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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year ago

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Napoleonville [Chapter 1: The Fall-Down House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, alligators, kids, parenthood, smoking, cupcakes!

Word Count: 7.2k (she's very chonky for a first chapter).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Since this is the first chapter of a new series, I'm going to tag a bunch of usual readers, but I won't tag you again unless you want me to. 💜

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“What do you want to do to me?” you whisper through the phone, stretched out across your bed like a cat as George Michael’s Faith plays from the baby pink Panasonic boombox out in the kitchen. It’s late afternoon, and fading daylight falls in tiger stripes through the window blinds. The May air is hot, muggy, golden; cicadas hum in the southern live oaks, an ancient earthen music like rattling bones.

A few seconds pass before he can reply. It was a bold way to begin. You are admittedly a little impressed with yourself; an idea like this has been pacing around in your skull like a beast behind bars for years, but you’ve only now set it loose. “That’s difficult to explain in words,” he says; and in the low, teasing purr of his voice you can hear that your gamble paid off like striking oil. He has a British accent, which you never would have expected. You only recognize it from clips you’ve seen of Prince Charles and Princess Diana on 60 Minutes. “But I’d enjoy showing you.”

It’s laid open beside you on the bed, his personal ad in the Bayou Journal: Educated white male in his mid-20s. Single and not looking to change that. Seeking an open-minded, adventurous, and spirited lady for short-term D/s arrangement. Be prepared to answer the following riddle: I’m small but loom large, I’m Italian but French, I give away much to gain little. Who am I? Best regards, An Indecent Gentleman. “I’m waiting.”

“You understand what is meant by D/s?”

“Of course,” you say, your best feigned flippantness. You only know because Amir told you; he’s been daring you to call for three days.

“Thank God,” the man on the other end of the line sighs. There is an inhale like a drag on a cigarette. You imagine what he might look like: broad or slight, dark-haired or blonde, striking or average or homely, treacherous or safe, forbidden fruit or just plain forbidden. “I’ve had four different women ring me thinking I’m going to be their boyfriend, dinner and flowers and everything. They’re functionally illiterate down here.”

How unfortunate, you think. He’s highfalutin. But alas, no one is perfect. That’s no prohibitive obstacle. He doesn’t need to be faultless; it’s not as if you’re planning to marry the guy. “I like when someone else is in control.”

“Why?” This is a test, you can feel it. You can sense his rapt attention across the wire, through the electricity and the lush treetops and the rust-amber sky.

“I have a lot of…responsibilities in my real life,” you explain. “A lot of pressure. I make the decisions, I look out for other people. Sometimes I want to be the one who’s told what to do.”

“I can make that happen. And the riddle?”

“It’s Napoleon.”

The grin is sharp and triumphant in his voice. “Good girl.”

“He was short but an emperor. He was born in Corsica to an Italian family, but he ended up ruling over France. He sold off a bunch of French colonies to focus on conquering Europe and still couldn’t quite manage it. But the U.S.A. got this charming little corner of the world as part of the bargain.”

“You’re a historian,” the man says, sounding pleased.

“No sir, we all had to learn about him in school whether we wanted to or not.”

“Sir,” he echoes, tasting it, savoring it. You imagine a pink tongue flicking out to skate across his lips. Then he is abruptly cool, impersonal, businesslike. “Listen, I’ve got a scar down the left side of my face. It’s thin, it’s clean, but it’s noticeable. The eye is glass, although you can’t really tell unless you look closely. Is that a problem?”

A scar? Is he a veteran? A lion tamer? A motorcycle enthusiast? You try to remember what kinds of hobbies British people have. Isn’t there some kind of sport where men swing sticks around while riding horses? That sounds like it could put an eye out. Perhaps to your own surprise, you find that you are more intrigued than uneasy. Oh, you realize, dull like dawn through mist. I like him. I want him. Not just THIS, but HIM. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Brilliant. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

“That’s fine.” You hesitate. “There’s actually something I should tell you too.”

“Hm?”

The hum of his voice is arrogant, hungry. You try not to get distracted. Blood rushes hot and ashamed into your cheeks. “Um, well, uh, sometimes it’s difficult for me to…you know. Finish. Not when I’m alone, just when I’m with a guy. Especially if I’m anxious. And I don’t want to feel worried about faking it or making sure it happens or dealing with you getting offended or upset or whatever. Because it’s fine, really. It doesn’t mean I’m not having a good time. I’m just…stuck in my own head.”

There is a sound you can’t quite match to an expression, an exhale, a scoff. “Obviously I wouldn’t be mad at you. But you’ll come. I know you will. I’ll make you.”

And you’re flooded with a relief that you never dared to hope for. A confession spills out in a trembling whisper: “Please.”

“When?” he says, eager, urgent.

“I think if we don’t do it now, I’ll lose my nerve.”

