#it takes every ounce of strength in my body to not make myself throw up

[hauntxd]

.

[whitherwordswither]

03: Wrapped Up For Your Dreams

CW: Mentions of quitting life.

I don't know how long I remained in the blissful void of non-being. Some primal instincts that had been tucked deep, deep down whispered that I should be fighting this. But that voice was scattered about in a wind that blew cool across the surface of my body as my senses crawled back from the brink of nothingness.

It was like laying in a tub, letting the water drain away around you. When you want to remain, motionless, soaking up every last ounce of heat. Gradually, little by little, I felt the world around me coming to life. The soft grass beneath me and the warmth of a sun shining down. The breeze rolling languid and free… and the rustle of the trees. My eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to a cloud speckled light blue expanse above. I had dreamt this scene many times before. A vast emerald meadow, sprawling eastward in to forever. Distant mountains stood in a hazy deep blue. Behind, a line of evergreens and willows, lilacs and birch. A calm space. A place I came to relax when the real world became too much.

Unhurried, I stretched, yawned, and sat up. That calm almost instantly came crashing down as my gaze fell from the heavens to behold the alien before me. The dreamscape glitched as my mind, in a panic, attempted to shift my consciousness. To abort. To awaken.

This wasn't a dream I was entirely in control of, however. The world settled as the plant smiled in what it probably felt was a non-threatening manner. "Now, now… don't be in such a rush to leave. Sit. You're safe here. This is your dreamscape, after all. I hope I picked the right one. It had a tranquil feel to it…"

It paused, head tilting as it shifted, watching me curiously. Like a cat watching a mouse it knew it had trapped, no doubt. My brain itched with the speed in which it was racing. Recollecting. Remembering. Retracing. This was the same plant-alien that had broken in to my house a couple nights prior just before I had been about to… run a force quit command on my existence. My legs buckled and I found myself seated back on the grass, staring, the saline sting of tears already welling in the corners of my eyes.

The plant made a sound, almost regretful in nature. It reached one of its vines out, paused, then drew it back. "I have cleared the neural blockages I so carefully put in place. You should have full access to your memories and emotions. I thought it best you be wholly aware so I can explain what---"

"Y-You didn't have… any right to… to take that choice away from me!" I scowled, rubbing at my eyes. It felt like the emotions that had been being held at bay were suddenly swarming all at once as I relived the last week of my life, leading up to what I had long planned.

"Oh, sweetling…" There was a hint of mirth swirling in the plant's eyes. "I have every right."

"No!" I clawed at my face, frustrated, then shoved my hands in to the grass, gripping and pulling. "No you don't! You can't just… you can't just show up, assume control, and take the things that make us who we are away!"

It seemed further tickled by my outburst, tips of vines brushing over its lips. "Tsk~ The things you speak of. That which make you who you are? They were driving you to destroy yourself. As we see it, you forfeit being able to decide for yourself the moment you chose to throw that away. Life is precious. It would be a shame to lose it when there is so much to look forward to~"

I shook, gritting teeth. I had made up my mind within the last couple weeks. After years and years of planning all the different ways I could go about it. Years of trying to convince myself of better days. Constantly fighting myself. Over and over and over again. I'd never had the courage… not until the other night. I thought for the longest time that I would never, could never, have that strength, however misguided it may have been. To attempt. As much as I had always wanted to depart. And now… I knew I wouldn't have it ever again. "What is there to look forward to!? You've seen the state of our world. The ways we've ruined it. How divided and awful our societies are. The way so many of us are just clawing through the grime and shit, day after day, trying to keep our threadbare lives from falling apart. And y-you… you just show up, take over and what? Think you're going to magically fix everything? Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"Trimixthis. Fifth Bloom." The plant replied, almost automatically, expression blank. And then it smiled again a scant few seconds later. "Your planet was indeed in poor shape. That's why the Affini claimed it. Your governments were leading you to ruin, letting you drown in your own decay. There's nothing sadder than watching an entire species annihilate itself because it does not know how to thrive naturally. How to care for itself. … All your problems are ours now. And we're really… quite very good at fixing problems~"

"And if we don't want to be fixed…?" I shot Trimixthis a glare, then tore my eyes away. I wanted to keep staring. Something kept pulling my gaze back to the affini's body. In a strange way, these aliens were alluring to a degree that overrode rational sense.

"That's no longer your concern, little one~" The laugh they gave was bubbly and pleasant. "Many before your kind have been taken under our care and have been turned, from wilting upon the precipice of loss… to vibrant and flourishing. You will be no different. You will learn to thrive once again. You especially, I will make absolutely certain… Chloe." A vine stretched out and curled under my chin, holding my head. Maintaining eye contact.

I'd never told anyone just how much I loved that name. Chloe. I'd first heard it in an old black and white cartoon as a child. Part of me had since, always wanted to claim it for myself. Make it my own name. Hearing it now, on some other organism's lips, out loud, felt… right. I found myself staring in to the deep, swirling pools of Trimixthis' eyes. I'd been here before, hadn't I? Fixing to fall in as a sob hitched in my throat.

"I… was really… really ready… to go…" The tears felt hot and real as they slid down my cheeks. I didn't know what to do now. Every ounce, every part of me had turned to acceptance of what were supposed to be my final moments.

"Shhhh~ Shhh~ I know…" Another vine wiped at my face as Trimixthis settled nearer. A different warmth exuded from their body, inviting and comforting. All encompassing. Smothering. More vines began to lightly touch and tug, coaxing me to come closer. "Your world, the old world, wouldn't let you exist in the way you wished. There was no solid ground for you to stand on. There was nothing to hold on to. Those who swore to advocate for you did nothing. … You were alone."

"And now you don't have to be alone." They continued, caressing and making soft sounds. "I told you before, did I not? You are mine. Everything is going to be okay now. You don't have to fight any more. You don't have to struggle. I will be your tide. I will be your shore. You won't ever have to feel those awful feelings again. I will take all that needless misery away. I… will love you, little one~"

It felt like a metric ton of nonsense even despite knowing it could be true. The last two days had been nothing short of positive, blissed out pleasure and peace. And still, there were parts of me that wanted to thrash and push against it. "Why?" I managed to choke out.

"Silly pup~" Trimixthis trilled, brushing fronds over my hair. "Because you deserve it."

The dream world became a blur as emotions flooded my eyes. It broke my brain in indescribable ways. What was being offered was too much. Too good to be true. So sickeningly sweet that the very core had to be rotten. Right? If I didn't have a choice, what was the point in fighting? I could rest. All I had to do was submit.

"I…" I began to speak, but the dream suddenly collapsed and I was plunged in to the warm darkness of obscurity once more. Returned to the numb womb of sleep. A cacophony of whispers flittered about the very edges of my unconsciousness. Sweet nothings. Fragrant promises.

And then… silence.

[marsbutterfly]

Hello there! I see that your requests are open so I just needed to request bcs I'm sick rn TvT. Can I request a oneshot dor Draken, with a sick s/o?

( my first time requesting for anything, so tell me if I made a mistake, n e way thanks! )

a/n: hey, I'm so honored to be your first request fpasjfops I hope you enjoy this. <3 wordcount: 1.4k

The Meaning Of Care

Summary: When you get sick, you try to avoid your boyfriend but he clearly doesn't care one bit.

Your phone rings one, two, three times in a row but you have no strength left in your body to answer it. Draken’s name blinks on the screen for a fourth time and you reach for the device before allowing your hand to drop at the side of the bed.

From your head to your toes, every inch of your body aches due to the sickness you have within you at this very moment. Your head constantly feels like it is getting pounded by a hammer and your nose runs like a river.

It isn’t the beautiful sight Draken is used to so you choose to ignore him for a few days. Not only that, you would like to avoid getting him sick as well because you know how it would affect Mikey and the rest of the gang.

The ringing stops completely and there is a few minutes of silence in your room before you begin to hear small pebbles being thrown against the window. It takes every ounce of effort for you to stand up and walk the short distance.

Outside in the snow stands your boyfriend, rocks in his hand as he throws them.

“Oh there you are.” Draken says, flashing you his best smile. “I’m going to climb through the window, I just wanted to give you a heads up.” He says loudly enough so you will be able to hear him.

“Draken, I’m sick.” You reply, coughing almost immediately after the words come out of your mouth. You are now a messy mixture of sniffles and shivers. “Go home.”

But before you notice, he is already up on the tree outside your window. He throws the backpack inside before jumping on the ledge, gently pushing you away to open space for his massive body.

“I brought soup from the little store at the corner of my house that you like.” He says, grunting as he lands right in front of you. In response, you giggle and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest.

“I don’t want you to get sick.” You say, pointing at the disposable masks your parents put out for you and he laughs.

“Nah, I don’t give a fuck.” He replies, pulling a blanket out of the bag and handing it to you. “I knitted it myself.”

The blanket is warm and fuzzy, made out of colorful yarn. You can tell how much effort he put into this and so you wrap yourself in it as soon as it touches your hands. It eases the cold feeling due to the fever and you sigh in relief.

The smell coming from the to-go package is amazing, the first smell in days that did not make you feel nauseous or gave you a headache though you are not quite sure why. Maybe it’s because Draken is the one who brought it or because you are finally starting to heal.

You sit on the bed, back against the wall in an attempt to support yourself while crossing your legs. Draken walks towards you, carefully stepping away from all of the used tissues on the floor. He sits by your side gently, trying not to move the bed too much.

“Put this pillow behind your back.” He says, handing you a small cushion. You silently thank him before coughing what feels like your lungs out.

He unties the knot on the plastic bag before pulling out a clear container filled with a brownish liquid. He removes the lid, placing it on your bedside table so he can use it again, just in case you aren’t able to finish the soup.

Draken takes out a spoon, dipping it in the liquid and bringing it towards your chapped lips. You make a slurping sound while taking it in, the warm feeling in your stomach feels rather nice seeing that you haven’t been able to eat much.

He slowly feeds you the soup, always making sure to include pieces of the meat for protein and some of the noodles. “The perfect bite” as he likes to call it. He pushes the spoon past your lips and you hum delighted as the flavor washes over your taste buds.

“How was it?” He asks, scrapping the last of the liquid off of the bowl and slowly handing it to you.

“Delicious, thank you baby.” You reply with a gentle smile. In response, he pumps his fist in victory, earning a genuine laugh out of you.

He wraps an arm around you while pulling you closer but as you prepare to settle and get comfortable, a sneeze attack sneaks up on you and before you notice you have become a mess of snot and tissues.

He doesn’t seem to mind at all, he even takes the used papers out of your hand and throws them in the trash for you. Once it passes, you begin to shiver as a cold current enters the room through the open window.

Draken places his hand on your forehead, feeling your temperature while using his other hand to reach for the spongebob thermometer that lies on the bedside table. He hands you the yellow object and you place it under your tongue. When it beeps after a few seconds, he looks at it with a concerned look in his eyes.

“102.2” He says before placing the thermometer down. “Take off your clothes.”

“Draken!” You yelp, crossing your arms above your chest and in response he simply laughs.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Y/N.” Draken answers, getting up from his spot on the bed. “I’m giving you a cold shower.”

“You are doing no such thing.” You say, cocooning yourself with the blanket he knitted as a present. A second passes and he pulls you out of it, carrying you in his arms towards the bathroom that is attached to your room.

The cold water runs into the bathtub and Draken adds a few bubbles to it as an incentive to get you to stay in. He takes your hair into his hands and strokes it for a few seconds before twirling it around, carefully to not pull at it, and placing it in an unstable bun.

Afterwards, he gently places you in the tub before using a cup to rinse your body up and down, washing away the sweat that pools around your skin.

You shiver at every contact with the water but you know it is for a good reason. Draken uses a soaped up washcloth to scrub your body, always making sure to do it lightly. His touch is caring and you can’t detect any ounce of dirty intentions.

Once he is done giving you a bath, you realize he was right all along, a bath was everything you needed at that moment. He wraps you in a towel and you raise your arms, quietly hoping he would carry you back to the bedroom. He smirks and obliges to your silent request.

The last thing remaining in his backpack was an oversized shirt, especially so you could use it. It had the smell on his skin engraved on its material and you can’t help but smile at how thoughtful he is.

Before you have time to put it on, he hands you a small white cup with a few little pills inside and you recognize it as your daily medicine that you had completely forgotten about. With some blue gatorade, you take the capsules and show him your mouth just so he can be sure you actually took it.

He takes a small, pink container from his pocket and quickly takes the lid off revealing the vanilla flavored lip balm. He takes it towards your chapped mouth and carefully spreads it around, making sure to cover it entirely.

While you are putting the clothes on, Draken makes sure to close the window so the cold air won’t come in contact with your warm skin.

Now fully dressed, he pulls the covers over your body before adjusting himself behind you. His arm wrapped around your waist while his chin rests on your shoulder. He pulls you as close to him as you could possibly be.

“Thank you for coming to take care of me.” You say, feeling as his free hand combs through your tangled hair.

“Of course.” He replies, “I will always take care of you.”

A few minutes of silence go by and it is only broken by Draken’s voice as he nearly coughs his lungs out. His nose turns a bright shade of red and you can tell his throat is getting scratchy by the way his words now sound.

“Maybe I can take care of you in a few days.” You say, a caring yet playful tone to your voice and you can feel as he nods his head.

“I would like that very much.” He responds and you settle yourself in your arms, allowing your mind to drift into a much deserved deep sleep.

[littlemissnoname13]

The life he always wanted (D.M.)

Summary: Draco’s life after the battle of Hogwarts

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

A/n: I wrote a multi-chapter a few months ago that never made it on here. This one shot has been pulled out of it and posted as a one shot just like “You and your green apples.” Which was supposed to be a part of that same multi chapter too.

Warnings: angst, Multiple mentions of avada and death so please read at your own discretion. Also please feel free to message me if I need to add any more disclaimers.

Word count: 2100+

The only thing illuminating the dark room was the flickering light from the television. 

Draco thought the muggles had really outdone themselves with that one as he had spent one too many nights in front of the television with a bottle of fire whisky.

Some nights he’d be too wasted to realise he’d been watching static for hours. 

Faint, fuzzy music could be heard all around the room even though the volume was set to a minimum and Draco took this opportunity to waltz you across the living room of your cozy one bedroom home. 

The house wasn’t too big but it was just the way you’d always wanted it to be—big glass windows, hardwood floors and a small spiral staircase leading to the roof. 

“The life we’ve always wanted.” You sighed and placed your head on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Draco.” 

One of his hands was placed securely on the small of your back while the other held your hand as you moved together with the music. Your soft, flowy hair bounced as he twirled you in his arms. 

“Oh really?” He smirked and watched you nod your head in response with a sad look in your eyes. 

“Yes really.” 

“Well I’m here now Darling so there’s no need to worry about all that.” He whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that don’t you?”

“I know Draco.” You whispered and he pulled you closer to him. “I know.”

Draco couldn’t begin to imagine what his life would be life without you in it. 

Shuddering at the dark clouds forming at the top of his blond head, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply to make the clouds drift away. 

“Don’t you have to be somewhere tomorrow?” You asked tilting your head upwards to look at him. Draco noticed that your eyes brows crinkled a little as you said this—the look of worry somewhat prominent. 

“Oh yes.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at you. “I really wish you didn’t remind me.” 

“But you haven’t met our friends in so long.” 

“Your friends. ”He corrected you curtly. “And it’s only been a few months.” 

Well, it had been more than just a few months but It wasn’t his fault that he’d rather spend all his time with you. 

Draco noticed that you giggled when he said that as if you knew before taking his hand and guiding him towards the bedroom. 

He decided to not utter a single word of protest as he quietly followed you into the bedroom. 

“Come lie with me, Dray.” You whispered as he watched you slip under the covers. You looked so peaceful, so content and the whole moment seemed so fickle like it would fade away if he moved too quickly or blinked too hard. 

He hastily removed his shirt slipping under the covers next to you—his head on your chest as you lazily played with his hair. 

This was everything he’d ever wanted. 

“I love you y/n.” 

“I love you too.” 

~~~~~~~

“Glad you came, Malfoy.” Ginny smiled the best smile she could smile, opening the door to let him in the house.

“Well hello to you too Weaslette.” 

“Come on inside. We were all waiting for you.” Ginny said she led the way towards the living room filled with familiar voices and faces. 

“Potter. Weasel. Granger.” Draco muttered as he gave all three a semi polite nod of acknowledgement. 

“I uh—like your hair.” Harry commented looking at Draco’s unkempt blond hair now growing towards his shoulders. 

Upon hearing Harry, Draco ran his fingers through his hair and fought an urge to say something snarky. 

“So, may I ask why I’ve been summoned here?” Draco finally said as he sat down on an armchair opposite to Harry. 

“We just wanted to see you. You have been gone for a…bit...” Harry replied, clearing his throat. And we thought you might want this.” 

Draco raised his eyebrows suspiciously as Harry stretched out his hand to hand him a sealed envelope. 

“Cup of tea?” Ginny asked. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

As soon as he reached home, he tore his clothes off and jumped into the shower. 

He let the warm water wash away the ache he felt all over his body. There was no tell tale sign indicating the pain was physical or emotional. 

Nonetheless, the warmth of the water helped. 

To some extent. 

After what felt like hours in the shower, he finally stepped outside and wrapped a towel around his torso. 

The bathroom had fogged up and the fog had travelled all the way into the bedroom. 

In an attempt to get the fog to disappear, Draco cracked the surprisingly large bedroom window open and let the crisp night air flow into the room. 

“Someone’s back home early.” He heard you  mock in a sweet singsong voice making the tiniest of smiles appear at his lips as he turned around to face you. 

You were wearing a flowy satin dress and were perched on the top of his desk—dangling your legs. 

He paused to admire and remember every detail about the sight in front of him. 

The way the gust of wind coming from the window blew your hair towards your face. The way that flimsy satin fabric hugged your body. The way the flickering table lamp casted shadows on your features. 

Everything.

“I just couldn’t stay away from you.” He shrugged and watched you chuckle and get down from his desk. 

He patiently waited as you took long strides towards him before finally wrapping your arms around his neck—stretching on the tip of your toes and bringing your face close to his. 

“Open the envelope Draco.” You whispered softly into his ears. 

A flash of lightning lit up the entire room with a blinding white light as the sky roared. 

Draco nodded as he slowly reached for the crumpled envelope he’d left inside his coat pocket.

Taking a long breath, he looked up at you and you gave him an apologetic yet reassuring smile while he ripped the envelope open.

The opened seal of the envelope brought along with it, a familiar scent of cedarwood and vanilla. It was the smell he could smell on his clothes after spending the day with you. 

A small photograph fell out of the envelope.

It was a Polaroid you’d unintentionally taken one summer. Both of you had questionable expressions on your faces because you were both trying to get the Camera to work. 

You were chewing your lip in confusion and his nose was scrunched up; you both were not ready for the photo at all. 

His hands shook violently as sporadic rain drops started to pour down from the window leaving tiny splatters on the worn out photograph.

“Why?” He spat in anger. “Why did you have to throw yourself between me and that killing curse?” 

You smiled an apologetic smile at him once again; you did that a lot. 

“You’ll get drenched Draco—close the window.” You said,  dodging his question completely while you reached towards his hand again.

“Stop dodging my question.” 

“It hadn’t rained for a while.” You said making him heave a sigh and look up at the night sky.

One rain drop and become two and two had become three.

Draco took a wobbly step towards you and fruitlessly wiped the drops of rain that were falling on your cheeks. 

“And now it’s raining.” He pointed out with his voice shaky. 

“Excellent observation, my love.” 

The way you said it, the nonchalance in your voice made him furious. You were gone but he had to wake up every single day in a world where you no longer existed. 

In a stupor of grief, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you towards him. “Don’t you see?— even the sky is grieving the loss of what could have been! The life we could have lived!” 

“I like to think it’s the universe washing away the hurt and pain.” You whispered, staring deeply into his steely eyes. “You’ll see. It’s going to be a beautiful morning tomorrow. I can feel it.” 

“Why y/n? Why didn't you let me die instead?—you are gone and what am I left with? A worn out photograph of you?!” 

“Draco—”

“Every damned day, I feel further and further away from you.” He began sobbing. “The smell of your perfume is fading from my sweater, I cannot picture the way you used to laugh anymore—for the love of Merlin! I don’t even remember what life was like when you were with me y/n. It all seems so far away..so distant.”

“You have to let me go, Draco.” You whispered as you pressed your forehead to his. 

He physically felt the pain of his breaking heart all over his body. The sharp pain brought back all the trauma he had suppressed over the last few months. 

“No…No. No. No—Please don’t leave again.” He pleaded as angry tears started to roll down his cheeks. “Please. I—I don’t think I can handle it.” 

“You’ll see me again. I swear.” You said softly as he began to laugh an ominous kind of laugh, knowing deep down that you weren’t even there in front of him to begin with.

Everything was all in his head. 

Twenty seven months.

He’d been talking to the voice in his head for twenty seven whole months while the world moved on without him. 

“When? When will I see you again? In another life? Merlin!” Draco said in between his hysterical laughter. 

“Maybe.” The figment of his imagination whispered caressing the side of his face till he calmed down. “Maybe in another life I won’t find myself having to jump in between you and the killing curse.” 

Draco gave you a disapproving glare before he leaned down to find your rain soaked lips. 

With his index finger and thumb holding your chin up, Draco kissed you gently while his own tears and the acidic grey rain continued trickle down his face. 

It took him every ounce of strength he had left but he nodded like he was saying his final goodbye and took a step back— releasing you from his embrace and releasing him from his grief. 

You slowly turned on your heel and walked towards the door. 

“I’ll be waiting for you Draco.” 

He closed his eyes because he wasn’t ready to see you leave. 

So after what felt like centuries, Draco slowly opened his eyes. 

He was all alone. 

~~~~🍂🍁🍂~~~~

Autumn. 

It could be seen in the rustling trees and the gust of wind that made the amber colored leaves that were once bright green fall down onto a winding pathway beneath trees. 

A young woman strided along the winding path. Clicking her heels. Head tilted upwards, taking in the pinkish purple sky in all of its glory. 

A few books were tucked underneath her arm and a cloth bag loosely hung on her left shoulder. 

She was so occupied by the pleasant weather and whatever thoughts were circling her head, that she didn’t even realise that she had collided with somebody.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

She apologised profusely before she knelt down on the ground to collect the books she’d dropped. 

The stranger hummed in response and helped her gather the contents that had fallen out of her book bag. 

An oddly familiar smell tickled her senses. It was the smell of cologne and fresh mint. 

The smell of the cologne was so foreign to her. It was like nothing she’d ever smelled before and yet, she found herself feeling awfully comforted by it.

The smell sent her into a state of déjà vu. 

She looked up through her lashes and saw a boy with steely grey eyes making an eerie sense of familiarity washed all over her body. 

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” 

The boy blinked a few times before cracking a small smile. “I think we’re in the same Art history class. Judging by where you’re headed.” 

“Right.” She nodded as they slowly walked down the path together. “Don’t mind me. It’s just.. it’s just that you seem oddly familiar to me.” 

He shoved his hands into his pocket as they quietly walked next to each other. The silence wasn’t an awkward one. 

Not for him at least. 

It felt almost as if they’d always been walking together for years—in another timeline, in another life.

It all felt habitual. 

“Tell you what? He finally said looking down at the girl he’d just met. “How about we get coffee after class and discuss this further. You seem oddly familiar to me too.” 

“I’d like that.”

Her eyes pierced a million daggers into his heart.

“I’d like that a lot.” 

-------------------------------------

Draco angst/ general tag list: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @badslytherin @dlmmdl , @desiredmalfoy @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @rvaldez7569 @Berriemafoy @Thegaudess @itchywitch33 @lunar0se10 @emma67 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @teawineaddict @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dracomalfoyisindahouse @sycathorn-slush @lalunemoonstone @supermisunderstoodoceans @belladaises @riddleswh0r3crux @justreadingficsdontmindme @axdxis @97santoki @laceycallisto @haroldpotterson @thetipsysaquatch @darlingmalfoy @letsmariya @malfoysbitch @turn-to-page-394-please . Sorry if I missed anything. Writing this at the office. 🥲

Join my tag list here .

Alternatively, you can message me if you’d like to be added or removed from my list.

Read my other stories here.

Love you all,

Vi

[morgana-ren]

👉👈 Spare thoughts on like Crystal Lake/Friday the 13thesque camp counselor au with the Lov or mainly Shigaraki. I was thinking about watching Fear street and suddenly this was all I could think about

So I wrote this bit and yes, I’m painfully aware it’s not plot-perfect or polished but I LOVE the concept and wanted to put something out for it to show my appreciation that you shared it with me. Warning: it’s very nasty and I took a lot of liberties here. I hope that’s okay. Tomura is the gross incel-y killer. It wasn’t QUITE Friday 13th style, more “creepy counselor gone mad” because when I started writing it, I was a bit out of it.

I hope it’s okay!

-

A slippery hand clutches yours- stark red and slicked with sweat and blood, trembling bones and quivering fingers- clinging to yours as if you alone could keep her anchored to her quickly fading lifeforce. She’s been stabbed repeatedly, but it’s the wound on her chest that pulses most noticeably with her breath; A font bubbling from the cleave a few inches beneath her collar bone, a scarlet brook staining down the front of her pastel camp uniform.

Her mouth open in a strangled, wordless cry: A petrified 'o' shape that seems terribly uncanny alongside her sallow cheeks, fear and pain reflected in her wide and panicked eyes as her grip on consciousness rapidly fades. Crimson stains her slippery ivory teeth, gurgling on her own bile as she struggles to make out a fragmented sentence between her presumably collapsing lungs and the blood pooling in her throat.

Her face, the perfect mask of fear covered in dirt and her own fluids, begins twitching, blinking tears through the muck that cakes her cheeks. The hand not wrapped around yours in an iron grip curls into a point -shaky and pale and borderline indiscernible- and it takes you a brief moment for you to realize she’s pointing directly behind you. It’s only then that you rip yourself from your traumatized stupor and hear the footsteps approaching from the cabin door.

