Well, what did it sound like to you?"

"Like a cat being choked to death, Scott," Stiles said honestly.

Scott panicked instantly, throwing his arms around in a way that reminded Stiles of himself. "What do I do? How am I supposed to do this?"

Seeing his best friend freak out wasn't fun, so Stiles walked from the desk to behind Scott, resting his hands on his shoulders. "Hey, listen to me," he said encouragingly. "You're calling the alpha, all right? Be a man. Be a werewolf, not a teen wolf. Be a werewolf."

"Okay."

Scott took a deep breath and let out a mighty roar. It was amazing and it was so loud, Stiles wouldn't be surprised if all the windows in the building shook from the intensity.

They celebrated all the way out of the school until they came face-to-face with Derek again.

"I'm gonna kill the both of you," he declared angrily. "What the fuck was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry, I didn't know it would be that loud," Scott apologized.

"Yeah, it was loud," Stiles agreed happily, chuckling. "and it was awesome!"

Derek glared at him. "Shut up."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a sour wolf."

Scott shuffled over to Derek's car, peeking into the back seat again. To his surprise, Dr. Deaton was nowhere to be found.

"What'd you do with him?" he asked Derek sharply.

"What?" Derek looked at the empty seat. "I didn't do anything."

There was low growling behind Derek and, before he could move, the alpha appeared, piercing through Derek's chest with his claws. Blood spurted out of Derek's mouth as Scott and Stiles looked on, horrified.

As the alpha threw Derek to the side, Stiles and Scott ran to the school, hoping they'd live to see the next day.

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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