There is a razor-thin pause, and then he asks for your address.

~~~~~~~~~~

You haven’t had a man in your bed in years; you are abruptly and unkindly reminded of this when you paw through the top drawer of your bedroom dresser and find only practical, deadly unsexy cotton Kmart underwear. You dash to the closet, yank open the squeaking door, and—tucked away in a cardboard box of winter clothes like sweaters and jeans, forgotten, needless—unearth a sprinkling of insubstantial silk and lace, all in luxurious gemstone hues: amethyst, ruby, sapphire, onyx, emerald.

“Oh, hallelujah.” You throw off your sunshine yellow shorts and tug on what were once upon a time your favorite panties. They don’t fit nearly as well as they used to; they fit horribly, in fact. They evaporate the thrill and leave nauseous trepidation in its place. “Oh God. Oh no. Oh no, oh no.” You steal a harried glimpse of the clunky black alarm clock on your nightstand. The flashing red numbers inform you that you have approximately ten more minutes until he arrives.

You jog pantsless to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of sweet tea—ice cold, bright with a squeeze of lemon juice—and pace back and forth across the wooden floor as you sip it. The pine boards slope at just the slightest angle; if you laid an apple by your feet, it would roll. The house is sinking. It was built at the turn of the twentieth century, but it won’t live to see the next. Ailing sunlight casts your shadow against the wall, mint green, spider-leg cracks inching through the paint. Outside cicadas buzz and doves coo in long, mournful whirrs.

You pick up the phone—pink to match the boombox that is now playing Poison’s Nothin’ But A Good Time—next to the refrigerator and dial with one finger, your other hand still clutching the frosty glass of sweet tea. It rings twice before he answers.

“Wassup?” Amir says distractedly. You can hear a commotion from his living room on the other side of town: his grandmother squawking, ambient applause, Wheel Of Fortune.

“Quick, what should I wear?”

“Huh?”

“The guy! The guy from the ad! I called the guy! What should I be wearing when he shows up?”

Amir cackles. “Ho, you must be truly desperate, why the fuck are you asking me?” There is some shrill protestation in the background. “Grandma, don’t you dare try to act like you’ve never heard that word before, we just rented Aliens.”

“You know what men like,” you plead.

“Not the straight ones!” And then, not to you: “Grandma, calm down. Grandma, Grandma! It’s my homegirl. She has an emergency. She’s got a man coming over and she doesn’t know what to wear. What did you wear for Pop Pop? What? What?! You expect me to believe you got seven kids out of that dude with just some old floral nightgown?! Prairie girl fabulous? Looking like you’re on your way to join the Donner Party? Okay, if you say so! Phyllis knows best!” Amir’s attention returns to you. “Grandma suggests a nightgown.”

You are skeptical. “That seems slutty.”

“You’re inviting some stranger over for an all-expenses-paid ride on the Pussy Express and you’re concerned about looking slutty?!”

He has a point. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

“You wear that nightgown with confidence and you take that random kinky man directly to bed, do you understand me?” Amir orders.

“Totally,” you say, gulping sweet tea with a shaking hand.

“Good luck. I gotta go, it’s the Bonus Round. Hope you have a few rounds to tell me about tomorrow.” Then he hangs up.

Back in your bedroom closet, you find a black satin slip that runs to your ankles and flows like a ballgown. You put it on some nights when you’re feeling desirable, after a bath of bubbles and steam, candles and Madonna, freshly shaved legs and shimmering with Pond’s, when you want to lounge around daydreaming, when you want to remember the fantasies you once had about what your life might turn out to be. Now you wear it in the fading daylight, nothing underneath and golden sunbeams turning your skin to something that warms and glows.

You appraise yourself in your dusty dresser mirror, and you think: Not too bad, actually. You’ve had your hair up in a haphazard bun. You reach to take it down, then stop yourself. You like the wayward wisps, the I-don’t-care-too-much casualness. Your breathing is slow and calm again. There is a noise outside: tires crunching on gravel. Your glass of sweet tea, now mostly just ice cubes, is sweating on top of your dresser. You grab the glass, swipe the Bayou Journal off your bed, and take both to the kitchen counter, still speckled with flour, powdered sugar, flecks of cinnamon. Then you pad across the sloping wooden floor in your bare feet to open the front door. Amber dusk streams in; you can hear bullfrogs croaking and the hoots of the long-eared owl that lives in the collapsing, overgrown shed behind the house. Spanish moss hangs like cobwebs, like chandeliers. The tree swing rocks idly in the breeze. The first notes of You Shook Me All Night Long play from the kitchen boombox.

His car is red, sporty, with a logo on the grill that you don’t recognize, a series of circles intertwined like rings. He cuts the engine and steps out into the driveway as you watch from behind the screen, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. He’s tall, trim, blonde, wearing Adidas sneakers and light-wash jeans and a Marlboro jacket that it’s far too hot for. He peers around, taking in the trees and the house through his black aviator sunglasses. He puffs one last time on a cigarette before putting it out on his own windshield and starting towards the porch. And immediately, primally, you crave him like water or air.

He climbs the groaning steps, splitting wood and rusty nails. You open the screen door to meet him in the threshold. And he takes off his sunglasses so he can look at you, stowing them in a pocket of his jacket, his gaze not wavering from yours, his lips not saying a word. Yes, he has a scar, but it doesn’t diminish him in the slightest. Yes, his left eye may be glass, but you wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t already told you. You’re too tangled up in the right. His iris is a brisk greyish blue, not like the ocean, not like the bayou, more like the sky before a hurricane, heavy with the threat of wind and rain. His face is strong, jarring, beautiful in a rare way. His full lips are curling into a grin.

At last, you speak first, an inane observation that feels somehow significant. “You found me.”

“I did.” He nods towards the large lavender sign out by the mouth of the gravel driveway. Hand-painted on it are the words Hummingbird Bakery and a logo that Amir designed, a hummingbird feeding on the frosting swirl of a cupcake as if it’s a flower flush with nectar. “You told me to look for the sign. That helped.”

“What kind of car do you drive? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s an Audi Quattro.”

“Audi,” you repeat, like a hopelessly distant place, New York City or Los Angeles or Paris or the moon. “Is that British?”

“German, actually.”

“You’re from a very different world.”

“Yeah, I am.” His eye flicks up and down your body, black satin that curves and clings; his grin widens. “But I could learn to like yours, I think.”

You step back so he can follow you inside. The screen door shuts with a bang. Under the shadows, as the sun sets into the west, he unzips his Marlboro jacket and tosses it onto your living room couch. Underneath he wears a white t-shirt. We’re opposites, you think dazedly, wondering what he will taste like when he kisses you. He grazes his fingertips down the front of your throat, continues to your chest, stills when he hits the satin of your slip.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to,” he murmurs, and you breathe in his smoke and cologne and dauntless, dizzying self-assurance. “But until you say stop, I’m gonna keep going.”

Your heartbeat is drumming beneath his hand, part exhilaration and the rest nerves. You are afraid of disappointing him; you aren’t sure what to expect. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Aemond.”

Aemond. Foreign, like Audi, like Paris. You give him your own in return. He leans in, presses his hips to yours, denim and satin that you can feel his heat through. And you think he’s going to kiss your neck, or bite it, bruise it, mark it, claim it, claim you; but he only ghosts his parted lips from the edge of your jaw to your bare shoulder, inhaling slow and deep, drawing your atoms into his lungs until they tumble down the narrowest corridors and into his capillary beds, into his bloodstream. You moan softly, helplessly, and turn your face to kiss him.

“No,” Aemond growls, teasing you, catching your chin with one hand to hold you still. His other hand glides down the front of your slip and stops between your legs. Through satin the color of a starless midnight, his fingers stroke you roughly, commandingly. Animalistic yearning bolts low to weaken your knees, high to rip a gasp from your throat. “Nothing underneath,” he notes in approval.

Oh, I like him, you think, in equal parts ecstatic and petrified. I REALLY like him.

But are you going to be able to impress him too? Are you going to ruin this?

You whimper, unintentionally and almost inaudibly. Aemond is studying your face; furrows appear in his scarred brow, so faint and fleeting you might have imagined them. Then his hand retreats as he says: “Show me your toys.”

You gape up at him; this is not what you anticipated. “What?”

“I want to see how you make yourself come. You have toys, don’t you?”

“I do,” you admit, though you’ve never used them with anyone else before.

Aemond smirks mischieviously, then commands: “Show me. Right now.”

You lead him to your bedroom and slide open the middle drawer of your dresser. You glance at his reflection in the silvery glass of the mirror; he’s staring, not at your body but at your face, his gaze locked with yours, his mouth open, entranced, hungry. You move to stand against the wall, smiling sheepishly as Aemond shoves aside folded sheets and pillowcases to reveal your collection. It’s nothing too adventurous: five vibrators in different colors, styles, sizes.

“Quite the assortment,” he praises.

“They were gifts from a friend.”

Now Aemond is dubious. “A friend?”

“Don’t be jealous. He doesn’t like women.”

Aemond laughs, warm and boyish like he’s breaking character; and you are alarmed by the wave of fondness for him that crashes through you. It’s something that could pull you under. It’s something you could drown in. He picks up the largest vibrator: long, thick, pink like soft feminine vulnerability, like love. Then he is darkly, deliciously stern again. “On the bed.”

“No.” Not because you’re genuinely protesting. Because you want him to make you.

Aemond grabs you around your waist and drags you towards the bed as you squeal, giggle, fight him halfheartedly. He throws you down onto the wildflower-patterned duvet and climbs between your thighs, parting them as he pushes the hem of your black satin slip up to your waist. Abruptly, you are bare for him, exposed, fiery dusk air cool against your wetness. Aemond is still fully clothed, white shirt and pale blue jeans. He is holding your legs open with his own. You can see the bulge of his cock beneath the denim: at least as large as the vibrator and hard with insistent longing.

I want him, you think as you hear the vibrator click on. I want him, I want him…

Aemond brings the pink silicone tip to your flesh, and instantly you’re ravenous. It shocks you how much more erotic this is when someone else is holding it, when someone else has you entirely at their mercy. You cry out, loud and shameless, euphoric. Your back arches; your fingers twist into the duvet. As he presses the vibrator down more forcefully, Aemond braces his hips against yours, grinding into you through his jeans, taunting you, conquering you.

You fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans. “Please—”

“No,” Aemond snarls, beaming, snatching your hand and pinning it up by your head. His other hand is still circling your clit with the tip of the vibrator. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

“Aemond, please, I need you—”

“No,” he says, defiant. He makes the rules. He has the power; he’s in control. Suddenly, he pulls the vibrator away. You yelp in dismay. “You know,” Aemond quips cavalierly. “It’s a shame you have such a difficult time finishing when you’re with a man. I bet you’re not even close.”

“I am,” you whine, in agony, in ecstasy.

Aemond pretends to be surprised. “Hm.” He returns the vibrator to your skin, slick, hot, aching in the most wondrous way. You sigh as the pleasure surges through you, as you soar up to the previous plateau and then begin to ascend beyond it. You must have repositioned yourself without noticing; Aemond releases your hand to smack his palm against the inside of your thigh. “Keep your legs apart. I want you wide open for me.”

“I will, I promise.” I’ll do anything you tell me to.

Aemond’s hand ventures lower. Two of his fingers glide inside you and thrust in time with his hips. “Fuck,” he hisses, breaking character again; and something rocks through his shoulders, his spine, a divine temptation that he is battling.

“Aemond, more,” you plead, looking at the massive outline of his cock under his jeans.

“Not yet,” he pants, fucking you with his fingers as the vibrator hums against your clit. “You have to come for me first, baby. You have to earn it.”

And you’re close, you really are, you’re closer than you ever would have imagined you’d be with him tonight, this stranger, this elusive British man, this man from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal that you almost never replied to. Your hair has come undone and is wild around your face; your heart is pounding frantically; your skin is bathed in a sheen of victorious perspiration. When was the last time someone made you feel like this? You can’t recall; the answer might be never. There is a spellbinding, intensifying sensation of warmth, of opening, you’re only seconds from the brink, you’re ready to step off the precipice and into open blue air the same color as his eyes—

Aemond yanks the vibrator away again, grinning toothily down at you.

“No!” You scrabble for him with shaking hands, pulling yourself up as you reach for the vibrator. Aemond pushes you back onto the bed. Despite your protests, you love the feeling of his weight on top of yours; you love the organic symphony he’s built of, muscle and bone and skill and power. His fingers are still pumping in and out of you, keeping you soaked and throbbing, pinning you to the edge of an orgasm without permitting you to succumb to it.

“It’s going to be so good for you like this, baby,” Aemond insists, low and raspy. He’s reading your face, attentive to every detail, drinking up your desperate body and quivering voice. “I swear I’m not torturing you for no reason. Let me show you. Let me take care of you. When it happens, it’s going to blow your fucking mind. Are you ready?”

“Yes, now, please, do it now,” you whimper as you lie beneath him, open, bare, senseless, vanquished.

Aemond drags his tongue over the tip of the vibrator, moaning with lust as he tastes you. Then he at last presses the pink silicone to your clit once more. In your electrified nerves, in your scalding blood, there are sparks and momentum and currents rushing towards the cataclysmic breaking of a rogue wave. “Nice and slow,” Aemond murmurs. “Let it build.”

Instead of the peak, you reach another plateau, so high and so rapturous you can’t stand it, you can’t fathom climbing any farther. It’s becoming so sharp and intense it’s almost painful. Fresh anxiety flashes in your mind like lightning. The momentum begins to dissipate like dewdrops under the late-morning sun. Oh no, I’m going to lose it, I’m going to disappoint him—

Aemond lifts the vibrator off you again; before you have time to collect yourself enough to speak, to apologize, he’s slipped his fingers out of you and carefully guided the vibrator inside, stretching you, filling you, thrusting rhythmically but not too viciously or too deep. He places his thumbprint on the place where the vibrator was just seconds ago and circles quickly, once, twice, again, and then…

You try not to scream, but you can’t help it, can’t stop it; the climax wrenches out of you indescribable pleasure, vanished fears, awe and relief, twisted muscles and gasping breaths, every electrical impulse of every atom, and each time you believe it’s over it rolls a little farther like an endless summer afternoon. When it’s done—truly done—you aren’t sure exactly how it happens but suddenly you’re sitting upright on the bed and the vibrator is lying forgotten on top of the duvet and Aemond is laughing, kissing you—sweat and nicotine, smoke and salt—and caressing your face with his hands, saying: “You were such a good girl. You did amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“Okay,” you exhale unsteadily, smiling. You nod to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “Your turn.”

“No,” Aemond says primly.

“What?”

“No,” he repeats. “Not today.”

“But…but…why?”

The curl of his lips is crooked and playful. “To prove I’m not just here to get myself off.” He kisses you again, far more tenderly than any random dom from a personal ad should. “You don’t trust me. But maybe next time you will.”

“How could I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“We’ll have to spend more time together.”

“You seriously aren’t going to fuck me right now? Me? A mostly-naked stranger you met up with exclusively for the purposes of fucking?”

“Are you dissatisfied?”

In truth, no; your pulse is slowing, your thoughts are calm, your lust is satiated, you’re reasonably certain that you’ve sprained no less than four muscles. You feel like the sky after rain: emptied, unburdened, untroubled, at peace. “Not at all.”

“Then you shouldn’t be complaining.”

You reach out to touch Aemond’s unscarred cheek and he smiles. You try to ghost your fingertips over the left side of his face and he flinches away, leaves the bed, takes the vibrator to the bathroom to scrub it with soap and water. “Can I at least pour you a glass of sweet tea or something?” you call after him. “I feel guilty. I feel like I didn’t uphold my end of the bargain.”

“You exceeded all of my expectations,” Aemond says with a strange sort of somberness. “But sweet tea sounds great.”

You take five minutes to clean up and change into real clothes—ratty denim shorts and a red, white, and blue Pepsi t-shirt, chaotic hair, no bra—and then meet Aemond in the kitchen. He’s surveying the large circular table, which is littered with covered cake plates in a hodgepodge of sizes and colors; you found most of them at yard sales and thrift shops. The sun has set and the stars have risen; the kitchen is illuminated by yellow-hued florescent light. Night air flows in through the screens of the open windows. The boombox is currently playing Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now.

“What’s the deal with that?” Aemond asks about the cluttered kitchen table.

“They’re the baked goods. For my bakery.”

“Right,” he says, remembering, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “The sign out front.”

“Would you like anything? Today we had butterscotch chiffon cake, coconut custard cake, blackberry dark chocolate cupcakes, pecan pie, red velvet brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, lavender black tea cookies, chocolate meringue pie, butter pecan muffins…”

“How about those?” He points.

“Oh! Those are banana bread cupcakes. One of my favorites.”

“Banana bread…cupcakes?”

“Here.” You plop one on a plate for Aemond, then go to the refrigerator to pour two tall glasses of sweet tea. “A lot of people put chocolate chips in their banana bread, but I feel like any chocolate really eclipses the banana flavor. It’s so subtle, you know? So what I do instead is cinnamon, honey, cream cheese frosting, and a tiny bit of sea salt mixed into the batter. If you get the ratio just right, there’s this really great blend of saltiness and sweetness, and the banana is still the star of the show. Of course I’ve fucked up plenty of times too and almost given myself dangerously high blood pressure. If I ruin a batch, I’m the one who has to eat it. We can’t let anything go to waste. Our profit margin is thinner than a crescent moon on the best months.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He’s taken a bite and is now gawking at the banana bread cupcake. “You made this?” He gestures to the table. “You made all of this?”

“My best friend Amir runs the business with me, but most of the recipes are mine. My mom used to bake all the time when I was little. Now she has rheumatoid arthritis and has given it up, more or less, but that’s where I learned a lot of what I know. And I try to come up with new ideas each week to add to the rotation.”

“This is exceptional,” Aemond says. His mouth is full of the rest of the cupcake. He washes it down with a few gulps of sweet tea; ice cubes jangle in the misty glass. “This is, like, insanely good. Can I have another one…?” He’s already lifting the cover off the cake plate.

You chuckle. “Yeah, seriously, have as many as you like.”

“How much do you sell them for?”

“The cupcakes are $1, but you don’t have to pay me. You get the unrequited orgasm discount.”

“Just $1 each.” Aemond is incredulous. You aren’t sure what that’s about. He sets the second cupcake down on the table, tugs a black leather wallet out of his jeans pocket, and gives you a $10 bill.

“Aemond, really, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Take the money. Stop talking about it.”

You smirk up at him. “Is that an order, sir?”

He grabs your jaw with one forceful hand, kisses you roughly, bites your lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He tastes like cinnamon, honey, sugar, sex. “Yes,” he says, grinning wickedly. Then his hands drop to unbutton your shorts. The idea of stopping Aemond doesn’t even cross your mind; your desire for him—him specifically—is back, flaring red and primeval and irresistible. “I want you on top of that counter—”

Outside there are footsteps bounding up the front porch, loud on the creaking boards. You tear away from Aemond and hurry to re-button your shorts. What? Already??

You know exactly who it must be.

Well, now I’m definitely never going to see Aemond again.

He’s terrified, he’s wondering whether he should try to jump out of a window. But really, he’s already been spotted; his Audi Quattro is still waiting for him in the gravel driveway. “Please don’t tell me that’s your homicidal armed boyfriend or something.”

“No,” you say. “It’s my daughter.”

“Wait, your…?!”

The door swings open; you hardly ever lock it. Cadi trots in just as you are flipping over the copy of the Bayou Journal on the kitchen counter so Aemond’s personal ad is no longer visible. Instead, what now faces up—dotted with flour, powdered sugar, cinnamon, grease stains of butter—is a column about the rigs opened in Lake Verret. Just what this town needs, you think distractedly. An environmental disaster.

“Mom, whose radical car is that—?” Then Cadi spies Aemond and blinks at him a few times. She is ten years old but thinks she’s your age, short hair, short temper, denim overalls and a t-shirt underneath patterned with multicolored horses.

“This is Aemond,” you explain. He waves awkwardly and then resumes nibbling on his second banana bread cupcake, avoiding her scrutiny. “He’s a friend.”

“But you don’t have any friends,” Cadi replies.

“Watch it, Child Of The Corn. I have friends.”

“You have like one friend.”

“What happened to your sleepover with Mawmaw? I thought you were excited to trick her into watching Hellraiser.”

“Blockbuster didn’t have it. Then Great Aunt Ethel called and said she broke her hip. Mawmaw dropped me off here on her way to the hospital.”

“And she didn’t even think to check with me first, huh?”

“As if you’d have anything better to do.” Cadi races to the refrigerator—careening around a shellshocked Aemond—and heaves open the door. “What’s for dinner?”

“I think we have some Swanson’s meals left. Oh, and spaghetti.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Who made it?”

“You’re in luck! Not me. Amir.”

“Yay!” Cadi trills, then drags out the pan and begins spooning mounds of spaghetti onto a plate. Aemond looks to you, intrigued.

You say: “I bake, I don’t cook.”

“She really doesn’t,” Cadi concurs.

“Completely different skillset.”

Cadi places a few paper towels over the heaping plate so sauce doesn’t splatter all over the microwave and then sets it to three minutes. As she waits to eat, she wanders over to where the Bayou Journal is lying on the counter and scans the page: Viserys Targaryen, three state-of-the-art oil rigs, Lake Verret, an additional 50 employees hired, Jade Dragon Energy. “Those bastards are going to get their way, I guess.”

You sigh. “Yup.”

Aemond is alarmed. He polishes off the last of his cupcake, frowning as he licks frosting from his lips. “You don’t approve?”

“They’ll blow up the whole town,” Cadi says matter-of-factly.

You smile wanly at Aemond as you sip your sweet tea. “You work for Jade Dragon, right?”

He stares back at you—stunned, perhaps even fearful, a deer flooded with headlights—but doesn’t speak.

“It’s alright. I figured you must. Some smart British guy way out here in Cajun Country? It’s gotta be for a job. Don’t worry. We won’t shoot and skin you or anything. It’s not your fault. You’re just collecting a paycheck, it’s not like you’re running the company.”

“Right.” Aemond grabs a third cupcake and gnaws at it. After a moment he adds: “I have a degree in petroleum engineering. I just moved to Napoleonville last week.”

“I knew it,” you say.

“Boo!” Cadi heckles jokingly. The microwave beeps, then she disappears into her bedroom with her plate of spaghetti. You hear Cadi turn on her little television and flip through the channels until she finds Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond watches her closed door for a few seconds—still processing, you assume—and then turns back to you.