You’re ready and willing to defend yourself if need be, shooting to your feet with lips pulled in a snarl, but you’re not greeted with the sight of a terrifying killer brandishing a knife: You’re met instead by the familiar face of your fellow camp counselor and long time friend.

“Tomura!”

You can’t help it. You throw your arms around his scrawny neck, almost knocking him over in your relief as you bury your head into the swell of his black hoodie. He’s a welcome sight- been close to you ever since you started attending even though he’s years older than you are, and he’s always made you feel better- safer somehow.

You’ve never been more happy to see him than you are now, thanking whatever God is looking out for you that he’s alive and that he found you. You squeeze him with every ounce of strength your little body can muster as he wraps his own gangly limbs around you and cages you to his chest in turn- almost too tightly.

“I looked for you! I couldn’t-“ Breath escapes you, tearing up in his embrace. “I couldn’t find you! I thought he’d gotten you too! I was so scared-”

He gives a firm shake of his head, shaggy silver hair ruffling over his shoulders. He reeks, as always, of slight mildew and something vaguely earthy- like ash or cinder, even as he hasn’t ever been allowed on fire duty. “No. He can’t be far behind though. We need to go.” 

“Okay!” You nod, wiggling free of his reluctant arms and dropping to your knees again by your wounded friend. “Just help me with Maureen- she’s really hurt- We need to get her to a hospital and fast-” “Leave her.” His knobby fingers encircle the rounds of your forearm, jerking you back to your feet at his side again with a bruising yank. ”We don’t have time- she’ll only slow us down.”  “How can you say that? We can’t just leave her here! She’s bleeding out- We can save her, we just have to-” 

A quick peek back at her and you realize she looks- if possible- more terrified than she did only moments ago in the face of death. She’s shaking like a leaf- Her wide, milky eyes focused in on Tomura as she attempts another gasped word.  “Look- Just look at her. She’s done for. Let’s go- I can keep you safe, I can-.”  “You don’t know that- You don’t know that- Please Tomura, we don’t have time to argue, just help me!” 

“I do know that,” He insists, trying again to tug you towards the door. “She’s in shock, and the blood loss is too much for them to be able to save her even if we could drag her out of here. It was obviously intentional. I can protect you but we need to leave now-” 

Your eyes flick back to Maureen and the pooling beneath her prone body that seems to grow larger by the second. Her mouth trembles, choking on the words that are trapped in her flooded throat. 

You shake him off once more and lean down to her as Tomura groans in what seems like, if you didn’t know better, annoyance. You ignore him, trying to coax her into your arms carefully, but she only quivers in your grasp, still trying to hiccup out something between her pained gasps and slipping mortal coil. 

“C’mon Maureen- You can make it, I know you can!” But she remains limply, dead weight on the cabin floor, more fearful of something directly in front of her than the inevitable death that awaits. You lean forward once more to try and get a grip beneath her arms to hoist her upward, but she holds firm, puffing a final wheeze in your ear that takes a moment to process.  “Him.”

Blood bubbles up through her throat following the words and she spits it up over her blouse, eyes going blank and body falling into limpness. The wounds across her body still ooze a steady stream of blood but the last of her spirit seems to still, light fading from her eyes in one final moment.

“Tomura, help-” Panic threads through your voice, still trying to drag her forward.

But he doesn’t move to help you. He only stares blank faced and cold as Maureen seizes in her death rattles; Her pallid fingers still coiled in an accusatory gesture at her side. 

“Please-”

“I told you, she’s dead.” He pulls you away by the collar like a kitten, knocking your center of balance clean from the sheer force of the grab as he coaxes you once again into his arms. “Can we go now? We need to go, need to get away from here-”

Something catches your attention, something solid in his hoodie’s kangaroo pouch that pricks you slightly as you fall into his chest. A slight sting on your arm as it collides with his torso. 

”Ow!” You pull away once again, his body stiffening as you inspect a fresh little cut on your arm where something sharp pricked at your flesh. “Tomura, what the hell is in your pocket? That hurt-”  ”Nothing! Quit wasting time- Come on! We need to leave.” 

“It cut me...” You pluck at the skin once more, hissing in slight pain as the small laceration pulls apart under your attentions. “Do you have a knife in your pocket?”  “What? No- well, yeah. I picked it up in the kitchens when I was trying to find you. I thought I could defend myself with it if he caught up to us-” 

You turn and narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head. “We don’t have knives that sharp. We have butter knives. It’s not safe for the kids, and after you got caught last time-”  “We have one, remember? The one we keep in the drawer for the barbeques.” “I looked! When the girls cabin scattered after the attack, I went and looked and it was gone!” “I must’ve grabbed it before you got there. Is this really important right now? We need to go! Stop being difficult!-”  “How is that possible? The boys cabin didn’t know anything was going on until we fled there when he attacked Stacy and Becky. You didn’t even know what was happening until- You- You weren’t even there-” 

“Well I have it, alright?” He interrupts you, face contorting into a sneer. “Shouldn’t you be happy? It means you’re not fucking defenseless if he shows up again.” “How-”

“Don’t worry about it!” He grabs your arm again, bruising grip deceptively strong for such a lithe man, crushing the bones in your wrist with his fingers. “Come on- Lets go! We can finally leave here together- You’ll be safe with me-”

Him

It could be the ferocious expression, or his demands that are cloaked in the facade of a benevolent request. Maybe his story that doesn’t add up or perhaps you’ve simply known all along somewhere deep down. Either way, It hits you in one terrible moment- one world shattering instant where everything suddenly clicks into place.

Tomura- quiet, eerie Tomura with the sharp mind and the eyes sharper still. Tomura with boundary issues who always found a reason to touch things he wasn’t supposed to. Tomura who only ever had a soft spot for you because you were kind to him when everyone else kept a mile berth. 

Tomura, who’s only friend to speak of is you.

‘He’s so obsessed with you! It’s fuckin’ creepy! You should get a restraining order before he, like, snaps and corners you and makes you suck his dick or something. He’s not even supposed to hang around with the younger group but he’s always following you around like a lovesick puppy.’

‘What? No he’s not! That’s a horrible thing to say! He’s a nice guy, you guys are just awful. You don’t even give him a chance-’

‘He’s always staring at you like he wants to eat you! I bet he’s the one stealing your stuff. I’ll bet he has one of those weirdo shrines to you in his cabin and jerks it over your picture like ‘Oh, oh yeah, ride me harder, oh fuck me faster- Oh!-’

‘You’re disgusting! He’s just nice to me because I’m nice to him! Everyone else is such an asshole to him- Including you! God, you guys are so fuckin’ mean for no reason! Just because he’s a little different-’

‘He gives me the creeps. He’s been like that since we were kids. Remember when he was a teenager but still only ever hung around you? He couldn’t even make friends his own age! Even the other councilors are wigged by him. The only one who even talks to him is you. I’m telling you, he’s a fuckin’ weirdo. There’s something totally off about him. He’s going to snap one day. We’re not the only ones that avoid him, you know-’ 

‘Fuck you guys. You guys are such fucking judgmental dicks. He’s never even done anything to you. You’re just a mean spirited bitch.’ 

Tomura who would sneak you into the woods and show you rotting animal corpses with macabre excitement in his wide red eyes. Tomura who used to sneak knives in his bag as a camper and show you how to sharpen and hold them until he got caught and the entire camp had to institute a new safety policy. Tomura who had to be scolded repeatedly for trying to sneak into the girl’s cabin as a young boy to try sleep next to you, and that it wasn’t appropriate for him to wait outside of it for you as he got older either. Tomura who has distain for everything and everyone in a world that shunned and rejected him in equal capacity. 

Everyone but you. 

Your friends are dead, slaughtered like animals and strewn across the camp in a grotesque tableau of vicious murder, the only knife in the area conveniently tucked in his pocket, his hand clasping your wrist in an iron hold that doesn’t ask, but demands you obey him. 

“Tomura- Tomura tell me you didn’t- You couldn’t-”  You’re shaking now, feeling more in danger than you did before the man in the mask who conveniently never chased you or even gave you a second glance even as he had every opportunity to do so. The murderer just as gawky and gangly as Tomura, lean, wiry muscle and imposing height almost too tall for his own body and manic, scarlet eyes. The killer who held the knife with the same practiced grip that he’d shown you so many years ago-

“What are you even talking about? Let’s go-” 

He rips you forward, taking you into his arms again and squeezing.

‘He’s going to snap one day-’

“Tomura- Tomura no! Tomura! God, please tell me you didn’t do this! Look at me and tell me!” 

He looks at you, mouth opening to form a sentence before abruptly cutting short. He studies your face, your quivering body, the blood across your cheek. You think, for a moment, he might break down. But he doesn’t.  He laughs. A nasty, cruel chuckle directed at you and only you; there’s no one else alive to hear it.

“You always were too smart for your own good.” 

The facade of panic and adrenaline falls from his pallid face, replaced with his stereotypical look of total nonchalance and almost boredom. Your stomach plummets, limbs paralyzed in abject terror as his pale hand reaches forward, thumbing at the swatch of blood across your face. 

“I had to, you know. Wanted to for years. But I had to wait until you were a counselor with me. Had to wait until I could do it before the kids arrived. Too many variables I couldn’t control. No one is coming for days, and they’re finally dead, and by the time anyone finds them, we’ll be long gone.” 

A stab of ice down your spine at his words, the uncanny horror of it all whirling your vision to a blurry abyss. “You can’t- what have you done? What have you done?”

“What I had to! They were insufferable and stupid- your harpy friends wouldn’t let us be. But now they’re dead.”

“-Have to get help- we need to call the police-“

“Stop being stupid.” He brushes the hair out of your face with a tender finger laden in blood. “We’re leaving here and never coming back.”

“You need to turn yourself in-“ you stammer. “They’ll know it was you, God, Tomura-“

“Do I look like I care?” A snarl lifts his scabby lips, bearing the sharp canines beneath. “I don’t give a fuck if they know. I hope they do. They’ll never find us. I’ve had so long to plan-“

“No! Tomura, this is insane!”

“It’s over. Come to peace with it.” He hisses, wrenching you even closer, his dry lips on the shell of your ear. “You’re coming with me, baby, and we can finally be together. You can finally show me all those dirty little things you never got the chance to because your friends made you feel ashamed.”

The edge of the blade in his hand flicks up through the thin threading that binds the top buttons of your counselor uniform, baring your cleavage and the top part of your bra to him. You scramble to try and cover yourself, but he’ll have none of it; he quickly swats your hands away and presses the tip of the knife to your sternum.

“I’ve waited so long for you-“ A ragged breath escapes him, chest shuddering with the force of the exhale. “To touch you. To take you. Do you know what it’s like? What you fucking do to me?”

“Tomura- this- this is wrong! Please! Please let me get help! We’ll get you the help you need- I will! But you can’t do this! It’s not right!”

“There’s only one way you can help me, babe.” The hand not threatening you with the knife slides down and squeezes your breast, your entire body stiffening in visceral disgust. “Something I’ve wanted as long as I can remember. If you’re eager enough for it now, we have some time-“

“No! No! Don’t- stop touching me! This is sick! They’re dead! Tomura- stop it!”

“They are. And I could never, ever hurt you, but I’m sure there’s someone still alive that I could to calm you down- to make you see sense.” He squeezes hard enough to make you cry out, nipple catching between his fingers through the thin fabrics you’re wearing.

You blink up at him, bleary eyes full of silvery tears that trail down the slopes of your cheeks. He doesn’t look like Tomura anymore- not your Tomura. He looks like something twisted and uncanny, some feral beast that’s inhabited your friend’s brain and driven him to the brink of madness. He leers down at you lasciviously, thick pink tongue swiping across his teeth and you’ve never felt more uncomfortable in your own skin under his gaze than you do right now.

“It’s not fair when you cry like that. I’m already painfully hard-“ He releases your tit in favor of clutching your wrist, bringing your trembling hand down to his crotch hidden by the length of his sweatshirt and forcefully rubs the length of his throbbing erection against your palm. “But it always did things to me when you got all weepy.”

You’ve been defending a monster.

“Remember when you would cry into my lap because that group of girls was mean to you and I had to keep adjusting you every few minutes?” He barks a laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “God, it was so hard not to sink you down on my cock right then. Fuck, I would have destroyed you if I let myself- all sniveling and delicate and weak. You always needed me to protect you, didn’t you? So trusting. Naive, really. You had no idea what I was thinking about at night. What I’ve been planning to do to you for years-“

You can only give a broken, disbelieving cry of his name- trying to bring back the boy you knew. The sweet boy. The shy one. The quiet one with morbid curiosities and wild ideas on the world.

“Your friends knew, of course. But you didn’t listen, you silly, dumb little girl. Tried to warn you, but you just wouldn’t listen. And now they’re dead.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you bastard! You’re a monster! You’re-“ You batter your fists uselessly against the steel panes of his chest and he barely even budges.

“Remember when you could come to the woods with me and I would show you all the cool stuff my dad taught me? You thought it was weird but you still came because you’ve always been so sweet to me. My dad’s dead now, but I made sure he left me his remote cabin. I’ve wanted to take you there for so long, and now I finally can.”

He advances on you and even in your rage, you instinctively backpedal. Before long, he’s got your back flush against the scratchy wood wall, toe to toe with you with his imposing frame trapping you to the surface behind you in a gangly cage of his spider-like limbs.

“Fuck- It gets me so hot when you act like a little brat. When you fight me even when you know there’s no way you can overpower me. You never could. Even when we play-wrestled. I could make you scream without even trying. So fucking precious to see you bare your teeth at me like you’re capable of lifting a finger against me.”

“I hate you- I hate you!”

“That’s okay, babe. I can learn to forgive you. Tell you what, why don’t you wrap those pretty lips around my cock and start sucking out my forgiveness with your sharp little tongue and we’ll take it from there.”

“Go to hell-“

“If I go, you’re coming with-“ He puffs into your ear, one hand swirling into the front of your shirt, the other slicing from hem to collar in one swift motion, leaving your torso bared to his greedy eyes. “I’ve earned you. You’re mine now- you belong to me and anyone who has ever tried to say otherwise is dead!”

And the worst part is he’s right. Maureen bubbles a lifeless pool of blood a few feet away. The ones who tried to fight slashed repeatedly until they were too weak to stand and died a slow, painful death into the grass. The ones that tried to run cut down from behind- a cowardly act that shows his true nature. You can scream and cry and wail your sorrows to the terrible moon that hangs through the trees, but no one will come to help you; there’s no one left. No one but him.

And no one is coming for days.

“I was going to wait until I got you home to fuck into your guts but you’re just not getting it, and I don’t think I can wait.” He thrusts the knife back into his pocket temporarily, opting instead to fumble with the front of his jeans. Dread pools in your stomach, threatening to overturn the contents into the filthy floor, but all you can do is watch in terror as he unzips the front of his jeans and fishes his pale cock from behind it.

“Go ahead and get on your knees for me and stick your tongue out. Think of it as a practice round.”

You shake your head, weakly resisting as he shoves you to the ground and taps the hot, purpling tip on your face, smearing his precum across your ruddy cheek.

“Don’t be shy. I promise once you get a taste, you’ll love it. You will learn to love it. You don’t have another choice. Just wait until I get you back home. I’ve learned so much since last summer. I can’t wait to show you.”

[sirius-archive]

Bite Marks (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap that willy), Dom/Sub, Rough sex, Oral sex (Reader receiving), Swearing. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, KINDLY FUCK OFF 

Word Count: 3.6k? I think? Who knows at this point

A/N: Nothing sexier than Jealous!Mando, amirite? 

***

The bounty was supposed to be easy.

All five mercenaries were dudebro fuckbois with high prices on their heads and a habit of pissing off the wrong people. They were all expected to be at the same club, too, which meant that you just had to flaunt some skin and purr honeyed promises and they’d be in the palm of your hands.

The bounty was supposed to be fucking easy .

It wasn’t.

***

The Mandalorian is suspicious. He always is.

“What are the chances of all six of our targets being in one place?” He says, “Seems suspicious. Could be a trap.”

“I considered that, too,” you remark from over your shoulder, searching idly for an outfit, “That was before I realised it was a Solastice festival. Literally hundreds of thousands of people rock up to this sleeze fest. No one wants to miss out on the free booze and the orgies,” Your fingers skim across a velvet mermaid dress, “How about this?”

Mando huffs out a grunt, “I should come.”

You toss the dress aside and search for another, “Who’s going to look after the Child?”

The Mandalorian stares long and hard at the Child, who blinks owlishly back at the Mandalorian, his inky eyes filled with adoration, “I know someone.”

“You sure you can trust them?”

“She’s taken care of him before.”

You give a noncommittal hum and hold out a lacy, navy-blue dress, “What about this?”

“That’s it?”

“What? You don’t like a bit of lace—?”

“—you’re not going to argue about me coming on this bounty with you?”

“It’ll be fun,” you smirk, throwing the dress away, “Besides, I like watching you in action. You’re sexy when you fight.”

Mando tilts his head. His expression is impossible to read but you suspect he might be amused, annoyed or confused.

Beaming excitedly, you flatten a sleek, backless dress with a plunging neckline against your body, imagining how the dress will hug your curves and flaunt your cleavage. A long split down the side will give you access to the blasters and daggers strapped to your thigh holster too. It’s classy with just enough sexy to keep the imagination stirring.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long, measured moment. Somehow, perhaps ironically — the silence seems to whisper his approval.

You untie your silk dressing robe, letting it fall to the ground and pool around your feet. The Mandolorian averts his gaze. suddenly taking a keen interest in the small plant you’ve been watering. You wish you could see his face. Is he blushing? Is he horrified? Is he aroused?

Sliding into the dress, you turn and gesture to the zip kissing the small of your back. “Do you mind?”

The Mandalorian hesitates at first. Somehow, you can almost hear the clink of his thoughts colliding, like he’s mentally solving dynamical system calculations and differential equations. Finally, he stalks toward you and you feel the hesitancy begin to thaw as his gloved fingers twitch around the zip and tug.

His ghostly, featherlight touch lingers on your skin, following the line of your spine until he reaches the thin straps sitting elegantly on the knob of your shoulders. Summoning every ounce of your ex-assassin courage, you slowly turn to face him and stare deeply into the slit in his helmet, imagining the colour of his eyes. Are they a dazzling shade of blue? Or a lovely, rare shade of teal green? Perhaps a smokey umber or steely grey? Or were they like yours; a kaleidoscope of colour always shifting and changing and never one distinct shade?

The air thickens, electricity crackles.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian nods stiffly and stumps away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sigh, realising that there’s more than Beskar armour hiding his thick, prickly layers. Perhaps... , you muse, in that childishly naive way that only deep affection can stir, ... Perhaps  I’ll find a way to pry it off.

***

Outside, the festival rages.

The dancing crowd of celebrants are like a splash of vibrant colour against the bland backdrop of the surrounding buildings as they flood the streets, filling the air with hoots and cheer and vivid shades of life .

You perch on the barstool, keeping an eye on both your targets and the festival. The Mandalorian is sitting at a table in the far corner, close to the exit in case the targets are as dumb as they look and decide to make a break for it.

The bartender slides yet another drink your way from a hopeful suitor. You smile and take a sip, winking at the nervous, young man stealing furtive glances at you.

“My, my...” a greasy voice says from over your shoulder, “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in dump like this?”

You spin in your stool and smirk.

The lead dudebro of the fuckboi boy-band is trying to make a pass at you. He thinks he sounds smooth but his pick up lines are equal parts cliche and cringy and they come off polished and second-hand, like he’d heard it from a grainy, amateur porn movie and decided it was a winner.

“Hoping to find myself a handsome fella,” you purr, flashing him your most alluring smile.

Dudebro leans against the counter, reeking of smoke and sweat and virile fuckboi testosterone. He trails a lewd gaze from your eyes down past your neck, spilling indulgently between your breasts, along the sloping curve of your hips, down to the skin of your thigh peeking out from where you have one leg crossed over the other.

“How is that working out for you?”

Your lips tilt into a cat-like smirk, like a spider watching the squirming wreck of their prey struggle against the sticky fibres of a carefully designed web, “You tell me.”

“Beautiful, clever and single? Seems too good to be true.”

“Yet here we are.”

A dodgy grin hooks around Dudebros chapped lips. He slides a calloused hand along your thigh, his grip bordering on possessive.

“Here we are.”

You pause, stretching out a silence to create tension. Dudebro slides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You should know that I give generously to women who know how to please a man,” he says, “And you look like you know a thing or two about that...”

You lean over, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, “Why don’t we get a room and you can see for yourself.”

Dudebro shudders. You’ve got him.

Suddenly, a blur of grey and silver charges toward dudebro, slamming his head onto the counter. Dudebro crumbles into an unconscious heap by your feet.

The Mandalorian has swooped in to save the day. What a knight in shining fucking armour.

“What the fuck was that about?” You hiss, incensed, “I nearly had him!”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. Instead, he’s twirling his blaster between his fingers with well-practiced movements.

The other dudebro’s jump to their feet, steeling themselves for a fight.

Chaos erupts.

***

You’re quiet on your way back to the Razor Crest.

Your blood is boiling, your throat itchy and dry from all the insults you want to scream into the dull, black, bottomless void. The Mandalorian’s anger is an icy contrast to your fire; his broad shoulders steeled and his posture hard, unforgiving, like he’s still hunting down a bounty.

Your temper spikes as you watch him pay Peli Motto, your jaw clenched and your lower belly fluttering with a confusingly irritating concoction of venomous seething and hot, syrupy desire.

“It didn’t have to end in a fucking bar brawl,” you snip, waspishly, as he closes the hatch to his ship, “Thanks to you, though, it did.”

The Mandalorian gives you his usual response: silence.

Your nostrils flare.

“Three dudebros nearly escaped. It was lucky I was able to catch them before they raced off.”

Still no response. He’s too busy scaling the ladder up to the cockpit. You stomp up to the ladder and call up to him.

“You undermined me! And for what, exactly? Because some guy was getting a little touchy feely?”

You hear the engines roar to life and feel the ship rise, hover, then launch into the air.

Fuming, you pace the length of the ship, clutching the daggers in your thigh holster  and hurling them in quick procession. They lodge themselves into the bullseye, trembling from the force of your strength.

“You’re making dents in my ship.”

Your jaw clenches, molars grinding as you storm toward the daggers and pull one of them out.

“So now you want to talk!” You snap, scathingly, wheeling around to face him.

Mando’s helmet tilts as though he were evaluating you. He takes three deliberate steps forward, forcing you take a surreptitious step back.

“I’m not exactly a conversationalist,” he states, his voice clipped and tight. He makes no effort to disguise the anger in his tone.

You ball your fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching, “So you’re not going to explain to me why you nearly let three of our bounty’s escape?”

There is a crackle and whir from the modulator as he speaks again, low and even with an intensity that sends shivers traipsing down your spine.

“You don’t know?”

You squint at him, wondering what he’s playing at. He acted rashly and impulsively; in a way that he’s never done before, betraying his years of careful training and defying all common sense. His timing was peculiar, too, just when you had suggested finding a room...

It hits you like a blaster to the chest, “You were jealous.”

Mando takes another step forward, neatly eliminating any space you had tried to regain. Your back is pressed against the wall as he takes another step closer, closer, closer , his arm reaching out grazing against your cheek, caging you in, closer, closer, closer—

He grips the handle of your dagger and pulls it out of the wall beside your head with a strong tug. The dagger dances between his fingers as he twirls it then parts the split in your dress just enough to slide the dagger back into its holster. His fingers glide along your inner thigh and you gasp, his touch electric.

“Not exactly,” he says, “Just a little protective.”

You exhale slowly, evenly, your chest fluttering with a thousand hummingbirds, “Is there a difference?”

He pulls his gloves off and trails his fingers along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, “I suppose not.”

The tension in the air is almost sentient, alive with a frantic, crackling energy that’s hotter than a heatwave in Tatoonie. Mando’s fingers dig into the spot where dudebro fuckboi had his hand back in the bar. Slowly, slowly, his hand snakes up your thigh, grazing across your hipbone, tickling the sensitive skin...

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you sneer, your upper lip curled.

“I guess I am,” he admits, his eyes boring holes through the visor of his helmet, “But you’re no angel, either.”

With that, he whirls you around and pushes you up against the wall, your flushed cheeks pressed up against the cool metal of his ship. You moan when he drapes a bandage across your eyes then tugs tightly at your hair. You hear him pull his helmet over his head, dropping it onto the ground with an obnoxious clang. Then he’s behind you, his voice in your ear, sultry and thick.

“You waltz around teasing me with those looks and that body of yours,” he grips your ass through the fabric of your dress, squeezing with bruising strength, “You drive me absolutely fucking crazy.”

He presses a searing kiss to your neck, teeth clamping around the flesh. You moan and arch against him, desire pulsing through your veins like velvety liquid chocolate.

“Then I saw you with our bounty, the way he eyed you, like he was undressing your right then and there,” the Mandalorian grazes his teeth along your neck, biting and nipping hard enough to draw blood, “Only I get to look at you like that. You’re mine.”

With a sudden burst of strength, the Mandalorian grips you by the waist and spins you around, pressing your back against the wall. He crashes his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, teeth scraping and tongues clashing, his mouth ruthless and bruising in the most delicious of ways. He kisses you with the hunger of a starved man, as though he’s deciding whether to savour you or swallow you whole.

The Mandalorian spills his lips down the column of your throat, biting and sucking and bruising, planting blossoming purple roses in your skin. Bite marks swell beneath his lips; a brand you’ll wear proudly for the next few days. It’s ironic how being claimed by the Mandalorian can make you feel so liberated.

He pulls away from you and clutches the zipper to your dress, tearing it from your body. You gasp, the cool air caressing your exposed skin. You feel the prickle of his eyes travelling across your body, capturing and collecting, memorising every detail.

And then he’s on you again, kissing your lips fiercely, stealing the breath from your lungs, swallowing your gasps, your moans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. Your hands roam through his hair, tugging the roots, letting it melt between your fingers like honey.