“Her name’s Katie?”

“Cadi. C-a-d-i. It’s short for Arcadia.”

He is impressed. “Greece?”

You titter nervously. You don’t know what he means. “It’s a town up by Shreveport, it’s where Bonnie and Clyde were arrested or killed or something. I’m not sure. Her father picked it.”

“You didn’t have an opinion?”

“Um, I wasn’t really…uh…conscious for a few days after she was born. By the time I was up and around again, he’d already filled out the birth certificate.”

What is that you see flicker across his face like the transient surge of a lightning bug? Curiosity? Apprehension? “I see. And her father is…” Aemond raises a blonde eyebrow, the one his scar cuts through. “On an aircraft carrier somewhere?”

You laugh. “He’s not deployed. We’re divorced, Willis lives about fifteen minutes down the road. It’s amicable.”

“So I don’t need to worry about him showing up on your front porch to murder me with a 2x4 full of nails.”

“No. Although he is the town sheriff.”

Aemond smirks. Is this a challenge or an inconvenience? “Why’d you two split up?”

You shrug, glancing at Cadi’s bedroom door. She is quite aggressive with her television volume; you’re confident she won’t be able to listen in if you keep your voice low. “It’s not that interesting a story.”

“I’m extremely interested.” And he sincerely appears to be, head tilted to the side, eyes fixed on you (though you know the left one sees nothing), thoughts whirling like storm winds.

“Well…we only ever got married because of…” You gesture towards Cadi’s room. Aemond nods, following along. “And I was too young and I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what I wanted out of a man, I didn’t even know I had the right to set standards to measure a husband by. Willis wasn’t terrible. He didn’t hit me. He just wasn’t really who I wanted.” You chew at your lower lip, peering down at the kitchen counter, drawing circles in the sparse flour dust. “He never even proposed to me. Not properly, I mean. I told him I was pregnant and he said: Well, guess we oughta get married, huh sugar? and then drove me to the Kmart up in Gonzales to pick out a ring.”

“Classy,” Aemond mutters.

“I had to buy it myself, actually. Willis didn’t have enough cash on him. He paid me back later, but still. It wasn’t about the ring. I don’t need gold and diamonds. But I need someone who really sees me and understands me and chooses me, you know? I’ve never felt chosen. And I decided I didn’t want to settle for that. If I ever get married again, I want the whole goddamn thing. The real thing. I want the candles and the flowers and a boombox blasting Heaven Is A Place On Earth. And if that’s not in the cards, I guess I’m not the marrying type.”

“And you’ll make do with occasional visits from your friendly neighborhood dom.”

You grin up at Aemond. “Yeah, exactly.”

“You really hate Jade Dragon?”

“Companies like that…they just use us. Our land, our labor. And then when they decimate the place they pack up and disappear overnight, no pensions, no retirement, no unemployment, no meaningful cleanup, just Thanks for the millions! Bye! and we’re left to live in their filth.”

“That’s a rather cynical perspective,” Aemond says.

“It’s a realistic perspective,” you counter. “In 1965, there was a pipeline explosion in Natchitoches, in ‘79 there was an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, in ‘80 a Texaco rig accidentally drilled into a salt mine under Lake Peigneur and destroyed the whole ecosystem. Two weeks ago there was a refinery explosion an hour east of here in Norco. 4,500 people had to be evacuated from their homes. So no, the jobs sound nice, but in my humble estimation they’re not worth dying for.”

Aemond considers you, a look that is not patronizing or combative but not convinced either. And there’s something else too: a caginess, a nervousness.

“And these Jade Dragon people, the Targaryens? They have a history,” you continue. “I read about it in the Bayou Journal. Last year they had an oil spill at an offshore rig near Ketchikan, Alaska. They poured hundreds of thousands of barrels of poison into the ocean and killed a bunch of dolphins and whales and everything. Fishermen went bankrupt, people committed suicide.”

“Mistakes happen.” Aemond places his empty sweet tea glass in the sink.

“But they didn’t make it right. Their lawyers blamed a defective piece of equipment and kicked liability back to the manufacturer. They’ll be battling it out in court for the next decade. And meanwhile, the people of Ketchikan get nothing but misery. I don’t want Napoleonville to end up like that.”

Aemond gazes out the kitchen window and into the cicada-rattling night, faraway, pensive.

“But seriously,” you say, more casually now. “I get that it’s not your fault, Aemond. I don’t hate you or anything. You’re working for a living like anyone else. You can only do so much.”

He looks back to you and smiles vaguely. “I just go where they tell me to.”

“And that’s why you like to be in control when you’re with me.”

“Yes,” Aemond says; and on his face—strong, scarred, perfect—you can see that he is reminiscing, that he is planning what he wants to do to you next. But he can’t do any of it. Not here, not now.

“I’m sorry about…you know. The kid thing. I really didn’t think she’d be home tonight. I would never subject her to something like that, walking in to find a strange guy in the house. And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“I don’t usually do this. I’m sure you think I’m lying, but I’m not. I’ve had two boyfriends since I got divorced seven years ago, and both times it didn’t last long and Cadi never met them. And it wasn’t…like it is with you. The dynamic, I mean. The…control thing. They were just normal dudes.”

“And they couldn’t satisfy you,” Aemond says, taunting, proud, setting your blood on fire.

“No. They couldn’t. Not even close.”

You both stand silently in the kitchen amidst a cascade of inconsequential noise: Eurythmics from the little pink boombox, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from Cadi’s room, cicadas and bullfrogs and the long-eared owl from the world outside that is primordial and feral and green. For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel not like the piecemeal potential of a desirable woman but whole. Aemond’s right eye traces every curve and edge of you in a way that makes you think: Maybe I will see him again after all.

“Come on,” you say, turning towards the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”

But when he steps onto the creaking porch—pulling on his Marlboro jacket, watching lightning bugs bloom like daisies in the yard—Aemond seems to be stalling. “This is lopsided,” he says, tapping the wooden boards with his Adidas sneakers.

“I know. The whole foundation is, it’s sinking. We’ll have to move eventually. But we’ve been in this place since Cadi was five, it has a lot of memories. She calls it the Fall-Down House.”

“Cute,” Aemond says, but he’s pondering something. “Do you own it?”

“Oh no, God no. We rent.”

“Are you saving for a down payment to put on a new house?”

This is a rude question. “A little,” you reply curtly. Not enough. You need to make money to save money.

“Okay.” Aemond senses your discomfort. He’s good at that; it’s an advantageous skill for a dom to possess, knowing when he’s approaching a limit long before you have to shut him down. He descends the porch steps. “I’ll be back for more of those cupcakes—” There is a shrill, alien hissing from out by the tree line. Aemond shouts and scrambles back onto the porch, throwing an arm in front of you to shield you from his enigmatic nocturnal adversary. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Just a gator,” you reassure him, amused.

“A what?”

“An alligator.” You show him the shadow that lurks beneath a young oak tree draped with Spanish moss. “She’s over there. Just stay on the gravel once you get off the porch.”

Aemond is puzzled. How does anyone live in this hellscape? his face says. “How do you know it’s a female?”

“She’s not too big, and she doesn’t bellow. But she sure loves to hiss.”

“I think alligators should have gone extinct with the rest of the dinosaurs.”

“Well, there’s a secret to dealing with them.”

“Yeah?”

You smile, skating your fingers into the sleeve of Aemond’s Marlboro jacket and up his forearm until you feel goosebumps rise on his skin. “If she gets mean, you just have to bite back.”

Aemond chuckles, turns your face towards his, kisses the apple your cheek…and then, for only a moment, his teeth close around the sensitive flesh there leaving a whirlpool of pulsing, forbidden heat. He whispers through your hair: “See you soon.”

“Will you?”

“Yes,” he says, severely now. It’s a commandment, it’s a need. “I absolutely will.”

Aemond leaves you, strides across the gravel driveway without glancing back, ducks into his car, lights a cigarette; you can see the rust-colored glow through the windshield as he takes a drag. You wait in a flurry of moths under the dim florescent bulb of the front porch until his Audi Quattro veers onto Route 401 and disappears.

I hope he meant it, you think as a lightning bug lands on your knuckles and illuminates there like the gemstone of a ring. I hope I’ll see him again.

Then you shake away the insect and go inside to see if Cadi wants to help you clean up the kitchen and get a brown sugar pie baked for tomorrow. As compensation, you’ll offer her the $10 bill Aemond gave you for the cupcakes.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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kinsurou · 4 years ago

Text

Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned

Pairings: Dabi x Reader

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: Smut, Incubus!Dabi, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, slight hypnosis, horror elements, sex in a church.

Ever since you were a child, something about that church always got under your skin. Being inside that old building always left a fallacious sentiment. No matter the days, months, or years that were spent performing church service with your whole family.

Every time your younger self would attempt saying something about it to an adult, they would always brush off the child pulling on the ends of their shirt with trembling hands and wobbly pouts.

In the eyes of the adults, you were just a child with plenty of imagination.

And your nana's words never helped either.

For "Nothing bad can ever linger in the house of God."

That was back when you were 18. It was the last time you mentioned anything about that eerie feeling. As well as the last time you stepped inside that church, much to your parent's disappointment.

Now...Five years later, you faced the same house where you grew up, while carrying a suitcase in hand. And a huge, resentful scowl twisting your sceptical face.

Your parents had begged you to come home for the holidays. The same parents who didn't hesitate when they turned their backs on their daughter, after she tore the rosary off her neck.

Had it not been for your nana's decaying health, you would have never come back in the first place. But the elder woman could leave this world any moment now, and she begged to see her granddaughter one more time.

Having dinner with a bunch of people who did nothing but judge your every move was detestable. From your clothes, to your hair, to your studies, everything seemed wrong in their judgemental, hypocrite eyes. It became downright awkward, when you did not keep your thoughts to yourself.

No longer were you the little girl they could carelessly brush off. But that didn't mean you were the golden child either. And frankly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

The only thing you wish could actually change, were the everlasting tremors you felt each time you passed by that old church. Three blocks away from your parent's home. The same church you could watch every single night, through the window of your childhood room.

Just gazing at that building was enough to feel those tremors all over again. You thought the feeling would disappear as you grew older. That maybe, just maybe, your family's words were true.

If only they knew how wrong they truly were...

That night, as you laid in bed, something bizarre happened. You were used to fall asleep at midnight, allowing the soothing melody of the crickets to lure you into a peaceful slumber.But this specific night, something was off. You had fallen asleep at the same time as always, but not to the regular, dreamless night.

But to someone calling out for you. A deep, raspy voice, kept calling your name, and although unable to comprehend the language, somehow, you could understand what it wanted.

Come to me...

The instant your eyes stirred open, a thick and heavy fog made its way deep inside your head, clouding each and every of your thoughts. Except for that urge to follow the voice.

With stupor glazed eyes and a mindless stare, you peeled the blankets off your body and rose up from the bed. No one noticed you walking to the front door, for they were all resting deeply.

Hurry...

The front door was easily opened. This neighborhood was one of the quietest and safest places around, so the need to lock the house at night was unnecessary.

Each step led you down a certain path. You were uncertain where, but that voice most certainly did, as it guided you through the dark and empty streets without much of a struggle.

Had anyone seen you outside this late at night, with an empty look in those usually bright eyes, they would have thought you were just sleepwalking and ended up outside.

Not even the aching in your feet, from stepping over sticks and stones was enough to wake you up. Whatever hold that voice had in your mind was stronger than the feeling of stone digging under your bare feet.

You couldn't even tell how much time had passed, but eventually you reached the place where this voice kept dragging you to. Away from the comfort of you plush, albeit small bed.

An old door with elegant, yet subtle carvings all over its surface, currently blocked the path that lead towards the alluring hum, demanding your presence.

With the strength of your whole body, the door opened effortlessly, allowing you to step inside.

Come.

The moment you stumbled inside, the voice calling out, had a drastic change. The most prominent of them all, was the clarity behind each and every word.

This time, you were able to understand it all.

Come closer, little one...

Once again, your legs moved on their own. Following after the strong, magnetic like feeling that kept on pulling you forwards, like a moth entranced by a radiant flame.

Something changed through your surroundings in an instant. The door slammed itself closed with a tremendous force, rattling the whole building with overwhelming magnitude.

You didn't know what did it, but that chain of events created an uproar, startling you out of that trance, and immediately dissipated the foggy sensation deeply fixated inside your head.

And once your head became clear, nothing but worry began swirling inside your head, accompanied by that very same quivers that went down your spine ever since you turned 18.

Because, you were standing right in front of an all too familiar altar, one inside the very same church that you've come to despise over the years.

Worry began brewing inside you at an exorbitant rate. That horrible sensation of something dark and hostile lurking around the corridors began increasing by the second. Bile threatening to crawl its way up your throat the more you stayed in place.

You had to leave this place, now.

Or at least that was the idea, but no matter how much you tried to open those vast doors trapping you inside, neither of them budged in the slightest. How in the world did they get locked in the first place? The priest had always made it clear that the church's doors should always remain open.

This wasn't normal, at all.

Neither this, or the sudden heath drapped over your back that sent chills down your body, could be considered normal.

"Took you long enough."

The same deep, raspy voice from before, was coming from behind, Sending chill through your body. There was no doubt in your head, that whoever kept calling out for you, and the person standing behind you, were one and the same individual.

"Why don't you turn around, so I can finally see that pretty face of yours?"

A slim hand made its way up your shoulder. Long, sharp claws toyed around with the thin strap of your tank top, making their way under the thin fabric to drag themselves over the soft skin of your shoulder.

Even if you wanted to follow said command, it was nearly impossible to do so when your whole body was frozen in fright.

Carefully, your head turned to the side, just enough to take a small glimpse of this...man? Slowly, your body turned around, and you finally saw the one responsible of bringing you here.

A man stood before you, or at least, you thought he was a human male at first. Had it not been for the long pair of horns on his head, slightly angled down before circling all the way to the back of his skull.

That was just one of the few things about him that caught your eye.

The second thing, was that despite the cold, harsh breeze inside the building, his chest was bare from any clothing, and the only thing that covered this man's psyche was a pair of black, leather pants.

Even his feet were bare, which by the way, also presented the same sharp, black claws as the ones on his hands.

But if that wasn't enough, the last thing you noticed was his scars.

Nearly his whole body was covered with charred skin, holding on to his body by the metallic stitches that retained everything together. A knot could be felt in your stomach when you saw his face.

Those very same scars and stitches, were also over the lower half of his face, and right under his eyes as well. That mesmerizing pair of teal colored eyes of his, that you could almost swear glowed in the dark, calling out for your soul.

He slowly advanced towards you with a long stride, but for every step he took forward, you took one backwards, trying to maintain as much distance between you and him as possible.

Or at least, that was the idea.

Which came crashing down when you felt that cursed door stopping you from going anywhere. He just smirked lazily when he saw the fear inside your eyes, as you turned to glare nervously at the dreaded piece of wood.

"Going somewhere, little one?" One of his hands came up to play with a lock of your hair. When his knuckles brushed against your cheek, some kind of energy racked your head momentarily. It was like an electric shock that sent your brain into a haze. Almost like an instinct, your head tried leaning towards his hand, yearning for more that feeling.

He took a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Judging by his behaviour, he felt something similar. And when he opened them again, you could have sworn his pupils had turned into slits.

"Who would have thought, that after all this time," His eyes wandered all over your body. "You would be coming back? Must be my lucky day."

The same fog that dragged you all the way here came back with force, slowly clouding all of your thoughts like it did before.

It wasn't until he leaned towards your much smaller frame, that you were able to snap out of it. Especially when you felt his breathing ghost over your neck. Blissfully inhaling your scent.

His hum of approval was all the answer you received. But his words were what made you feel real panic.

"You smell so good, so much different from other humans." One of his hands rested on your hip, just above the fabric covering your body. "You'll be a perfect vessel."

...Vessel...?

He pushed himself closer, trapping you against the door. And started kissing softly at the skin all over the side of your neck, before leaving a trail down your collarbone, causing another surge of electricity to rattle your body from head to toe.

The feeling of sharp fangs grazing your skin startled you. Frantically, your eyes went all over the place, eventually landing back on the man...no, on the creature in front of you, purring, nipping and peppering your chest with his lips.

That same feeling of dread triggered your fight or flight instincts. And with shaky arms you mustered as much of your strength, pushing the demon away with a shriek. And before he had a chance to lay his hands on you one more time, you had already escaped from him.

Even he was caught off guard by the push, staggering back with surprised eyes, that slowly became darker. Like those of a starved animal, ready to pounce on his next meal.

In the meantime, you had escaped towards the back of the church. Running away and hoping to find another way out of this damned place.

"I always knew there was something wrong about this place! But did anyone ever listen?! Noooo!" Even as a mere whisper, your voice echoed through the halls. You had to cover your mouth in order to hold back a yelp, when something was violently slammed against the walls.

Tears began filling your eyes as soon as you heard an approaching pair of footsteps. His voice kept getting louder the closer he got.

"Thought I scared you off for good. But you're a big girl now, aren't you?!"

He shouted bitterly, footsteps becoming erratic.

Somehow you managed to avoid him, and ran all the way back to one of the utility closets at the back of the halls. Carefully, you opened the first door that came into view and hid inside the small space.

Hiding between cleaning supplies was never a good idea, but you had no other choice, unless allowing this thing to slaughter you was one of them.

Teardrops became dangerously close to spill when you heard his voice getting closer. The louder his footsteps became, the longer you tried to hold in your breath from the absolute terror you felt.

"I've been watching you for a long time, y'know?" His voice was different this time, calmer, confident, but his frustration was still evident. "Ever since you turned into a grown woman. I could tell there was something different about you!"

Something was once again thrown into a wall, a loud crack could be heard from the wood of whatever he had thrown this time.

"And when you took off that fucking rosary?! I could feel it, I just knew you had something special!"

His footsteps became louder, a warning of just how close he came to your hiding spot. You've never felt this terrified in your life, watching his shadow become bigger the closer he got...But then, he just walked past the door, without even bothering to look back.

When he walked around the corner, you opened the door with care, afraid that the slightest of creaks could alert him of your presence.

And then, you dashed back towards the main entrance.

The fear rushing through your veins kept pushing you, telling you to hurry up and get out of this place. And as soon as you were out of this building you would go to your parent's house to take your stuff and never come back again. All those years you were right, but nobody bothered to listen.

Much to your dismay, the main doors didn't budge in the slightest. Out of frustration, your fist slammed against the wood, the sound echoed loudly all around the place. And your blood went cold when you heard him approaching.

Hiding in the same place as before was not an option, and in a desperate measure, you ran toward the altar at the front, pulling the cloth and crouching down to hide underneath.

It was such a small spot, that you had to pull your knees close to your chest in order to fit in. Your whole body trembled with fear. More so when his presence could be felt as soon as he came into the main halls.

"Where are you, little one? I promise you won't get hurt." The tone of his voice was not reassuring.

You may have turned your back on the church all those years ago. But in that moment, you couldn't help praying to God for your safety. So with your eyes closed and hands intertwined together. You began chanting the very same prayer, strictly inculcated in your family for generations.

Our Father,

Who art in heavan,

Hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done on earth

as it is in Heavan

Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive our trespasses

as we forgive those

Who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

"Amen/Amen."

Your whole body broke into a cold swear. And when you felt a cold breeze brush against your trembling body, the thought of opening your eyes made your heart pound harshly against your ribcage, so harshly, it could be heard resonating through the small space you were currently hiding in.

Slowly, slowly turning sideways. The sight in front of you drew out a blood curling scream. The pristine cloth of the altar had been pulled to the side.

And he was crouching down in front of you, with a deep, desperate hunger in those feral eyes of his, completely engulfed into nothing but pitch-black. The feral grin on his face sealing your fate in an instant.

"God can't help you now."

You were dragged out from under the altar by the ankle. Struggling, kicking, and begging for him to release you, but each and every word fell on deaf, pointed ears as his body hovered above yours, trapping you between the carpeted floor and his lean body.

Upon closer inspection, it was clear something was wrong with him. The patches of non-burned skin looked sickly pale, like he hadn't been able to eat, or sleep for a long time...Were demons able of sleep in the first place?

"Please...Don't hurt me..." He ignored your pleading whimpers, observing with half-closed eyes as you became closer to burst into tears. The moment the small, salty droplets ran down the corners of your eyes, he leaned down, and kissed them away with a softness that left you paralyzed.

No longer was he behaving as the same creature slamming pews against the walls in a fit of rage. It was almost like a switch had been flipped, and somebody completely different had taken his place.

"You really think, that I'd do something to hurt my precious vessel?" His palm caressed the side of your face. The touch of his skin was electrifying against your own, sending goosebumps through your whole body.