The Mandalorian reaches behind you and rips off your bra followed by your panties, pulling an involuntary gasp from your lips.

“You’re going to have to pay for those,” you pant, “They weren’t cheap—“

You trail off into a moan as you feel the Mandalorian’s hot lips close around one of your nipples, teeth scraping and nibbling. You arch into his mouth, massaging his scalp as you play with his hair. His hand paws at your other breast, rolling the soft flesh in his palm, sending shivers throughout your body.

“Consider it payback for denting my ship,” he counters, and you hear his armour clink against the ships floor as though he were kneeling.

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he begins pressing butterfly kisses down your stomach, tasting the salty sweetness of your skin, tongue mapping out the canvas of your body. You moan when he bites your hipbone then travels lower, lower, until his hot breath is hovering over your slick entrance. He slings your leg over his shoulder and inhales your scent as though he were taking mental notes, cataloguing your natural fragrance with everything he knows about you, and then—

He dives in, curling his tongue over your clit, rolling the sensitive pearl of nerves as he drinks you in like sweet nectar. You moan and gasp and whimper his name, your voice hoarse as your lower belly crackles with ethereal-like energy; a nest of frayed, live wires sending currents of azure-blue electricity through your body.

Thick fingers push into you; first the index, then the middle finger, then both. Your back arches and your fingers fly into his hair, gripping hard enough to draw a groan from the back of his throat. It doesn’t take long for you to climax; you cry out his name as you shatter into oblivion, coasting a high that jolts you into hyperspace.

The Mandalorian kisses his way back up your body, and then he kisses you deeply. You slide your tongue over his lips, tasting yourself. Your head spins into a state of euphoric delirium.

“Your pleasure belongs to me,” he snarls, transforming your spine into a quivering live wire, “I’m in charge. Understood?”

“Yes, sir ,” you whisper, light as air, tone teasing.

“Good girl.”

The Mandalorian breaks away, the absence of his warmth leaving a ghosting greyness where he once stood. You shudder as you hear armour clicking and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. Then you feel his hands tug on the knot behind your head, keeping your bandage together, and the fabric falls away, returning your vision.

You blink, eyes adjusting. The Mandalorian stands before you in his armour, including his helmet. His codpiece is discarded; the lump of metal sits abandoned on the floor near your shredded clothes. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as your gaze dips to his huge, thick cock.

“Wow,” you gasp, “You’ve been holding out on me, Mando.”

The Mandalorian steps toward you again, hooks his arms around your thighs, and hoists you up against the wall. The cold metal bites into your back, penetrating your skin and crawling down your spine. He presses his cock against your entrance.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a brat...”

Without further ado, He pins you to the wall of the Razor Crest with his long, thick girth, sinking into you with a loud groan and a roll of his hips. You cling onto the pieces of his armour and rest your head on the cool metal of his shoulder as the Mandalorian sets a pace. He rocks his hips slowly at first and you move your own hips against him, for once perfectly in sync.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping your thighs around his hips and pulling him further into your warm depths.

The Mandalorian snaps his hips against you, building up a fast, unrelenting pace. His movements are steady and deliberate, his grip plunging into your thighs, shooting sparks of pain and pleasure throughout your entire body. He’s silent for the most part, occasionally grunting and gasping in your ear when the muscles in your pussy contract.

“Yes,” you cry, biting into the fabric of his shoulder, “Just like that, don’t stop.”

A familiar tightness begins to curl inside your lower belly again, sloshing around with the chemical cocktail of champagne,

dopamine and serotonin. The feeling rolls and crashes within you, filling you up like seawater and sunlight and bright, glittering gold.

“Every time a man lays his hands on you, I want to cut them off,” he growls, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust, “Each eye that follows you makes me want to dig them out of the socket.”

“I never — oh — never knew you felt like — Ah, fuck yes — like that.”

“Bullshit. You knew...you’re just such a — fuck — fucking tease .”

“So what are you going to do—do about it?”

The Mandalorian groans and increases his pace, slamming his cock inside of you. He balances you with one, strong arm while the other snakes between the two of you and reaches up, up, up, his fingers wrapping around your neck, flexing gently. The added pressure makes you moan as you crest higher and higher, scaling the wobbling, tipsy-turvey ladder of a crashing crescendo—

Suddenly, the tight coil inside you snaps, spirals, sending pleasure surging through you, fluttering in your chest, pulsing through your arms and legs. Your pussy quivers around him, hugging his cock as the muscles spasm and quake with the force of your climax. The Mandalorian follows you over the edge, gritting his teeth and growling your name as he buries his twitching cock inside of you and comes, pouring his seed deep inside of you.

The air around of you smells like sweat and sex and grease and is filled with your combined pants. After a few lingering moments, the Mandalorian slides out of you and places you gently on the ground, tucking himself back into his pants. Your thighs are sticky with his dribbling cum and your head feels like it’s been crammed with fluffy cotton buds but your entire body tingles like light dancing off the ocean.

“That was—“

“Incredible...” you finish, biting your lip. The Mandalorian’s faceless mask stares down at you, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he’s gazing sheepishly at you, perhaps shy or maybe even aroused. Maybe he’s like you — an amalgamation of conflicting emotions, some old and nostalgic, some surprising and new.

***

Morning light drenches the Mandalorian’s quarters, shimmering like gold dust. You moan gently, consciousness slowly returning to you. You become aware of your surroundings, recognition settling in, delicious memories of being tied up and blindfolded while the Mandalorian worshipped your body...

The gentle caress of a warm kiss tickles your inner thigh.

You moan as the kisses dot along your thigh, climbing higher, teasing around your entrance, licking and nipping like he can’t get enough...

Your fingers fumble then clench around the bed sheets as his tongue finally laps at your clit, swirling and sliding in tantalising rhythms. You gasp and mewl, whispering words of encouragement as the Mandalorian feasts on you, plunging two fingers into your slick entrance. You begin to draw closer and closer to your climax, your toes curling as you throw your head back and moan—

A small whimper suddenly jolts you back into the present.

You sit up on your elbows and gasp, clambering to cover yourself as the Child stares up at you, distressed by the sound of your moans. His bottom lip trembles, his large eyes unusually glassy as he waddles up to you.

Beneath you, the Mandalorian shifts, and you turn away from him as he slides his helmet on.

“Hello baby,” you soothe, reaching down to scoop him up with one arm, “It’s okay, mummy’s here.”

The Child coos in delight as he snuggles into your embrace. You gently turn on your side to face the Mandalorian — who is now wearing his helmet — and place the Child between your bodies. He stares up at both of you and beams; his smile could light up a thousands suns.

When the Child begins to doze, you gaze up at the Mandalorian through your lashes, bracing your head on your hand bent at the elbow.

“I think he was jealous,” you whisper, stifling your giggles.

You hear the amusement in the Mandalorian’s tone, “Of you or of me?”

You shrug, leaning down to press a tiny kiss on the Child’s head, “Who knows?”

[thewnchstrs]

Scarred

Pairing: DeanXReader

Disclaimers: blood, serious injury, graphic description of injury, angst, near-death, mentions of surgery, hospitals, descriptions of scars, fluff, fluffy smut

Word Count: 3.4K

M A S T E R L I S T

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There wasn’t much time to think, ducking behind the low brush as I sank close to the ground. It was chasing me, making a game out of hunting me down. I knew it was screwing with me because If it wanted me dead, it could’ve done so nearly half an hour ago when it spotted me the first time.

I panted, clasping a hand over my mouth trying to keep quiet. I could feel every cut and bruise up and down my arms and legs. The makeshift Molotov cocktails that were once in my hands were now scattered, broken on the forest floor. I silently kicked myself for losing Sam and Dean, for not paying attention when I should’ve been.

The wendigo’s roar pulled me from my pity party, slamming me back into reality. I was running out of options, but I knew there was one last thing I could try, even if it might get me killed. I couldn’t kill it. I couldn’t outrun it. But maybe I could stay hidden long enough for Sam and Dean to find me.

I shoved the gun into the back of my jeans, watching as the wendigo quickly disappeared from one area of the forest to another so fast I hardly had time to keep up with it. My heart pounded, my palms sweating when it was no longer in my line of sight. 

An unearthly screech from behind me was what signaled that I’d been found. I didn’t dare look back as I shot up from behind the bushes and began sprinting away from it.

My boots pounded into the wet ground, giving slightly under my weight. I pumped my arms, my breath coming out in short bursts as I listened for the distinct sound of the wendigo close behind me. My entire body begged me to stop. Every muscle, joint, and tendon pleading to take a break, but adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me even further forward.

It felt like I’d been running for an eternity, the entire time praying that I’d run into either Sam or Dean, but now it seemed like I’d run so far I’d never find them all the way out here. My toe struck a short root sticking from the ground, throwing me off balance. I stumbled slightly before regaining my footing but it was just enough for the wendigo to gain traction on me.

I felt the white hot pain as the wendigo sunk its claws into my side, grabbing at my left hip before sliding down all the way to my knee, blood instantly pouring out of the wound. I crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain as I scrambled away but the wendigo reached for me again, this time clawing from the middle of my left side at my waist and down to my hip, taking a large chunk from it.

“Dean!” I screamed, the only name in my head that seemed to click. I screamed his name over and over, even though I knew I was likely to far away from either of them. “Dean!”

I tried crawling faster, digging my hands into the earth, dirt clinging under my fingernails as I tried to go as far as I could, but my vision was already starting to turn black around the edges. 

The wendigo’s presence behind me was unmistakable, his heavy footfalls coming from behind me. I pulled myself forward another few inches, as if it would do anything to keep this thing from tearing me apart. I glanced over my shoulder at it, the way it towered over me. Its one hand was coated in my blood and flesh, pieces of me dangling from his fingernails.

I felt my heartbeat slow down slightly, trying to kick myself across the ground now, using my good foot to propel myself forward to no avail. I tried screaming again, tried calling for Dean, but even that would take too much effort. I was dying. There was no doubt about that.

I gripped the ground ahead of me, chunks of wet dirt smooshing between my fingers, giving me absolutely no leverage to get any farther. I paused for a second, hearing the wendigo’s breathing come closer. I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to find the strength to keep going.

The hot orange and red glow of fire engulfing the wendigo was what made me turn weakly, watching it go up in flames over my shoulder. Just the sight was enough for me to fall to my side on the earth in relief, the wet grass cooling my hot cheeks. My breath came out in front of me in a harsh cloud against the cold air.

Two sets of footsteps ran toward me. They were yelling, but I could hardly tell what they were saying. Dean appeared over me first. Dean. I raised my hand up, gently holding his face in my hand, a mixture of mud and blood appearing over his stubble. Sam came next, his eyes wide as he examined my shredded side but I didn’t dare take my eyes away from Dean’s. I smiled softly.

“Sam...her out of here...” Dean said frantically, but his words came in and out. I lolled my head to the side, noticing the pool of blood in the grass that was forming under me.

“That’s a lot of blood, Dean,” I whispered, my words slurring together.

“You’re gonna...alright, okay? You’ll...just fine,” he said hurriedly as he shed his jacket, pressing it tightly against the wound. I let out a guttural scream, tilting my head so I was screaming into my arm. “...sorry...Sam’s calling...on their way.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, dark spots dancing in my vision. I gripped Dean’s arm with everything I had, even though I knew it probably didn’t feel like much. 

“I was so scared, Dean,” I whispered to him, but he was so frantic trying to stop the bleeding he didn’t hear me. “You saved me.” He pressed the jacket tightly over my side again, but it didn’t hurt as bad this time.

He said something else, smoothing my hair away from my face. I was able to hold my eyes open just long enough to see Sam come into view, taking over where Dean had been.

“Stay...me, okay?” Dean’s voice filtered through. “...eyes open...okay?...do that? Can you...for me?”

I nodded slowly, hearing the distant sounds of sirens wailing, bright lights filling the edge of the forest. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between then and when a medic stood over me, shining a flashlight into my eyes. All I knew is that I must’ve dozed off because Sam and Dean were no longer at my side but standing above me. Two other medics came into my view, frantically talking between each other. 

They were saying something about blood loss, something about severe damage. I couldn’t process it, my eyes becoming heavier.

“...focus...me okay?” Dean’s voice came again. I could only move my eyes now, slowly dragging them over to him. “Focus...my voice...ignore...medics, you’re fine...safe...stay with...focus on me.” 

I tried, God, I tried to focus on Dean. But when the medics lifted me up onto the gurney, my vision blacked. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

My eyes felt glued shut as I tried to pry them open, instantly regretting it once a sliver of light passed through my eyelids. I shut them again, groaning slightly. Then, I heard a shuffle, the sound of a chair being dragged over linoleum floors.

A hand slid into mine, fingers slotting perfectly against it. I tested my strength, giving an experimental squeeze that only resulted in the ever-slightest twitch of my fingers.

A quiet breath of relief was pushed out of the person next to me, the presence I’d know from anywhere. Dean squeezed lightly back, “Take your time, Y/N.”

It felt like years before I was able to fully open my eyes. I blinked against the dimmed overhead lights, even that was too much. Instead, I turned over to where Dean was sitting on the side of my bed, smiling softly.

“Hi Dean,” I whispered, trying out my voice. I winced at the way it sounded, so gravely and rough. Dean instantly reached for the water next to him, holding it so I could drink through the bendy straw.

I let my head fall back against the soft pillows, letting the water soothe my throat. For the first time, I noticed the tightness of my left side. I rested a hand over it, feeling the wrapping that covered my midsection and extended all the way down to my knee.

The events of that night slowly came back to me in short waves, and then all at once. I remembered every ounce of pain, remembered feeling the blood as it pooled out of me. 

Dean seemed to sense my recognition, squeezing my hand tighter, “You’re okay. Helluva lot of stitches, but...” He paused, his façade faltering as he shook his head, averting his gaze. “You scared the hell out of me, Y/N.”

I watched him, tears filling his eyes. I knew he hated when I saw him like this, so torn up. I held back my own tears, “How many?”

Dean looked at me now, confused, “What?”

“How many stitches?” I asked. “Enough to make me look like Frankenstein?”

Dean let out a short laugh, bringing his hand over his mouth as he nodded, “Yeah...a hot Frankenstein.”

I smiled, “It’ll be a badass scar though, right?”

He nodded again, his eyes searching my face as if if he didn’t, he’d forget what I looked like. We silently watched each other, neither of us having to say a word. We knew the kinds of dangers this life dragged us through. We knew the stakes with every hunt, every monster we took on, even if we’ve faced them countless times.

However, that realization, the reality that slammed into us whenever one of us was hurt, inches from death, was a lesson that never really stuck very well with any of us. We knew it was bound to happen, but when it actually did, it flipped our lives on their heads.

Dean leaned forward, kissing me softly the way he had millions of times before, but this felt different. Desperate and relieved and terrified all in one. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, just feeling him there. We were together again, and for now, we were okay.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I eyed the scar in the mirror, twisting every which way in an attempt to view it from every angle. My fingers danced over the still upturned skin, and even though the stitches had been taken out weeks ago, I could still see where they’d been punctured through my skin.

My eyes traveled from the bottom where the scar ended right above my left knee, following the jagged line up until it disappeared behind the material of my shorts before reappearing above the waistband and up toward the middle of my side.

Multiple tendons and ligaments had to be repaired, making for one nasty scar. Actually, nasty wasn’t a word to describe the monstrosity. It was hideous. It wasn’t clean and badass looking like I remember asking Dean. It was jagged, rugged, thicker in some spots and narrower in the rest. The skin was raised as if there was something hidden just beneath the surface.

To top it all off, I could hardly walk in a straight line. I depended on the crutch that I now had resting on the wall in front of me. I scoffed, shaking my head. A hunter who can’t even walk.

I was pulling my shirt back down when the bedroom door creaked open slightly. I glanced through the mirror where Dean poked his head in, smirking, “Whatcha doin’?”

I glanced back down at the scar, “Checking out the new addition.” Dean came deeper into the room, standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his head next to mine as we looked into the mirror together. “It’s gross, Dean.”

Dena furrowed his brow, “What?”

I huffed, sliding from between his arms before sitting carefully on the end of the bed. It’d taken days for me to even be able to sit up, even that was a chore now. He sat down next to me, the bed dipping under his weight.

“Never mind, it’s stupid,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

Dean scooted closer, “Hey, what’s going on? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I knew that. Of course I did. I looked over to Dean, his eyes full of concern as he watched me. I clenched my jaw, looking down at the relentless scar.

Dean followed my line of sight, his face falling before his eyes came back up to mine, “Is it about this?” I bit my inner cheek, nodding slowly. “Y/N...you know what happened wasn’t your fault, right? You didn’t see it coming, it’s okay.”

I shook my head, lacing my fingers through his, “It’s not about that, Dean, it’s...it’s the scar.”

He blinked twice, confused, “The scar?”

“It’s...it’s ugly, Dean,” I said, starting to feel silly about how much it was affecting me. “Every time I look in the mirror it’s all I see.”

“Hey, hey,” he said, using his fingers to tilt my chin up until I was looking him in the eyes. His eyes. The ones that made me melt the first time I saw him and the ones that always looked at me with so much love. They didn’t look any different now. “You really think that?”

I nodded, “It’s true.”

“It’s not true,” he said instantly.

“I just...I thought that when you saw it, you wouldn’t...” I hesitated. “It’s just, you always talk about how beautiful I am, but, now I don’t feel beautiful anymore. I was scared you wouldn’t think I was.”

His face contorted into confusion as he lightly held my arms, “Y/N...you can’t be serious. Baby, you’re beautiful. A scar ain’t gonna change that.”

I looked down at his hands, noticing now the tiny scars crossing in lines over his arms and hands and the litany of them that I knew decorated the rest of his body. I loved his, why couldn’t I love my own?

“Hey,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes momentarily before opening them again. “Forget about the scar, alright? I love you, no matter what.”

I nodded slowly, my eyes darting down to his lips. I leaned forward, my hands coming to rest on his jaw. He leaned into it, resting his hand on my lower back, bringing me closer to him.

His movements were slow as he began kissing down my jaw, moving the hair away from my shoulder. I let out a deep breath, feeling his lips travel down my skin. Between surgery and the healing process coupled with the insecurity of being naked around anyone other than myself, it’s been months since we’ve done anything.

He looked back up at me, his eyes darting down to my lips as he leaned in again, the kiss deeper this time. I moaned against him, tugging at his shirt, snaking my hands under the material and pulling it over his head.

Dean pulled away from the kiss momentarily, his pupils blown wide, “Lay down.”

He slowly guided me to lay against the pillows, careful of the still-healing wound as he situated my leg comfortably on the bed, “Is that okay?”

I hummed in approval and he smiled, pulling my shirt over my head and throwing it behind him. I ran my hands over his stubbled jaw, “Missed this.”

“Me too, baby,” he said as he lowered himself down my body, keeping eye contact with me the whole way down. I watched in confusion when he stopped at my sternum, his eyes now dancing over the scar on my left side. I instantly felt embarrassed, like I wanted to crawl into myself. However, Dean laid a soft kiss to the top of the scar. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

I swallowed roughly, my anxiety peaking as he continued to kiss down the long scar before gently pulling the material of my shorts away, revealing the worst of it. It was the huge gash taken out of my hip he was staring down at now. But instead of turning away like I thought he would, he peppered it with kisses, too.

“You’ve never looked so beautiful,” he hummed, continuing all the way down to where the scar ended just above my knee before turning, his head shifting until he was kissing up my inner thighs. I held my breath as he made it closer to my folds, pushing my underwear aside. Dean smirked up at me before slowly pulling the underwear down and away. He leaned forward again, flattening his tongue against my entrance. I gasped, my hand immediately going to his hair.

“Dean,” I breathed out, shoving my head farther back into the pillows, raising my hips to meet his mouth but he slung his arms over them, keeping me still.

He hummed as he took my clit between his lips, sucking gently. The vibrations made my body tense, my breath coming out in harsh pants. Dean’s hands ran softly up my sides, holding my waist, “Relax, baby.” I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders fall and my muscles loosen.

“Good girl,” he praised, his tongue darting in and out of me slowly.

“Dean...Dean, please. Need you inside me, Dean,” I panted, knowing I wouldn’t last much longer like this.

“What’s the rush?” He asked, smirking against my thighs. His hands were wrapped around them now, pulling them gently apart. “Wanna make you feel good. Show you how beautiful you are. Wanna feel you come like this first. Come for me, baby.”

It was all I needed as Dean returned his lips to my clit. My orgasm washed over me, filling every inch of my body. Dean rode me through it, licking up every last bit of what I had to offer him.

I fell back against the bed after the high had passed, smiling lazily at Dean who slowly made his way back up toward me, his hands on either side of my head. He dipped down, kissing me gently. I could taste myself on him, mixed with the taste of him. His dick pressed against my thigh through his sweatpants. I gripped his upper arms before bringing my hand between us, palming his cock through the material of his pants.

He groaned, burying his head in my neck before kissing me again. Dean pulled away from the kiss, his green eyes so bright in the dimly lit room, “You ready?” He whispered.

I nodded quickly and he slid his pants and boxers off, his hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. I breathed picked up speed, running my hands up his face as he slowly began to enter me, inch by inch. I let my mouth fall open, Dean’s lips going to my neck until he was fully inside. His movements were slow as he thrusted, his breath ghosting over my skin before coming back up to my lips.

Our breath from our panting mixed with each other, our foreheads touching but our lips just inches from each other. It wasn’t often that the sex was like this, slow and meticulous. 

It wasn’t long before my second orgasm began to build. My nails scratched up and down Dean’s back, letting out soft moans as he began to pick up the speed slightly.

“I’m close, Dean,” I moaned, choking on his name as he rolled his hips.

“Yeah, c’mon, baby. Come for me again,” he said as he kissed down the side of my neck again.

My entire body tensed around him as my orgasm washed over me. My body shook as I clutched Dean’s arms. Dean leaned forward, lightly biting the skin on my shoulder, stifling his moans as his hips stuttered. I felt him twitch before he came, exploding inside me.

We panted, not moving from our position for several seconds until Dean carefully slid out. I groaned at the loss of fullness, scooting over to the edge of the bed so Dean could lay down next to me.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close to his chest. I listened to his stuttering heartbeat, fluttering against my cheek. I glanced up at him where he was already looking down at me. I pressed my lips to his one more time.

“I love you, Dean.”

“Love you, too.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Forever Tag List

@spnbaby-67 | @majicbamana | @luciferslucille | @anti-social-club | @search-bar | @mellorine-paprika | @thepocketshoelace | @jaremish | @the-salty-asian | @the-hufflepuff-hunter | @robynannemackenzie-blog | @mersuperwholocked-lowlife | @find-sammys-shoe​ | @caswinchester2000​ | @damnedimpala​ | @thelittlestwinchestersister | @lauren-novak​ | @adeanmon​ | @tmiships4life | @spnficgirl​ | @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ | @defenderrosetyler​ | @resanoona​ | @avngrsinitiative​

Dean Tag List

@mccartneywinchester | @resanoona​​​​ | @blackglitteroldsoul​

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 20

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Explicit content. Some fluffy Bruce Banner lovin'. We know our scientist is a soft dom/service top. 🥺💚 With a Tony twist at the end... Because I am an evil woman. 😏 BRUCE BANNER MONSTERCOCK NATION RISE!

Bruce licked his lips.

Despite the obvious intent to ravish me in the sweetest way possible, Bruce made no move to undress or get physically closer to me.

The man was content to kiss the breath out of me, lightly caressing the side of my face and my neck. With each shared, rushed inhale I slipped deeper into the narrow space between drowsiness and arousal. The scientist's presence had the most peculiar effect on me: all my walls crumbled, paving way to a sense of mellow tranquility.

"Lay down," Bruce whispered, pulling my blanket aside. My skin tingled in the cool air of the room. I had gotten pretty toasty under the covers.

With his palms gently pushing on my shoulders, I had no other way but to oblige. Those very same large hands brushed my neck and slid further under the collar of my shirt, tenderly tracing the lines of my collarbones. I felt delicate in his arms, light-headed.

The quiet thud of Bruce's shoes prepared me for the slight dip in the mattress that followed. With a rustle, the textured fabric of his trousers sweeped and finally settled between my parted legs. He radiated warmth, my body involuntarily arching into it. Bruce's lips found mine, again, meeting in a chaste kiss, moving on to nip and peck my jawline, my throat.

There was something erotic in the slow, sensual yet subdued way the scientist was giving into my desires. He wasn't holding back on purpose, it seemed he was rather fond of taking his time to explore my body, his new playground. It was always hard and fast and easy for me, to just take my pleasure, get it torn out of me with sharp words and clever fingers.

With Bruce it was more of a gradual increase in intensity. He wasn't all over me yet he made it known he was in charge. Our bodies connected only faintly but where they did, it left a sweet, pulling ache. I caught myself leaning into it, following the slow motions with twitches and curves of my own.

"Arms up, Princess," He sounded so calm and steady. There was a new definition to his voice, that low undertone of desire, previously unheard. I marveled at how different my lovers sounded.

My (read: stolen from Tony) t-shirt slid from my shoulders with his help, immediately getting neatly placed next to my pillow. I wore no bra; the regret at not wearing fancier panties had been already lived through by me the moment Bruce's lips first landed on mine. For some reason, I was convinced he wasn't the kind of man to care about the amount or the retail price of the lace on my underwear.

I decided to finally open my eyes.

Bruce sat on his shins in front of me, one intense furious blush the only indicator he was affected by our activities. Seeing his eyes - I had to take that back. Devils danced in his green-ish orbs. The man was enjoying himself, quite a lot.

"Off?" Words and other trivial things I didn't worry about anymore. I tugged on his button-up to indicate my own want to see him, to finally see that firm chest that had inadvertently acted as a pillow for me to cry on more than one occasion recently.

Button by button, Bruce was either teasing or provoking me. Which was fine, for once I was happy to fully relinquish the reigns of the situation to someone else. The man was, and I am not exaggerating, perfect under all those frumpy clothes. Bulky chest with coarse dark hair - I wanted to run my hands through it, all over him.