"I'm not going to hurt you, so just relax your pretty little body, and allow your master to take care of you."

He leaned down once again, this time whispering in your ear with that mesmerizing voice of his.

"The name's Dabi, you better remember that name when it's time to worship you master's cock." He growled eagerly into your ear.

All those year he could only watch from afar. Now that you were back, Dabi finally had you right where he wanted you.

He would not let this chance go to waste.

Once again, Dabi started out by kissing your neck, and he had to admit, those gasps were like heavenly music to his ears, as ironic as it sounded.

His black claws started to become longer, and sharper. They made quick work of your shirt, dragging themselves all over the fabric and tearing the thin cotton tank top to nothing but shreds, causing the cold air inside the church to hit your nipples with full force. Even during the hottest time of the year, the inside of the building always felt cold.

Dabi ignored your shivering. Kissing and nipping all the way down from your neck, to the skin of your chest, leaving a small trail of bites on his path. His lips reached down the plush skin of your belly. The cold inside the building could barely be felt from the warmth he made you feel.

Panic overtook your senses when his hands went to the hem of your shorts, finger hooking into the fabric as he attempted to pull them down.

"W-Wait!" You yelled out with hesitation, afraid that your words could end up with a raging demon bringing your demise. But it would probably be worse if he found out on his own, right?

"I'm not...I'm not a virgin!" He stopped immediately, and for a minute you saw your life pass before your eyes.

A low, sarcastic laughter was the only thing he answered with. When you looked at him, Dabi's shoulders were shaking, and he couldn't stop laughing.

"You think that's the only thing demons care about?" You gasped once again, when the remains of your clothes were suddenly torn to shred for the second time, leaving you completely bare to the creature kneeling before you, who took in the sight of your every curve with a famished glint in his eyes.

"Virgins are overrated. Innocence? Purity? Tch." He scoffed in mockery. "Wanna know a secret, little one? Sometimes, the people who claim to be the purest, are actually the worst of them all."

He pulled your legs apart, chest grumbling in satisfaction at the sight of your bare sex present before him. And when your hands went down to attempt covering you body, he just growled, trapping them both by the wrist. Claws digging slightly into the skin, just enough to leave small traces of pain.

"Don't you ever, hide yourself from your master." He growled, slowly releasing your hands, and when you made no other attempts to hide yourself, he retook his proper place in between those exquisite legs.

"And don't think acting all shy will let you off so easily. I can tell just by your scent, just how many people you've laid under the sheets with. I must say, you have experience."

Dabi had to say, that watching your face flushing that harshly, was a sight he'd treasure for all of his eternal life.

Dabi spent centuries trapped inside this damn church, without a single chance to satiate his hunger. Watching people come and go inside the building to confess their sins, hoping the act would save them from the hellfire awaiting for them.

He could say, this was a nice change of scenario.

"Do you need a sin for your next confessional?" The warmth of his breath fanned over your core, and the high pitched squeak coming out through parted lips did nothing but increase his appetite. "'Cause I've got a few in mind I'd like to try with you."

As ironic as it sounded, Dabi almost wanted to thank the heavens. Given that your scent was already addicting, but the moment he dived down, finally getting a taste of your body? He became addicted it.

Addicted enough, to begin devouring you with nothing but pure desperation. Drawing out a breathless moan from you. Nothing but overwhelming pleasure shot through your body from every stroke of that forked tongue against your soaked folds.

"You taste so good." He pulled away for a second, watching your eyes closed shut, the dark flush across your cheeks and the way your breathing came out in heavy puffs of air. "Even better than the finest of wines."

Your arms wouldn't stop roaming, looking for something, anything to cling on of dear life as Dabi continued lapping your glistening core, with nothing but pure vigor in those long, sensual strokes.

And you only hoped it wouldn't anger the demon when you pulled on his hair. As terrified -and aroused- as you felt, the desperation to grab on to something for dear life was stronger than self restrain.

Dabi's reaction was far from expected. His strokes became fiercer, the soft muscle pushing its way inside. Savoring the taste of those velvet walls that coated his jaw with their sweet essence.

Centuries had passed since the last time he fed, and now that he had the chance, Dabi would not let such an exquisite meal go to waste.

You couldn't understand, why did it felt so different from other times? something about the way he devoured you, was too different from your previous partners. It was so good, so addicting, and you couldn't get enough of it.

Your hips buckled against him, a warm feeling began crawling all over your body the more he kept his head in between your legs. And when his thumb went to caress your clit, that feeling began getting stronger.

"Ah!...Dabi, please...!" Your hips buckled against his face, and were quickly brought down by his hands, and a snarl that froze you in place.

"You're interrupting my meal, little one. Stay still, and maybe your master will be generous enough to let you cum."

As soon as you went quiet, Dabi continued where he left off. Each slurp just kept making even warmer on the inside. And when he pulled away to suckle on your swollen clit. It felt like an explosion, nothing but one of the sharpest bursts of pleasure ran through your lower regions, shortly followed by a loud scream and your back arching from the sweet release.

"You're such a filthy little thing." Dabi wiped his chin with the back of his hand. A satisfied grin on his face as he waited for you to regain your breath. "But this was just an appetizer. Now, get ready for the main course."

Everything around was like a blurr, the only thing you recognized was the silhouette of the demon before you. Something felt different around him. That feeling that brought terror upon you disappeared, and when you finally looked at him with clarity, something was different.

That sick complexion of his was gone. Pale skin regaining a healthy looking color, and his eyes became clear from that feral like state.

You didn't have time to ask, as he took you by the wrists, tugging you slightly without much of an effort. And positioned you both in a way, that he was laying down on the floor, while your sat down on his lap.

Looking down between your bodies -When did he take his pants off?!-, the sight of his erect member was definitely a sight to remember...

For starters, his head was modestly pointed, followed by a trail of ridges all the way to the base, and not just that...It was huge.

You may not be a virgin. But how the hell was that going to fit in?

"Like what you see?" Even his attitude had changed, now he wouldn't stop teasing, at the same time he took a hold of your hips. His hands dragged your body back and forth, grinding your lower lips against him with leisurely gestures. The friction, along with how sensitive you were from your previous orgasm, turned you into a whiny mess for the second time that night.

"I'm going to ruin you so bad. Nobody, and i mean NOBODY, will ever be able to satisfy you. Not like your master."

Slowly, he lifted up your hips, before pulling you back down, slamming his girth deep inside your throbbing cunt until the base of his length was pressing against your clit.

You screamed in bewilderment. Amazed by the way Dabi made you feel as he buried himself deeply inside of you. The way your insides stretched, adjusting themselves to his size, and the friction from every ridge of his girth was absolutely marvelous. It was like a fire consuming you from the inside. It was hot, so hot that it could burn, and you wanted more.

"What's wrong, little one?" Dabi grunted in satisfaction, loving the dazed look in your eyes from the slightest of movements. His hands guiding your hips back and forth with a quick pace. "Enjoying your master's cock?"

"Ah!...Y-Yes!...I love my master's c-cock!" You yelled out, leaning forward to rest your hands on his chest, head tilted back with pure euphoria on your face as Dabi had his way with your body.

He had to admit it, you really were perfect. And there'd be no way he'd let you walk away once he was done with you.

"Then prove it, show me how much you love to be fucked by your master! Worship his cock like your life depended on it!"

Obeying his every command, you began moving on top of him. When Dabi said he'd ruin you, he was serious. Nothing you've ever done before came remotely close to what he made you feel in that moment.

Each and every of his thrusts was powerful enough to make you see stars. With every thrust, his head brushed against the deepest corners of your sloppy insides, easily kissing your womb.

A part of you felt ashamed of your actions. You were riding a demon's cock in the very same place where your parents got married. The very same place where they baptized you.

Many sins were committed during your life, but this? This was definitely a sentence to hell.

"Oh...Oh God!" Your eyes widened in bliss, wandering all around the walls of the church. In the midst of it all, you realized Dabi had positioned you both, in a way that you sat right in front of the statue of the lord. It almost made it seem as if the lord himself, was judging your actions with nothing but a disgraceful eye.

Dabi let out one of the darkest chuckles you've ever heard. Dark enough to make every hair in your body stand.

"God won't hear you now, little one. But the devil will"

In the blink of an eye, he was sitting up. Embracing your waist with a deathly grip. His already rough pace became downright barbaric, so much that it started hurting, but it hurt so fucking good.

The feeling of another climax rattled your thoughts. Everything around you became a blur from the upcoming high. Dabi felt it, and knew he had to get it done fast, it was the perfect chance, and there was no way he would let it go to waste.

"You're getting close, little one. Aren't you?" He pulled your body closer to him, into the suffocating waves of heat. Your wrapped your own arms around his heck, and held him closer to yourself, running your nails along his scalp in the process, which made him purr in enjoyment.

For a minute, you could have sworn you saw something akin to a blue flame coming to life around him. "Do it my pet, come for your master. And lend your soul to me."

His mouth latched on your neck, tongue running circles around the soft skin, looking for a certain spot. And when he found just the right place, his fangs bit down harshly. Right at the same time your climax overtook your senses.

All you could do was scream as you felt him tear on the skin with those sharp fangs of his. A warm, sticky sensation ran down your shoulder all the way to your chest. Followed by a scorching pain.

The smell of copper and smoke became intoxicating as Dabi's body trembled, and then he let out an earth shaking roar as he came. Filling your womb with rope after rope of scalding, hot cum.

Exhaustion took over your limp, shaking body. As much as you tried to move, even attempting to lift a finger was considered impossible.

Dabi planted a small, tender kiss on the spot where he sunk his fangs less than a minute ago. During that time, your sweat covered bodies clung to eachother's, still yearning for much craved contact, all while trying to catch your breath.

When he pulled away, Dabi admired his work as the bite he left on your neck glowed brightly, before dying down and leaving behind a beautiful, burgundy mark.

Finally, after so many years trapped in this goddamn place, he finally had a vessel. Now, he could leave once and for all.

Dabi carefully pulled away, watching his seed run down your shaky legs with every little throb of that delicious, little hole of yours. If claiming a vessel wasn't that draining to begin with, he'd definitely fuck you again.

"You, are perfect." He carried your passed out self in his arms. Taking you all the way to one of the pews, where he laid you down softly on the wooden surface. One of his hands brushed a loose strand of hair back into its proper place. "I'll see you soon, little one."

Taking one last look at his sleeping vessel, Dabi turned on his feet and walked to the church's entrance. As soon as he got closer, the door opened gracefully on its own.

For the first time in centuries, he was finally able to leave his prison. And with a deep breath of relief and a serene smile, Dabi walked away from the church, disappearing into the dark depths of the night.

......

"...W...up....Wa...ke...Wake up.." Someone kept calling out your name.

Slowly, your eyelids stirred open, and the first thing you saw was a black cassock coming into view, accompanied by the worried face of a middle-aged man you've known since childhood.

What was father August doing in your room?

"Thank god, you're finally awake. What are you doing sleeping in the church?"

Wait...Church?

Your eyes widened in an instant. Father August's words made the memories from last night come back abruptly. The voice, being locked inside the church....And Dabi.

You got up from the pew where you had fallen asleep, and looked around frantically before looking down at your body. All of your clothes were unscathed. But you could have sworn they were torn to nothing but rags after Dabi tore them apart with those big, black claws of his.

Dabi...Where was he?

Thinking about him made you realize something. For the first time, the church no longer felt cold. It had a warm, welcoming feeling to it. Had this sensation been here all those years ago, you'd probably still be on good terms with your family.

"Are you feeling unwell? You seem pale."

"Y-Yeah..." You looked all around the church. The pews that had been slammed into the wall, broken into pieces, were good as new. And the altar at the front, where its cloth had been carelessly thrown to the side when Dabi found you hiding, was also untouched.

"Was it just a dream?" You asked to yourself. Remembering everything the demon did to you, yet not a single part of your body felt sore. In fact, you felt better than ever. So full of energy.

"What are you talking about? Are you having night terrors again?"

Oh shit, Father August was still here.

"N-No! Everything's fine, father!" You reassured the older man that stood straight in front of you. "I must have sleep walked all the way here! Remember I used to do that when I was a kid? ahahaha..."

No way you would tell him about what happened last night....If it ever happened in the first place.

He was kind enough to walk you home. To say your parents were worried was putting it lightly. They were terrified when your mother went to wake you up and found the bed empty. It was strange, watching how worried they were about you, when they never bothered to call you for a long time.

A tired sigh left your lips once you finally went inside your bedroom. It was barely morning and the whole house was already in chaos.

"Right, today we're going to see Grandma." The suitcase was pulled on top of the mattress with ease. Good thing you preferred to travel lightly. "Better get changed now."

From the small arrangement of clothes, you picked out a white sundress. Then you pulled out the hair dryer as well and turned back to the mirror so you could fix the bird nest in your head, also called hair.

When you saw th reflection in the mirror, your whole body became stiff.

There was a strange mark on your neck. A deep shade of burgundy adorned your skin in the shape of a small flame, running down all the way to the collarbone...Right in the spot where he bit you last night.

The dryer fell out of your hands with a loud clank as you stood in front of the mirror, watching this...thing on your neck with pure horror.Why didn't anyone say anything when you came in with this mark covering a good portion of your skin?!

Your thoughts were interrupted when your mother barged inside the room with a worried look on her face. And you were quick to cover the mark before she could see it.

"What happened? I heard something falling?" She looked at you in worry.

"N-Nothing! The dryer just slipped from my hands!" But she wasn't satisfied by that answer, and squinted in disdain when she saw the way you hid from her prying eyes.

"What are you hiding? Don't tell me you actually got that tattoo?!" She approached with an angry pace to take a closer look at your neck.

"I told you, it's nothing!" But she didn't listen, pulling your hand away from your neck by force. Your eyes closed shut, expecting her to start yelling just like that time you got your ears pierced again.

"Why are you grabbing your neck? Does it hurt?"

"You can't see it?" You asked quietly. But she just gave you a look.

"See what?"

So...they couldn't see the mark on your neck?

..........

Three weeks later, you finally came back to your precious apartment, away from your family, and that cursed church. But also away from an answer.

What happened that night? Did something even happen at all? Or was it just your brain playing tricks on you?

Groaning in frustration, you decided to forget about everything and kept walking back home, carrying a bunch of groceries to restock the fridge. Besides, tonight was Taco Tuesday, and you were eager to start preparing your meal.

When you got inside the building's main hall, you could see the landlord talking with someone at the lobby, but their back was facing you, so at the moment, it was impossible to see their face.

The moment the old lady saw you walk inside, her face lit up with joy as she waved at you, and made a gesture to come closer.

"Good afternoon dear! How did your little visit go?" She was always a curious woman, but never meant it in a bad way. There was nobody in the apartment complex who didn't love Miss Yuki.

"Good afternoon Yuki! And well, you already know how it went. It's always the same after all..." You grumbled, not really feeling like going into detail about what happened.

Then you turned sideways to see her guest. A dark haired male just stood there, watching the interaction between the older woman and you with a lazy smile.

He was wearing a pair of ripped, dark jeans. Black military boots, and a white T-shirt underneath a leather jacket. One of his most prominent features was those teal eyes of his.

Somehow....He seemed familiar.

"Oh how rude of me! My memory's not what it used to be!" Yuki clapped her hands together, embarrassed that she just ignored her guest in favor of talking to you.

"This is Touya! He just moved into the apartment right next to yours! I was just about to take him to his new home, but I need to take Mochi to the vet. Would you please be a darling and show him the way for me?"

"Ah, that naughty cat? again?" You laughed sarcastically. That cat of hers always seemed to get into trouble for something. "Don't worry Yuki, I'll take him off your hands!"

"You're such a sweetie! Now, here are your keys, Touya. Please let us know if there's anything you need help with!" She handed Touya the set of keys, and swiftly walked inside her home.

Turning back to Touya, you greeted him with a sheepish smile, ignoring the burning sensation at the side of your neck.

"So, I guess we're neighbors. Welcome to out little community. Just let me put this in my fridge and I'll give you a tour!"

"Ah, yeah. Thank you for the help." ...Even his voice was familiar.

You walked together to the second floor. On the way there, Touya mentioned how her was starting anew. Away from everything, and everyone. In a way, he was just like you.

"Well, this is my place!" You beamed, juggling with the set of keys and the bags in had. Touya had offered to help, but you refused. After you finally unlocked the door with a victorious hum, you pushed it open with your hips, walked inside and turned back to face your new neighbor.

Who's face, for some reason, became dead serious the moment you looked him in the eye.

"Please come in. I'll prepare some coffe!" As cheerful as you were. The smile slowly, slowly disappeared when you saw the way Touya was staring at you.

There was a dangerous smirk on his face, and an all to familiar glint in his eyes...

He quickly stepped forward, and stood in front of you with a proximity, that allowed you to feel the heat of his whole body. He trapped your chin in between his fingers, and licked his lips with an evident hunger in those blue orbs.

"W-What are you doing?" The nerves were such, that you didn't notice when the bags of groceries fell from your hands, and the carton of milk spilling all over the floor, creating a puddle besides your feet.

"Remember what I told you last time?" From the corner of your eye, you could see those same horns from that night, slowly starting to come out. Your heart pounded against your chest. And the burning sensation in your neck became unbearable the moment his eyes became engulfed in black.

"I told you I'd see you again...Little one."

With those last words, your door was quickly slammed shut.

@hawks-senseis @honeytama @savagetrickster @unbreakableeiji @wakaoujisenhime @fanfic-me-up @natsuosfairy @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro

#mha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #dabi smut #bnha dabi #bnha smut #mha smut #touya smut #dabi is touya #dabi x reader

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hopeandvolleyball · 4 years ago

Text

they forget your birthday

w/ sugawara, oikawa, akaashi,

an: since my birthday is coming up in two days I thought this would be a fitting post and how about i break all of your hearts with some angst

sugawara

being a teacher is not easy, you knew this. and being a teacher for a bunch of children was even harder.

suga came home every day utterly exhausted and drained from his students. especially since he has taken up coaching the middle school volleyball team

he was tired and you respected his boundaries and exhaustion although you missed him so much.

BUT

your birthday was coming up you were so excited to just have some time alone with him again

sugawara left that morning giving you nothing more than a good morning kiss. this made you frown but you dealt with it. you knew he had to rush to get ready for work, which was odd to begin with because he usually always took your birthday off but maybe he couldn’t get a substitute in time, but he didn’t even wish you a happy birthday. maybe he would text you later in the day? The hope of that gave you butterflies.

so you decided to get all dolled up, doing your hair and makeup, putting on your favorite outfit, and looking at yourself in the mirror you felt giddy and, flat out beautiful. the end of suga’s work day was coming and you couldn’t help from bouncing with excitement. until your phone buzzed.

[sugarcube<3]: hey bug, i’m gonna be home late. sorry.

your face fell. oh. okay. you texted him back that you understood and you loved him. a weight settled on your chest and you felt like you wanted to cry. no! no there wasn’t a reason to cry. you looked hot. texting your friend group, you wanted to see if any of them wanted to go out for food since you looked so good. one friend was busy but promised to pop by after work, and the other friend jumped into their car the moment the text was sent. the afternoon you spent with them was more than enough to make up for the shitty night ahead of you. still, even with the time spent with them, your mind raced with all the possibilities of what sugawara was going to do for your birthday. but the moment you walked in the door he still wasn’t home. you sighed and set your bag on the table and slumped into the couch. and you waited. and waited. and waited.

until koshi walked in the door at around 9 pm. you beamed, even though he looked extremely exhausted. you jumped off the couch to hug him tightly. but to your surprise he pushed you off him. a frown etched deep into your features.

“bub, not now,” sugawara huffed and walked past you to sit as his desk. you stared at him incredulously.

“but-” you started out and sugawara pinched his forehead.

“baby not now. i have so much work to get through,” he groaned. you couldn’t believe this. and then it dawned on you. he forgot. he forgot your birthday.

“baby it-”

“can’t you leave me alone when i ask?” sugawara snapped, looking at you with an intensity in his eyes. you wanted to cry, but you didn’t. instead you stared at him with wide eyes and opened your mouth to speak but no words came out.

“fine.” you squeaked and went to your room and slammed the door. suga sighed and pinched his forehead and went back to his work. time went on and there was a knock at your door. with tired limbs sugawara stood to answer the door, surprised to see your friend there with a bouquet of flowers.

“uh, hey?” sugawara greeted with a tilted head. your friend beamed and looked around.

“is y/n awake? she wanted to hang out earlier but i was busy. i feel shitty that i missed her birthday so i got her these to make up for it.” your friends smile was so bright, but suga’s dark face balanced it out at the word birthday. no. no no no no. today couldn’t be? it. it didn’t. fuck. it was your birthday and he missed it. swallowing back the guilt sugawara grabbed the flowers.

“actually she just went in for the night, but i’ll give her these in the morning, okay?” your friend nodded vigorously while suga’s brain rattled for ideas on how to make it up to you. sighing, he realized that he wasn’t gonna get any sleep this night.

you awoke the next morning with red cheeks and puffy eyes, remembering the night before. you couldn’t believe your birthday had been ruined so badly by the one you love. the smell of breakfast wafted through your nose and you blinked. huh? stumbling out of bed you walked into the kitchen of yours and sugawara’s shared apartment. you were shocked with the apartment covered in decorations, balloons and streamers. you couldn’t help but smile. what the hell was koshi up to? he walked up to you, wearing an apron and with a spatula in hand.

“good morning bubba!” sugawara beamed and pulled you into a hug. you wanted to be so happy with that was transpiring here but you still remembered the argument that happened last night, how cold koshi was with his words. so you didn’t hug back. “lovebug i’m so sorry i forgot your birthday and i’m even more sorry for how i treated you last night. you deserve so much better and i know that might not be me but i want to try. i-i have a whole day planned for you if you’ll have it.” you pulled away, crossing your arms under your chest. “i love you so much, please. i’m so sorry. answer me quickly or the pancakes will burn.” you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“okay suga, i’ll forgive you. on one condition.”

“anything! i’ll do anything.”

“you make today everything i’ve ever wanted and more,” you proposed and suga beamed, dropping the spatula and picking you up. he spun you around and pulled you in for a hundred kisses. you giggled and tried to wiggle out of his arms.

“of course! of course, that i can do, my love.” sugawara giggled and so did you.

“suga the pancakes.” you reminded.

“FUCK.”

oikawa

he was always so careful. he has 10000 reminders on his phone for everything so you never dreamed oikawa would ever forget your birthday

your birthday of all days.

and yet the entire day passed with nothing. no grand oikawa gesture nothing.

not even a ‘happy birthday i love you’ text.

so yes. you were fuming when you got the text he was spending extra time practicing today.

and his thick skull didn’t get it.

“i don’t understand why you’re so mad at me,” oikawa scoffed as you stood in the doorway preventing him from taking a shower. your arms are crossed and you stare at your boyfriend incredulously.

“you’re joking, right?” you ask with a scoff and oikawa rolls his chocolate eyes.

“i’m serious, y/n. you knew exactly what you were getting into by being with me at this time! i can’t drop everything to be with you 24/7 and you know this,” oikawa snapped, lip curling into a slight snarl.

“of course i did and i haven’t complained once, have i? i just want one, one, day alone with my boyfriend is that too much to ask of?” you barked, throwing your hands up in anger before they balled into fists at your side. you felt your face burning with an anger you haven’t felt before. “i dropped everything to come to argentina for you, tooru. once, just once i want you to be there for me!”

“first of all i didn’t ask you to come with me here you chose to do that. second i’m not putting my dreams on hold for you. you don’t understand how hard i have to work y/n!” oikawa growled, trying not to fiddle with his fingers. was he serious? was he genuinely serious about this?

“fuck you tooru. i came because i love you. guess that isn’t reciprocated. happy fucking birthday to me.” you rolled your eyes and pushed past oikawa. he should have been relieved but the moment the birthday bomb was dropped he froze and paled. oh no. oh no oh no oh no. he turned around and grabbed your wrist as you tried to walk away. “get off me oikawa.”

“baby i’m sorry please let me-” you tried to pull away from his grip but he was so much stronger than you. the longer he held your wrist the more you wanted to sob violently. “let me apologize i can’t believe i forgot your birthday and got in a silly argument with you. i’m so sorry my love please.” your silence spoke volumes. “i love you?” he tried again but you were still so quiet. he didn’t want to let you go but he did. he dropped your hand and you walked into your shared bedroom and sobbed into the pillow the moment you collapsed onto the bed. you can’t remember falling asleep but you did. you were woken up later by oikawa who was gently poking your shoulder. groggy, you rubbed your eyes and focused on your boyfriend who had flowers, teddy bears, and a goofy smile.

“you forgive me now?” he asked with a slight attitude. you wanted to say ‘no get the fuck out of my room’ but you looked around to see the room totally decked out with candles, flowers, decorations.

“when did you do this?” you asked slightly breathless. he chuckled.

“now’s not the time for silly questions, y/n! do you like it?” he asked, hand rising to cup your cheeks and run his thumb across your cheek, puffy and red eyes broke oikawa’s heart. you softly smiled.

“i do,” you confirmed which made oikawa beam.

“i love you so much, my dearest, darling y/n! making you cry and upset was the absolute last thing i’ve ever wanted to do. especially not on your birthday. please. can you ever forgive me?” he asked, all traces of teasing and playfulness gone from his voice. you bit your lower lip.

“of course. i love you tooru.”

akaashi

he’s been so busy lately.

a deadline had been creeping up on him and the days got longer and harder. he wouldn’t be in bed with you until around 2 am

you begged him to take a break. just one. but he couldn’t

but he finished! the day before your birthday, too!

and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

you woke up rather early that morning. seeing akaashi’s sleeping face next to you was the best birthday present you could have asked for. watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest was hypnotic. smiling, you brushed his raven locks out of his face so you could look at his sleeping features. eyelashes resting sweetly on the apples of rosy cheeks, mouth slightly agape as little snores fell past his lips. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him sleep this well and it made your heart flutter. usually you would have liked to been pampered on your birthday, but just this once you would make breakfast.

you were almost done with your cooking when akaashi rose from his slumber, hair messy and still looking rather exhausted. the table was set and he looked at you with a puzzled expression at the rather extravagant meal you were preparing.

“what is all this, my dove?” he asked, a slight rasp in his voice from having been just awoke from a deep, much needed, sleep. you beamed and giggled.

“just something special for this morning,” you sing songed, kissing akaashi’s cheek before finishing your set up and pouring him a cup of coffee, little cream and two sugars just the way he liked it. he smiled and took a sip, sleepiness wanting to over come him once more. sitting across from him at the table you couldn’t help but smile. this was your first meal, day together in months. except it was rather silent. though, it usually was like that. the nostalgia wafted over you and you smiled. breakfast was over before you knew it and akaashi leaned back in his chair with a full tummy, sleepiness starting to take over his limbs.

“wanna help me clean?” you suggested with a smile. he sighed and stood up.

“i suppose so.” keiji sighed and helped you clean in silence. you puffed your cheeks in a frown.

“i was thinking, tonight we could go out and see that new movie and get some dinner? does that sound fun?” your smile was bright, almost too bright for akaashi, who winced a little.

“honey i’m so tired, i’d rather not go and do anything today,” he admitted, drying the dishes. you frowned deeply.

“but, ‘kaashi, I thought it would be fun to do something together. it’s been so long...” you suddenly felt meek as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“pumpkin we can do something another time,” akaashi sighed. “i really need to get some more sleep.” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and went back into the room. did he seriously forget? as you watched his figure disappear the dam broke and tears fell. you lay on the couch and took a deep breath.

akaashi woke up again with a phone call. groaning he looked at the caller id to see it was bokuto. he answered. “what bokuto-san?”

“hey hey hey!” his enthusiasm was even more upsetting over the call. he just wanted some sleep. “did y/n get the gift i sent for their birthday? i was hoping it would arrive on the actual day so i’m really hoping it is here now!” akaashi’s heart stopped. birthday? was it today? he usually remembered why didn’t he remember.

“i’m not sure we haven’t checked the mail today,” akaashi gulped, a slight crack in his voice.

“damn it,” bokuto whined. “okay well. any special plans for them today?” bokuto asked with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows that akaashi could feel over the phone.

“a few,” he lied, brushing through his hair with his fingers working up the courage to go out and face you again. “and i have to go to enact them so i’ll speak to you later bokuto-san.” akaashi breathed and hung up the phone. he walked into the living room with pensive steps to see you laying on the couch, asleep, with a tear stained face. he knelt next to the couch and started rubbing your side to try and wake you up. “pumpkin? babygirl? dove... wake up.” his voice penetrated your dream so you awoke, rubbing your eyes.

“what is it, keiji.” you asked with a bite.

“go get ready i’m taking you out.” akaashi demanded.

“but i thought you were tired?” you asked with a roll of your eyes.

“i am. but it is your birthday. so whatever my dove wants is what we’ll do,” he pulled you into his arms as you sat up. smiling you sobbed into his chest.

“i thought you forgot.” you admitted through tears.

“i could never.” that was extremely close, akaashi keiji. never make this mistake again.

#sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru #akaashi #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst

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ratedbangtann · 4 years ago

Text

“Hey, you.” ~ JJK [18+]

↳ summary - Your friends made fun of you constantly for your crush on Jungkook. Except, you didn't have a crush on Jungkook - did you?

↳ rating - explicit/18+

↳ word count - 8.6k

↳ pairing - Jungkook x reader

↳ genre - college!au, friends to lovers

↳ warnings - TW// F2L, a little humour, passionate and rushed sex, fingering, unprotected sex (pls assume birth control! But wrap it up, guys), romantic sex, steamy and heated and generally just everything you want from college boy JK, right?

↳ a.n - what’s up, beauties! I was commissioned again! I hope you love this, I thought it was cute lmao. If you would like your own commision, or would like to leave a tip, please head to: https://ko-fi.com/ratedbangtann (I just lost my job thanks to corona so it's my only income right now lol)

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Winter Break was supposed to be a chance to relax, to kick your feet up and enjoy the holidays; Christmas, new year… But you spent the whole three weeks studying, as always.

“You need to learn how to have some fun,” Tae had remarked more times that you were willing to count as he walked past you sat at the kitchen island of your tiny shared apartment off campus. Easy for him to say; acting majors hadn’t been given much to focus on over the break, but you? Broadcast production was a tough major, filled with coursework and studying alongside practical work.

The only days off you gave yourself had been Christmas day and New Year’s Day, and then it was back to your old routine. You and Taehyung had made Christmas cute for the two of you, whilst all your other friends had gone home for the holidays. But you were paying rent on this place, and a Christmas away from home didn’t seem like a bad idea.

But the break was over, and lectures and seminars were starting up yet again.

“______, you gave yourself absolutely no break. How are you so eager to get back to class?” Taehyung groaned as you walked onto campus together.

“Just happy to have some company that isn’t you for a change,” you teased, earning a shoulder shove from him.

“Tae! _______! Wait up!” you heard a familiar voice calling from behind you, and soon after an arm was around your shoulder and another best friend at your side.

“Hey Jimin, how was your break?” you smiled up at him, seeing that gorgeous smile beam back down at you.

“Good, but I missed my girls…” Jimin pouted at you, then reached around to ruffle Taehyung’s curls. Tae just rolled his eyes and smirked. “You see Jungkook yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet. He’ll probably roll into class at the last second, as per usual. I haven’t heard from him over the break,” Tae rambled, missing Jimin’s tone entirely.

“No, I meant… he looks different… You’ll see,” Jimin smirked. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but he just winked and returned his focus onto getting to class.

In the halls of your college campus, you split from the boys and waved them off at the performing arts department – Jimin was a dance major, specifically contemporary, and often had classes adjacent to Taehyung in the studios.

Your class however was held in one of the lecture theatres right at the other side of the block, so you walked through the corridors of chattering students, waving hellos to those that you knew from class or working on projects with other majors. Jin – Jimin’s frat leader – waved sweetly to you as he stood at the water fountain surrounded by girls wanting to hear everything about his ski vacation to Italy. Quite comical, really – like the alpha of a pack at the watering hole.

He may have been a ladies’ man at first glance, but he was a real sweetheart when you got him away from the herd. All those girls, and yet he was always very respectable, never hitting on them, simply enjoying the attention and remaining chivalrous. You smiled at him and waved back, a silent promise to check in with him when lunch kicked in.

Walking into your classroom, you weren’t expecting to see Jungkook ready and waiting for you in your usual spot in the fifth row – and you had been right. As if the boy could be on time, ever. All part of his charm, you suppose. So you slipped into your seat and waited for him, no doubt the last one in as the final bell rang out. You focussed on pulling out your laptop, logging into it and opening up a document to start your note taking.

Being a little early, you had time to scroll through your college emails like you obsessively did every day. You were so engrossed in your task, you hadn’t even noticed Jungkook walking into the room until he sat beside you.

“Hey, you,” he spoke softly as he sat down, pulling his headphones out of his ears. He always greeted you that way – a running joke from the start of college. He’d taken far too long to remember your name, and so when paired up with you on the first assignment, he fell short, simply addressing you as “you” whenever you would meet in the library to work. Now, it was almost a term of affection.

“Hey Kook-“ you started as you looked up, but your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped.

It had only been three weeks…where did all that hair come from? How was he now able to tie it back into an adorable little ponytail? And why did it bloody suit him so well? And… Oh my god, were those tattoos on his fingers?

This couldn’t be the same Jungkook, surely not? Last time you had seen him, his hair was getting longer sure, but not at all able to tie up. And he most certainly didn’t have hand tattoos, or any other tattoos that you were aware of. Jimin was the only person you knew with a tattoo…

And yet, as you studied the boy beside you setting up for the lesson, it was most definitely him. The same bunny-toothed smile and innocent wide eyes; the same all-black cargo pants with a chain and oversized sweater; the same dangly chain and hoops earring along his lobe and helix. Except with his hair like this and little tattoos to match, he looked – dare you say it – sexy…

“You know, with a little bit of eyeliner and a motorcycle, you may well be on your way to joining the cast of ‘Sons of Anarchy’,” you laughed. He grinned at that.

“Are you referring to the tattoos, or the epic man-bun?” He slunk back into his seat and smirked. “It’s not just my hand, you know…” He pushed his sleeve up to proudly show the multiple tattoos on his forearm; a skull hand, a floral design with lettering, some writing that your eyes followed to read ‘rather be dead than cool’. “More up here too but I’ll show you another time.”

“Where’s my sweet innocent little Kookie gone? I’m gonna have to think of a new nickname now…” you huffed, still admiring the black ink over his skin.

“You know I always wanted tattoos, well I got a bunch of money from family this Christmas, so I thought, screw it. If not now, then when?” he shrugged. Seemed like pretty sound logic to you, and you had to admit they were pretty awesome.

“Why this one?” you pointed at the flowers.

“Ah, my birth flower, tiger lilies. Korean meaning for them is ‘please love me’, so that’s-“

“Alright class, welcome back to the second semester. Hope you all enjoyed your break, but it’s back to work!” your professor started the class with a loud announcement, silencing Kook in the process. You’d have to get him to tell you about then more later.

*****

“Oh this one is just a Nirvana quote, I liked it. Song is called Stay Away. And the Ox is my birth year, the lilies my birth flower…” Jungkook was explaining his new ink to the group in the refectory hall, perched up on the table next to where you sat, where Jimin sat marvelling at the ink with his dance major best friend, Hoseok. On your table, Jin and Taehyung were catching up on the events of their winter breaks. Well… Jin was telling Taehyung all about his ski trip, of course.

You were just absentmindedly staring at Jungkook, sat on top of the table chatting away with Jimin. His hair was half up in that cute little ponytail, with dark tendrils falling into his eyes and framing his face. It suited him well, looked so soft and silky too. He looked so different and yet exactly the same. His sweetness hadn’t changed, his sense of humour hadn’t changed. And yet something felt different, and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Next thing you knew, fingers were being snapped in front of your face and waking you from your little daydream.

“Earth to ______…” Jin called, still snapping. “Don’t you want to hear my epic tale of heroic skiing skills?” You pushed his hand out of your face and gave him your full attention.

“You know, fantasy’s not really my genre, Jin,” you remarked, earning an overly offended response.

“You should be kinder to your elders, young one. Especially when he’s the head of the best fraternity on campus and throwing the first back to school party of the semester this Friday that he can or cannot get you barred from, young lady!” he rattled off; of course he would never exclude you from a party, and he was only joking.

“Hey!” a voice boomed behind you, deep and fast approaching. And then said voice was sitting beside you and dumping his bag on the table, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in mock protection. “You could never exclude our fraternity sweetheart. She is the soul of every omega delta gamma event.”

“Precisely. Nice try, Jin,” you winked, turning to hug the new face at the table. “Hey Joon,” you greeted as he dropped his arm from your shoulders.

“Well then pay attention to me, _______! Instead of gawking at Jungkook’s new bad-boy get up. We get it, you want him. Now back to me please!” Oh god, this again.

“Will you shut up? I do not want Jungkook,” you scathed, lowering your voice to stop him from possibly overhearing from the next table. The others at the table giggled. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing, nothing…” Joon laughed. “So skiing, Jin?” You were grateful to Namjoon for taking the heat off you, now trying too hard to look like you were only paying attention to Jin.

“Yes, skiing…” Jin sat up straight and continued his story.

*****

“Pizza or fried chicken?” Taehyung asked as he scrolled through menus on his iPad, plopping down on the couch beside you in your apartment.

“Oooor, I could just cook?” you laughed.

“No, Miss Kill-joy… It’s been a long day of falling asleep in class and listening to Jin’s skiing trip stories over and over again. We’re ordering in.”

“Fine. Pizza,” you surrendered, flipping through show after show on Netflix. “We still haven’t finished season 3 of Stranger Things yet, feeling brave enough today?” you teased. Taehyung had always been a little too easy to frighten, and it was honestly a wonder he’d made it through the first two seasons without scaring himself silly.

“Oh god.. Uh, maybe? I’m getting pretty desperate to figure out what’s happening to Billy but like, do I really wanna know?” he didn’t even look up from his phone as he spoke, focussing on adding the toppings to his make-your-own pizza.

“If you get too scared, you can spend the night in my room with me, okay? Won’t let anything happen to my Tae-Tae,” you pouted dramatically, babying him with a pinch to his cheek that had him shrinking away from you and giggling like a child. “Oh, can I get a-“

“BBQ base, and a side of chicken wings. I got you,” he smirked. Damn, he knew you too well. “Put the damn show on, I’m a grown up now. Can handle it.”

“Tough words…” you laughed, flicking through the shows to land on Stranger Things, and hitting play.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung to be shrinking into a ball against the couch and hiding half his face behind a pillow. Poor thing, he was just too sensitive. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying it. It just meant he’d be curled up against you snoring and clutching your arm all night.

An episode in, and food had arrived. You grabbed some plates and empty glasses and created yourself a little feast on the coffee table in front of you. You figured the next episode could wait until you’d had something to eat.

“So tell me,” Taehyung started, cheeks full of pizza like a hamster hoarding nuts, “how’s the insane crush on our own adorable little bunny holding up now that he sports a man-bun and an arm of ink?”

“You’re really still on this, aren’t you?” you avoided the question and all eye contact with Taehyung, dipping your pizza crust into some ranch dressing and quickly shovelling it in so you wouldn’t have to do much more talking. But still, he pressed on.

“Oh my god, stop trying to cover it up. We all see it. Only person who doesn’t is Jungkook, which is insane, considering…” he raised his eyebrows and picked up a chicken wing, leaning back into the couch. Despite his already full hamster cheeks, he took a bite of the spicy wing.

“Considering what?” you asked curiously through chewing. He took a moment to answer, raising his finger to keep you silent and waiting impatiently while he swallowed.

“Considering how obvious you are, always staring at him when he’s not looking, always looking around to find him, asking after him. You practically swoon when he walks in a room, you laugh at all of his terrible jokes, and don’t think we didn’t all see you drooling at lunch. It’s just ironic, that neither of you realise…” he chuckled to himself, taking another large bite of a pizza slice he picked up in his free hand, practically shovelling the food in.

“Neither of us? What do you mean?” you asked, confused. Tae froze on the spot, a string of cheese latched between his teeth and stuck to the end of the pizza he’d just bitten into. It stretched and broke off from the slice, dangling comically from his lips. But neither of you laughed.

He took his time reeling in the string of cheese, proceeding to take forever to chew his mouthful, clearly stalling for time before swallowing overdramatically.

“Just meant like… neither of you notice that you’re drooling over him, y’know? Yeah, that’s it.” He wouldn’t look you in the eye, quickly shovelling another mouthful of pizza in his mouth to avoid having to speak further on the matter.

“You know for an acting major, you’re a terrible liar…” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest as you turned your whole body to face him on the couch. “What did you really mean?”

Tae sighed. He could never lie to you, not really. You knew him too well for that, spent too much time with him to know his tells. And truly, he was a really terrible liar when it came to his friends. He dropped the pizza back into the box and turned to you, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and swallowing the latest mouthful.

“I’m just saying, we all see the way you drool over Jungkook, but like… it’s more, isn’t it? You don’t just wanna screw his brains out, you’ve been falling for him since day one when he wondered into your lecture hall like a lost puppy. We all know It, ______… We talk about it all the time. And it’s just… it’s ironic ‘cause… well….” His eyes darted up to look at you, finding your expression to be a mix of both realisation and confusion in one.

And he’d be right. How on earth had it taken someone literally telling you that you liked Jungkook, to realise that, well… you bloody liked Jungkook! How far did this thing go? How deep did these feelings sit? Have they always been there? Did they grow over time? Is it just a crush or is it more than that?

But it made sense. You had always found him cute, sometimes attractive – hell, even sexy sometimes… But most girls did, he was Jeon Jungkook. Except that didn’t explain why you always wanted him around, why you always thought of him first when someone asked about your friends, why you were often caught out staring at him by the others. There was something more… Oh god, there were feelings involved.

You snapped back to reality, reminding yourself that somehow Taehyung wasn’t finished speaking…

“Wh-why is it ironic?” you stuttered, not even bothering to deny his claims any longer.

“Because to all of us it’s also painfully obvious how much he likes you too…” he said sheepishly, slowly so as not to shock you too much.