His shirt landed right next to mine and he came close, mouthing leisurely at the space between my breasts, covering my chest with the warm moisture of his breath. Hot and wet wrapped around my nipple just as my eyes drifted closed again. Arching into the bliss, I moaned softly.

And any other time I'd be embarrassed at how soft and kitten-like was the sound; then, however, I was ready to yowl if that meant he wouldn't stop. One nipple and then the other. Bruce didn't apply anything but gentle pressure. His tongue made a slow, deliberate circle around my navel, dipping into the sensitive spot. I was surprised, my hips twitching. I had no idea it could be so pleasant.

The man's soft chuckles were absorbed by my panties where his breath ghosted over my core. My squirming increased as I was no longer able to contain my excitement, my body remembering on it's own how good Tony was with his tongue, bringing me extasy - he ate me for what felt like hours when he felt I did something exceptionally well. I'd be a rotten liar if I told you that alone wasn't motivation enough to excel at everything.

"I can see you like that, Princess," Bruce observed in quiet joy, moving instead to rub his cheek on the inside of my thigh, the slight stubble producing just enough friction for me to get slightly wetter. Beards were just hot.

"Mhmm," I agreed with him, raking a gentle hand through his unruly mop of curls. Bruce groaned and I continued to steadily part his hair, loving the muted noises coming from the scientist, enjoying his breath returning to elicit shivers all over my lower body.

The gusset of my underwear was promptly moved aside, exposing me to his eyes. I've never felt an ounce of shyness with a man but it seemed that day was one of firsts for me. It was the most exposed and vulnerable I'd ever felt; like a door pried open, my inner world for anyone to see. The urge to close my legs and hide under the blankets overcame me.

"Such a pretty pussy, Princess," Bruce's voice was even rougher now, scratching.

An open-mouthed smooch was placed on my lower lips, a nimble tongue slowly stroking experimental lines through my folds. The man purposely avoided the clit, I was sure. He dove down multiple times to my entrance, lapping up my juices with an obscene noise. A lewd moan followed every time. My hips met his mouth with every movement.

My shameful freak-out was abruptly cut short by the devotion Bruce radiated. His hands firmly gripped my thighs securing his meal in the right place. And eating he was; like a starved man, the scientist followed the noises leaving my mouth to find each and every nook and cranny that made me feel closer to Eden. There was no finesse, only slippery, sloppy movements as I reached my first peak with his name leaving my lips in a strangled moan.

I was boneless, weightless. Bruce pushed me more, delving straight back into the oversensitive folds of my cunt like he hadn't just made me see stars and galaxies. Floating in time in space, not a coherent thought in my skull, my last functioning brain cell on it's long overdue vacation.

"How do you feel?" He asked me once he deemed me sufficiently removed from this plane of existence and deposited me somewhere on another world where everything was light and easy.

"Mm-Brucie," I tried to articulate my thoughts. He must've been painfully aroused himself yet he made no move to be intimate any further. The idea of him holding back and refusing his own gratification nagged at me unpleasantly, invoking a primal hunger deep in my belly. "C'mere, want you."

He climbed over on top of me slowly, stretching his limbs, caging me in the sweet trap of his arms. His pants were gone; I felt the hardness, very sizeable hardness budge against my hip. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him with unseeing eyes and my mouth hanging open slightly.

We kissed lazily for a while, me finally having the chance to roam my hands on his body. He was almost as warm as Bucky - a perk of his own knock-off serum, I supposed. Reasonably toned with a healthy layer of fat, Bruce certainly wasn't ripped or even built like Tony. Banner's body screamed comfort and safety where Tony was all strength and durability. Once again, I marveled at the difference between the two men, finding them both equally appealing and beautiful in their own ways.

Bruce's boxers went to hell and beyond. He was easily the biggest partner I've ever had; both long and thick, my insides clenched involuntarily at the weight of it in my hand, the engorged veins all over the shaft. No time like the present - hiking a leg over his hip, I insistently pressed the leaking tip of his cock against me, swiping it through my folds for extra lubrication beforehand.

The scientist twitched, growling quietly, low and dangerous. "Princess," Bruce hissed, momentarily dropping his forehead onto my shoulder.

"Brucie," I replied breathily, feeling him shudder as the tip breached my entrance. The sting was slightly south of pleasurable, just enough to give me an edge and return to reality. "You're so big," I gasped. The very room I and Bruce were (what felt like) making love. Such a foreign concept. "For the love of both God and Satan, move."

"That's my girl." Giving a watery chuckle, the man obliged, sheathing himself fully within me. I was unprepared for the surge of pleasure - it felt like he was everywhere at the same time. It was unlike everything I'd felt, the burn of the stretch becoming a source of new heights of pleasure.

Bruce's shallow thrusts increased in speed and amplitude as soon as I arched my back, presenting all of myself at his mercy. His movements weren't pounding yet he shook me with every single shift of his hips. "Fuck, so good, my sweet girl," He kept muttering, barely audible. "So tight, so hot, oh God."

The praise only made me clench tighter around him, my orgasm rapidly approaching and finally crashing into both of us with a firm, steady force. His cock throbbed inside me, releasing the seed with force I swear I felt in my guts. I took it all, milking every single drop, there was so much of it. Bruce's release - this one - belonged to me and to me only.

Ever mindful of himself, Bruce rolled over, pressing as close to me as possible, throwing an arm over his eyes. I immediately relocated to make a nest on his chest, idly running my hand through his chest hair. Fascinating.

"Feel good?" And finally he sounded slightly winded. Wow, I couldn't help but wonder what could make him really lose it. What would make him go feral for me. What could trap his breath in his lungs and attach him to me forever.

"Mmm, amazing. You're good at this," My usual snark and sass was returning; I gently teased him. Lovingly.

"That's good to know, it's been a while," He snorted. Must've felt my confusion, too, because the next sentence threw me for a loop: "It's been, uh, years."

Years? For this man?! The universe was unfair. Depriving the entirety of female sex of this man? Abhorrent. "You have quite some things to catch up on," I whispered coyly. "Humbly do I offer my services."

His chest began shaking: Bruce was laughing, no trace of shame, just good-natured relief and happiness in his features. "This is exactly why we love you, Princess. You say the weirdest shit but somehow it all makes perfect sense."

I chuckled, the words spreading warmth - not the physical one - throughout my body and lulling me into a sense of sated exhaustion. I let my eyes fall shut on their own and for the first time in ages, I fell asleep with a calm heart.

Bruce's soft snores kept the bad dreams at bay.

Tony's callous hands roused me tenderly, coaxing the sleep from my brain with grace although there was very little grace about the situation; first thing I noticed upon waking was the sticky puddle between my legs and the sharp smell of sex in the room. Bruce's slightly spicy sweat mixed with the warm vanilla of my perfume. The messed up bedsheets and the warm but empty space next to me.

"Had fun, baby girl?" If Tony's lopsided grin was any indication, I had at least committed some sort of scientific breakthrough. "You know, I had a bet running on when Bruce was going to break his celibacy. If you had waited until next year, which is technically in a few months..." The engineer trailed off teasingly, looking not at all worried about the fact that his best friend had blown my brains out a... Few hours ago.

I cleared my throat. "So, who won?" It seemed only appropriate I ask.

Tony's face immediately fell. "Merlin."

My eyebrows rose. "Didn't take him for the gambling kind." I sat up in bed, stretching the stiffness out of my joints, clearing the sleep from my head with Tony's gaze firmly glued to my naked tits. Some things never change.

"You called him old. That does things to a man's ego," Tony answered dismissively. It was easy to see the obvious pleasure he held for that particular conversation: the billionaire greatly enjoyed it when people gave into his antics and indulged his sometimes childish vices. One of those vices happened to include annoying the resident wizard.

I decided to test the waters. Biting my lip, I gave him an appreciative once-over. "How are you on sloppy seconds?"

He clicked his tongue, eyes sparkling, obviously having expected this question. "I'll join you in the shower. We have thirty minutes before Clint sends Nat down here to retrieve us deviants."

I pranced in the direction of the bathroom, putting an extra wiggle in my walk.

Turns out, Tony had absolutely no problems with sloppy seconds. He was as eager to hold me by my hair, viciously pumping his cock out of me, whispering utter filth into my ear.

His honeyed voice rough, telling me how dirty I was. "You little tart, parading around, making old men drool over you. Fuck, you make me feel like a dirty old man."

I let the sassy remark to be drowned in the sound of his hips slapping against my ass. "I love dirty old men," I moaned. "Want me to get down on my knees for you, daddy?"

"Fuck," Tony's hand tightened in my hair but he made no move to cease the assault on my pussy with his cock. It was steel-hard, deliciously thick and hit all the right places without much effort.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[fictionalmenmistress]

Shadow From The Window (Leonardo)

Imagine your scared of the dark and alone, but your sexy hero-in-the-half-shell comes to sleep at your side, after a long partol. Exausted, he forgets how easy you startle, and comforts you.

(SFW but blushy, leaning Fem!Reader/ but also gender-neutral, Bayverse Leo, no swearing, FLUFF, a lil spooky at the start but all sweet and completely handle-able. Its safe 💙)

(So, this is my first official post here and I'm so excited! First of all, HI EVERYONE! I'm so happy to have found my peoples and to be here uwu, I love you all. Hopefully, this brings you comfort to rest before bed, or in the middle of the night. Want me to do one for all the boys? Lemme know!💙)

I am writing this at 2-3 am, after imagining this scenario to comfort myself, settling down to rest. The thought of Leo hiding in the dark, makes the dark a lot less scary. (Tho I decided to write it instead of resting lol) LETS GET IT!

Its 3 am in your studio apartment.

You've been living in New York city for a while now, but its always been a hassle to fall asleep in your own place. That's been the hardest adjustment after leaving home... how scary it can be on your own. Truth be told, you're 'scared of the dark'. Not nescessarily scared of the darkness itself, but the shadows in the corner of the room... the random noises and things that go bump in the night... the mere thought in the back of your mind that something, as ridiculous as it sounds to others, will come and get you once your guard is down.

There you lied, stiff as a board on your back. The covers, pulled up to your neck, as you breathed in and out as silently as you could. Why did you still feel like you had to hide from monsters or bad guys in your own home? "Dang it, y/n..." you sighed, wiping the nervous cold sweat from your forehead, overheating internally from the anxiety.

"WHY... why did I have to watch that horror movie with Donnie?" You thought, internally shouting at yourself. "He said its not scary, that its 'too absurd to be plausible, and thus won't trigger a reaction of fear'. So much for a slow and steady introduction to the genre!"

You should have known when Raph said "Nope, I'm out." Donnie sat there the whole time, laughing at the movie at the scariest and most ill-timed moments... and you recall just glaring at him, teeth chattering, whispering to yourself:

"Yeah, he's cracked alright."

Just because something isn't scientifically proven, doesn't mean it can't happen... or hasn't happened, right?

"Ugh..." you groaned, curling your lips into a gremace, scared your groan was too loud amongst the unsettling silence. "I can't sleep with the lights on again..."

Glancing toward your phone, you noticed a blue light illuminate the screen, informing you that you got a new text. But that blue light... it instantly made you think of the blue-loving turtle you so dearly loved. The light of your life.

'Leo would protect me.'

Ah, that comforting reminder that you would feel so safe in your boyfriend's arms... if only he were here with you.

But... he wasn't. He was probably out on patrol, far away, and unable to come any time soon, even if he could.

"That's it." You said, taking and deep breath and mustering up all of your courage, throwing the covers off and dashing to the light switch.

*flick!* And... everything in the room was normal. It was comforting, but you scolded yourself for not accepting that everything was already secure, and nothing was lurking in the dark.

Everything was still, as you closed your curtains and lied back down in bed.

"Light on it is." You sighed, before the light suddenly flickered by itself.

"Oh crap-" you muttered, taking a gulp, as the power went out. "OH CRAP, ITS JUST LIKE THE MOVIE-"

Now, you felt screwed. You lied as still as possible, for what felt like forever, refusing to close your eyes. Dang it... DANG it!

Grabbing your phone light, you quickly tip-toed to the bathroom, trying to pee as fast as you could, so you could get back to your warm bed where it feels semi-safe.

As soon as you opened the bathroom door, you noticed your curtains flowing and twirling in the night wind. Street sounds from the never-sleeping city below echoed faintly through your widely-opened window.

"My window... is open?" You thought in horrified shock, examining your surroundings in the dark carefully.

You froze in your tracks, as your phone light turned itself off.

BATTERY TOO LOW TO USE FLASHLIGHT, PLEASE CHARGE.

A chill went down your spine, as you stood there in the center of everything, slowly backing to a corner, where you planned to crouch in the fetal position, so you could see all angles of the room for the rest of the night.

You took another step back, and another, before you bumped into a large mass, standing behind you.

'Not the wall...' your brain registered, feeling the heat of whomever or whatever this tall thing was, radiating against your back.

"Hello, beautiful~" A deep voice chuckled, startling you.

Jolting around, you saw a dark, tall shadow, looming before you.

The fear disoriented you, quickly rushing adrenaline through your body, as your fight or flight reacted. You quickly let out a shriek, chucking your dying phone at the shadow and darting quickly toward the window.

The shadow caught the phone instantly, with lightning fast reflex, as a large hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, gently yet firmly pulling you back into the room before you crawled out onto the fire escape.

"WHOA, hey hey! Y/N easy! Its okay." A gentle, farmiliar voice assured, gently pulling you around to face him. "Its just me!"

"L-let go!" You whimpered, still not realizing who it was. "P-please..."

"Hey, its me..." he softly whispered, as your breath began to steady, blinking a couple of times as his identity fully set in. "Shh, sh sh sh." He lulled.

"L-Leo?" You squeaked in disbelief.

The figure slowly leaned into the moonlight, casting over you from the open window, revealing his GORGEOUS, icy blue eyes. Those intense-yet-soft eyes... that you knew and loved more than anyone else's. That comforting, strong, lovingly soft gaze, that instantly reassured you that you were safe.

"Your aim is getting better," he softly chuckled, smirking with his adorable grin. Leo slowly slid your phone before you, onto the moonlit sheets, barely revealing his outstretched, chiseled, manly hands. "I'm so sorry I scared you, love. I didn't mean to... I would never on purpose..."

Leo's voice sounded composed, but also ashamed and regretful, as he became more serious to apologise. He always spoke so softly to you...

"Leo, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I-" you desparately assured, bursting into tears. "I-"

"Hey hey, I should have knocked, or called. I'm sorry I scared you, sweetheart. I thought I would suprise you in a good way, not startle you." He murmured, reaching his large hands out to gently grasp you, holding you in his arms.

"Oh... I'm so happy to see you!" You sighed, falling against him.

"Donnie felt bad about that scary movie, he told me about how scared you were and begged me to check on you." He whispered, with that composed, reassuring voice.

"Oh Leo... you really came." You whispered, sniffling back your tears.

"Of course, my love... I came straight here after patrol. I would have come sooner, but Raph was getting his shell handed to him by this big..." he hesitated, biting his lip.

"Leo?" You asked, wondering why he stopped.

"-You know what? It doesn't matter." He gently corrected, changing the subject.

"What? What was it?" You innocently asked, curling up against his warm, sculpted chest.

You could feel Leo's skin grow warmer with a blush, as he slowly and sweetly welcomed your embrace, holding you close.

"I'll tell you during daylight. Just... sweetie, I'll never let anything bad happen to you, as long as I live. You're safe, whether I'm near or far. Okay, sweetheart?" Leo promised with his deep innocent voice, planting a soft kiss against your forehead.

Suddenly, you heard a generator power on through your front door, and the power flicked back on.

You could at last see him. See his muscled arms around you, and the tails of his worn out blue mask resting against his chest, along side you. His plastron... rising and falling as he took in slow breaths.

Leo was so careful holding you in his arms... like you were this precious, tiny thing, that he adored with his entire existance.

"Hey, you... you there?" He muttered, growing increasingly bashful in his tension.

"I'm here." You gently assured with a smile, before pulling away to examine his handsome face.

Leonardo. Sexy, handsome, justly-confident, fierce leader. This fearless, giant turtle mutant, who was unlike anyone else in the world. His jaw clenched from sudden bashful nervousness, as his gaze shyed away from your eyes. Your stare always overwhelmed him... it was such an intimate thing to meet his eyes.

Leo cleared his throat, as he slowly reached out to your face, ever-so-carefully wiping away a tear from your cheek, watching intently and focusing as he did so.

Over cautiously gentle so he wouldn't risk hurting you with his strength.

"There we go..." he softly whispered in satisfaction, sighing with a relieved smirk.

"Can you..." you began, with every ounce of security and confidence you could muster. "Can you... stay? With me, all of tonight?"

You felt your cheeks blush intensely, blooming red, as Leo bit on his bottom lip. His eyes widened, as he fully realized your question.

"Y-yeah, o-of course I can..." Leo answered, all of a sudden a thousand times more innocent and adorable, intensely flattered and touched that you wanted him to stay at your side. "Uh... I'll... uh-" he began, moving back from kneeling on your bed before you, aimlessly pacing into your tiny kitchen.

Leo usually was so bold and certain, organized and authoritative, when he was on the move.

You recalled how you had seen first-hand how he can lay out the strategy of attack for the boys. He could be flipping into action, or running through the rooftops as he did it, with perfect coordination in his speech and movements. But with you and only you, Leo wasn't able to get the words out when he was this nervous or bashful.

He had a tendancy to overthink things.

Leo wandered into the cupboard, beginning to steep some tea on the stove as his tongue caught up with his brain.

"Do you want... tea?" He gently asked, clearing his throat.

Such husband material...

"Ah, sure." You grinned, sweetly answering.

You realized how safe and secure you felt now, with him in the studio. You weren't alone anymore.

Leo didn't say much while he prepared the tea. He hyper-focused to distract himself from the nervousness of staying at your place, ALONE with you for the night. He paced around without speaking... doing little thoughtful things, like closing the window and locking it for you, shutting the closet and bathroom door, and picking out the perfect cups for the two of you, from your DC glass cup collection.

(Leo liked the Nightwing one since it was blue, and he always gave you the batgirl one, because you loved purple. He loved it when you would geek out and tell him how those heroes were the perfect couple... it reminded him of the both of you, and hoped that you gushed about him like that when he wasn't around.)

Leo brought the cups over, moving carefully with his eyes on the glass, gently placing one in your hand, and his own at your bedside.

"I"ll sleep right here, beside you." He thought out loud, examining the hardwood floor panels.

"Ah, Leo, you're not sleeping on the ground." You ordered, taking a long drink from your cup.

"Its no trouble," he assured, unlatching and taking off his belt and sword straps, placing them on your countertop. Leo sat down across from your bed, and began taking off his customized traditional ninja footwear, so all that remained were his pants and mask.

Why did this make you blush and get so flustered, the way he lifted those muscular arms over his head? Its not like he's taking anything revealing off...

"Modest like Leo... modest like Leo..." you whispered under your breath, recomposing your wandering thoughts.

He slowly walked up to you, lying you back and pulling your covers over you. Leo gently placed his hand against your cheek, staring deep into your eyes, as a soft smile rested over his lips.

He slowly nuzzled his nose beside yours, cherishing every small movement, before planting a soft kiss on your forehead. Then, he pulled away.

You felt your arms involuntarily reach out to him, taking his face into your hands. You both stared innocently into one another's eyes, before you made a bold move, planting your lips against his. You gently kissed Leo's lips, and he kissed you back, in the most respectful, admirable, and sentimental way possible.

Kissing Leo always felt so intimate and special... even as soft and innocent as it was. Leo made the tiny gestures special to you again.

"Leo, would you please... hold me?" You whispered, tightly closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his. "Please, sleep with me tonight."

"S-sleep with-" he panicked, turning vibrant red. For the first time that night, he realized that you were wearing blue pj's... and you looked gorgeous in them. Suddenly his heart began to pound through his chest, as his posture stiffened. "Sleep... together? Like... m-make love together?"

"Ah not like that!" You bashfully assured, unable to hide your shy grin. "Just... sleep together, at least for tonight."

He took a deep breath in, that sounded shaky, like the remenants of your kiss and closeness gave him the chills. The thought of you being together in the most close and intimate form made him overwhelmed, causing him to slightly tremble. Leo invoulintarily giggled, pecking a kiss against your nose, before he pulled his mask off.

"Alright." He grinned, suddenly much more eager and confident, leaning close to you as he set his mask on your night stand, switching off the light switch with a mere stretch.

Suddenly, it was dark again. But, a peaceful dark.

"Will you, Leo?" You muttered.

"Yes." He whispered, so softly and so intimately, gazing bravely into your eyes. "Yes, Y/N."

You beamed with joy, resituating to the side of your bed, curling up and watching Leo with an adorable, excited expression. Leo broke out a nervous, adorable chuckle, as he hesitantly sat down on your bed, realizing how massive he was on the size of it. He downed his tea like a shot, (wanting to finish it as fast as possible, so he could do this soft and intimate thing with you) and clearing his throat. Blushing, he slowly lied down on his back, slowly turning to his side that faced you, and hesitantly placing his hand over your shoulder, unsure of what was too much touch.

You giggled, sliding his hand on your waist, so you could sit up and pull the covers over him. "O-oh..." Leo murmured, stiffening up from his shyness.

This was very overwhelming to him, since he really liked taking things slow and was inexperienced to everything involving romance before you. But... you loved that. It was like everything was new to you again too. It endeared you beyond belief.

You lied on your side, examining his face one last time, as he examined yours, trailing your fingertip across his sharp jawline.

"I really love you..." he whispered, meaning every word.

"I really love you too, Leo." You softly agreed, as you continued to smile.

You and Leo talked quietly for a bit, sweet whispers between soulmates, as you scratched his shell and caressed his shoulders to help relieve his stress and tension. He would slowly drift off more and more, talking less and less, gifting you with tiny, soft, slow kisses, all over your face instead.

You both drifted off to sleep, and slept wonderfully side by side, as safe and sweet as can be, just the two of you.

And, as you found out in the morning, Leo was a total, clingy cuddler in his sleep. Throughout the night, he had nuzzled closer and closer, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you, until you were cozy against his body, sharing the same warmth.

💙 Sweet dreams.💙

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 9

“Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.”

Previous

Read chapter 9 on AO3, or read below:

The Bomb returns sometime later with a liter bottle of spring water and Tylenol. “Prescription strength,” she tells me, dispensing two pills into my open palm. “Good stuff.”

“Whose prescription?” I croak, sitting up. It feels like every ounce of liquid in me is squeezing itself out as sweat or something else. Masturbating only helps so much—the only thing that abates the worst heat symptoms is mating with an alpha. And since that’s not happening, it’ll just have to run its course.

Oblivious to my true suffering, she winks at me.

I throw the Tylenol back and wash them down with a swallow of cool water, then keep drinking. My mouth has grown so dry. But I wrench the bottle away from my mouth and say “Leave it” when the Bomb moves to take the pills back.

She gives me a look. “I’ll be back to give you more later, but I’m not leaving this with you. For all I know, you’d shut down your liver to make us take you to the hospital.”

I blink at her, wretchedly aware of the heat of my skin where my eyelids press together. I hadn’t even thought of that.

“Crap,” she says, fumbling in the plastic bag. “I should have taken your temperature first. Hold on, maybe we can still get it before the meds kick in.” She clicks her tongue. “Chemistry I like fine, drugs, sure—but nursing isn’t my area.”

“What is your area?” I ask. I don’t really feel like talking to anyone, but my curiosity is strong enough that I push through it. Anything to learn more about the people who’ve taken us.

The Bomb holds up her prize, a thermometer still in its plastic packaging, and grins at me. “I like blowing stuff up. I dabble in hacking. Basically, if there’s a wall, I want to bring it down.”

I shift in my blankets. It’s an endearing answer, but I worry that any positive feelings toward our kidnappers is budding Stockholm Syndrome. “This must be a boring job for you.”

“It was supposed to be, yeah.” She wrestles the thermometer out of the plastic and hands it to me. “You have a way of keeping things interesting. And Cardan’s a riot. I hope we don’t have to kill him.”

The beep of the thermometer turning on immediately after that statement makes me jump. “You said you wouldn’t,” I protest. “You said you’d take care of us.”

“I know. Our employer’s anxious about how much you’ve both seen and heard. But we can’t kill you, so there isn’t much of a point to getting rid of him. And between you and me, the Roach is very fond of him.”

“So—”

“Stick that thing in your mouth,” she says. “We don’t have all day.”

I glare but stick the cold tip of the thermometer under my tongue and wait for it to start beeping again.

The Bomb leans over, reading the lit-up display—red, already a bad sign. “One hundred point nine,” she announces. “No wonder you’re miserable.”

“No real danger though,” I sigh, pulling it out of my mouth and giving it a little shake. Would they really take me to the hospital if my condition deteriorated? Maybe I should consider trying to dehydrate myself. That’s the real danger of going through heat without a partner. I could do it, I think. “Forget” to drink, drive the fever higher. But our current circumstances are already precarious, and there are a million ways this might end badly for me. The headache is pulsing stronger over my left eye already, and the last thing I need is a full-blown migraine. I take a sip of water and silently will the Tylenol to kick in faster.

“We’ll keep an eye on you,” she affirms.

I wipe my hand on the back of my mouth, already feeling a little more like a person instead of a sweaty blob of hormones. “Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.” I cap the bottle, looking down at my hands. My cheeks are hot again, which at least means some blood in my body has decided to circulate instead of pooling in my groin. “But I don’t think he deserves to die. He didn’t do anything.”

“Hmm,” says the Bomb, mulling it over.

I jerk my head up, but she’s smiling at me. Teasing. I flush again. “I’m just saying. I don’t see you guys as killers, anyway.”

Her voice has a dangerous edge to it when she asks, “You don’t?”

I shake my head to clear it. I may be sick, but I can’t allow myself to forget where I am and who I am with. The Ghost shot me already, and it’s easier than I’d like to imagine the Roach’s twisted features contorting further as he plunges a knife into someone’s back. “Maybe just you?” I offer.