“N-no he doesn’t,” you protested weakly. He couldn’t, he’d never shown any signs.“Oh _______… yes, he does. I can’t understand how you both haven’t realised, it’s painfully obvious to all of us. Jimin said he’d asked about you the second he got back to the frat after vacation. He always talks about you. They ask him how his class went, and he’ll reply like ‘oh yeah it was good, _____ did this, _____ did that, _____ made me laugh so hard today’. It’s adorable but Jimin said he barely talks about anything else.

“Funny thing is, you stare at him when he’s not looking, and he stares at you when you’re not looking. We laugh about it all the time, it’s kinda funny to watch. I honestly don’t know how you can function alone together in class,” he laughs, shaking his head at the image of you both automatically turning your heads periodically.

“But... He…” you shook your head trying to think of excuses for him, but you were drawing a blank.

“I mean he actually told Hobi he liked you about a month ago when he was drunk. Hobi said he was crying into a bucket and whining about how he’d never have you and he just likes you soooo much between hurling,” Tae laughed at his own impression of Jungkook weeping. You couldn’t help yourself then.

You leaned forward and slapped his shoulder, followed by another slap and another, all cushioned by his hoodie and barely enough to hurt anyway, just to annoy.

“Ow, hey! HEY! What- What’s that for? Ow!” he cried dramatically as you knelt over him, slapping his arm out of pure frustration.

“YOU,” slap, “NEVER,” slap, “TOLD ME?!” you yelled. “You knew all this time I liked him, and you said NOTHING?!” you sat back on your heels running your hands through your hair totally exasperated.

“Well I assumed you knew that at least you had feelings for him, Jesus! It’s so obvious!”

“And when he said he liked me you didn’t think to bloody tell me?!” you scoffed, indignant.

“Well he was drunk, and he didn’t remember in the morning so…” Tae rubbed his arm dramatically.

You rested your elbows on your knees and buried your head in your hands. You had to figure out what to do with this information, if you should do anything at all. God, you’d been fawning over him since Freshman year. No wonder they’d teased you about it constantly in the last few months… You felt like a fool. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until the first silent tear rolled down your cheek.

Taehyung said nothing then, pulling you to lean on him with an arm around your shoulder. He rubbed your back and kissed your forehead like a good friend should, comforting without having to say a word.

“I feel stupid, Tae…” you whined into his shoulder.

“No, sweetie, I’m the stupid one. Should have said something sooner. I’m sorry…” he held you with both arms then, feeling a surge of guilt for keeping such information from his best friend.

In your head, you tried to think of any signs you might have missed, anything at all that proved what Tae was saying. And although they’d made fun of you for liking him all this time, you knew he would never, ever lie to you about something like this. Especially not with your tears soaking into his hoodie.

You needed to do something about this. You needed to say something to Jungkook, maybe to be a little (a lot) more obvious. Either way, now that you knew he liked you, you couldn’t simply sit on this information. Time had been wasted already…

*****

You were gonna do it. You were gonna tell him, that very morning, just after class let out for lunch. You’d pull him to the side, explain you wanted to talk to him. Go somewhere quiet. Tell him the truth.

At least, that had been your plan. But the second he walked in as the final bell rang that morning and sat beside you, you lost your nerve. Now suddenly, you had to deal with butterflies attacking your insides, and an inability to act natural around him. Awesome.

“Hey, you,” he smiled as he sat down beside you, as always. Only today you couldn’t muster a genuine smile back, just a nervous half smile. And he noticed. “Whoa, what’s up?” He put his hand on yours that rested in your lap and you flinched a little from him, like his had was made of hot coals. He held his hands up, staring at you with wide bunny eyes like you’d trodden on his tail.

“S-sorry, bit jumpy today I guess…” Smooth, _______. Real smooth. “Nightmare last night,” you lied.

“Oh, I’m sorry… need a hug?” he opened his arms to you and of course, you couldn’t say no to that. So you shuffled along the bench of the amphitheatre and slotted into his arms, curled up in a little ball and tensing up as soon as his arms wrapped around you and hugged you to his chest. You weren’t sure if he could tell you were tensed up or not, but to you it was painfully obvious.

“Alright class, we have assignment marks to discuss!” your professor started his talk, and Jungkook reluctantly let go of you, letting you straighten up and open your laptop to take down your notes. But he kept his eye on you the whole time, watching with concern at your sudden stiff manor around him. Had he done something wrong?

*****

“Taehyung it’s been three days and I don’t know how to act around him anymore! Help me. You did this. You fix this,” you paced in front of his little desk in the student union, where he spent Thursday afternoons working.

“Uh, this isn’t my fault. You could ha-“ You lost your cool, dramatically slamming your hands down on his desk and leaning down to be eye level with him. He shut up immediately.

“Fix. It,” you demanded.

“Okay, okay… Uh, there’s a party tomorrow right? Jin’s party? At the fraternity?” he scrambled for ideas.

“Oh no, tell me you’re not serious. No, this is like some cheesy Netflix teen movie or something,” you groaned, pushing off his desk and pacing yet again.

“Yeah well it’s the best I’ve got, okay? So just… I don’t know, ask him to dance, get him a drink, take him to one side, talk to him. If it goes wrong, blame it on the alcohol. Yes, it’s a cliché. But clichés are clichés for a reason,” he tried to convince you, and unfortunately, it was starting to work…

“If this backfires, I’m holding you solely responsible,” you warned, pointing your finger accusingly.

“Okay, yes, fine, whatever,” he shook you off, turning his attention back to the calendar of student activities that he’d been working on for this semester. “You should wear that black dress, the one with the mesh layer. He likes that one.” Just how much info did Taehyung have on Jungkook’s little crush on you?

“Oh for god’s sake,” you rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag, stomping back to the cafeteria to find Namjoon or Jimin; anyone but your infuriating best friend.

*****

“I’m telling you, the dress was the right choice,” Tae tried to convince you as he escorted you the few blocks to the campus where the frat house was. Your arm was linked with his as if you were a couple from the 50’s on a stroll along the beach; very typical Tae.

“And how is it you know so much about which of my dresses Jungkook likes the most?” you asked suspiciously.

“Well last time you wore this was when we all met up in summer right? And we went to that club? He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He turned to me and said, ‘she looks good tonight, right?’ I just agreed and let him carry on staring while you danced with Hobi and Yoongi.”

“Oh, is Yoongi coming tonight? I miss him!” your attention was diverted to the friend who had decided college wasn’t for him, and he was going to pursue a career in DJing instead.

“Yeah he’s bringing his decks, you know how he is.” Indeed you did; always had a decent mix for any kind of party.

Turning the corner to head down the street of sororities and fraternities, you could already hear the bass from Yoongi’s speakers blaring and lights flashing in the large bay window at the front of the house. Already in full swing, then.

Inside, the whole ground floor was littered with bodies all drinking and dancing already. Looking around, you could see a few people you knew, but none of your closer friends just yet. Only Yoongi, set up with his decks in the corner of the large living room. You dragged Tae over to him first.

“Hey _____! How’s life?” he yelled over the music, putting an arm around you for a side hug and lightly bumping fists with Tae, beer in hand.

“Good, good. Seen any of the others yet?”

“Uh, Jin was setting up a keg in the other room, with the pool table in? Namjoon was with him. No idea about the others.” He took a gulp of beer, fiddling with some buttons in front of him. “Here,” he yelled, hitting the top of a bottle of beer on the edge of his mixing desk to get the cap off, handing it to you.

“Thanks! I’m gonna go find the others, say hi.”

“Alright doll, come dance later okay? I’ll play that mix I made for your birthday,” he smiled his adorable gummy smile, patting your elbow lightly and turning back to his decks, holding his headphones to his ear as he bobbed his head to the heavy bass.

Tae stuck by Yoongi’s side, catching up on lost time with him. Tae was fond of Yoongi, looked up to him like a big brother he rarely got to see. You made your way through the hordes of students into the room you expected to find Jin, and low and behold there he was feeding Namjoon from the keg. Whilst you were glad to see them, that wasn’t who you wanted to find… You wanted to find Jungkook.

“Save some for the rest, Joon!” you laughed as he held the end of the pipe.

“_____! You made it!” he cheered, hugging you with his free arm.

“Have I ever missed one of these?” you laughed, comfortably tucked under his arm and playfully hitting his chest.

“Touché,” he grinned.

“You guys seen Kookie?” you asked, trying to seem casual. The pair just smiled to each other, thinking you weren’t in on the joke still.

“Kitchen, I think. But have a drink with us first, he’s gonna be around somewhere. Pay attention to us,” Jin whined, clearly making fun of you again. You didn’t even argue, taking a few gulps of the beer Yoongi had handed to you. You chatted to them for a while, joining in with the chants and cheers of people brave enough to do keg stands with Jin, at least until your drink was empty, and you had an excuse to leave and find Jungkook.

The kitchen had people in too, same as every other room and the room was only lit by the flashing lights of the living room. You spotted Jungkook on the other side of the room, leaning against the worktop with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He was alone, a perfect opportunity to get him out into the yard, or somewhere quieter at least.

He looked so good tonight… Wet look black jeans clinging to his muscular thighs, a black shirt with red dots all over tucked into them, a few buttons undone. Necklaces dangling against the exposed skin at the top of his chest, hair down and flowing freely, showing off just how long it really had become. And his sleeves were short, showing off his new ink properly for the first time… There was no denying the attraction you felt to him anymore, that was for sure.

The same butterflies you’d been feeling around him all week were rising, frantically fluttering against your stomach as heat rose to your cheeks. You hadn’t even noticed you yet, but you could feel your hands getting sweatier.

But you could do this. It was Jungkook. Even if he really didn’t feel the same way, he would never be cruel about it, never laugh at you or yell at you. You had nothing to be afraid of. It would hurt if he didn’t want you, but your friendship would survive; you knew it.

He briefly looked up from his phone, eyes finding you. Immediately, his body stood upright, sending you an awkward smile; that was your fault. You’d been acting weird all week, ever since your epiphany with Taehyung. But you smiled back, trying to look as natural as possible.

You lifted your empty beer bottle and mouthed ‘want one?’ at him, to which he nodded. You smiled and headed to the large fridge freezer, picking out two bottles for the both of you, but when you turned back, you almost dropped them both to the ground…

A girl had wondered up to Jungkook, a prettier, popular girl from one of the sororities. She’d snatched his attention away, playfully touching his hair and tracing his tattoos with her delicate fingers. She leaned into him, her lips devilishly close to his ear. She was clearly whispering something flirty to him, his eyes widening a little and his cheeks turning pink. And then she started to nibble at his earlobe…

You caught his gaze again for a second, and his eyes widened even more. Could he see the shock on your face? The tears brimming in your eyes and blurring your vision? Could he see your knuckles turning white against the necks of the bottles in your hands?

You couldn’t watch any more, putting the bottles down on the kitchen island in front of you and hastily exiting the kitchen with hot tears starting to spill. You were gonna do it, you really were. But who were you kidding? The sight of another pretty girl, a prettier girl, was all it took to divert his attention. Tae had been wrong; he must have been.

You didn’t feel much like partying anymore…

Without stopping, you walked straight to the front door and out onto the street, disappearing from the party without so much as a wave to any of the others. You hadn’t even seen Jimin or Hoseok yet, but you didn’t care. You needed to get out, to go home. To be alone and sob to your heart’s content.

The air outside was cold, biting at your skin as you stumbled the few blocks home, wiping your cheeks and trying to hold it together until you were safely in the confides of your own home. It didn’t take long, and before you knew it you were stumbling up the stairs in your ankle boots and struggling to fit the key in the door.

You shut it behind you and leaned against it, hitting your head on the wood and freely letting the tears and the sobs rattle through you. How stupid you felt, how naïve… You just got used to the idea you had feelings for him, how dare the universe now give you heartbreak just a few days later. What kind of bullshit karma crap was that?!

You let yourself sob against the door for a moment as you found some composure, enough to realise you just wanted to get into some comfy sweats and a hoodie and eat whatever crap you could find in your refrigerator. You didn’t stop the tears but took a few steps further into your apartment, when some loud knocks rang out on the door behind you.

You jumped a little, startled by the noise and furiously started wiping the tears away. Taehyung must have seen you leave, must have followed you home to comfort you knowing that it hadn’t gone well with Jungkook. He’d feel so awful, probably blame himself for getting your hopes up or something. But he’d have the warm hugs you needed right now.

But then, Taehyung lived here. Why would he be knocking?

You stepped towards the door and opened it slightly, peaking through the crack so see who had been rasping on the wood moments before.

As if the world was playing some sick joke on you, Jungkook was stood there, his face looking sad and his fingers fiddling with each other.

What you hadn’t seen, was the way he stopped that girl at the party as soon as he saw the look on your face, as soon as he saw you dump the beers and turn. He saw the look on your face, and suddenly it had all clicked into place for him. You liked him too. And his heart had dropped into his stomach. He tried to follow you, getting stuck behind a couple of the jocks from the neighbouring frat house, and tailing behind you trying to shout your name over the heavy bass of Yoongi’s mix.

The second he saw your reddened eyes he stepped forward, pushing his way into the apartment, giving the door a kick shut behind him and cupping your jaw in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears away. He smiled weakly at you, already aware that it was his fault you were crying, his fault you had left.

“Hey, you,” he said softly, his tone so affectionate, so worried and full of care as he looked into your eyes. They brimmed again at his words; they just sounded so sweet coming from him, like you were the only person in the whole world he’d want to say hello to at all.

But you stood frozen, biting down on your lip to stop a sob from erupting from your throat. All you could do was look up at him, his hands holding your face up towards him as his thumbs stroked over your cheeks. His eyes were searching yours in the silence, like he was trying to find confirmation or a sign or something, but you just weren’t sure.

But before you could even try to compose yourself enough to speak, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours so softly, so cautiously, lingering for a second and waiting for you to push him away, to slap him or scream at him for getting the wrong idea – but he hadn’t and you both knew that.

So when he parted from your lips and looked back down at you, he saw your small smile, the tears spilling yet again, the deep breaths you were taking. In such close proximity, he could practically hear your heart threatening to beat out of your chest and feel the way your cheeks had heated up under his hands.

And he couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He leaned in again, this time with more purpose, more aggression, his lips crashing with yours only this time you were ready for him, matching his desperation, his urgency. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. You couldn’t seem to get close enough, not even when your chest pressed against his.

Finally, after months of unrecognised feelings towards him, Jungkook was here and he wanted you. You didn’t care about anything else, couldn’t focus on anything else but the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hair felt silky soft brushing up against your forehead.

His hands slid into your hair, fingertips grazing over your scalp and adding a layer of bliss to the way he kissed you. One of your hands slip up his chest and wrapped around his neck to draw him in even more. He groaned against your lips, and if the stirring in your chest was anything to go by, you knew where you wanted this to go.

You just wanted him.

Without disconnecting your kiss, you stumbled backwards, dragging him with you through the hall of your small apartment. You stumbled together, your back hitting your bedroom door as his hand flew out to turn the doorknob for you. The pair of you shuffled into your room, Jungkook kicking the door shut once again.

His hands dropped from your hair and flew to his shirt buttons, hastily undoing them one by one as you took the opportunity to separate from your kiss to undo the zip at the side of your dress and shuffle out of the mesh over-layer and the straps of the black dress underneath. You pushed it down around your waist, breasts still hidden from view by the black bra you’d worn that evening.

Jungkook flung the shirt from his body, immediately stepping towards you again to grip your bare waist in his hands and reconnect your lips fiercely. Both your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him towards you as you stepped further and further back, until the backs of your knees hit your bed and you tumbled backwards with him still locked on your kiss.

Everything was happening fast, everything was heated and desperate but after so long denying your feelings for him – and unbeknownst to you, him denying his feelings for you too – you felt like there was just no time to waste.

His lips found their way to your jawline, kissing and nipping at the skin from under your ear down to your chin, and continuing down your throat. He took his time, his hands working through your hair again as you moaned under his assault on your neck. It felt so good – he felt so good. You couldn’t help your hands reaching between you both to unbuckle the belt holding his jeans up, making light work of the button and zipper soon after. You could already feel the large bulge formed in the now open crotch of his jeans, and it stirred a heat between your legs that had already been steadily building.

Jungkook’s lips travelled further down, between the valley of your breasts to mouth and bite and suckle at the fullness on display above the cup of your bra. He reached underneath you to unclasp it, while you worked the straps down and threw it to one side. His mouth immediately latched onto your nipple, his hand massaging the other as he tweaked and flicked the nub over and over again.

Your moans sounded obscene, breathy and whiny under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the way your hips rolled up to grind against the prominent bulge you’d uncovered earlier; you needed some kind of friction now that the uncomfortable sticky feeling in your panties was only worsening.

No words were exchanged at all – and certainly no time wasted on teasing you – as the hand on your breast slid between you both and pulled the remnants of the mesh dress and the tight underdress down, both of you kicking it off to let it land in a pile at the bottom of the bed. His waist slotted neatly between your thighs and his hand cupped your sex, middle finger toying with the wet lace of the underwear you had on.

“Oh, Jungkook…” you whined, breathless and lost in the bliss of both his mouth working your breasts and his hand dipping past the lace to swirl around your throbbing clit. Hearing you whine his name was something he’d admit to only dreaming about in the past, his brain daring him to think of all the things he wanted to do with you, all the ways he could make you create that exact sound for him over and over again. It was music to his ears.

It only seemed to rile him up further, fingers moving faster and expertly toying with your clit just a little more, until he slid them down to circle your entrance and slowly push two inside you. The stretch felt magnificent, and by this stage you were already turned on enough to be able to take both with no issues.

Jungkook groaned against your breast, a wave of arousal pulsing through his veins at the way you felt on his fingers, imagining with absolute clarity just how you’d feel on his cock too. He curled his fingers and hit your g-spot with each downward stroke of his hand, having you thread your hands in his hair in desperation to grip onto something, anything.

“P-please, Kookie… Need you,” you panted, begging to feel him completely, to be totally immersed in the pleasure of him and him alone. How could he deny you of that?

He sat up on his knees immediately, pushing his jeans and boxers down to his knees and swivelling his hips to sit enough to push them off along with his black Chelsea boots. You kicked your shoes off as he did, shuffling yourself out of your panties and leaving you both totally exposed to each other.

He took a moment to turn his head back to you, to look into your eyes properly and just admire how you looked right now. Your hair was messed up, matted to your forehead with sweat much like his was. You had dark rims under your eyes where your make up had pooled from your tears and streaks in your foundation to match. Your neck was red and in places, a little bruised from his own handiwork. And he had never, ever thought you looked so beautiful.

His expression twisted into a smile, his eyes squinting and his bunny teeth gleaming in the low light of the street coming in through the window. It was all you could do to smile back, resting on your hands as he slowly crept up the bed towards you, the happiness exuding from both of you, the knowing relief you shared with each other. You parted your legs for him to slot between, letting him hover over you and slowly lean in for another deep kiss.

You lay back down, Jungkook following to never once break your connection. His hands roamed from your thighs up to your waist, holding onto you as your lips moving in perfect unison, slower than before but still incredibly heated. You’d never been kissed like this, never been held like this or touched like this. He was making every single touch count.

You rolled your hips up against him again – a sure signal that you were ready, you wanted him – and felt his rigid length brush against your folds. Reaching between you both, Jungkook gripped himself at the base and slowly, began to push inside you. Your kiss separated just barely for him to groan in absolute gratification, lips just barely grazing yours. He pressed his forehead with yours and shut his eyes, revelling in the way you felt.

There was no denying his girth, and yet still there was no pain or discomfort to be felt. He eased himself in slowly, gave you a chance to adjust, and as soon as you started to kiss him once again his hips began to rock.

His hair fell into his eyes, descending past his ears and doused in a light layer of sweat from the heat inside your small bedroom. The pendants and necklaces he had worn that night dangled above you, swaying backwards and forward with each thrust he made. His freshly healed tattoos were now on full display to you, and you could help but to reach out and touch them.

Each thrust just felt like it was meant to be, like he was supposed to fill you this way, you were supposed to fit together like pieces of a jigsaw. You reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear, showing more of his face to you. In the dim streetlight, he looked so perfect, so absolutely stunning as he clearly became consumed by nothing other than you. You placed a hand flat against his chest, wrapping the other around his neck and bringing his lips closer to you so you could reach up for them again.

As your bodies writhed against each other, moan after moan escaping you both and being muffled by intermittent kisses, you knew right then that this was exactly how it should be. You loved him. And he loved you.

“K-Kookie?” you stuttered your voice a higher pitch than usual. His thrusts were become more dynamic with every passing second, and yet never speeding past a pleasurable roll of his hips. He struggled to open his eyes and tear himself about from his paradise, but he did so, looking down into your eyes.

“Y-yeah, baby?” he huffed, his breath laboured and voice stifling another groan. He pressed his forehead to yours for stability, keeping his hazy eyes on yours.

“I… I love you, Kookie…” you cried against his lips, another tear escaping down the side of you face. He smiled then; an out of breath, exhausted and relieved kind of smile as he continued to roll his hips into you, having you whimpering as your bit down on your lip.

“I love you too, ____…” he grinned, his eyes fluttering closed, “Oh, fuck, I love you so much.”

You threaded your hands in his hair again, bringing his lips up to yours and colliding them in potentially the most passionate kiss of your damn life, moans and whimpers included. His hand slid between you, fingertips concentrating on coaxing a delightful and euphoric orgasm out of you with targeted strokes to your clit.

With a new level of ungodly satisfaction, you couldn’t control your lips anymore and broke the kiss, just holding him close to you with parted lips and moaning wantonly as your eyes rolled back. You’d never felt an orgasm approach so fast in all your life, never felt it hit you the way this did.

Your legs spasmed and shook in his grasp, hands tightening in his hair. Your moans caught in your throat, unable to move while every muscle contracted. You couldn’t be sure of it in the moment, but Jungkook sure noticed the way you clenched and gushed around him as you came. And with each contraction dragging against his length inside you and you finally delivering a loud and high pitched moan, you brought him to his edge too.

His hips slowed and stuttered as hot spurts of cum painted your walls, more than he ever had before. He tried to keep rolling his hips, to get every last bit of pleasure he could before exhaustion took over and he collapsed next to you, head buried in the crook of your neck and chest half laying on you.

Both of you were utterly drained of energy, breaths heavy and hot against the other’s bare skin. It felt incredible. It felt perfect. It felt just as it should.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours that passed by, both of you simply becoming comfortable laying in a heap of sweaty nudity – you simply didn’t care. You had Jungkook now, right here with you. And he loved you.

You weren’t sure of the time, nor did you mind, but the two of you fell asleep laid together that night. Jungkook had rolled onto his back, dragging you onto his chest and pulling the messy sheet up to cover you both. With one final drawn out kiss, the pair of you lay in peaceful contentment and drifted off.

*****

Next morning, you awoke to the sun streaming directly into your eyes; you hadn’t closed the drapes last night. Your groaned and turned away from it, stretching your limbs out onto the rest of the empty bed, and- wait, empty? No, no… Had you… had you dreamt your night with Jungkook? Had he left without a word? Did he regret what had happened?

You sat upright, clutching the sheets to your chest. You were still nude, your clothes still strewn about the place; but Jungkook’s were gone.

He must have just decided to leave.

A knock on your bedroom door drew your attention away from your sadness, and a rather smug looking Taehyung wondered in before you had the chance to turn him away. He sat at the end of your bed with his arms folded and a smile you grimaced at in disgust.

“Mooooooornin’,” he teased. You wanted to kick him off the bed.

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“See? Told you he liked you! Can’t tell me that that wasn’t Jungkook I saw you naked-cuddling with when I got in last night,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well I hope he had fun. He’s done a runner this morning,” you accused. Taehyung was about to object, when a key jingling by your front door sounded, the door opened and closed, and footsteps drew closer down the hallway. And then who should come into view, but none other than Jeon Jungkook sporting the outfit he had on last night and brandishing a brown paper bag with some rather ominous grease stains on, and two hot coffees in a holder. He must have stolen one of your hair ties, because most of his locks were back in a bun again save for the front pieces parted in the middle.

His face looked a picture; the deer in headlights cliché. His wide eyes darted between you and Tae, and all Tae did was smirk at you.

“Go away, Taehyung,” you flatlined, shooing him with a foot to his leg. He held his hands up in defeat and stood, walking past Jungkook and out into the hall.

Jungkook snapped out of his shock and confusion to put the coffees on your nightstand and the bag next to it. He sat down on the edge, turning slightly to face you.

“Hey, you,” he smiled, his eyes soft and adoring. He tucked a strand of your bed hair behind your ear, leaning forward to place a kiss to your forehead. You tucked your knees to your chest and smiled shyly.

“Thought you’d done a runner,” you joked.

“Could never do that to you. Just wanted to get you breakfast in bed; least I can do for making you think I was flirting with one of the sorority girls.”

“Oh, no it’s okay… I just…. Yeah, I don’t know,” you laughed at yourself, feeling pretty stupid for not even giving him a chance to push her away before you jumped to conclusions.

“Hey,” he said softly, shuffling closer to you. “I, uh… I haven’t even looked at another girl since I met you, _____. Never wanted to, I never noticed anyone but you…” he confessed, shyly looking down at a spec of fluff on your sheets.

“I can’t believe I had no idea… I didn’t even realise I liked you like that until Taehyung kinda let it slip…” you chuckled, fiddling with the ends of his hair dangling in his eyes.

“You’re welcome!” you heard Tae shout from the kitchen, clearly eavesdropping with your door still wide open. Jungkook stood up to shut it, just a little harder than average in response to Tae’s mischievous meddling and then came and sat back down beside you.

“Well, we have some lost time to make up for, then,” he smiled, leaning in for a gentle and purely loving kiss, lingering a few moments, just enjoying finally having each other. You pulled apart with a shy giggle. “But first, breakfast!” He leaned over to pick up the bag, unpacking the bagels and hash browns he’d picked up from the diner around the corner.

You watched him, just how cute and attentive he was being with you. He was the same Jungkook, always had been this way with you. But now, you knew why, and it all made sense. It all fit together.

“Yes, breakfast.”

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abluescarfonwaston · 3 years ago

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Here, my dear, is the sum of the fic as it exists in its 9k glory. Fun fact Edgeworth's pov is 11k so far. Omegaverse au - Wrightworth. Currently Teen and Up rating.

“Why do you two insist on doing that?”

“Cause it’s fun!” Larry laughed above him, rolling off of him and onto the playgrounds woodchips when he pushed him.

Miles slid off the jungle gym he’d been observing them from. Offered his hand to help him up.

He took it and let him pull him up. “It is! You should try it!”

“No thank you.” Miles swept his hands over Phoenix’s shirt, dislodging some of the dirt. Not that it made a huge difference. It was just a t-shirt after all.

“Come on Edgey!” Larry wrapped an arm around his neck, leaning heavily on him. “I’ll even go easy on you if you want! Or are you just scared you’ll mess up your fancy clothes?”

His cheeks flushed red as he stammered out a protest, picking a chip from Larry’s hair. “I just don’t see the point of rolling in the dirt!”

Larry laughed. Crowed like a chicken, grinning as Miles face grew hotter and hotter. He never knew if Miles would cry or get angry. He wasn’t sure if Miles knew either right until the moment the emotion burst from him.

So he did what any reasonable nine year old would do: tackled Larry to the ground. “You’re upsetting him!” Larry just laughed as they twisted and wrestled, having achieved exactly what he wanted.

Larry pinned him again- it was unfair how much better at this Larry was. He wiggled and tried to dislodge him but Larry remained firmly atop his stomach, grinning.

He sighed and dropped his head back. Another loss to Larry Butz. Miles was staring at him from his playground perch. A goofy smile started on his face.

Miles tilted his head just a hair smiled, one of his tiny rare smiles, right back.

It didn’t feel quite so much like losing then.

“First!” Larry posed his hands on hips and puffed out his chest. “We’re going to build a pillow fort!”

Miles held the remote, not turning the television on yet but clearly posed to if Larry responded poorly. “Why?”

“Because I have it on good authority this movie’s real scary!” Half his mouth pulled upward in pride at his secret knowledge. He jabbed a finger at Phoenix. “And we don’t want the scaredy cat making us go home early!”

“Hey!”

Miles set the remote carefully down on the table and nodded. “Alright. What do we do?”

At Larry’s direction, they made one. It was remarkably well made and comfortable inside. They laid on the carpeted floor on top of a blanket and pillows and peered up at the screen from under the fabric canopy.

Larry and him yelped and jumped back into the fort. Clinging to each other. Listening to the clashing of swords and tense music.

Miles stayed. Eye’s trained on the screen.

He inched forward. Larry clung to him, eyes squeezed tight. He didn’t move far enough to see the screen. "Are they winning?” He whispered weakly.

Miles face was tense but unwavering. “No.” He did not look away. He squeezed the pillow tighter against his chest. “They’re not.”

He reached out and took one of Miles clenched hands in his. It was shaking. He squeezed it. “Not yet.”

Miles squeezed back. “Not yet.”

Miles was more than happy to outline the entire fight in dramatic hand motion for them once the movie was over.

“Bedtime boys.”

“Okay Mom!”

Larry climbed out of the fort and stretched his arms up into the air. He followed after.

Miles didn’t follow them out. “Can we sleep in here tonight?”

“You scared Edgey?” Larry grinned sleepily.

“No.” It wasn’t the sharp no that really meant yeah. It was just a no. “It’s just. Nice.” His cheeks flushed.

“We could drag one of the futons in and sleep on that!” He proposed.

“Yeah.” Larry yawned. “Okay.”

It was way too small for the three of them. Mostly cause Larry spread out like a starfish and took up half the bed.

Miles curled up on the opposite side, his back pressed into the couch. Rubbed his cheek against the soft fleece blanket.

Phoenix flopped down next to him, sharing the same un-Larry filled third. “I don’t want Larry to kick me again.” He explained, hoping Miles wasn’t annoyed at how close they were. Their hands were almost touching.

He just made a happy noise and sank heavy into the pillow.

It was nice in here.

The first boom of thunder had him jumping out of his skin.

The second and he was running back into the building.

He did not like Thunder. Hated how loud it was and how it rumbled and it – it – it.

It was scary.

“Phoenix!” His wrist was trapped in Miles firm grip. Yanking him to a halt. “Where are you going?”

He couldn’t swallow the yelp at the next boom or the way his shoulders drew up to his ears while he desperately covered them.

He held his breath. Unable to breath in or out.

Miles tugged him forward. Pulled him down onto one of the library’s bean bag chairs shoved into the corner of the kids section.

He pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his hands tighter against his skull.

The chair shifted as Miles curled up next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Um. We can wait here until it stops. I don’t think my umbrella would work right now anyway.”

He nodded into his knees and tried to hide the tears that were escaping.

“Do you…” The fabric of Miles jacket shifted over his arm. “Want a hug?”

He nodded. An arm wrapped around his back and squeezed his shoulder.

He twisted and buried his face in Miles shoulder. Clinging to the soft cotton of his buttoned shirt. Trying to swallow the sobs.

He really didn’t like thunderstorms.

Miles hands slowly came up and held him. Cradling him to his chest.

He choked on a wobbly inhale and cuddled in tighter.

“Do you want me to read something?” One hand disappeared and the zipper of his bag sounded.

“S-sure.”

Miles read quietly to him, chin hooked over his shoulder. The soft cadence of his voice easing the mountain of tension from his shoulders. He snuffled trying to keep his nose from running. Miles just handed him a tissue without pausing.

His nose honked loudly when he blew it and that did make Miles pause to glare at him. He just smiled sheepishly in return.

He didn’t need to stay in Miles lap. He should probably get up and move next to him. But he didn’t want to. And Miles didn’t ask him to. Hummed warmly when he tucked his head back into his shoulder.

“You smell nice.” He nuzzled against the collar of his shirt and the bowtie there.

He did. He couldn’t put his finger on what he smelled like but it felt the same way blankets pulled warm from a dryer did. Warm. Comforting. Soothing.

The pounding rain and even the occasional boom of thunder was muted by that gentle warmth wrapped around him

He didn’t even notice when he drifted off to sleep.

Not until a librarian was shaking them awake a while later, worry and amusement lining the soft lines her face.

“Mmghn.” He moved the horsy again. “Can we do something else?”

“Like what?” Miles moved the castle.

Rain beat against the window. Rattling it. He moved a pawn. What a waste of their day off. Trapped inside by a storm.

He bet Larry was having fun. Or maybe he was just trapped in a hotel room with the rest of his family.

He flopped back on the bed. He heard the pieces rattle. Miles made an annoyed sound so some of them must have fallen. “I don’t know.”

He grumbled and picked the board up. Set it on his desk. “You didn’t have a better idea!”

“I didn’t think chess would be boring! You made it sound fun!”

“It is fun.”

He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t seem that fun to him. “We could play signal samurai?”

“Without Larry?”

He had a point.

“Your Game Boy?”

“The batteries are just as dead as the last time you asked.” He crossed his arms and frowned at the window. “And we’re not going out for replacements in this.”

“Courthouse?”

“Still a person short. Who would we defend?”

“Uh… Rescue?”

Miles shook his head. “All our games are for three people.”

He sat up. “I don’t see you suggesting anything!”

“I suggested chess but you don’t want to play that!”

“… Then if I suggest a two person game you’ll try it? Even if you don’t think you’ll like it? Cause I tried chess!” He pointed out.

Miles narrowed his eyes. “… Fine.”

He grinned and jumped to the edge of the bed. “Great! Then we’re wrestling!”

“What?! No!”

“You said you’d try it!”

“But- But…” His eyes flickered around the room. To the floor. “We’ll get hurt on the wood.”

“We’ll play on the bed!”

“We’ll hit the wall! Fall!”

He looked back at it. “We can put cushions up!” Miles stared down at the floor. Sour expression. “Come on! You promised you’d try.”

That got him a glare. “I didn’t promise.” The scowl deepened. “Fine.”

He’d stalked out of the room before he realized Miles had agreed.

He dashed after him.

Miles pulled the cushions off the couch and some spare blankets from a closet. Shoved them into his hands and grabbed some more.

Miles frowned when they reentered the room. Climbed up on the bed and shoved the cushions between the wall. Took the blankets and bunched them out on the edges of the bed. Shoved the pillows against the headboard. Sat in the center of the bed considering it.

“Good enough?”

His scowl deepened but he didn’t rearrange anything.

“Good enough!” He decided, tackling Miles.

It got him a yelp. Miles wiggled in his grip and they twisted and rolled on the bed until he let Miles pin him.

He grinned up. Miles sat on his heels and huffed. “There. I win?”

Miles hair was all rumpled and out of place. He was always so careful about his appearance. It was nice to see him rumpled.

His smile just got bigger. “Sure. You win.” Nodded. “Round one.”

He lunged upward and flipped Miles onto his back.

Miles blinked up at him. He pressed down on his shoulders waiting for Miles to try and throw him off.

Miles stared at him. Reached up and-

Rearranged his hair. Carded through his spikes.

“Your hair got messed up.”

That wasn’t how this game was supposed to go.

But…

He leaned into the motion. A purr starting.

He drifted so far into the motion he fell over. Off to the side.

Miles propped himself on his elbow. Staring at him.

“Does that mean I win again?”

“I pinned you!”

He stifled a yawn. “Tie game then?”

“Okay.” He looked at the spare blankets on the side and the raised sides the couch cushions made. “Wanna build a fort?”

Miles eyes lit up almost like they did when he talked about law.

He dragged one of the blankets up and shoved one end behind the cushion, making a little triangle tent. Larry would have made something better. He knew how to make the best pillow forts.

Miles eyes shone. He stared up at the fuzzy ceiling. Reached up and pet the fleece. His chest didn’t rumble but it stuttered a quite purr.

Miles liked it. He did good.

His chest swelled with happy. His purr making him unsteady with its unintentional volume.

Miles was staring at him and his face was heating up but it wouldn’t stop. He covered his face with his hands.

“Do you… want to read?”

He nodded. Listened to Miles shuffle out. Come back with a stack of books. He grabbed one off the top and buried his face in it.

Miles scooted next to him. Shoulder to shoulder. Opened up a large tome.

A few chapters later there was a heavy weight on his shoulder. Miles. Sleeping. Small contented noises escaping.

He rested his cheek on the crown of his head. Miles smelled nice.

He closed his eyes to the sound of beating rain and Miles soft breathing.

Blinked blearily awake to Mr. Edgeworth’s soft chuckling. “Time to eat boys.”

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and they climbed out together.

And then Miles was gone.

He showed Larry the heart shaped necklace. Recounted the entire tale with waving hands and hearts in his eyes. They were Soulmates. Maybe even True mates. Fairy tale or not - he just landed in one.

“Sounds like one hella cute omega.” Larry grinned up at him.

“Hey!” He smacked his shoulder. “I didn’t say she was an omega!”

Larry snorted and rolled onto his back. Stinking up his bed with his stupid alpha scent. “You alwaysfall for omegas Nicky.”

“No I don’t!”

“Yeah you do! Your nose is just too shit to realize!”

He growled. “My nose is not shit!”

Larry sat up. Pointed at him. “Twenty bucks says she’s an omega just like every other chick you’ve had a crush on.”

“Hey you can’t prove that!”

He started listing off names. His face heated.

Pointed his objection. “Racheal wasn’t an omega!”

“Dude. Bro. My man.” Larry clapped his shoulder. Eyes pitying. “She totally was. She just used a shit ton of blockers. An omega gives you the time of day and you’re done. You’ve always been like that.”

“Oh yeah?” He was three seconds from yanking him to the floor for a tousle on the rug.

“Yeah. Even before we presented. I mean, Lucy, Lucia, Matilda, Samantha-”

“Stop!” He shoved his face into his knees and covered his ears. “Lucy transferred! That one’s not even fair!”

He laughed that annoying Larry laugh. “She was totally going to present as an omega dude!”

“You can’t just assume!”

“It was so obvious though. She was an omega, we were going to be alphas. It was practically carved into grade school stone.”

“You can’t tell until someone presents. You’re not a doctor Larry.” You weren’t even a high school grad.

“PFT. You know for someone so smart you’re really dumb sometimes.” Larry kicked his leg. “You don’t present out of nowhere. Those instincts are always there. You’re just too dumb to look.”

“I’m not dumb!”

“Twenty bucks your girlfriends an omega!”

“You’re on!”

He smacked the twenty into Larry’s waiting hand. “Shut up.” He growled. “It’s not like you’re any better.”

He smirked. Waving the bill and shaking his head. “Unlike you, my hearts not so fickle as to limit itself to omegas. Any beautiful lady can steal my heart!”

Yeah that sure seems true. You tried to date every girl in our high school class.

“Why I’ll have you know Clary is an Alpha! She pinned me last week and I’ve never been more in love!” His eyes filled with tears. “We’re gonna be together forever!”

“Sure Larry. Sure.”

“You swallowed glass?”

He curled into his bed and pillow. There were still whiffs of her left.

She’d tried to kill him. She said she hated him.

Why do you think she’s actually been dating you all this time?

“Shut up Larry.”

“You wanna fight? I mean you have to be pissed right?”

He pressed the pillow harder to his face.

“… Yeah alright.” The bed creaked and Warmth pressed into his back as Larry laid down behind him. “Glad you didn’t die bro. I always knew that omega was shit.”

“Did you?”

Come on Wright. It’s obvious she’s just using you. You were just the perfect rube.

An arm wrapped around his waist. Larry’s head pressed against the back of his neck.

“… Nah man. She always seemed really nice.”

By the time Edgeworth joined them for the celebratory party Larry was already several drinks ahead of everyone else. Edgeworth eyed him worriedly.

“Come on.” He slid his beer over to Edgeworth and aimed for a reassuring smile. “You’re a free man now. You could stand to relax and enjoy it a little.”

He slowly reached out and took the drink. Cheeks still flush from the December air outside. “Right.”

He grinned and it felt very silly in his cheeks. That only made him grin more. Scooting closer to him at the bar. “That’s my name!”

Edgeworth’s sharp eyes glared at him over the rim of the glass. “How many have you had Wright?”

He drifted closer. Elbow supporting him on the bar as he gazed upward at Miles. At his eyes that liked to hide behind his bangs. One of the ceiling lamps haloed his hair and made it shine. “Not that many.”

Miles didn’t pull away. Didn’t shove him away. Just stared right back. Like a painting. The amber liquid held in his hand. Maybe he could pull out those old paintbrushes and capture the image forever.

“Edgey!” Larry’s arms wrapped around Miles neck. Yanking him slightly off kilter. The beer sloshed in his glass. “There you are! We’ve been waiting for you!”

A tiny rumble of annoyance escaped the prosecutor. He shoved Larry slightly, elbowing him. “That’s a blatant lie.”

“Haha yeah. But you know I saved you yesterday so I think you owe me!”

“I think you’re more than adequately intoxicated.”

“I’m fine!” He whined, nuzzling against the increasingly irate Miles. “No fair Edgey, help a brother out!”

“You’re more than capable of making a spectacle of yourself without my help Larry.”

Larry stopped rubbing his face against Miles suit jacket, brow drawn together in a brief moment of something. Which was good because he knew firsthand how irritating that felt. Stupid facial hair. He was half tempted to yank Larry off him just for the sake of keeping the peace.

He reached over to do exactly that. “He said no Larry, come on.” He really needed to learn boundaries. Like don’t touch Miles.

He wanted to growl it.

Larry tightened his grip and hooked his chin over Miles shoulder. Eyes unfocused and staring at the bar wall.

“Yeah yeah fine. You can repay me by drive me home then.”

Miles shoulders drew up. “If you think I’m letting you into my car-“

Larry whispered right into his ear. Over the drone of the bar he couldn’t make it out.

His shoulders tensed impossibly tighter. His face turned further away. Considering Larry. The soft pink flush of his cheeks draining away.

The glass connected harshly with the bar and he stood. Larry sticking like a leach to his back. “Fine.”

“Wha” He stood just as suddenly. Reaching out to grab his sleeve. “But you just got here!” His hand wrapping around Mile’s wrist. “Just call him a cab!”

Miles stared at the point of connection. His hand wrapped around his wrist. For one heartbeat.

Two.

Three.

“Edgey…”

He pulled his wrist free. Rubbing it with his free hand. He hadn’t been holding it that tightly. He didn’t look at Phoenix. “He’ll just get into more trouble if we do that. Excuse us.” He bowed slightly, which seemed difficult to do with Larry the leach and turned. Walked out of the bar.

He took the discarded drink back and grumbled. It wasn’t fair of Larry to kidnap Miles like that.

He paused halfway through an irritated sip to wonder when Edgeworth had become Miles again.

He couldn’t find his suit jacket before he biked after Maya. It was probably just hidden somewhere under the piles of cans and take out containers strewn about the office. He was in a rush. He didn’t have time to look.

It was weirder that it didn’t show up after he’d finished cleaning.

… Well hopefully he wouldn’t need to go to court until it turned up. He didn’t need to add a new jacket to his expenses.

It showed up a week later in the arms of a faux apologetic Larry.

He snatched it back. “I was THIS close to buying a new one Larry! Of course it was you. It’s always you!”

“Hey man that hurts! And I swear it was for a good cause!”

“Oh yeah? And what was that?”

Larry looked away. Rubbed the back of his head. “Uhhh. To help out a friend.” Sure Larry.

“Which friend?’

His eyes stayed trained on the wall. Sweat starting. “You don’t know em.” He lied. Like a liar.

“And how did my jacket help them?”

“That’s not important.”

He growled. “Larry…”

“Anyway! It’s been dry cleaned so you’re not even allowed to get mad! It’s totally fine!”

“I should be getting mad!?” What the hell did you do to my suit jacket?!

“NO!”

He tackled him. Pinning him to the ground. “Larry-”

Was pinned to the ground a moment later. Larry’s weight distributed so efficiently he could hardly wiggle. Arms held firmly to the floor above him.

“Why are you still so much better at this than me?!” He demanded trying to break free.

He grinned that stupid guileless grin. “I win. So now you have to forgive me!”

“Tell me what I’m forgiving you for!”

“Taking your jacket. Obviously.”

“WHY!?” He crunched. Arms lifting an inch off the ground. Larry’s balance shifted slightly and-

He was pinned back to the ground.

“Nuh uh. Losers don’t get to make demands.” Shook his head. “It was for a good cause Nicky. I swear. Your sacrifice really helped out a friend in need.”