“Well, you’re not far off. Murder is a messy business. I prefer to set the charges and wait at a safe distance. But we all do what we have to.” She shifts, and I must look worried, because she adds, “He’s probably going to be fine.”

“Probably,” I echo, and then sigh. “His family’s even more messed up than mine.”

“Well, your dad is Madoc.”

“My parents are dead,” I say.

“Oh,” says the Bomb. But no apology, no condolences. I kind of appreciate that. I learned a long time ago that no amount of apologies would bring my mom and dad back.

“And my sister—never mind.” I shake my head. I really must be addled if I’m spilling my guts to a stranger. Is this Stockholm Syndrome? Is this how it starts? “At least she’s not trying to kill me.”

“It’s another level of family drama,” she agrees. “The Kardashians have nothing on the Greenbriars.”

I try to work out why I feel comfortable around the Bomb. I think her frankness reminds me a bit of Vivi. She never bought into the pretensions of our new life—she wanted out as soon as she was in. And she talks about it like she really is outside of it. The Bomb is like that. She says what she means. She isn’t bowled over by anything.

“How can you do it?” I ask. “How can you do this kind of work for them? Is it really just the money?”

The Bomb blinks at me, her eyes large and luminous in the dark. Her brows draw together, and she looks past me. I seem to have struck a nerve, and for a moment I think she isn’t going to answer my question. Then, at last, she says, “It isn’t just that. The Roach and I—we owe them a lot. I think if… we might not be alive now, if not for what they did.”

“That’s worth kidnapping for? Maybe killing for?”

She looks back down at me. “I know you’ve had shit happen, Jude. I’m not interested in a competition there. But I think Madoc’s kept you from a lot of bad stuff, given you options. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”

“I know that,” I protest. How many Designation Equality Club meetings had Taryn and I attended in our time? Vivi was president for a little while, I think to spite Madoc. “I know it’s not all mansions and parties. And you know, bad stuff can happen in parties and mansions too.”

“Sure. We are the bad stuff.” She flashes me a grin, then says, “Just think about what could have happened if Madoc hadn’t been there to catch you guys. Where you might have ended up. What you might have done to get out of it.”

My stomach twists. I have, of course, thought about that, but it’s an alternate universe that I can’t look directly at, like a solar eclipse. It’s easier to think about two branching possibilities: parents alive, or parents dead with Madoc intervention. Thinking about Madoc never showing, about Taryn and Vivi and I getting put in foster care, maybe separated… it’s so dim and distant.

“I’m not interested in a competition either,” I tell her. “I mean, I am judging you a little for kidnapping us. I will judge you harder if you kill Cardan.”

“No one’s going to kill Cardan,” the Bomb says, patting my shoulder. “You should lie back down. I’m surprised you’ve been upright this long.”

I scowl, but my head is already beginning to feel swimmy, so I settle back into my blankets. “I’m really stubborn.”

“I got that.” The Bomb gathers up her things, but leaves the water bottle within reach. I am grateful.

Just before she can put her hand on the doorknob, I call softly, “If you kill Cardan, I’ll kill you.”

She looks back over her shoulder at me, looking oddly fond. Maybe a gang of kidnappers and thieves respects threats. “Yeah,” she says. “I got that one, too.”

---

Cardan somehow manages to con his way into spending a lot of time outside of the cell. I am not sure how long, because I am curled up toward the wall and barely notice the light from the window wax and wane. But as the day passes his scent starts to go stale and sour, and I pick my head up every time someone opens the door.

It’s always the Bomb, returning to give me more Tylenol or hand me fresh fruit—not fast food, therefore a luxury. It occurs to me then that they kept buying us stuff from a drive-thru or grocery store because they didn’t think they would have us for long and didn’t bother stocking up. But someone must have thought to buy one a bag of mandarins this time, because I am given a couple to nibble on after each dose.

“Boosts the immune system,” the Bomb says when she drops off the first one. She seems in a good mood, probably because the medication has managed to wrestle my fever down to a balmy ninety-nine. Achy and hollow, I just give her a nod. My hands shake when I peel it, but I can peel it, and I’m grateful for that. I have been so humiliated already, and I can probably take more, but I don’t want to.

I slip into a weird daze for the second half of the day. Even though the fever is gone and my cramps are easier to bear, I find myself cursing Cardan’s name. I am pretty sure his presence made my heat worse—just the presence of an alpha, a desirable one, has convinced my body that there’s a chance I might mate, so it’s punishing me worse for abstaining. The longer he’s gone, the more clearheaded I feel, to the extent that my head can clear. And I am angry, at him for intensifying my misery, and at myself, for being like this in the first place.

By the time he returns, any trace of sunlight is gone. He walks slowly, shuffling behind the Bomb. Even as she talks to me and I nod along, sticking the thermometer in my mouth, my eyes track his progress as he settles in his corner.

His hair is damp, his scent shot through with the floral soap from the bathroom. He showered before coming in. I am unreasonably jealous of him. My hair is plastered to the back of my neck with sweat, and my thighs are basically stuck together with dried—anyway, I haven’t left the room all day, not even to pee. I feel like a damp towel someone wrung out and left to dry over the side of a sink.

After I’ve taken the Tylenol, the Bomb hands me a paper napkin with two more pills folded in it. “In case you wake up in the middle of the night,” she explains.

“It’s night?” I ask.

“We sleep in shifts. If there’s an emergency, have Cardan pound on the door.”

“Why me?” Cardan asks. He’s assumed his usual posture, with his leg propped up and his arm balanced casually on his knee. I wonder if the Bomb notices the rigidity in his shoulders, the tension in the line of his mouth. I do.

“I don’t think Jude’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

I sniff derisively, which is a bad move, because I get a fresh whiff of Cardan and am forced to bury my face in my pillow to smother a whimper.

“Point taken,” Cardan says. “Night. Thanks…” I imagine the rest of his sentence curling up and dying at the novelty of him thanking anybody for anything, but he manages to continue. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

The Bomb dusts off her knees as she stands up. “No problem. If she dies, we’re extraordinarily screwed.”

“I know. Still.”

She nods, then leaves. This time, I hear her lock the door behind her. Cardan and I are once again stuck together, alone.

I turn over and curl toward the wall again so I don’t stare. It’s not like heat gives you night vision, but for a couple of seconds he seemed to be a crisp outline in the near darkness of our cell. I don’t want to be tempted. I don’t.

“How, uh.” Cardan clears his throat and tries again, awkwardly. “How was your day?”

“Sucked,” I mutter.

“Yeah.”

“Yours?”

“Sucked less, probably.” He pauses. “But still sucked. I, um, I wanted to check on you.”

“It’s okay.” I shift my head. There’s a twinge in my abdomen, but at least it’s not another full cramp. “Did you learn any neat card tricks?”

“Yeah, actually. The Roach says I’m a fast learner.”

“High praise from a career criminal.”

Cardan chuckles, and my heart jumps. I made him laugh. I don’t know why that affects me the way it does. It must be the heat, another weird side effect. “I should’ve brought the deck in. To show you.”

“If we get through this, you can show me another time.”

“Oh yeah?” I can tell he cracks a smile just by the way his voice picks up. “You’re still gonna want to hang out when we’re out of here?”

I press my lips together to keep from echoing a smile. “I don’t know,” I say to the wall. “Maybe I’ll be too busy with my cool new friends from college to make time for you. And maybe you’ll be too busy hanging out with the Roach. Although that’s honestly an upgrade from your normal crowd.”

“Ouch.”

“He’s not a douchebag alpha,” I point out.

“I don’t know what he is.” I can picture Cardan shaking his head. “I sat next to him for most of the day and I still don’t have a clue. He sounds like an alpha, but he doesn’t really look like one. He doesn’t smell like anything. He and the Bomb seem to have some kind of communication going, but I don’t know if that means they’re mated, or… just close, I guess.”

“I think the Bomb’s an omega,” I say. “Like me. We kind of had a moment earlier.” I screw up my face in thought. “It bothers me that I still can’t get a clear read on her scent, though. Especially now. That’s weird. What do they have to hide?”

“Maybe they’re all betas,” Cardan suggests. “They don’t give off the same pheromones we do.”

I snort. “That’s not possible.”

“Betas exist.”

“Yeah. They’re one in a thousand. The odds that there would be three in one place...”

“Impossibly low, yeah. You’re right.” He sighs. “Well, we’ve seen their faces, but maybe they don’t want to leave scent markers around so they can be tracked that way. That seems like a smart crime thing… to do.”

My lips twitch again. “A ‘smart crime thing?’”

“Oh, like you could do better.”

I snicker, but then the cell falls quiet. We have officially exhausted every subject that will keep us from facing our circumstances, and we know it.

“So,” Cardan says, “now what?”

I don’t know. I cannot imagine spending the night in this cell with him, like this. But I am supposed to be the one with the plans.” “Um, I guess we try to sleep.”

“Right, right. Will it hurt your foot if I take the pillow under it? I’d ask to borrow a blanket, but…”

“No, I get it,” I rush. The blankets are in no condition to be lent, but I’ve left him without any bedding and anywhere to sleep. “Definitely take the pillow.”

There is silence, in which I can imagine him nodding, then the rustle of his clothes as he crawls over to take the pillow propped up under my leg. His hand skims my foot, and it’s like an electric current zings up my body. I hold my breath, waiting for something else to happen, but I just hear him move back to his corner.

“Do you want, um, my sweatshirt?” I offer.

He scoffs, “I don’t think it’ll fit, Duarte.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such an asshole. To keep your arms warm, because you don’t have a blanket.”

There’s a longer pause than the situation calls for, and then he says, “Yeah, toss it over.”

I make myself sit up so I can unzip it, then ball it up and fling it toward him as hard as I can. I am not feeling very strong, but the room is short, so it lands at his feet anyway. He picks it up and buries his face in it.

“Oh, you pervert,” I scold, even as my stomach does a flip. I am surprised to find I’m not mad. I’m not even annoyed. What had I thought was going to happen when I threw it over to him? It’s saturated with my pheromones.

And my scent. Which he’s supposed to hate.

“I just,” he says, taking another sniff. There’s a fuzzy edge to his voice. “I thought it would help. Since we can’t—I don’t know, I just thought it would help.”

I force myself to lie back down and turn around and not watch, even though I am unbearably curious. My face is hot, and heat gathers between my thighs again. It’s just the pheromones. It’s just the circumstances. If my mind were less addled, maybe I could make more sense of all this, but I cannot.

A minute or so later I hear him shift again. “Yeah, it’s a good blanket,” he says. “Thank you, Jude.”

“Sure.”

Then all is silent again, and I think he has fallen asleep. It seems impossible that he could. I am so weary, but my arousal is skewering me like a hot spike, and I keep listening for him on the other side of the room. There’s no way I can seek relief with him here, and no way I can sleep like this.

“Cardan,” I say, breathily. “Are you awake?”

He whispers back, “Yeah.”

I shift. It’s like parts of my body flare to life at just the sound of his voice. “What do you think would happen if you came over here?”

“You don’t—want that, right?”

I don’t know what I want. I think I am closer to wanting him—to wanting at all—and then the memory of Valerian using his knee to try and wedge my thighs apart comes back. I pull the blankets tighter around me. “This sucks so much.”

“Yeah.”

“Less for you, right?”

“You think so?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you flooded with adrenaline or whatever it is that theoretically enables you to keep thrusting for days on end?”

Cardan chuckles. “Wow. You must really be far gone if you’re willing to put me and ‘thrusting’ in the same sentence.”

My cheeks warm. “I meant ‘you’ as in ‘alphas.’ Don’t be dumb. And aren’t you used to this?”

“From—oh. The O?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, that’s different. They alter it somehow, on a chemical level. All of the euphoria and adrenaline, none of the, uh… the aches or the erections lasting longer than four hours. You know, stuff you want to avoid if you’re not in rut for real.”

“Right, makes sense.” I hesitate. “So, you are? I couldn’t tell.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous. “Yeah, yes, I am. Of course I am. There’s like no space between us and no ventilation. It would be impossible for me not to be.”

“Alright, alright.” I squeeze my pillow a little tighter. “You just seem so…”

“So…?”

“Clear,” I finish. “And calm. Calmer than this morning, at least.”

Cardan is quiet for a second before he asks, “Remember this morning, you asked if I was afraid of you?”

My heart thumps. “Yeah?”

“I’m not. I’m afraid of me. I’m afraid of… of...” He grasps for words. “I’m afraid of all the stuff I want to do. Because I’m coming to a realization that’s very painful and you can’t laugh, but I am, and it’s, it’s important—I don’t want to be like Valerian. Or like my brothers. Or even like Locke. I want to be different. I don’t know if there is a different, but I want to be it.”

I am so bewildered that I don’t reply. For as long as I have known Cardan, he’s never been anything other than a bully, a terror, delighting in other people’s suffering, reigning from the top of the food chain. He always seemed to enjoy being an alpha, relish it. I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s telling me now.

Is he saying he doesn’t want to hurt me? He’s never cared before.

But I think about him tucking the blankets around me, gingerly propping my foot up on the pillow this morning, and I wonder.

“It wouldn’t be like Valerian,” I whisper, but he must have fallen asleep, because he says nothing.

Next

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 4

This is it. The big one.

This is the all-devouring AU that has now eaten nearly half of my Whumptober fill ideas. It’s a scenario I’ve carried in my brain for years, and when I initially looked through the prompt list this year and decided to write for it, my brain said ‘Hey, look at that Escape prompt. You could write something for that one AU that would fit that. And this one could work as a follow-up!’ and I said yeah, sure, why not. And I listed those ideas as ‘Escape!AU’, because that was the one that sparked the idea and I figured there’d only be one or two others. 

By now, the AU has absorbed close to a dozen other prompts. They’re wildly out of order, of course, because I’m writing them in order of the prompts and not how those moments happen in the story. With every additional prompt I write out, there is the chance that it will mutate before my eyes and become part of the Escape!AU with little to no input or control from myself. I feel like I invited the muse for this story into my head without realizing that it’s not a fluffy hamster, IT’S A BLOODY TRIBBLE. 

That being said, I should probably have at least kinda seen it coming, because it’s a fix-it for the ending of CoS. That’s a topic that I... feel passionately about, to put it mildly. This is that other AU I mentioned yesterday, where Gerald still has extra-special Hunter powers and the Patriarch did not manage to take the fae away from everyone; please just go with it, and I’ll actually address how that happened at some point. Although the Gerald-not-actually-being-mortal isn’t really relevant in this bit, because he’s so drained from everything that’s happened that it doesn’t do anything to resolve the situation. 

That’s what we have Damien for. 

Opening two lines, in italics, are quoted directly from Crown of Shadows to help set where the scene splits from canon. 

Day 4 - Theme Chosen: “Do you trust me?”

Damien hesitated, then looked at Gerald. The Hunter nodded ever so slightly. “He's right, Damien.” His voice was quiet but strained. “There's nothing more you can do here.”

“Gerald-”

The Hunter was already shaking his head. Damien felt his throat constrict, as if the force of his own panic and despair was physically crushing it. He knew what the next word from Gerald's mouth was going to be, knew that the adept was going to send him away, that this was how it was all going to end; blood and bitterness and revenge, all that potential for redemption wrenched away at the last second, wasted...

Do you trust me?

He'd never initiated contact through the link before – the few times they'd spoken through it, Gerald had been the one to open the connection, Damien only responding to the Hunter's questing reach. It wasn't as hard as he might have thought, though; only a matter of reaching for that ever-present sense of connection that throbbed quietly between them, touching that indefinable thread that bound them and spilling his thoughts into it, the question carried forward in a rush by the tide of fear and desperation that was sweeping through him. Damien saw the Hunter twitch slightly, grey eyes widening in surprise at the message, or at the strength of the emotions that accompanied it – but the response came immediately nonetheless, no hesitation on the other man's part.

Yes.

Damien looked back at Andrys, the young man's green eyes blazing with restless fury as he waited for the Knight to step aside, and let his whole demeanour shift. He dropped his hands from where they'd been held, conciliatory, in front of him; he let his shoulders shift up and back, his stance transforming from defensive to confident, even cocky, as he hardened his expression into a look of stern determination. He saw shock and uncertainty ripple through Andrys at just the change in his body language, and he went for the opening with ruthless speed, forcing even his voice to come out steady and unaffected.

“Fine. Since you're not buying the concerned ally angle... let me put this a little more plainly. You're ruining my plan, boy.”

“What?”

The shocked exclamation had come, in the same tone, from both Gerald and Andrys in nearly the same breath. Damien forced the tiny urge to laugh hysterically into the furthest recesses of his mind, glaring at Andrys with all the disdain he could muster.

“You know what he is, and in case it escaped your notice, I'm a priest,” he bit out, gesturing dismissively at Gerald where the adept stood half-shielded behind him, lean frame now rigid with disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of him. “You think I actually wanted to have to work with a monster to save the world? That I seriously planned to just let him walk away when all this was said and done?”

Already, there was a flash of dawning understanding in Andrys's eyes; the young man looked from Damien to Gerald and back, the blind aggression on his face giving way to realization as he put the pieces together.

“You set him up...”

“I swore, back on the day I first found out that he was the Hunter, that I'd kill him with my own two hands,” Damien growled, and felt the fae around him shimmer with the force of the truth behind those words, so obvious that surely even Andrys could see it. With his adept's Sight, Gerald certainly could – and had, judging by the sudden alarm that flickered over his face. “I've been biding my time for vulking years, fighting this damn war, putting up with his power slithering through my head – I've endured nightmares and murders and horrors beyond your comprehension, and now you're just going to waltz in and finish him off, just when I've finally got the upper hand? No. No, I don't think so.”

He could feel real trepidation bleeding through the link now, knew that he had forced just enough true resentment into his words to off-balance Gerald – and Andrys must have been able to see it in the adept's face as well, because the young man suddenly laughed, a malicious little chuckle half choked by his own heightened emotions.

“Well, that's certainly a twist,” he said, eyes gleaming as he lowered the springbolt in his hands ever so slightly, the angle of the bolt canting down just enough that it was no longer aimed at Damien's chest but more at hip height. “And, from the looks of it, one that you weren't expecting.” Those words, dripping with spite, were aimed at Gerald, who actually flinched again in response. Andrys's gaze swung back to Damien, a dark, sick hunger that reminded the former Knight all too much of Calesta stirring behind his eyes. “So, you're the priest... Jaxom told me about you. Said you'd lost your way, fallen further than even he expected.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “This makes more sense, though. You needed this bastard too much to kill him then, but of course you're angry. What was the plan? Bring him back here and walk right into the heart of the crusade, so you'd have backup?”

“Of course.” Damien forced a mirroring smirk onto his own features, and though it felt heinously wrong on his face, Andrys didn't seem to notice anything amiss with it. “I'm not an idiot – I want payback, but I know he's still powerful. I wasn't going to provoke that showdown unless I knew I had some kind of safety net.”

Andrys nodded, his eyes glittering; Damien could all but see the pieces aligning in his mind, the world finally taking a shape that meshed sensibly with the young man's own personal mania.

“I see,” he said finally, the springbolt lowering a little more – the weapon was heavy, his arms had to be tiring by now. “It was my family that he slaughtered, you know... but I understand what you're saying, as well. You had to travel with him, endure him, for the entire fight against Calesta – that can't have been easy. I won't deny you have a claim on his head, but I think you must see my point of view as well...”

Damien barely heard his words. His eyes were on the springbolt, watching the nose dip further and further – until, as Andrys rambled on about the weight of their differing claims and his own suffering in having to work with Calesta to put an end to the Hunter, the trajectory of the bolt fell so far that it was aimed at the very ground.

Now!

Damien shoved the word through the link at the same time that he moved, lunging forward with every ounce of speed his tense muscles could offer. He left his reservations behind him, the conflict that had raged through him for so long suddenly silenced, irrelevant; as it had that night in Morgot when Hesseth's tidal Working had hit them, his innate drive to defend those he cared for subsumed everything else, every other voice in his head drowning under the overwhelming instinct to protect.

Andrys was wearing too much armour to try any more delicate method of incapacitating him, so Damien fell back on the basics; closing the distance between them with that desperate lunge, he brought his arm back and punched Andrys in the jaw with all the force he could muster. Even in his exhausted state, his speed and strength were forces to be reckoned with. Andrys had tried to react to Damien's sudden attack, jerking the springbolt back up and getting off a single shot, but Gerald had taken Damien's cue to throw himself to the side out of Andrys's line of attack; the bolt fired at a useless angle, flying low across the room to bury itself in the far wall near the floor. Then, Damien's blow connected.

Damien wasn't just well-trained in combat; as a Healer, he knew exactly how to do the most damage to the human body when he needed to. The gorget of the armour was protecting Andrys's throat too well for a jab to connect, but the sideways force of a blow could be an effective method of knocking an opponent out as well, if the attacker had aimed correctly. Damien had thrown the punch from as much of a sideways angle as he could manage, his fist coming in from the side with terrifying force; as it connected, Andrys's head snapped hard to the side, and the young man crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings, knocked instantly unconscious by the force of his own brain being slammed against the inside of his skull.

The crash of his armoured form hitting the floor was followed by utter silence, broken only by Damien's own heavy breathing. He stared down at the young man, heart pounding with delayed adrenaline, feeling a wave of numbness slowly wash through him and replace the panic that had driven him to action.

God, forgive me... is this what I've become? Is this what You wanted when you brought us together, or have I truly lost myself so badly?

“Damien?”

The soft utterance of his name snapped Damien out of his trance, and he turned, shaking off the fog. Gerald had closed the distance between them in his moment of distraction and was now standing only a couple feet away, staring at Damien as if he'd never seen the Knight before, grey eyes wide. He didn't say anything else aloud, but he didn't need to; the link between them was saturated with emotion. Shock, wonder, gratitude, a fading echo of wariness...

And something else. Something so strong, so deeply felt, that it took Damien's breath away all over again. A sense of devotion, almost akin to his own fierce faith in God yet so much more personal, flooding through the link between their souls. A dizzying awareness that a line had been crossed, and a promise made: not with words, but with actions, unable to be taken back or misinterpreted. Gerald was wholly aware of what Damien had just declared, by stepping between himself and his descendant, by striking out at Andrys in defence of the Hunter – and he was returning the sentiment tenfold.

There would be time to put it all into words later. Damien took a deep breath, finally feeling the ground firm beneath his feet once more, his world steadying from where it had tilted on its axis in the moment he thought that Gerald was going to die.

“Time to grab what we came for and get the Hell out of here,” he said, mouth dry. “I'd say we're pretty definitively out of time.”

As Gerald nodded and turned to find the books they'd risked so much for, Damien moved to help, marveling at the way the link remained open and resonating between them, emotions flowing freely back and forth – and wondering what it meant for the state of his immortal soul that none of those emotions, from either end of the link, was anything like regret.

[anntoldst0ries]

Christmas (Baby please come home) - part II

Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 6k+ 

Rating: R

Summary: Ethan & Vicky’s first Christmas together… will everything go as planned?

Category: Mini series, completed. Part I can be found here.

Warnings: A tiny bit of explicit language, mild sexual content. Other than this - I declare fluff, fluff and nothing but the fluff! :D  

Author’s note: Part II is here and it’s long - sorry not sorry :D I put a lot of effort into this story and I hope you’re gonna like it :) I’d like to thank A. from the bottom of my heart, not only has she proofread it and corrected my mistakes, but also gave me the most amazing feedback. Jenner’s response is also hers, but she thoughtfully let me use it :) This is for you my dear <3

Written for CFWC Winter season, using prompt 10. 

Christmas Eve

And then it was just them. 

In the car.

Alone. 

“For someone who has just said more words in 5 minutes than he does for a whole week, you’re surprisingly quiet, Dr Ramsey.’’

“Excellent observation, Dr Valentine. This is exactly the type of insight that earned you a spot on the Diagnostics Team.” Ethan threw her a tiny smile. “But it’s not surprising. It’s called getting things back on an even keel.”

She didn’t say anything, just gently moved her gaze outside the window, where the wintery Boston landscape unfolded right in front of them. In the background, Frank Sinatra’s velvety voice tucked her like a blanket and she couldn’t help but think he’d love White Christmas in the state of Massachusetts.

It wasn’t until then that she actually realised the Christmas song was playing in Ethan's car and not from the radio. This healthy compromise (Sinatra for him, Christmas song for her) made her smile, as she knew how much of an effort listening to Christmas tunes was for the man sitting on her left. His ears must have been bleeding heavily. She made sure of it, playing the jingles at full blast every evening, scarring him for life. 

“Did you call your family to let them know you’re not coming?” Ethan’s deep baritone roused Vicky from the sea of thoughts she was immersed in. 

“Nope, for two reasons: a - they didn’t know I was coming in the first place and b - I am still undecided.” 

Vicky noticed the muscles on his face twitch in an instant.  

“What can I do to help you make your mind up?” Ethan gently took her tiny hand in his and caressed the inside with his thumb. Then, he took it to his mouth and placed a kiss with great reverence, as if he was a religious fanatic and she was an object of religious cult. 

This took her by surprise. She was expecting a snotty remark, a raise of an eyebrow or dead silence. Instead, the question hit her with a load of affection so genuine that warmth instantly spread in her chest.

She knew exactly what it was that she needed.

He knew exactly what she was going to ask for.

“Ethan, I… listen, you and I both know there is something more to your reaction. What I said in your office, it was just a trigger. I don’t know what it is and frankly I thought about never mentioning it again. But we both know that the next time this happens, you will cut me off again. I am not going to force you to do something you don’t want to. I just can’t keep going through the same cycles and… and—“

He put his palm on hers and took a deep breath. 

“Are you hungry? Tired?” The older doctor asked with concern.

What the hell? Oh, I see what you’re doing Ramsey. Change of subject. Fine. I said what I wanted to say. The ball’s in your court now, doc.

“No to both.” She said as neutrally as possible, trying her best not to show him that the sudden change of subject upset her.

“Good. Before we go home, there is a place I need to stop by, is that ok?” The question sounded shyly, it wasn’t a tone she’d ever associate with him.

“I’ve never heard of a murderer who asked his victim if it’s ok to stop by the crime scene.”

“Trust me, if I were to murder you, you wouldn’t know.”

“Hmm, I’d like to think I know you well enough I would at least suspect.”

“I’d like to think you know me well enough to also know that I’d rather give you one of Dr Ramsey’s signature tirades. They are worse than murder.”

“No arguments here. So, will you tell me where we are going?”

“You’ll see.”

Soon, Ethan parked the car. He unbuckled the seat belt, opened the door and rushed to the other side, to open hers. He reached out for her hand with a faint smile and she blushed at the gentlemanly gesture. 

Having intertwined their fingers, Ethan led her along a high brick wall until a gate materialised in front of them. He gently pushed the gate and let her through. Only then did she realise where they actually were.

“Commonwealth Avenue Mall? What are we doing here?”

“If you ask me, it’s one of the most picturesque pathways I’ve ever seen and not only during winter. I like to come here for my runs and to… contemplate. Walk with me?” He asked, but it wasn’t really a question. Hand in hand, they walked down the alley. Fresh snow scrunched underfoot and the strings of lights danced to the melody of delicate wind. If this wasn’t a fairytale setting, she didn’t know what could be.

Vicky studied Ethan’s features carefully. Although he was still a closed book sometimes, she’s gotten quite good at reading him over the months. After Edenbrook, Ethan Ramsey was the second biggest field where her sharp diagnostic skills were heavily utilised. Maybe that’s what she should focus on once she starts her PhD? “The curious case of Ethan Jonah Ramsey.”

That’s how she noticed that something was clearly eating Ethan from the inside. If her calculations were correct, there was approximately 1/1000 chance of him making a decision to speak, so she decided to throw him a lifebelt. 

“Ethan, I can see that you want to say something, but it feels like you’re hesitating. Please don’t feel obliged to talk, I want you to do it on your own terms. As long as I know you want to talk to me eventually, I’m fine.”

“If I don’t speak now, I’m afraid I might never summon the courage.” Ethan tried to make it sound like a joke, but she knew how serious he was right now. She knew how much it had to cost him. Suddenly, she stopped and put her hands around his neck, then pressed her forehead to his.

“Don’t do this because of me.”

“Because of you? I’m not doing this because of you. I’m doing it for you. For us. What I’m about to say is painful, Vicky, but it’s nowhere near as painful as the thought of losing you. I’ve already told you how much time we lost because of my stubbornness. When… when you and Raf were locked in the hospital room…when I thought you were slipping from my grasp…” He had to stop to clear his throat and take a deep breath, clearly struggling to talk. “I promised myself that if life gives me a second chance, I will not waste it. I will work on this, on us, harder than I’ve worked during my 10 years at Edenbrook combined. I’d climb every damn mountain and swim every ocean if that’s what it takes to have you in my life.” 

She wanted to cry. It took every ounce of her strength not to. Ethan wasn’t a blabbermouth, but when he spoke - man, he knew how to choose his words wisely.

“Ethan, whatever it is… we will get through it. Together. You are not alone, darling.”

Ethan felt tears prickling from underneath his closed lids. Not only because of what she said, but also because of what she didn’t say. He saw the impact of his words in her eyes, yet she didn’t want to make this about her, but him. Her selflessness was one of the things he loved and admired most about her.  The older doctor never let himself be so vulnerable with any other person and as hard as it was for him, it also felt strangely right. As if all the pieces of this crazy puzzle called life finally came together. 

Feeling as ready as he’d ever be, he took a deep breath and said: “Let me take you on a trip down memory lane…”

25 years earlier

Ethan is 11 and he’s sitting alone in his room. The window in the 4 walls of his world overlooks the street and it's his only connection to the outside world. The window sill underneath is wide enough to sit on it, but not very comfortable for a long time. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, unmoving. It may have been hours, it may have been days. Time lost its sense.

He’s already past the point of pain caused by the unnatural position, his body has entered the numb phase, and he doesn’t feel anything anymore. He wishes his mind could join his body in the bliss of being rid of feelings.

It is only thanks to the carollers wandering on the streets that he’s convinced it must be Christmas Eve. And how he also knows it’s been 27 days since his mother walked out on him. Anger mixes with despair, yet he’s unable to stop waiting for her, stop jumping involuntarily at any movement in close proximity of his home. There is still hope.

Unbeknownst to him, Alan stands on the other side of the door trying to make the hardest decision today: to save his son or to be there for his son. Alan is a painful reminder of the life they once had, a bridge to the reality that tumbled down. He slowly retreats from the door, unsure if he’s doing the right or the bad thing. How are you supposed to know? Life does not exactly prepare you for moments like this.

Everyone asks him how Ethan is. No wonder, he is just a child whose mother disappeared into thin air. But do they not realise he suffers too? He loved, loves this woman more than life itself.

Alan was furious at Louise. But was he surprised? Not entirely. Deep down, he always knew that she was a restless soul. She always gave him hints - a subtle comment here and there, some words said during one of their fights. But he was blindly in love, so whenever she gave him reasons to think they shouldn’t be together, he ignored it. And when she did something that surprised him, she won him over and he lost the argument with himself.

What worried Alan was that Ethan started showing Louise’s personality traits. And as much as she fooled him, he didn’t want his only child to end up broken and hurt. If he could, he’d do anything to protect him. But even as a father he was unable to shield his child from the damage of being abandoned by his mother, the only person that should forever shower him with unconditional love. How does one ever recover from such trauma?

Ethan knew. Although his dad tiptoed around him, he felt it. He knew exactly that he was fighting internal battles. He knew that his father suffered. 

There wasn’t anything that he wanted more than for his dad to come and hug him and tell him everything’s gonna be alright.

Or for his mum to come back home and explain the unexplainable. 

But somehow he knew this wasn’t going to happen and he was tired of waiting for a miracle.

And on this Christmas Eve he made a decision: he will never let anyone fool him with a promise of unconditional love ever again.

He will separate himself from the rest of the world, build a wall so high no one will ever be able to jump over it. 

No one will hurt him again, because you can’t hurt the rational mind, you can only hurt an emotional heart.

Today

“I haven’t cried since.” Ethan was now full on sobbing. “Until I met you, that is.” 

She pulled him as close as humanly possible and enveloped him in a tight hug, with his head resting upon the crook of her neck. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks abundantly.

The older doctor was afraid that once he’d start, he’d never stop crying. All his shattered dreams, his sleepless nights, silent prayers, fake smiles, they all joined forces and attacked him with all their might. Had it not been for her hard grip, he might’ve fallen on his knees. How this petite girl found so much strength was a mystery to him, but he’d never been more grateful. 

She kept rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck. It made her feel so unspeakably sad that the man she loved had to carry this unimaginable burden throughout his whole life. And as much as it sucked, she was happy that from now on, they could carry this burden together. Although he didn’t say anything, Ethan must have agreed, as she felt the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. They stood there in the freezing cold for what felt like forever. But neither of them seemed to mind, because they were in their tiny little bubble, impenetrable, where no one could hurt them.

Finally, the older doctor broke the silence.

“Let’s go. You must be freezing.” 

“I’m about 5 minutes from hypothermia but I should be fine. I know a great doctor.” 

“Well, one of the most important principles of modern medicine is ‘prevent, not cure.’ Plus, I think someone has really missed you.”

———

“OMG Jenner st—“

Before she was ready to finish the sentence, she was already on the floor, laughing like a maniac. 

“You will be the death of me, Jenner.”

I’ll treat that as a compliment, Vic. But Christmas treats first, chatting later, lady!  

That’s how she thought the conversation went in the dog's head. Ethan helped her get up and took her coat. 

“I hope you are still not sleepy.”

“Not really, why?”

“Because I need a companion.”

“Always & with pleasure, but I assume you mean something else right now?”

“You minx. I want you to sit down comfortably, I’ll pour you a glass of wine. You can watch one of your favourite Christmas movies or play Christmas songs - whatever your heart desires.”

“Who are you and have you eaten my own Mr Grinch, Christmas-friendly creature?”

“I just need you to sit here whilst I’ll be working. Now go and get changed.” 

She obeyed quickly, which she always did when he used his commanding doctor voice on her. Whilst changing into leggings and a hoodie, some weird noises reached her ears, clearly coming from the living room. When Vicky came back, a glass of white wine sat on the coffee table. But that’s not what surprised her.

The 37-year old diagnostician was tangled in Christmas lights and so was Jenner, who thought his master was playing some sort of game with him and kept jumping around Ethan.

“What are you doing?”

“Well…since, because of me, you had to call off Christmas, I’m reinstating it. I will take all the decorations out while you’ll be sitting here doing nothing, maybe apart from instructing me on how to do it right. Does this sound like a fair punishment?”

“Only if you let me record this and post it on Pictagram.”

“Don’t cross the line, Valentine.”

“Ethan Ramsey, king of rhymes! Fine, I suppose I can still die happy knowing I’ve instilled the Christmas spirit into you.”

“Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to actually dump you in the forest…”

“Talk to the hand, Gramps!”

 ---------

Christmas Day

Christmas mornings were always rushed and crazy at the Valentine household. Although Vicky loved Christmas in her family home, she didn’t know how much she actually enjoyed the lazy, easy Christmas mornings until she was able to experience it. And she couldn’t be more content that it was with Ethan.

Mercifully, he let her sleep until 9am (obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t mumble something about her sleeping too long and how she was able to function like this, but she completely ignored the remarks) and then brought her breakfast to bed, which she consumed in its entirety, with a little help from Jenner. The most important meal of the day had been delivered with a complimentary kiss, which was her favourite part.

“Ethan!” She shouted from the bedroom, not quite ready to leave the comfort of his bed. The older doctor left her with the food and went to prepare them both a cup of coffee.

“Jesus Christ woman, you’re so loud I’m starting to consider getting rid of my stereo.”

“Oh, it didn’t seem to bother you last night.” She winked at him and he grinned involuntarily. How was it possible that she was in possession of his facial expressions too?

“Anyway, can you please remind me what time we have to be there tonight?”

“Be where tonight?”

“Naveen’s Christmas Party.”

“We’re not going.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we are not.” 

“Ok, let me rephrase this: me and my unearthly seductive dress are definitely in attendance. If you and Your Royal Grumpiness wish to stay home, be my guests.”

“You don’t play fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“You know how much I hate rubbing shoulders with idiots in bowties.”

“I do, but let me offer some consolation. This time, you don’t have to do this, because we are not raising any donations. Also, we can laugh at those idiots together and if either of us is stuck in a pointless conversation, the other can always rescue them.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic, instead pulling her close against his chest and kissing the top of her head.

Later this evening 

“V, how much longer until you are ready?” Ethan was growing impatient. He hated waiting and just couldn’t understand what took her so long. He was convinced that even wearing a garbage bag, she’d be the most stunning woman in the room.

“Ethan, nothing has changed since you’ve asked me 5 minutes ago.”

“Fine, but don’t be surprised if I leave without you.” 

“No you won’t. But for someone who didn’t want to go at all not longer than 8 hours ago you are quite eager now. Call me an influencer.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want if this means we can leave soon. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back.”

“Whatever I want? Bad move Ramsey, bad move.” 

“I’ll sho—“

He turned around and the words got stuck in his throat at the sight unveiling in front of him. She looked like a freaking goddess, who decided to descend from Mount Olympus and grace the mortals with her presence.

“You were saying?”

“I..I… you..well..” For a man so educated he now sounded less articulate than a toddler. To make things worse, a certain body part painfully reminded him that behind the facade of accomplishments, he was still a primate. 

“Ethan, could you stop talking so much? I can’t hear my own thoughts.” She laughed and it was so infectious that he couldn’t help but smile. 

She decided to wear a long, black gown, with a thigh high split showing her slim, tanned legs that he was a total sucker for. The ensemble was complimented by crystal embellished sandals and glamorous drop earrings. 

“I’ve never seen anyone whose insides matched their outsides so accurately. To me, you are perfect.”

Her heart stopped and she felt butterflies waltzing through her stomach. No matter how many times Ethan complimented her, she always felt like Cupid punched her right in the face. And she hoped the feeling would never fade or disappear.

“So you watched Love Actually with me yesterday.”

“Watched is an overstatement. I might have peeked a few times.” Ethan cleared his throat. “Can we go now?”

“Absolutely not. Did the Edenbrook gala not teach you that if you need to attend an event you are not particularly excited about, you shouldn’t go sober?”

“I suppose you have a point here. One drink.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“Deal! Pleasure doing business with you, Dr Ramsey.” 

Ethan poured them both a glass of his best scotch. Before she was able to take a sip, he stopped her with his hand. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

“Fire away.”

“To curing the incurable. In medicine and in life.” He sent her a sweet, genuine smile that made her heart beat ten times faster.

Then, they made some bets about what’s going to happen during this year’s party, who’s going to get so wasted that they will be forced to perform a walk of shame for months to come. For the whole time, the younger doctor couldn’t shake the feeling that he is studying her.

“What is it? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, I’ve spent too much time with you for my observation skills not to improve insanely. Like it or not, you created a monster.”

“I like to think of it as making the world a better place… nevertheless, I’m impressed, Dr Valentine. For a 3rd year resident your skills are exquisite.” 

She put her hand on her heart and smiled. All the compliments she’s ever received in her life faded in comparison to one from Ethan Ramsey. Her high school hero, her inspiration and she still couldn’t quite believe it, the man she was now sharing her life with. 

“Now, if you’ll allow me, I must order a cab now, otherwise I may lose a battle soon.”

“What battle?”

Ethan looked at her, lust flooding from his eyes. He quickly stepped behind her and gripped her waist, then leaned into her ear, catching it ever so gently with his lips. This alone was enough for her knees to give out and she was never more grateful for the kitchen island and the fact she was holding onto it for dear life. But he didn’t stop there. He whispered into her ear and no other sounds in the world could compare to the symphony of his voice, dripping with desire.

“The one in my mind, between my rational mind and my primal desire, urging me to rip off this dress and devour you right now.”

Goosebumps spread across her body, a painful reminder of the fact that maybe her mind and mouth could lie to Ethan, but her body couldn’t. Damn it.

She knew it was a matter of milliseconds before she’d be unable to make a rational decision, so she quickly slipped from Ethan’s grip and whispered: “You should order it now then.” Then, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, you’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s only part of the reason. The other, bigger part is that I just really, really want to show up at this party with my insanely hot boyfriend by my side, without finally having to hide and pretend. Unless…he’s ashamed of me.” 

“Vic, there are a lot of things in my life that have ‘shame’ and ‘you’ in one sentence. I’m ashamed of running away from you to Amazon. I’m ashamed of denying my feelings for so long. I’m ashamed of hurting you, more than once. But to have you by my side, to finally call you mine? That’s my greatest pride. Now, shall we?” He offered her a wide smile and his arm.

“You asshole. First, you try to seduce me and then you make me cry. Let’s go then, Naveen is going to kill us. I promised we’re only gonna be fashionably late.”

———————

The party was already bustling when they arrived, the room filled with chatter of many guests in attendance. The event was Naveen’s pride and a tribute to his many years as one of the most important figures in today’s medicine. It was almost like Elton John’s Oscars after party - everyone wanted to be there. Being there made Vicky feel special, but more than that, uneasy - she was still just a resident and somehow felt like she didn’t belong there. At least, not yet.

In the background, the string quartet played classical versions of popular songs and carols. The venue was impressive, located within one of Boston’s most prestigious hotels, whose owner was Naveen’s - obviously - long time friend. 

The second Dr Banerji spotted them, he practically ran in their direction, almost bumping into one of the guests.

“Well well, if this isn’t my favourite pair of doctors. Dr Valentine, you look like you walked out of one of Botticelli’s paintings.”

“Enough with the formalities. I’m so happy to see you, Naveen! Merry Christmas.” She hugged the old doctor tightly and although initially surprised by this display of affection, he instantly relaxed and returned the hug.

“Merry Christmas, my dear.” 

“It’s quite something, this party of yours Naveen. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Why, thank you. You know what my favourite part is?” He locked arms with the younger doctor and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “This party satiates my hunger for gossip for months to come. And I’m pretty sure this evening will be, for many reasons, unforgettable. Enjoy your evening, my friends, I shall see you around.” 

Naveen winked at Vicky and Ethan felt like there was some sort of unspoken agreement between them, one that he wasn’t a part of.

“What was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“I know you and I know Naveen. Something is off here.” 

“Ethan Ramsey, are you jealous? FYI, I don’t fancy older men. Oh no, wait. I totally do.” She was trying really hard to stay serious, but failed miserably.

“Very funny, Valentine.”

“Sorry Gramps. This one you were totally asking for.”

“I’m gonna go get us some real drinks, I need to hydrate myself heavily if I’m to survive the evening.”

“Don’t cloud your judgement too much, Ethan. You may need it.” 

Maybe he was imagining the whole exchanging looks thing between Vicky and Naveen. But now he was certain she’s hiding something. And he intended to find out what it is or he was not Dr Ethan Ramsey. 

After he fetched them the drinks, they found their seats and soon Naveen made his annual speech, summarising the whole year and thanking tons of people. Vicky loved experiencing Naveen as a speaker, he didn’t have Ethan’s commanding presence, but his years of experience and sincerity in his voice made everyone listen with absolute silence.

He then joined them at the table. Of course he sat us with him, Ethan thought.

“Naveen, if you think I’m going to be your source of hospital gossip, think again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t spend as much time in the hospital together and I miss my dear friends.”

Before he was able to respond, Vicky pinched his thigh under the table and sent him a murderous look. 

“We miss you too, Naveen. Now, why don’t you two catch up properly, whilst I’m gonna go and do my round of talks, there are a couple of people I wanted to chat with.”

“Sure, feed me to the lions, Vic.”

“When have you become such a drama queen, Ethan? If I wanted to feed you to the lions, you’d be standing over there.” She pointed her finger to the corner of the room, where some big pharma executives were enjoying themselves. She waved friendly in their direction, and they responded in kind.

“Alright gentlemen, I need to run before they catch me.”  

Before she turned around, her and Naveen shared meaningful looks, but before Ethan had a chance to ask, she was already gone. Plus, Naveen changed the subject and the two immersed themselves in a very interesting conversation, which reminded Ethan how much he liked his mentor, not as a doctor, but genuinely as a human being. This made him one of a few people Ethan truly liked.

Dr Ramsey was one of those people who, when they were focused - whether on the case, on the conversation or on watching an opera - dedicated their attention entirely to said activity. Which was probably the reason why the sounds coming from the stage took him by surprise. He didn’t realise that the string quartet had been replaced by a group of young people, who started playing more lively. 

No longer than 30 seconds later, someone started singing, but the voice was not coming from the stage. It was coming from behind. Suddenly, all the guests turned their heads around as one. 

The snow's coming down

I'm watching it fall

Lots of people around

Baby please come home

The angelic voice belonged to a beautiful girl in a black gown. She sat on a bar stool, side-facing everyone. Suddenly, she jumped from the seat and started walking towards the stage, each step sensual.

The church bells in town

All ringing in song

Full of happy sounds

Baby please come home

Ethan must have looked like an absolute idiot, because he sat there gaping like a fish.

They're singing "Deck The Halls"

But it's not like Christmas at all

'Cause I remember when you were here

And all the fun we had last year

Once on the stage, she owned both the stage and the crowd. Some people started dancing, others clapped to the rhythm and sang with her. When she finished and took a bow, the audience applauded her generously. 

“Good evening everyone. I’m Vicky and I’m a doctor at Edenbrook Hospital. Thank you for organising this amazing event, Naveen, and thanks for having me. And now, please meet these amazing musicians, whom I have the honour of calling my friends. Back in high school we formed a band, which we called Valentine’s Day… that was a very accurate name on many levels.” She chuckled and the crowd followed. 

“You are looking at people who never gave up on their dreams and now play in some amazing venues. I couldn’t be more proud of them. It would have been the same for me, most likely, if it wasn’t for a book, which I’m sure a lot of you ladies and gentlemen are familiar with. It’s called Diagnostics Principles. After I read it, nothing was the same. And here I am, all these years later, getting covered in blood and sweat almost every day. But today, I can at least bask in the glory of the amazing people standing here with me.”  

“I’d like to dedicate this next song to the author of the above mentioned book. He changed my life in more ways than he can realise. And although I promised him we will not exchange any Christmas presents, I haven’t spent any money on this one, so technically it doesn’t count, right?” She earned another amused reaction from the crowd.

“It’s my favourite Christmas song and I’m so honoured to be able to sing it for you.”

The subtle sounds of a piano reverberated in the room and she started singing, her voice pure and powerful.

O Holy night

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth

Ethan couldn’t move or breathe. He just stared, completely transfixed. 

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

'Til He appears and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

To hear her singing was one thing. To feel all the things the act was doing to him, was completely different. With every sound produced by her vocal cords, a new, overwhelming sensation was born inside of him.

Fall on your knees

O hear the Angel voices

O night divine

O night when Christ was born

O night divine

O night

Oh night divine

Their eyes locked and she sent him a look so full of affection that he felt a warm tear flowing down his cheek. 

For him, it was anything but watching a performance. It was a spiritual experience. Towards the end of the song, she hit the notes so high, that he couldn’t help but look around the room. Everyone was in awe of her. And he was never prouder to call her “his”.

After the last bits of instruments resonated, the guests gave her a standing ovation. Ethan clapped his hands so hard that they hurt. He even whistled on his fingers which he hasn’t done since high school. To hell with it, he thought. 

And then he ran, knowing that in a second he will not be able to squeeze through the crowd of admirers. He scooped her in his arms and kissed her with so much passion that she felt dizzy.

“Wow, that was different.”

“What do you mean?”

“The kiss, it felt different.”

“There are so many things I want to say right now, but I can’t do it here. How much longer do we have to stay?”

“I promised the guys I will sing a couple more songs with them and then I wanted to introduce you and have a drink together. After that, we’re free to go.”

“Deal.”

——

“My feet are killing me. I don’t know how I survived in those heels, but I’m walking barefoot for the next 2 days.” 

“How fitting since I’m not going to let you out of this apartment until we have to go back to work.”

“I’m gonna go get changed in my PJ’s”

“Ah, not that soon.” Ethan said with a devilish smile and then approached her, reaching for her hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Although I’m tempted to say no to Dr Ramsey just to prove a point, I could never say no to Ethan.” She took a bow and gave him her hand.

“Lucky me. I just wanted to dance with you away from the prying eyes. For the whole evening everyone stared at you. I’m a selfish man and I was counting the minutes until I have the view all to myself.”

The sounds of Something by The Beatles started seeping from a glamorous gramophone.

“The Beatles? I didn’t take you for the type who’d listen to them.”

“Frank Sinatra christened this song the ‘greatest love song ever written.’ And who am I to argue with him?”

For a moment they swayed in silence, cheek to cheek. Then, the older doctor leaned back and looked her straight in the eye.

“So, you are not great at keeping promises, are you?” He mumbled playfully. 

“You mean the “let’s not exchange gifts” thing? I stand by what I said earlier, I haven’t spent a dime on it, so it doesn’t count.”

“It’s funny that you don’t even begin to realise how wrong you are.” He was very serious but there was a rare gentleness in his voice. “First of all, you mentioned you had a band in high school and that you sang but you never told me that you practically traded being a music star for being a doctor.” She blushed shyly at the compliment.

“Secondly, when you sang, I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard and I consider myself an audiophile.”

“Coming from you, this is officially the biggest praise ever. I will have this printed and framed. You may even get an autograph if you play your cards right.”

“Shut up, I haven’t finished. You can ruin the moment later.” Ethan playfully swatted her arm. 

“With you, I am discovering parts of myself I never knew existed. And I’m strangely content with this. So, to sum up, all of the above makes me feel very guilty that I didn’t get you anything.”

“Ethan, you don’t have to give me anything. But it’s funny you said that, because you don’t even begin to realise how wrong you are.” She was proud of herself for being able to use his own words as a counterargument. 

“Actually, you gave me the biggest gift yesterday: a real part of you. I’m guessing, actually it’s more than a guess, that this is not something you shared with many people.”

“I haven’t shared this with anyone.”

“And that’s the biggest gift I could ever ask for. I want to be the person who helps you carry the cross, no matter how heavy it is.”

He pressed her even tighter against his chest and rested his chin on her head. But he felt the need to express all the other things his words couldn’t, so he gently lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers. She tasted and smelled divine. On a very basic level, she smelled like coconut and mango. 

To him, she smelled like spring, summer, autumn and winter. Like a promise of sun after the storm. Like home. Ethan finally found his home, his safe haven.

The kiss made her feel dizzy again and then she remembered.

“So, the kiss. It feels different. Why?” She looked at him so innocently it almost made him sweat. Ethan cupped her cheek as if he was holding the most precious thing in his palm… and for him, he was.

 “When you were singing for me, I made a promise. From now on, whenever I kiss you, I want to make it feel like it’s the last time, but also a promise of the million more kisses we will share. Merry Christmas, Vicky.”

“Merry Christmas, Ethan.”

***************************

If you made it this far, from the bottom of my heart - thank you & you are awesome! I wish you all the best in 2021, let’s hope it’s a better year for us all :)

Tag list: @genevievemd | @terrm9 | @starrystarrytrouble | @danijimenezv | @mercury84choices | @maurine07 | @gryffindordaughterofathena | @jamespotterthefirst | @justanotherrookie | @alwaysmychoices | @takeharryandgo | @beckaroo | @lucy-268 | @aarisa-frost | @openheartfanfics | @caseyvalentineramsey | @brooks-eden | @heauxplesslydevoted | @iemcpbchoices | @lovingramsey​ 

[jobean12-blog]

Beefy Bucky where he is really mad at the reader one day and is giving her the silent treatment, no kisses or physical contact, etc. She has to go out on a risky mission with only nat as back up and he still doesn’t talk to her and she leaves really upset and kinda crying. She gets really hurt on the mission and thinks that the last time that she spoke to the love of her life was Bucky yelling at her. Nat finds her, gets her to the tower. Bucky and her make up + sweetness

Love You To Death

Pairings: Beefy Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,677

Summary: Bucky can’t handle the reader being in danger so he distances himself. Thankfully, he learns his lesson with a happy ending. 

Author’s Note: I always dislike the thought of Bucky being anything but perfect but of course love can make you crazy and everyone reacts differently to things that are scary...like the possibility of losing the one person most important to you. This is lightly based off one of my favorite Type O Negative songs, ‘Love you to Death’ Hope you enjoy :) Thank you so much for reading! 

Warnings: Angst, mild violence, mention of stab wound, fluffy ending with a super soft beefy bucky

You tried to stop the flow of tears as you walked up the ramp of the quinjet. You had to stay focused for the mission and for Nat. The mission would only take two days and although you left 5 minutes ago, it felt like you had already been gone an eternity.

When you had first told Bucky about the mission, he was apprehensive, asking so many questions, badgering Steve as to why you had to go and not him and just plain sour over it. You understood he was worried, and it only made you love him more to know it, but you were strong and could take care of yourself and do your job.

As the mission date approached you noticed a change in Bucky. He was much less affectionate, keeping his distance most of the time and never initiating any conversations. It was torture. You asked him about it numerous times, “Buck, what’s going on? Please talk to me so we can fix this, I don’t understand and it’s upsetting me,” you would plead. Sometimes he would give you a simple, “nothing is wrong,” and other times he would just look at you…like it was for the last time.

It nearly broke your heart, but you knew he loved you with every fiber of his being and you couldn’t understand why he would do this. You would cling to him at night, your arms barely wrapping around his wide chest and your face buried in the crook of his neck. Whispered, “I love yous,” at any random moment were the only thing you would get a reply to, “I love you to, y/n, so much.”

It made no sense and it seemed to weigh you down as you walked onto the jet, feet heavy and shoulders slumped. “We will handle this mission quickly and efficiently and then get back home, y/n. Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” Nat assured you as she squeezed your hand. You gave her a weak smile but squared your shoulders, “let’s do this.”

Steve had given you all the information you needed to infiltrate this Hydra base. It was an extremely dangerous operation. This facility was being used to test a new super solider serum on subjects handpicked by Hydra. If they had succeeded in any way you were going to be up for hell of a fight.

It was meant to be covert, get in, get the needed information and get out. Later, you, Nat and the whole team would take down the operation and get rid of the serum for good. You had a solid plan…but things don’t always go according to plan.

It seemed like you would really pull his off, the information carefully extracted and stored on the memory stick hidden in your inner pants pocket, you and Nat quietly making your way back to where you slipped in.

You could hear the beat of your heart, the rush of blood in your ears so loud you were worried others could detect it. Unfortunately, you were right. Turns out they had begun testing their new serum earlier than you thought and several soldiers had survived the transfusion.

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react. There were 5 of them and while both you and Nat were extremely skilled and strong there was only so much you could do to fend them off, especially when their only intent was to destroy the target.

You and Nat were so in sync, moving with a rhythmic ease that had you take down two of the soldiers quickly, however, the three that remained proved to be more of a problem. Two of them had you cornered, eyes cold and calculating as they inched closer.

It wasn’t until the blade had sliced into your abdomen that you realized the third solider had momentarily incapacitated Nat and charged in your direction. He searched for the small memory stick, blade still embedded in your flesh, as you tried with every ounce of strength to hold him off. But the other two soldiers had you pinned down and it wasn’t until Nat recovered, made use of the special stun gun Tony designed, that you were able to wrench yourself free and move away.

You both knew you had only seconds to get out, the pain in your side intense as you ran, limping along side Nat and back toward the quinjet. Every step agonizing as you felt more blood seep through your fingers. The last thing you remember is Nat screaming for you to, “keep going, just a few more steps,” before the slow veil of darkness clouds your vision and your last word whispered is, “Bucky.”

The faint smell of something familiar and comforting reaches your nose. It slowly drags you out of your dreamless sleep, eyes opening as you slightly shift on the bed. Your bed, in your shared bedroom with Bucky.

“Doll, doll, can you hear you me?” the frantic voice of Bucky drifts through the space and you try to get your eyes to focus. Your hand is enveloped in the warmth of his own, his blue eyes wide and worried as he cradles your cheek with his other hand.

“Hey,” you croak out, “what happened? Is Nat ok?” you start to push up from the bed only to wince in pain and slump back down. Bucky gently squeezes your hand and rubs your arms soothingly, “it’s ok baby, you’re ok and Nat is fine,” he whispers, and you notice his eyes are wet with unshed tears.

“Bucky, what’s wrong, are you ok?” you ask, voice shrill with worry as you take in his appearance, tired eyebrows furrowed in constant concern. “I’m fine, y/n, I’m fine and so are you,” he says, letting out a sob as he carefully pulls you up and into his chest.

You ignore the slight pain and curl into him, grasping onto his thick arms with a vice grip, “I thought I would  never see you again, never hold you again, never get to tell you how sorry I am for how I acted,” he choked out.

You lift your head to speak but he places a finger over your lips, “please, y/n, let me explain,” he says, voice small and broken as he holds you, his eyes full of emotion. “I can’t believe how I treated you, there is nothing I can say that will make it right, but I want you to know that it came from a place of fear. I was so scared of losing you on this mission that I thought pushing you away would make it easier. Obviously, I realized I was completely wrong, but it was too late, and you had already left. I know these Hydra scum, I know what they are capable, especially the soldiers they bred so I couldn’t bare the thought of you being anywhere near them, it physically hurt to think of you in any danger.” So instead of telling you how much I love you and how much I was worried for you, I did what I figured would be easier and distanced myself from the one person I can’t live without.”

Your eyes scan his face as he continues to speak, words of apology and love pouring out almost as quickly as the tears run down his cheeks. You gently wipe away a tear with your thumb, caressing the soft skin now peppered with scruffy hair and gingerly press your lips to his, effectively stopping his rambling.

At first, he is still, relishing in the warmth and life in your lips before he moves his mouth and kisses you deeply, pulling you fully into his lap and holding you as close as possible. You break the kiss and rest your head against his broad chest, listening to his heartbeat as it calms, “I love you, y/n, more than anything. I hope you can forgive me,” he says, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Of course I forgive you Buck, I love you too, more than anything, but next time, you need to talk to me and tell me how you’re feeling, even though it might be hard,” you mumble into the softness of his shirt. He continues to hold you close, tenderly rocking you back and forth, whispering “thank you” and “I love you” over and over into your hair.

You spend the rest of the day wrapped in each other’s arms, Bucky doting over you and you happily let him. You had wanted to take a shower but needed to keep the bandages on your side dry, so Bucky got you one of Bruce’s cool Knick knacks that did the job. He tenderly cleaned your hair and body, placing delicate kisses to your lips and neck as the warm water washed the day away.

Sitting on the edge of the bed wrapped in a large fluffy towel, Bucky walks over holding a pile of clothes. “Ok, so I have my worn-out blue tee shirt, my NASA sweatshirt, and my red Henley. Which one do you want to wear?” he asks, smile sweet as he holds up your choices. You point to the blue tee shirt and NASA sweatshirt, opting for layers of coziness, “thanks, baby, I love wearing your clothes best,” you tell him. “I know you do, and you look much better in them than I do,” he says sweetly, helping you out of your towel and into the shirt.

“I found this new book in Tony’s library, it’s a fantasy series. Faeries, magic, love! All your favorites so I knew you would love it. Want me to read to you before bed?” You throw Bucky a beaming smile, excited at the thought of a new fantasy story and snuggle into his side as he puts his arm around you, opening the book before placing a kiss to the top of your head. He begins reading, voice soothing as you listen to the words and your heart is full, knowing your happiness is his happiness.

@annavega333 @abovethesmokestacks @beckzorz @buckysbrat @book-dragon-13 @collinsstanharbour @cchellacat @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @marvelgirl7 @marvelous-meggi @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @loricameback @lollypop-lam @littledarlinhavefaithinme @lancetuckershairgel @sebastiansloserclub

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 4 (Elriel)

I’m thinking there’s going to be two/three more parts to this. I know it’s longer than what I usually put out, but I did mention it’s a slow burn, so... Idk. I really like it and want to keep writing it. 

DRUNK NOTE: thank god I wrote this earlier because i’m too far gone to do much editing hahah sorry if there’s errors also sorry it’s short

__________________________________________________________

~Elain~

For exactly three horrible seconds of Elain’s life, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as breathe as she stands there, holding him to her, mouth pressed against his. 

It’s absolutely horrifying. 

But then he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Holy fuck, Elain.”

And then he kisses her. 

Walking forward, he presses her against the wall, sheltering her with his body and caging her in. 

She’s quickly becoming addicted to the way his chest is pressed against hers, hard muscle dragging against her now-heavy breasts in a way that makes her pant. 

But that’s nothing compared to the addiction she was forming for how he kissed her. 

It’s deep and heavy and so seductive her knees go a bit weak. He--Azriel--seems to notice and slides a knee in between her legs, which helps keep her upright but does absolutely no favors for the growing ache at the apex of her thighs. 

Gods above.

Elain shoves her hands in his hair to keep him close to her, and his go to her hips, then slide around to her backside, then run across her waist. He’s everywhere, hands and body surveying every inch of her, but his mouth moves consistently slow against hers. 

She feels like he can’t get enough of her, like she's driving him crazy. And she fucking loves it, because she’s never felt like this before. 

Never... been kissed like this before. 

He moves to her neck, then down to the top of her breasts. “Azriel,” she moans. Or maybe begs. 

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers instantly. His usual honey and moss colored eyes are dark, lined with urgency and desire and maybe just a little crazy. “That’s going to be the fucking death of me.”

Before she can analyze that, they’re kissing again, and Elain can’t stop herself from running her hands over his chest and abs, then pulling him even closer. 

Azriel presses his hips into hers, and she gasps into his mouth, making him smile. She reaches behind her to open the door and take him inside, but he stops her with a hand on her wrist. 

“Elain.”

Still a little breathless, she whispers, “What?”

Taking a healthy step away from her, he shakes his head and says, “We can’t... I’m not going in there.”

“What?” she repeats, beyond confused. She’d thought he’d wanted to... and his body had definitely wanted to...

“I’m not taking you to bed while you belong to another man, Elain.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe not your body,” he agrees, placing a wide hand on her chest, right above her heart. “But I want this to be mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

Her mouth is open, probably grazing the floor, but she just stares at him in disbelief. Azriel smiles softly, runs a thumb over her bottom lip, then kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Elain.”

Then he turns and goes inside his apartment, the door shutting between them with a deafeningly quiet click. 

~Azriel~

Yeah, I’m one dumb motherfucker. 

I had the girl I’d been pathetically pining for finally kissing me, finally admitting she wants me, and I told her I wasn’t going to have sex with her. 

And where does that leave me? With a fucking painful erection and the urge to put my fist through a wall. 

I head straight for the bathroom and turn the shower to the coldest setting possible. But even as the ice water runs over me, my blood continues to thrum. 

Good gods, I want to kiss her again. 

I want to kiss her all the time. 

Her full mouth fits mine perfectly, and the way she kissed me... no cold shower is going to get me to forget that. Not to even mention the way her body felt under my hands, the soft curves practically begging to be touched. 

Shoving my head against the tile, I try to ignore all that. But it doesn’t do an ounce of good, because then I think about the way she said my name. 

It was so natural for her, even though she’d learned it ten minutes before. She’d said it like it was everything to her, like a precious gift she’d never return. 

By the time I cut the shower off and flop in bed, I’m exhausted, so when the phone rings, I ignore it and shut my eyes. But it rings again, and I see that it’s Mor, so I answer. “What?”

“Wow, thank you for that heart-warming greeting,” she teases. “Bad night?”

“No, I’m just-” thinking about Elain and don’t want to talk to you at the moment, “tired.”

Thing about Mor is, she can always tell when I’m lying.

“Something happened! What happened?” 

“She kissed me,” I tell my best friend, smile on my face. 

Mor howls on the other end of the line, making me laugh. “I told you making her jealous would work!”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. It worked. She wanted to...” Cursing, I cut myself off. She doesn’t need to know everything. 

She, apparently, doesn’t hold that belief. “And did you?” 

“No, we didn’t. I want her... I want her to love me first, Mor.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, but then she says softly, “You really like her, huh?” I stay quiet, but it’s answer enough. “Then make her fall in love with you.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” I chuckle, because it’s true. Now that I know what I’m missing, I don’t want to waste another minute without it. “But I have to be well-rested to trick fair maidens into loving me, so goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, stupid.”

I hang up and stare at the ceiling, still smiling like an idiot. 

My very helpful brain thinks about Elain on the other side of that wall, lying in bed doing the same thing, thinking about me. 

I tell it to shut up and go to sleep, but the stupid bastard doesn’t listen. 

The last thing I think before finally falling asleep is that I can’t fucking wait to see Elain tomorrow. 

~

Elain doesn’t go to work all week. 

I know because it’s Friday, and I’ve been by the store every single day since Monday. Some girl named Christine has been there, and she gives me a weird look every time she notices me peeking in. 

Honestly, I don’t get it. 

Last time she tried to avoid me, she was embarrassed and knew I’d tease her. This time... I didn’t do anything wrong, right?

Maybe she’s sick. 

Or maybe she just feels guilty. That’s probably it. I haven’t heard the boyfriend come around this week, and she’s not the kind of girl to dump someone over the phone. So maybe she’s waiting until she sees him and ends things to see me. 

The thought makes me smile, drawing a raised eyebrow from the guy I’m currently tattooing. 

“You look like you’re thinking about a girl,” the old biker-looking man remarks with a gruff. I can’t help but grin and shrug and he sighs. “Just don’t fuck up my tattoo.”

I nod and focus, shoving all thoughts of Elain into a small box in the corner of my mind. 

But the damn box won’t stay closed, and by the time I leave work that night, I don’t care if she’s trying to do the right thing and avoid me. I have to see her. 

Even if nothing happens, I have to see her. 

The week’s been boring without her soft smiles and cute little dresses, and I want to hear what she’s been up to, cooped up in that apartment. 

I practically run up the stairs and down the hall to her door, already smiling as I knock. It takes a few minutes for the door to open, but when it does, the smile falls away and takes every last drop of happiness with it. 

She looks awful. 

I mean, she’s always beautiful, but she looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten since I last saw her. Her hairs a dirty mess, she’s in a raggedy sweatshirt and sweatpants, and there’s dark circles under her big brown eyes. 

Eyes that don’t hold an ounce of happiness to see me. “What do you want?”

The question throws me, but I answer honestly. “I wanted to see you. Are you alright?”

Elain doesn’t answer, just stands there for a minute. Then she says, “Leave me alone.”

The door swings towards me, but I jut a hand out and stop it from closing. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Because like Mor’s told me for years, it’s always the man’s fault. Even when it isn’t the man’s fault, it’s the man’s fault. 

Whatever it is, I’ll apologize and smile and tease her until she’s smiling, too.

“Did you do something?” she repeats in a small voice, eyes going a bit misty. 

The sight hits me hard, and I take a step forward, but she shoots out a hand and shoves me back. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

If it wasn’t the unusual curse that stops me dead in my tracks, it’d be the way her voice sounded as she said it. None of the usual warmth, no soft laughter. 

She sounds... she sounds like she hates me. And I can’t take it. “Elain, what the hell did I do?”

~Elain~

Is he serious? What did I do? 

The genuine confusion on his face makes the carefully-crafted dam she’s been building around herself burst. “What was this to you? Some sort of sick game?”

“What are you-”

“You tried your goddamn best to drive me crazy, and like a complete idiot, I let you! How stupid could I have been...” She looks up at the ceiling as if that will give her the strength to face him, to say the words. “To think you wanted me.” 

His eyes go wide, and she lets out a humorless laugh. “Elain-”

But there’s no going back now, and there’s no stopping the words from coming out.

“Oh, save the bullshit. You got what you wanted. You proved I’m a horrible girlfriend and an even worse human being, so just leave me alone.”

Before he can respond, she demands, “And what was that crap about wanting my heart? You’re a pathological liar. It’s just not enough for me to cheat on Lucien with you, is it? You want me to fall in love with you.”

His jaw is tight, hands bunched into fists, but he stays silent. 

Tears are streaming down her face, but she forces herself to glare and say, “That will never happen. I’m not stupid enough to love you.”

She slams the door in his face, then drops to the floor to cry. Pressing a hand to her chest, she tries hopelessly to ignore the voice in her head telling her if that were true, this wouldn’t hurt so damn much. 

____________________________________________________________

Uh, can I just say right now that I’m sorry? Hang in there. I TOLD YOU IT’S A SLOW BURN. Part 5

@bamchickawowow @astreia-oniria @keshavomit @elrielllll @januarystears @zukos-simp @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @wineywitch202 @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @sjmships @poisonous00 @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I am posting at not my normal time at ALL, but I really wanted to get this chapter out so I can work on my favorite chapter so far lol (month five is boutta be LIT) if the tags aren’t working i’ll fix them tomorrow they are acting weird rn. 

Thx, for the patience. Love y'all

extra chapter warning: sexual harassment, nsfw..ish

HnM 💕

Month 1, Month 2, Month 4

--MONTH 3--

It was a Friday night about two months ago when Katsuki Bakugou had found himself on the second floor of Club 52—or “the booty room”—as it’s so brusquely known.

But he sure as hell didn’t fucking belong here-- Surrounded by drunken idiots when he had to stay alert and keep his mind sharp-- groped on by inebriated/drugged up women who he would simply growl at in return-- drenched in the germy sweat of the fucking extras around him when he could be at home in his clean bed thinking about how to improve himself tomorrow.

Honestly. How in the flying fuck did he let those three walking hairstyles talk him into coming to this shit show?

The driving beat of the music dancing within his chest was his only saving grace, its constant booming throwing him into a state of familiar comfort as he watched the colorful lights burst around him. He had to admit… they were nice…

No!

Fuck that! He still didn’t belong here, dammit! His roommates, Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest, had all three nagged, and nagged, and nagged him to come here the entire week.

At their begging, Bakugou quite frankly wished that he had lost even more of his hearing than he already had from his quirk. Maybe he could find one of his old drumsticks and jam it into his head—or up those idiots’ asses, “Ahh! I’LL GO! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” It was the only way to keep him from losing his job as a hero and committing a triple homicide. 

So yeah, that’s how he ended up in the booty room—and he wasn’t gonna gratify those damn idiots for even a second by enjoying just an ounce of the hellscape.  

“You’re not drinking, huh?”

A sudden inquiry snapped the man out of his thoughts, and he found himself whipping his head around to face the feminine voice that had cut through the loud room. As soon as his eyes encountered yours, Bakugou felt his jaw drop slightly at the sight.

But then he quickly noticed the way that your eyes flickered down to his mouth, and the mocking way that your lips began curving up into a smirk at his display. He wanted to kiss knock that smug look clean off your pretty face. He immediately clenched his jaw back shut and hardened his traitor of an expression so that no more slip-ups could be had.

The two of you sized each other up for a moment before you slickly glanced over your shoulder with a nod, “So I am guessing those belong to you, then?” you motioned toward Mayonnaise, Ketchup and Mustard—all three of Bakugou’s roommate idiots making a theatrical, display in the middle of the dance floor.

Kirishima—who had long taken his shirt off by this point-- noticed Bakugou’s disapproving gaze and attempted a wave back, only to lean into a drunken stumble.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, snapping his regard from the (flat out embarrassing) show “I’m not anyone’s damn babysitter. They’re grown men. They can fucking handle themselves!”

“Good… I’d like to have you to myself for a while,” you turned to the bar-tending counter and beckoned for two drinks.

Bakugou eyed how the man behind the counter ingested you. He was a lion looking for his prey’s weakness and you didn’t even seem to notice—or care. He glared at the man, subconsciously taking a step toward you to speak as the bartender handed you your drink, “For what?” Bakugou asked you flatly. He didn’t even know why the hell he was entertaining this.

You simply shrugged, throwing your eyes up as innocently as you could with the contrarily wicked smirk that befell your face, “To… talk.”

“Yeah right. You’ve got some freak look in your eye. You want something else.”

“Well, hell yeah! Have you seen yourself?” you laughed and Bakugou couldn’t tell whether the stutter in his chest was from your utter bluntness, or from the melody of your happiness, “Anyway, I wont waste your time—or mine. Come find me if you want to…” you trailed off as you handed him the second drink in your hands. You had to bite your lip from smiling too hard, “…Talk. Ba-Bye~.”

As soon as you were the short ear distance away and faded into the dense crowd, the bartender gave a low whistle, “She was fucking fit as hell. God, the things I would do to her!” Bakugou felt his face twitch suddenly as the man continued his rant, “She’d never be able to walk that pretty little walk ever again. Yo, let’s hope she’ll still be here by the time I get off!” he chuckled but Bakugou didn’t see any thing fucking funny about what the bastard said. He might live in what is effectively a hero’s version of a frat house, but still, he never understood “locker room talk.”

Bakugou angrily downed the entire drink in his tight grip in one long pull before slamming it back onto the counter forcefully. His red eyes burned holes through the bartender’s fearful ones—the cup breaking apart under his palm, “She won’t be. Keep your dirty eyes off her, you bastard,” Bakugou didn’t even allow the man an opportunity to rebuttal as he stormed away, his fiery glare set intently on one thing only—or one person only…

That night Bakugou watched intently as the ceiling above him teetered and danced for a moment—sinking into the deep feeling of numbness that his intoxicated mind had succumbed to after about his fourth drink. He wasn’t exactly used to this feeling—this caving in on himself and sense of absolute relaxation as he melted into his bed.

Sinking.

              ...Sinking.

Wait, was his bed really sinking? His eyebrows furrowed into a state of confusion before he heard a sigh coming from next to him. Things finally clicked into place in his slowed mind.

Oh yeah. That’s right…

He would never get used to having someone else in his bed, probably.

Bakugou turned to where you were imprinting yourself down onto his mattress. You laughed at his stern expression, extending your arm to caress the side of his face, “God, your face is s’ intense like that. It gives me chills,” your thumb danced across the permanent furrow of his eyebrow. There had to be a magnet underneath his skin somewhere right about there that kept the brows in a constant state of attraction.

He snapped his face away from you as the magnet’s strength intensified and twisted his expression even deeper into anger, “Heh?” Goddamn, you were a fucking difficult girl to read for as blunt as you were.

You march up to him in the club like you own the damn place and send him heart eyes and flirtatious body signals, just to stone cold walk away like he never even existed? You proclaim that you want to fuck him, yet made him dance with you for almost an hour before you lead him out?? You let him fuck you in thirty different directions, just to call him out for looking “intense?!!” His friends (if you could fucking call them that) always said that he had an ugly mug, the jealous bastards, but why would a girl he slept with--

“You’re jus’ beautiful is all,” you faintly slurred, instantly hushing any of his thoughts and softening his expression, “People tell me all the time ‘You’re a pretty girl! You should smile more, but why th’ hell should I go around smilin’ for people who don’ deserve it? If they don’ like my resting state, then—”

“Then they can fuck themselves.”

“Yeah,” you looked up at him with a lazy smile. To a sober mind there was no doubt that your expression was an obviously drunken happiness, but to Bakugou’s in that moment—he couldn’t help but think that maybe there was something deeper behind that smile. You giggled, “They can fuck themselves,” you agreed more heartedly-- leaning into Bakugou and rolling him onto his back before snaking your way on top of him. You planted a trail of wet kisses up his neck and finished by making a small bite on his jaw “And maybe you can fuck me,”

Your warm breath on his sensitive neckline made him shiver underneath his skin, but he prayed that you couldn’t feel it. He scoffed to cover the pathetic display, “Again?”

You laughed before planting even more smiling kisses all over him—pressing your body even further into his with each one, “and again. and again. and again…”

“Pervert.” Bakugou tried to grab you by your hips to keep you from grinding into him even further—or at least that was what he intended to do; however, instead he ended up using them to guide your rhythm in rubbing against him.

You laughed again as you sat up on top of him and pressed your hands to his chest—your hips far from slowing down or stopping, “Maybe so, but can y’ really blame me? I have this guy in bed with me who isn’t even tryin’ to make me smile, but I have been fucking cheesin’ it up all night with ‘em.”

Bakugou didn’t even try to fight the growing smile on his face. It really was damn corny and pathetic--whatever this was between the two of you. But it felt so… so fucking right to him.

Still, he was going to tease you-- otherwise he wouldn't be him, “Well, I have this girl in bed with me who won’t stop smiling and it’s really fucking starting to creep me the hell out,” he suddenly flipped you onto the bed and mounted himself on top of you before placing his own assault of kisses on your body. His face only reemerging to take in your stupid, corny, beautiful smile for a long second. 

You were absolutely stunning in every respect of the word.

Yet--

Two months later, the same face that now stood in front of him on the platform of the train station was far from smiling—honestly neither was he. He was pissed the hell off. You didn’t even recognize him until just now?? Was he really so fucking immemorable?

You backed away from the man who had just saved you from falling to the tracks. You took him in one final time as the two of you sized each other up, “I don’t even know what to start…”

Bakugou’s face contorted in such anger that it could have been mistaken for disgust, “How about you start by giving me some fucking answers!” he screamed, causing your heart to drop and your stomach to lurch. The two organs effectively were trying to switch places.

Oh fuck. He knew?

“T-to what…?” You trailed off, but you had a feeling what he was going to say next. He was gonna chew you out about the damn parasite growing in your uterus, but you had no idea how he could have known about that! He shouldn't know that!

Deku didn’t tell... He didn’t! ...Did he?? Your heart raced and assaulted your rib-cage with an armada of thrums.

“Why did you sneak out that morning, huh!?” as soon as the words flew out of his mouth, you paused—your mind not quite able to comprehend his grievance, “I was just some sex toy for you? That it??” When he finished yelling and glared at you with expectancy burning within his red irises, you found yourself tilting your head a bit in astonishment and confusion.

Your heart had dropped, but you couldn't tell if it was from relief or repugnance. 

That? That was the question he needed answers to?

In the grand scheme of the fuckery on hand, his damaged ego was literally not your problem. You crossed your arms as you stretched your neck toward him, “Because it was supposed to be a club hump and dump! So yeah! We were just sex toys! That was kinda the whole fucking point!” Note the fucking emphasis on ‘supposed to be’! Ugh!

A tinge of underlying hurt quickly flashed across the blond’s stern face. You gave a short, sharp sigh in exasperation as you laid your forehead in one of your palms, “Look, I am not exactly here to cater to your wounded pride. Sorry that you caught feelings for me, but I wasn’t exactly obligated to fix you breakfast that day,” the tired, emotional remarks flew out much faster than you could filter them, but you still felt a twinge of remorse as soon as they hit the air.

The man in front of your face look completely stunned as if you just slapped him across the cheek with your words. It actually seemed pretty unnatural on his expression—like a rare, endangered species-- something not many have seen. Soon enough, however, as the dust of your words fell his expression settled back into a more natural state of fury, “You’re fucking right,” he grunted before turning to exit up the stairs of the subway, “I’m not obligated to listen to this horseshit either.”

Oh fuck. What have you done?

You knew that you had laid it on pretty thick, but the emotions you felt were just so damn overwhelming, “Kacchan… I…!” Why couldn’t you have said something different? Nicer maybe?

Whether you liked it or not, your lives were now tied together and this was not a good first impression—or uh-- second impression technically-- whatever! “I promise you’re gonna want to hear the end of this.” you called to his retreating form.

Bakugou’s face shriveled even further, stretching its extent of maximum disgust. Hearing that name come out of your mouth left his stomach feeling ill, “I promise you, I don’t give a fuck”

You slapped your arms at your side as you finally halted in your attempt to get him to stop walking away. Fuck it. You were about to completely call his bluff because you definitely weren’t about to chase him. You were much too tired and emotional for this shit! You just wanted to get home and sleep these random-ass, foreign emotions away, “I’m pregnant.” you simply exclaimed.

Bakugou froze.

In that moment, it was as if the entire world around him had iced over as he replayed your words in his head over and over again. He couldn't have heard you right, “What?” 

The man felt every fiber of his being stiffen. So much so that he couldn’t even bring himself to turn around and face you. In your silence was his answer loud and clear, “How… how the fuck do I know it’s mine?” he murmured, still unable to turn towards you—he didn’t want you to see the raw emotion that his face probably held in that moment.  

You barely even heard him, but the weight of his words was heavy enough to slam down on your ears and cause a burning reaction from you “What?!”

Your shriek finally prompted him to whip himself around, and you almost wish that he didn’t. The mangled mess of feelings transcribed on his face left his cheeks flushed a furious shade of red as he shouted at you,  “You like one-night stands so much—how do you know it’s mine?” With a horrified expression, you glanced around you for a moment to the other people in the subway, who immediately adverted their gazes.

“Hell, You’ve been hanging around that bastard, Deku. How do I know it’s not his?” You looked back to Bakugou with a choked ‘Wow!’ that could be interpreted as “Are you fucking kidding me right fucking now??” These strangers were getting one hell of a show, too.

You stormed up to him to keep him from shouting your all of your dirty laundry into the air, “Deku and I aren’t—” You stopped yourself. Would any fucking thing you said to this man make a difference? He didn’t know you from fucking Adam-- or from fucking Adam. You groaned in annoyance, “Look! I know that it’s yours because you're the only idiot I have slept with in months! An idiot who doesn’t know how to use a goddamn condom apparently!” you half whispered to him as your spectators began eyeing you again. You flipped them off as Bakugou continued,

“I’m the idiot?! Well if you could ACTUALLY FUCKING REMEMBER that night then you would know that we did use condoms the first three times! They ran out and you told me to keep going,” He screamed—by this point you’d given up hope of containing your melodrama as he continued loudly, “What idiot says that unless they are on birth control or something?!”

You throw your face in your hands with a shriek of a sigh before looking back up to his furious face “Here’s the deal,” you decided to completely ignore his comment, becoming tired of this theatrical display of emotions spewing from him,  “I can’t spontaneously conjure up some proof that this-- this thing is yours but I assure you it fucking is. But hey!! If you don’t want to stick around, I am not the type of person to make you. I can deal with this myself,” his face fell a bit as you swiftly turned yourself around to make your exit, but you didn’t make it far before you felt a heavy hand grab you by the wrist.

“Let’s say it is mine...,” Bakugou offered flatly, “You don’t think I can handle it” his daring tone left your mind whirling. This wast a fucking wrestling match or even one of his villain attacks! He continued, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna let my kid grow up without me. Give me your fucking number,” He easily snatched your phone from your front pocket with a slight protest coming from you, but ultimately, you really were tired as hell and just wanted this day to be over with al-fucking-ready. You sighed as he put his number in your phone—your mind briefly wandering why you didn’t put a password on the damn thing.

In a short instant, he shoved your device back to you and promptly turned on a heel. Only acknowledging you once more to tell you to “Stay off of the fucking train tracks,” before he stiffly marched away. Good riddance. 

You couldn’t even blame the spectators anymore. This was a mess. This was a downright, melodramatic, teen drama on CW disaster. This was… this was your life now.

Fuck…

“Oooh... no smiles today, huh?”

About a week later you found yourself walking up the stairs to a modern mansion with stupid windows for walls. A true sign of pretentiousness and obvious lack of shame. This house was a display for all to see... kinda like your argument with that Bakugou last week. 

You shook this thought out of your mind and put your ‘work cap’ back on. You were on your way to get some test shots in for the week with your new hair cut that the agency had forced on you recently.

Instead of throwing her a “What’s there to smile for?” like you wanted to, you threw her a “This better?” and forced a small smile at the girl, Dina, who had traveled along with you to get her test shots done today as well. Usually for these kinds of things, you would be alone as you traveled to the photographer’s house, but it was always nice to have someone come with you so you weren’t complaining—well-- not about her company at least.

There truly was nothing to smile for recently. You were pregnant with a raging, quirkcist asshole’s child, said asshole won’t answer any of your damn texts or calls that aren’t directly related to the prenatal appointment that you two have later today, Deku hasn’t been able to hang out with you as much because of his work, and as trivial as this may seem, you looked in the mirror today to saw a completely different person.

You were quite used to your agency drastically changing your hair, but that, along side the obvious rounding of your face and the speckles of hormone induced facial topography growing on your skin, led you to a slight identity crisis. The girl in the reflection was a sloppy second to who you used to be and you hated it-- you hated sharing this body.

“Trouble in paradise with Deku, Y/N?” her tone had a hint of worry in it as she rung on the doorbell to the modern house. You could only give her a slight shrug as the bell sung out,

“I’m fine. Really.” you lied. 

“Hello, hello!” The photographer’s voice loudly blared out before the door could even fully open to reveal him. He gave you a shocked glance, “What a pretty lady—pretty ladies!” he corrected as he stepped aside and invited you in with the swing of his arm. You rolled your eyes as he turned his back to walk through the house. He looked like the textbook definition of a douchebag. 

Fuck not judging a book by it’s cover. If it walks like a duck. Talks like a duck. Then it’s probably a misogynistic asshole who only got into photography to get away with his sick urge to take photos of unfamiliar women.

“Okay ladies, I just want to preface by saying that you can feel comfortable around me, alright? I think of all my models as a family,” Dina stiffened into a board as he came over and rested his hand on her hip. She forced her lips into a fine line that could resemble a smile as he firmly patted her, “This shouldn’t take too long-- only about five to six hours, ‘kay?”

Your face scrunched up, but you just wanted to get this day over with so you could go to that stupid appointment and wouldn’t have to deal with “Cockugou” for another few weeks. Throughout the next few hours, the photographer actually wasn’t too bad. He was for sure creepy, but you noticed that he wasn’t so bold with you as he had been with Dina earlier. Of course there were little off hand comments like, “You are doing sexy.” instead of “you are doing great.” And he would refer to both you and Dina as “baby” is a husky, drawn out tone—like he was moaning, but besides that he was actually being pretty calm.

Until he wasn’t.

“Okay! Now take your tops and bra off,” both you and Dina paused as the camera flashed once more. As the two of you threw each other a wary glance the photographer spoke up again, “Trust me, I have a vision. You’re gonna love it!”

“I- I just don’t feel comfortable with that,” Dinah spoke up feebly. She looked to you for support, so you nodded before she returned her gaze to him, “Do you think… maybe we could do something else?”

The photographer sighed and threw his nose into pinched fingers as if you all had offended him, “Look honey, you’re not that photogenic. I am having to bust my ass off not to capture that cellulite on the back of your thighs, so when I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason.”

You glanced over to Dina with a horrified expression. You noticed that her hands were clenched at her sides and shook ever so slightly after she subconsciously rubbed the back of her thighs-- you also noticed a prominent thigh gap in between the two tiny appendages. You shot your stern glare back over to the photographer.

He sighed again—this time even harder than before, “Take five!” he frustratedly pulled out a box of cigarettes and stormed over to his patio outside—the glass door slamming shut behind him.

You walked over to Dinah and hesitantly found your hands drifting toward her. You were never really good at cheering people up. Hell, you had to rely on alcohol to cheer you up for the vast majority of you adult (and a little bit of your pre-adult) life. Still, you took her shaking hands in your own. “Hey. Don’t listen to that asshole. If you’re not comfortable...”

“I have done nude shots before, but this just feels… wrong. Doesn’t it?” she refused to look you in the eyes as hers glazed over in a thick sheet of shame. She was right. Nude shots were nothing new at all. In fact, some of your best shots had been done in the nude—they had the potential to be true art, but this? This was wrong.

She shook her head,“But I just… I don’t want to be unprofessional.”

“We can walk out right now. I’ll call Ainu and tell her what’s up I am sure she’ll understand,” as soon as you began walking to gather up some of your belongings, her voice spoke up once more—this time much colder than before,

“Maybe for you. Y/N, you could get away with murder at our agency-- you know that, right? You’re the one who bought Ainu her ticket to the top-- her golden child,” she sneered. You threw your eyes toward her own—not quite comprehending if this was the same person still talking to you.

It was, but this Dina had tears growing in her eyes, “Not everyone can half-ass everything and not care…” her voice shook. The two of you just stared at each other as wild emotions filled your expressions and overflowed into the room to drown you.

The patio door clicking open snapped you out of your trance and Dina furiously began wiping her eyes clean as the photographer reemerged, “Alright pretty ladies! Who’s ready to get back into things?”

You sighed.

With a quick roll of your eyes you angrily threw your top off—not even giving the girl with you a second glance as she did the same and the two of you settled yourself into position. The atmosphere was certainly much heavier than it had been before, but the photographer obviously couldn’t read the room,

“Y/N might I say, that your tits looks wonderful! Have you gotten a job recently? I mean- they look huge!”

Okay. 

That. Was. It. You couldn’t fucking hold it back anymore, “Talk about my tits again and I’ll stab you in the neck with your own goddamn tripod,” you kept posing as if you totally hadn’t just threatened someone’s life, but the photographer fell away from his camera, shock painted on his expression. Slacking on the job. Huh, who’s the unprofessional one now?

“…S-sweetheart I—”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me!” you screamed, storming up to point a finger in his face. This surge of random emotion overwhelmed you. You had never felt this before—like you were gonna explode if you didn’t unleash it. And unleash it, you did, “The fuck is your problem?! You get some kick outta being a perverted asshole, asshole?!”

Dinah tried to come pull you back by the shoulders, “Y/N, maybe you should just calm dow—”

“No! Fuck this bastard!!” you smack her hands away as the photographer gets up and crossed his arms,

“This is so unprofessional. You women always jump to conclusions. Why cant you ever just take the compliment?”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TAKE MY FOOT UP YOUR--”

And that’s how you ended up getting sent home two hours early. You had attempted to call Deku to rant about the harsh encounter, but he was at work. You supposed that saving lives a a little bit more important than “The Dramatic Tale of a Quirkless Model” or whatever fucking CW show your life had become. Your mind briefly fleeted to calling Bakugou, but he certainly wouldn’t answer anyway. No. Fuck that.

So you decided to text Deku and cry into your pillow instead,

You:

[2:49pm]

I mean he was just such a fucking dick!

I should have actually stuck my foot up his ass but he for sure would have liked it🙄

Seriously. I don’t mind nude photos

But there is a difference between art/photography and porn

Deku:

Right!!

Well I’m glad you stood up for yourself!

You:

No! Don’t tell me tht!😫

Deku:

I am upset tha you stood up for yourself…?

You:

UGHHH

I just wish tht I had just walked out

But the other girl wouldn’t leave and I couldn’t leaver her their

There*

God

Ainu is gonna 💀me for this

Deku:

How can I help you?

I’ll find what I can on the photographer?

You:

Talk Kacchan into not going to our clinical visit.👉👈

You knew that Deku really wanted to go, and honestly you would really prefer if he did. Regardless, Deku stood up for his childhood bully like the saint he was,

Deku:

Y/N! He’s the father. he deserves to go, don’t you think?

Also!

Don’t forget Baby Notes vol 1! I wrote some questions for you to ask!

You stifled a small laugh as you eyed that stupid goddamn notebook he left on your nightstand one of the few days he stopped by your home.

You:

Grr

I can’t handle Cockugou’s moodiness right now

And I-- Oop!

Speak of the devil. He’s here.

Talk later k?💕kith!

You snatched the notebook from your nightstand and marched to your front entrance. The knocking at your door was downright disrespectful—constantly switching between pounding knocks on your door and vigorous successions of the doorbell ringing.

“Fucking. Calm. Down!” you screamed out the door before answering, revealing Bakugou’s stern gaze,

“What the hell took you so long?” he huffed, causing your face to scrunch up into an expression that mirrored his own. 

“I had to walk to the damn door, you know! I’m quirkless? No teleportation quirk here!” He only clicked his tongue at your response. You noticed the way his eyes drifted down to the notebook in your hands before they narrowed into even tighter slits.

“Let’s just fucking go, already,” he took your wrist and led you out of the house before shutting your door. You could really just knock him the hell out. Okay, maybe you couldn't, but your weak ass might just be able to get one good hit in! He deserved it, not replying to any of your attempts to reach out to him past talking about the appointment,

“Why didn’t you answer my texts all week?”

“I was busy.” he simply said, not even bothering to look you in the eye. This was the last time he spoke up for a long while. In fact, you didn't even hear his voice again until later when the two of you sat in the small, shoebox of a room in the clinic with the prenatal physician,

“This is your first appointment, right?” the doctor, was extremely old looking and your mind phased into a grim question of ‘how the hell can someone so close to death know jack about birth?’

You tried your best to push these dark thoughts out of your head as you gave him a slight answer, “Yeah…” you laid back on the crinkly paper covered recliner and lift your shirt a bit for the examination. You looked down at the small, hardly noticeable bump in your lower abdomen and internally cringed. 

“This is the father?” you knew that it didn't really matter, and that he was probably just trying to make you comfortable and spark up some small talk, but you rally didn't wanna hear it out loud. 

You couldn't bring yourself to answer, but Bakugou loudly spoke up, filling the absence of your voice, “Why the hell else would I be here, old man?” he scoffed and twisted his face away from everyone. 

You raised an eyebrow at his rudeness, but from the vast stories that Deku had told you about him, you shouldn't have been surprised. But still, it was like seeing a mythical creature in real life-- a grumpy troll under a bridge, if you will. 

The doctor gave a loud laugh at Bakugou’s remark, causing both you and him to snap your surprised gazed to the elderly man, “You’d be surprised at the shit I have seen, son. Someone brought their neighbor for the entire 39 weeks once-- the husband came in only once or twice, I think.”

You couldn't help but to laugh at this. Your doctor’s voice had a much more youthful demeanor than he had originally led on, “Oh, they were definitely fucking behind the husbands back,” you smirked.

“So Mama Bakugou,” 

And just like that your smile was completely wiped off of your face, “This is your first child right?” the doctor asked. You felt Bakugou throw you a fleeting expectant look. You assumed that it was probably because he hadn't even thought to ask you this question. The two of you really didn't know each other. Matter of a fact, this doctor, with your list of medical history in his hand, probably knew a lot more than the father of this ‘it’ inside of you. 

“L/N actually,” you corrected, “and yes, it is.” with that, Bakugou’s glare drifted back off into unconcerned and uncaring territory as he found a sudden interest in the glass container of gloves on the counter. 

“Well you look about 10 weeks along. They’ll be about the size of a strawberry right now-- almost done with your first trimester.” he trailed off as he began coating your stomach with some sticky jelly substance. 

“What??” you could have sworn that you had only met Bakugou about two months ago right? So does that mean...

“The date of conception would have actually been a little closer to about 7 or 8 weeks ago. We just count by the first day of your last period. No need to get worried about the neighbor, I don’t think, Papa Bakugou,” he winked to the blond, who only gave a scoff in return. You let out a slight sigh of relief. 

The recipe for the rest of this appointment as the doctor searched your organs for your uterus in the ultrasound included him making small talk and Bakugou ignoring it with you giving slight answers here and there,

However, finally, something really caught both of your’s attention, “I think that you guys should take time today to find your primary care physician,”

“Why not you, idiot?” Bakugou spoke up and it shocked you. You were surprised he cared about this out of everything. 

“I am thinking that I should send you to someone with a specialty in a multiple pregnancy birth.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you and Bakugou shared a brief, terrified glance at one another, “What...?” Bakugou spat.

“You see these two circles? It looks like you’ve got two buns in the oven! Congrats on the twins!,” 

T...wins...?

The world bean fading into a blur for you as he continued, “Now You are a little past getting the neural tube check, but we can get you started in on some genetic testing and counseling’s. Every thing is looking alright, but we just want to…”

The world around you moved in a blurry, choppy chain of images as your mind tried its best to comprehend the knowledge it had been given. So... not only were you carrying one parasite... but two?

You couldn't bring yourself to listen the rest of the appointment, and you had a feeling that Bakugou wasn't picking up on much else after the shocking news either. 

If you thought that commute to the hospital was quiet, the walk back to your apartment was even more so.

Taglist:  @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho @bakugousbabydoll​ @bubbzibubbles @ikebukuro-ghoul​ @thehoneycookiecrumbs​ @katsukis-sad-angel​ @dulcetailurophile​ @yukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @kanasakura @lonekitsune @pastel-prynce​ @mynameispurple​ @cutest-celestial-princess​ @minfani​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @galacticrosee @orokayagi​ @centerhabit​ @animefan7420 @katsukisposts   @bakugou-is-my-daddy​

[brandywine-tomatoes]

Imperial Darkness

The Bad Batch angst

Third attack in the Great Angst War of 2021 between @icedcoffee101, @dragon-pups, @angstkings, @in-the-crosshairs, and @brekkers-girl (me)

Masterlist

TW: a bit of interesting imagery, people dying, mention of decomposing

Word count: 1,316

Prompt/Inspo: DEATH, DRAMA, TEARS, CHAOS. (@cptalpha-17)

Everyone dies by themselves, alone and scared for the others as they don’t know if the others are alive or dying or just injured. (@angstkings)

Hunter looked up from where he was studying his datapad at the sound of Wrecker’s voice. “Hey, uh... you don’t happen to know where Omega is, do you?” (@icedcoffee101, my wifey)

--

It was so peaceful, so quiet. So green and calming, the softly flowing, miles high grass providing the perfect hideout for the Batchers. The door finally opened on the Havoc Marauder and the Batch was welcomed to the new world.

Omega sped out first, desperate for fresh air and a look at a new planet. Echo and Cross were next to run after her, being the closest to the door.

They ran quickly down the steps, calling her name. They stopped in their tracks and looked around, the small child nowhere in their sights. They took off their helmets, setting them on the short grass.

“TAG, you’re it!” Omega yelled to Echo and sprinted under the ship, nothing but a pure ball of happiness.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be,” Echo called to her. He quickly slapped Cross’s shoulder and sprinted the way Omega went.

Cross groaned, a ghost of a smirk on his face. “Really, Echo?”

Omega sprinted beside the ship, ducking under the wings and breathing in the fresh, cool air. As she rounded the front of the Marauder, she spotted Crosshair’s legs sneaking up in front of the nose. She looked back at Echo who was gaining on her and took a chance.

She ran straight for Crosshair, and at the last moment, slide onto her side under his extended arm and quickly recovered, running on her feet and whooping at her evasive tactic.

She could hear Crosshair’s annoyed voice, though she couldn’t see how impressed he was. “Why you little-”

Tech pulled out a panel of the dash in the front, barely taking note of the 3 running around the ship. He got to work on the fried wires, cutting them and re-wiring the controls, a long and painstaking process that would take hours.

Hunter was there, helping Tech hold and cut wires to his brother's liking. After about 15 minutes, Tech became too frustrated to think right and walked away to take a break, throwing his hands up multiple times.

Hunter grabbed a datapad lying on one of the seats and triple-checked all planets in orbit of their hideout, making sure there weren’t any Imperial occupied encampments this far out in the outer rim.

Hunter looked up from studying the datapad at the sound of Wrecker’s voice. “Hey, uh... you don’t happen to know where Omega is, do you?”

“She’s outside with the other two, I heard Cross was getting frustrated,” Hunter chuckled.

Wrecker looked at him with unease. “I looked outside, they... they aren’t there. Their helmets were, but...”

Hunter went on full alert. He jumped out of his chair, whipping the datapad into the other seat and grabbed the nearest blaster.

He darted out of the ship into the small clearing. He looked wildly around, his free hair whipping the sides of his face. He saw no other option than bolt into the eerily flowing grass, ignoring the calls from Tech and Wrecker.

He dragged his body through the thick green. The grass stuck to his armour and pulled his hair back, it clung to his legs and tried to keep him from moving, the thick coating that kept the grass forest together trying to claim him as another victim.

“OMEGA, CROSS, ECHO!” He shouted over and over and over again.

His cries were never heard, his efforts never enough.

A blast bolt hit his thigh, a burning pain sending him to slimy dirt that slowly rose higher and higher to consume him.

He tried to crawl away from whoever was closing in on him, he tried crawling his way to Omega’s muffled screams he heard to his left. He tried with every ounce of strength he had, every ounce of strength he had on Kamino, protecting his brothers from the regs and the kaminoans.

He struggled to breathe, the slimy coating of the grass being forced down his throat like the truth that he’d failed Omega and failed to protect his brothers when they needed it most.

Something strong pressed into his armour, the slime under the pressure oozing out over the plastoid and pushing him further into the slim.

“Well, you are certainly a disappointment,” a low and calm voice brought him back to his situation.

He wasn’t there for much longer.

A blaster burned its way through his exposed head. Hunter’s body went limp and claimed a victim by the grass forest.

The man with the low voice signalled the flame troopers to open fire to the left of Hunter’s hastily decomposing body. They burnt through the slimy grass in no time, reaching Crosshair and Echo forming an alcove for Omega, whispering that everything will be fine, they just needed to wait for Hunter.

The man thought about what a work of art this moment could’ve been if the right painters and right materials were used. How picturesque it was, what a powerful story it could tell.

Crosshair and Echo paled at the sight of him, his clean, white uniform, decorated in war medals, a few slime drips staining the pristine fabric over thin shoulder pads. Omega cowered farther away from him, almost consumed by the forest making its grip around her stronger and stronger.

“What a beautiful example of clone evolution. Too bad it’s all a waste.”

He raised his blaster and shot the clones at the precise mark of a temple. He was being merciful.

Omega screamed at the top of her lungs and trying to keep the dead clones from dropping into the slim they were protecting her from.

“Child, don’t fear us, we don’t want to hurt you,” he cooed in a soft voice, dropping to his knees in front of a sobbing Omega. He gently pulled her hands away from Crosshair and Echo, the forest gaining another two victims as they sunk slowly into the slime.

“Do you want to get out here, Omega?” He smiled softly.

She nodded hastily, her hands still trembling.

“Then I’ll take you out of here. I’ll protect you with my life, Omega, if you let me.”

She looked at the bodies being consumed before her. She brought her eyes to his and nodded. She wrapped her small arms around his neck and he picked her up. He signalled the flametroopers to clear them a path back to the shuttle they plummeted down in.

“Wh-what-” Omega’s weak voice failed her. She clung on tighter as she sobbed.

“You can call me Mitth'raw, but only you deserve to speak it,” he softly said.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn, we’re nearing the shuttle. Do I give the order?” One of the flametroopers asked. Thrawn nodded slightly, making sure to keep the girl still and undisturbed.

The Marauder blew in a heap of smoke and metal, Tech and Wrecker about to lift off to find the others. He gave them a quick death, he gave them mercy.

“Now Omega, I need to try and block Clone Force 99 from your mind,” he set her down on the burnt, solidified slime, kneeling to meet her eyes. “I know it will hurt, I know it will feel like dishonouring them, but I don’t want you to cry anymore,” he gently whipped her cheeks with his sleeve. “Can you do that for me?”

Omega whimpered. “Will it- will it stop? The aching?”

“One day it will, if you do what I ask. Can you do that for me, Omega?”

“I’ll try.”

He smiled. “That’s all I’m asking of you.”

He led her to the round, dark shuttle surrounded by imperial darkness and armoured troopers with flame throwers. Omega looked up at Thrawn, his crimson eyes the only small comfort she had left. He nodded, sensing her unease and held her hand to the plain space of the shuttle.

She stepped over raised metal and chose her fate. She’d grow to become something she’d never thought she could, something she’d never known she wanted.

--

A/N: Y'all... I surprised even MYSELF with writing this. I was scrolling through my brain, looking for who could take Omega, then I started actually scrolling on this website, and Rae Sloane came up. I thought for sure that I was gonna use her, but then I realized not a lot of people know who she is. THEN I WROTE THRAWN'S NAME AND IT ALL WENT DOWNHILL FROM THERE.

ANYWAYS, I hope y'all are safe and drinking water and eating a snack right now. I just got my vaccine yesterday, so my arm hurts like a BITCH, but it won't stop the angst 😈😈. Bye for now 💞💞!!