“…” He let the tension drain from his arms. “You’re not lying to me?”

Larry let his wrists go and leaned back on his heels. Crossed his heart with his hands. “Edgey boy levels of honesty.” He smiled. Sleeves slipping over his hands. “Besides I smelled that thing when I took it. You should be thanking me. I’m the reason it finally got cleaned!”

He lunged upward for round two.

Every time Ema and him entered Edgeworth’s office he felt a little more trapped. On edge. Desperate. Like he needed to do something. Fight someone. Not Edgeworth. Never Edgeworth. But someone.

Edgeworth he wanted to pin to the ground. Squish into the pink sofa until all the pain left him. Until he was asleep and content in his arms. Until things were all right again.

This case just kept getting worse and worse for him.

“Mr. Wright…” They waited for the elevator. She worried a shape into the pad of her notebook. “Is Mr. Edgeworth going to be alright?”

A letter of resignation.

“His office. It just smelled so…”

Larry said he had a bad nose. Maybe if he had a good one he’d be able to identify what it was.

His gut was a tight ball. His hands clenched in his pockets.

Just because he couldn’t smell it didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.

“Let’s just focus on the case for now.”

“R-right.”

A note on a desk.

“No.” No. He spun around- ready to lash out. To draw blood. This room- this room-

Gumshoe pulled him into his coat and arms. “I’m sorry pal.”

“No.” His fingers dug into the older Alpha’s shirt. Nails pulling the fabric apart at the seams. “No. I was supposed to save him.”

Gumshoes arms held him tighter. Chest roaring with the mountain of distress. “That’s not how it works pal.”

He buried his tears into Detective Gumshoe’s painful purr.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.

“Nick.”

He didn’t need a good nose to know she was upset.

He wrapped his arms around her. Rubbed his cheek against the base of her neck. She pressed her head up into his hair.

“It’s going to be okay Maya. I got this.”

A high pitched noise. “I knew you were special someone’s!”

Maya pulled away, turning to Pearl. “Pearly that’s not!”

“It’s really not.” Way to make this weird.

“It’s time.” A bailiff told them.

“Come on. We’ve got this.”

Franziska didn’t even have the politeness to pretend to apply scent blockers. No. She let her Alpha rage roll off her like ocean waves.

The courtroom isn’t your personal battlefield Von Karma.

Grow up or Get out.

Honestly, she was just making the rest of them look bad. Playing into every angry alpha stereotype.

Of course she had a whip. Of course. Wasn’t that just perfect?

Maya was gone. Maya was gone.

In the hands of an assassin.

He coated on scent blocker. Closed his shaking hands into fists and did what needed to be done.

Go get Matt Engarde a full acquittal.

How dare you come back. How dare you.

“Franziska-” Edgeworth reached out his hand to her. She watched it. Flinched away.

No blockers meant even he could read her.

Anger. Anger and distress. Distress.

Edgeworth wanted to comfort her.

She snatched the tulips from his hands. “I think visiting hours are over.” Retreated.

Edgeworth’s hand stayed aloft for a moment more. Fell.

“Wright. Tell me what’s going on. You clearly didn’t want trial to be adjourned today.”

“Wright.” He jolted. Head jerking to Edgeworth. What was?

“What are you doing here? You left… hours ago.”

He was collapsed in a chair. Pearl, sleeping between his lap and a second chair pulled up next to him. He wanted to look at Edgeworth but his eyes kept drifting back to Maya. Where she and Larry and Lotta and Gumshoe were dancing across the Gatewater floor.

“Yes. I… Managed to catch up with Franziska. Thank you for giving me her whip.”

“Oh that’s…” This thumb drew small circles on Pearl’s shoulder. Maya beamed as Larry twirled her. Safe. Safe. They were safe. “Good.”

“Wright.” There was a hand on his shoulder. He should jerk away from it or lean into it or something. But all he could do was watch Maya. “My room’s a double.”

“Good for you.”

The hand stayed for a few moments more. “I’ll tell Maya it’s time for bed.” The hand went away. His shoulder was cold.

He kept drawing little circles on Pearl’s shoulder.

Edgeworth moved out into the small cluster of people. Maya grinned and grabbed his hand. Spinning around him with that brilliantly bright smile of hers.

Edgeworth let her but he could see his mouth moving. Maya looked over to him. Waved. His arms were leaden exhaustion but he raised one to weakly wave back anyway.

She turned back to Edgeworth. Spoke animatedly. Punched him in the shoulder.

Began skipping over. Edgeworth slowly trailing behind.

“Nick! Guess what!”

“Hm?”

“Edgeworth said we can stay in his room! We get to stay here! In the crazy nice hotel!”

“The office is literally next door.”

“A mattress! With like thousand count sheets! Instead of that busted old couch! Come on Nick!”

“The couch isn’t busted.” Edgeworth leaned down to touch Pearl- pick her up probably.

He growled.

Maya’s eyes went wide. He covered his bared teeth. Edgeworth stopped and watched him.

“Sorry.”

Miles levered himself back to standing. Pushing up on his knees. “Come on Wright. Time for bed.”

The bags under his eyes had a physical weight to them. He tried to pick Pearl up without waking her. She made a small sound and cuddled into his shoulder. Dragged his body upward. To standing.

Maya tucked herself into his side. He put his arm around her shoulder. Tried not to make obvious how much he was leaning on her for support.

Edgeworth held open the door for them. Maya barreled in. Belly flopping onto the mattress. Rubbing her face all over the blankets as she rolled in them.

“Nick these are SO nice!”

The door closed behind Edgeworth. He heard the lock softly click. Watched Edgeworth slide the gold door chain lock into place. Step back. He stared at the lock for a few moments more.

Was that really enough? What if someone came in and took Maya again? Or Pearl this time? That tiny chain wouldn’t stop anyone. There had to be something more he could do-

“Wright.” Edgeworth. “We can put a chair in front, if it would make you feel better.”

Stupid Alpha. It’s fine.

He nodded anyway.

“AH HA!” Maya triumphantly announced. “The nest is done! Give me Pearly Nick!”

She’d already rearranged the blankets and pillows into a small nest pressed against the headboard. He walked over and handed Pearl, who blinked awake briefly as they passed her, over the fabric walls of the nest.

Maya curled around her. Wrapping Pearl up in her scent. Safe. They were safe.

Edgeworth jammed the door with a chair. He paced the outline of the room. Listened to Maya and Pearl purr.

Safe. They were safe.

The water turned on briefly in the bathroom. The purring began to stutter and fault as they fell asleep.

He paced the length of the room.

The bathroom door opened. Edgeworth stepped out in a set of pink pajamas. Neck bare. Some other night he would have enjoyed that.

“You’re going to wear a tread into the carpet.” He warned. Watching him pace. Back and forth. “Either get in the nest with them or lay down.”

“I can’t.” I have to protect them.

Stupid stupid alpha. They’re fine.

“Wright.” Edgeworth cut his path off. A hand pressing into his chest. “Your pack is safe. Close your eyes and breathe in.” He ordered.

He resisted. For a moment. Edgeworth’s face, as hard as always, did not waver.

He closed his eyes and breathed.

Maya. Pearl. Contentment.

Safe.

He fell forward into Edgeworth. The man effortlessly supported his weight.

It was faint under the fresh change of clothes and whatever blocker it was he used. But it was still there. That scent like warm blankets fresh from the dryer.

“At least get in the bed before you collapse on me.” He complained, maneuvering them to the spare bed.

“I’m still mad at you.” He mumbled into his shoulder. They flopped down onto covers. He stayed half on top. One leg slotted between Miles’. Nose pressed to his beautifully bare neck.

“Save that for tomorrow morning.” A hand was carding through his hair. A quiet rumble pushing up through Miles chest into his. “For now, just rest.”

Finally. He slept.

He woke up alone. Well. Not alone. Maya and Pearl slept on in the bed next to him. But Edgeworth was gone.

He listened to the shower run.

Here. Not totally gone.

He burrowed further into the blankets and tried not to growl.

Couldn’t even let me have this Edgeworth? Couldn’t even let me have one morning where I wake up with you in my arms and knew for sure that you’re safe and alive?

He buried his face in the stupid pillows. Chased after that barely there scent.

Asshole.

The second time he woke up the room smelled like breakfast. To Maya jumping right onto him.

“Breakfast! Room service! Nick!”

“Ooof!’ He groaned in protest. “Ooow. Get off me!”

She laughed and scrambled off him. Towards the small table lined with food.

Edgeworth sat on the couch. No bed head in sight. Brushing Pearls hair as she ate.

Your pack is safe.

“Wright you should hurry if you want breakfast. I doubt Maya has any qualms about cleaning the remaining plates.”

“I do not!”

He rolled out of bed with a groan and shuffled over to the table.

“If you’re trying to bribe your way to forgiveness,” He took a bite of the quiche. Stopped. Savored it. That was good. “… It won’t work.” He finished, far less certain than when he’d began.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Stood. Grabbed a pastry. Stared at him as he shoved another bite in.

“… What?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He scolded. His hand came up. Carded through his limp spikes. Arranging them back into position.

He froze. Stuck between irritation and the almost overwhelming urge to lean in.

The hand disappeared. Taking jacket on the chair behind him and pulling it on.

“Have a good day.”

“You’re going to work?!”

He glanced back over his shoulder at them. One eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“… Have a good day.”

There were phone calls across the ocean. He’d drift off to the sounds of Miles readying for the day.

“When are you coming home?” He mumbled, half asleep into his pillow. Listening to Miles put on his cravat for a new day.

He imagined instead he was listening to Miles take it off. Neck bare. So he could lay down in the bed next to him. Warm, sleepy and he’d snuggle into the softest fleece. Purring.

“… Do you need me to?” Was the soft reply. The rustling halting.

“I miss you.”

“… I miss you too.”

It wasn’t just that Iris looked so familiar. It wasn’t just that she felt familiar.

She smelled familiar too. Like that sweet omega he’d loved.

That had betrayed him.

Her hood. It smelled just like her. He pressed the cloth to his nose and inhaled it.

Really it just made everything that much more confusing.

“Wright.”

Edgeworth?

“You’re alive.”

At the door to his hospital room stood a man in a rumpled jacket with deep bruises under his eyes. Ruffles disheveledly ruffled around his neck.

Edgeworth.

“Yeah I’m,” A cough interrupted him. “Not that easy to get rid of.”

The chair next to his bed was pulled out. Edgeworth did not sit perfectly straight in it. His elbows rested on his knees and he leaned in close.

“Larry said you fell off a bridge and drowned.” A low rumble- a growl? Nah. Edgeworth wouldn’t growl. That’d be improper. He giggled at the notion. “I’m going to strangle that man with his own sleeves.”

“No that parts true.” Edgeworth looked upset. “It was only a little on fire.”

Because there hadn’t been much bridge left.

Edgeworth got even paler. He didn’t think his reassurance worked.

“Why would you-” There was a strangled sound.

The bridge.

Maya!

“Maya! She’s still trapped over there!” How had he forgotten? She was trapped over there and it was so cold out and they didn’t have food and- “I have to go help her!” He started to untangle himself from the stupid tangle of blankets.

“I’ll make sure it’s handled Wright.” A hand was on his shoulder. Slowing him down. “Lay down.”

He believed him. Let that hand start guiding him back down when. “Iris.”

“What?”

He twisted towards his laptop. “Iris. She not. I know she didn’t do it. I have to-“ Something stuck in his throat as he twisted and that urge to cough became unbearable. He curled forward and hacked. Coughing and coughing and coughing and he couldn’t stop to breathe in and when he tried there was something there and no air would come in and he was so scared he wouldn’t be able to and Maya and Iris and poor little Pearl-

The bed creaked but he only felt it depress under him over the sound of his own coughing. Warmth blanketed his back and then the rumbling started. Deep and strong it vibrated through the whole of his chest.

He hacked once more and something dislodged. Inhaled. Fresh air filled his burning lungs. He coughed a few more times and tasted slimy mucus on the back of his tongue.

“Ew.” He complained, hand blindly searching for the tissues.

One appeared in his hand and he spit the snot into it. The rumbling did not stop and he eased back into it.

Edgeworth’s arms were wrapped around his chest. His legs splayed out on either side of the bed. His chest was warm and vrring soothingly like hum of a car engine.

He leaned back into it and tucked his forehead into the junction of Miles jaw and neck. Shivering despite the blankets and hood. Despite his warmth.

“I can’t smell you.” He whined. Nose clogged. “You used to smell so good.” Like. Like blankets still warm from the dryer. He wanted burrow into them and wrap himself up in that scent.

“Used to huh?” The motor slowed to half a hum.

“Noooo. Don’t stop. It helps.” He could breathe. The urge to hack out a lung made distant by Miles soft engine.

“Ngh.” The vibration stuttered and restarted.

He drifted there. Tucked into Miles shoulder. Drifting back towards sleep.

“Iris.” He snapped open his eyes and grabbed for the laptop again. “I need-“

Miles pinned him back to his chest with one firm hand. “To sleep.”

“No- No she’s innocent. I know she didn’t do it. I have to. I have to clear her name.”

“Well you’re not going anywhere in this condition Wright.”

Gods. He just need a second body. One that wasn’t ill. That could go investigate for him.

Oh. He had an idea.

“Miles.” The rumbling stuttered and then roared and he could physically feel the sound vibrating through their chests. He tried to angle his head to look at Edgeworth but he’d bowed it and his face was hidden by a curtain of hair. “I need a favor.”

“What now Wright?”

He reached over to the side table again but grabbed something else instead.

“Take this?”

One of the hands around his chest released, palm up.

He set the golden defense attorney’s badge in it.

“W- and do what with this?”

“The rumbles!” He complained about their sudden stopping.

“No I’m not going to purr myself into being alright with this- I’m a prosecutor not a defense attorney!”

“Yeah. I know. A brilliant one. Please. I need you to defend Iris for me.”

“I can hire someone to defend her for you but I can’t just-“

“NO! It has to be you!” He tried to twist in Edgeworth’s grip to plead with him directly. The grip around his ribs tightened. Making it impossible. “You care about stuff. Please. You’re the only one I’d trust with this.”

Miles head tucked into the crook of his neck. His arms shaking.

“I know you can do this. Please Miles.”

His hand closed around the badge and the rest was history.

“Wooh bro you should lay back down.”

He glared at Larry – Laurice – from where he’d fallen from the bed.

Okay so he wasn’t quite as stable as he thought yet. But he was good enough. He could go investigate.

Larry picked him up by the armpits and dragged him back off the floor onto the mattress. “Just let Edgey handle it. Your mate did great today!” Thumbs up.

“My what?! Larry! We’re not!” His face was definitely bright red and not from the lingering fever.

Larry blinked at him. Tilted his head and crossed his arms. “You sure man? Cause you smell hella claimed.”

“Don’t you think I’d know if we were?” (Besides how would we? He keeps running away.)

“Hmm, I don’t know. You’re not always the brightest bulb in the six pack.”

(What does that even mean? And I don’t want to hear that coming from you!)

“I mean he flew halfway around the world to check on you.”

“What? No he said he was already here for work.”

Pity. Why was Larry looking at him with pity?

“Well whatever cuddle party you two had,” He interjected. “That was just because I couldn’t breathe!” Larry ignored him. “You stink. You’re all sickness and distressed omega. You need a shower.”

“I’m not an omega.”

“Didn’t say you were bro.”

The shower was nice. He felt significantly more human after. The steam even cleared his nose for a bit.

It clogged back up by the time he finished getting dressed but it had been nice to breathe clearly while it lasted.

“How could I have done that..?”

Still beating himself up over letting Iris run away during the earthquake it seemed.

“Edgeworth?”

“Aaah!” He jumped and turned like he was going to make a break for it over the fence.

“Hey! Don’t you dare run away!”

He was so sick of Miles running.

He grit his teeth. Held himself. But turned back to him all the same.

“What do you want Wright?”

“What do I want?”

“If you came here to laugh at me, then get on with it. Go on. Laugh.”

(Edgeworth…)

He sighed.

Pulled his hands out of his jacket.

“Fine.” He stepped forward. The snow crunched under his feet. “Come here.”

Miles was nothing but sharp edges and tension when he wrapped his arms around him.

“W-what are you…?”

“You’re stronger than you think. So stop it with all the self-pity okay?”

Between the frigid cold and the cold he still couldn’t smell anything. But he didn’t have to have a working nose to soothe with his own scent. You’re Safe. Loved. Protected.

He wasn’t sure it was working.

Not until Miles melted like spring snow into his arms. Nose tucked into the space between his jacket and scarf.

“I’m sorry for letting her get away.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He ran his fingers through the soft strands of his grey hair.

“I’m still sorry.”

“Then you’re forgiven.”

Miles sighed into his jacket. Squeezed him back. “You’re ridiculous Wright.”

“… You went back to the criminal affairs department right? Because you wanted to look into something about Iris?”

His jacket was released and both stepped back. Not that he wanted to. “Yes. I thought I had seen her before, in court. So I went back and looked.”

“What’d you find?”

His cheek ached. The imprint of Pearls hand turning it red.

Edgeworth squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll handle the girls. Take your time.”

He sent a grateful smile back. Squeezed the hand on his shoulder in return.

“Mr. Edgeworth?” Iris called after him, as he was halfway out the door. “I wanted to thank you for your advice.”

Edgeworth’s lips were a tight line. He nodded.

“I think maybe it’s time you took it yourself.”

“Huh?” He looked between them.

“… I’ll take it under consideration.”

The door closed behind him. “What was that about?” He asked her.

“That’s the Edgeworth you always used to talk about right Feenie?”

Feenie.

Swallowed glass.

It dug into his throat.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“I’m glad you found him at long last.”

“Y-yeah I,” He looked up at her and stopped. What was that expression? Wait. “Hold it! We’re not!” He slammed his hands down on the table. “Not together!”

She smiled. Tittered. “Okay, okay. I believe you Feenie.”

“… Could you not…?”

Her eyes widened. Head tilted down. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“No- its fine.”

They both stared at their hands for a while.

“I know it doesn’t mean much now but… I really did love you. I wanted you to be happy. I still do. So… Even if you hate me…”

Hating you would be easy. It wouldn’t have hurt so much if I hadn’t loved you.

“I’m really glad you found each other. I know that omega really loves you.”

“…” He lifted his head to frown at her. “Maya’s like a sister to me.”

Her eyes widened- gods he could see Pearls in that motion. Morphed into a weak smile. Like they’d just shared a joke that had stopped being funny years ago. One that left her a happy recollection but was mostly sad. “You never had a very good nose did you?”

He almost argued Yeah I still have a head cold from falling in the Eagle River thanks. But he stopped. Searched her.

“… No. I guess not.”

Maya and Edgeworth were speaking in hushed tones in the waiting lobby. Pearly bounced over to him with a can of juice in her hand. He smiled and they neared them together.

“He’s already done far too much for me.” Edgeworth with that worrying self-sacrificial tone.

“Yeah I really don’t think he’d mind.” Maya with a cheeky one.

“Mind what?” He asked.

They both jumped.

“Nothing.” Edgeworth might have said. It was drowned out by Maya’s, “NOTHING!”

And then the sliding of locks over their hearts.

“… I still have the magatama on me.” He warned both of them.

“It isn’t my secret! Pearly and I are taking the bus home! Good night!”

They both watched her go.

Real natural Maya.

“So.”

Edgeworth gripped his elbow and turned away. “It’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”

“Yeah well, too bad. I’m already concerned so save us both some time and just tell me.”

He mumbled something that was definitely not meant to be audible. He leaned in and cupped his ear. “What?”

“I’m in pre-heat! There! Does that satisfy you?” Edgeworth snapped. Face bright red as he glared down at him.

Oh.

Um. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No.” He looked away again but the flush on his cheeks remained. “Franziska has already made it clear she is willing to aid me,” He forced down the irritation that bubbled up. They were siblings. She’d probably helped him through plenty. Somehow that made it worse. “And worst case I can always ask Larry again.”

Again? The growl broke free. He stepped forward. “You asked Larry before me?!”

Edgeworth blinked blankly at him. “Wha- He helped me through the last one I had in LA yes. Why are you?” Miles took a step back into the wall. He matched it.

“Why Larry and not me?! After everything you’d choose Larry over me?!”

“That’s not-”

He couldn’t smell the pre-heat yet but this close he could smell Miles every time he dragged a breath in around his teeth.

“You should have asked Me!”

Miles looked a little dazed where he pressed against the cement brick walls. “I-I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Yes the alpha growl was still rumbling through his vocal cords and throat. It was impolite. But he couldn’t stop it. Larry. Larry got to be there for Miles. Got to share his nest and hold him and- and-

Miles gaze kept flicking away but the growl, his demand for attention, always drew it back. “Because it wouldn’t have been platonic with you.”

The growl died.

You smell hella claimed dude.

“I’m sorry. I swear I don’t mean for this to change anything. I just. I can’t share a heat with you. I can’t pretend like I won’t try and jump you.” He squeezed his eyes tight. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I don’t want to do that to you.”

That omega really loves you.

He touched the hand digging into Miles elbow. Watched the heartbreaking spasm of pain across his face. “What if I want you to?”

“…” Miles eyes blinked open. Studied him. Confused. “What?”

He moved in a breath closer. A mere inch or two between them. He could feel Edgeworth’s body heat. Smell that comforting scent like fresh blankets pulled from the dryer.

And something else. Something that made his mouth water.

“What if I want you to jump me? Want to share a heat non-platonically?”

Cause really, the idea he could share a heat platonically with Edgeworth was absurd. Frankly it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“W-wha- Then I…” He pressed up against him. One hand pushing him into the wall. The other caging him in. He watched Miles groan, eyes fuzzy as his hardening bulge pressed into his hip. “Think we should continue this conversation elsewhere.”

Oh. He glanced around at the waiting room. “Yeah okay. That’s fair.”

“This seems wildly unnecessary.” He complained laying on the office couch. Phone pressed to his ear.

“I will not have either of us rushing into this simply because my hormones are making us…”

“Too horny?”

“Please Wright.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay so what. We’re supposed to like. Share medical history? I had a test after my last partner. I’m clean. I can probably figure out how to email that to you.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I can’t actually review it right now. I’d send you mine but…”

“Wooh do you actually have something?”

“No! I’m clean. I just. Can’t use my laptop right now. And I’d really rather not have Franziska digging through my medical history.”

“Why not?”

“Why don’t I want Franziska digging through my medical history?”

“Why can’t you use your laptop?”

The line crackled. “Ah. I have quite bad light sensitivity during pre-heat. And occasionally during.”

“Does that mean you’re buried under a pile of blankets right now?”

The silence was telling.

Aww.

“Shut up Wright.” He could almost see the blush tinging his cheeks. “I also want to make it clear you may leave at any time. Just let Franziska or Larry know if I become too much for you.”

“Yeah I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Wright.”

“Okay, okay. Promise.”

“Additionally, it’s a stress heat and I’m on birth control so you needn’t worry about that.”

“Yeah I figured. Neither of us exactly seem ready for pups.”

There was a drawn out exhale. “Uh… What else?”

“You okay over there?”

“I’m fine. It’s just. Getting hard to focus.”

His fingers clenched around the phone. I should be there. With you. Not Franziska.

“Don’t growl at me.”

“Sorry. Is that a rule during or just-”

“Just. Right now.”

“Right. Um. No on mating bites?”

“I’m not… opposed. But I agree it wouldn’t be wise.”

Not opposed? He could sink his teeth into the back of Edgeworth’s neck and claim him and keep him. He could almost feel Edgeworth’s teeth sinking into him. Mine. Mine. Mine.

He exhaled and ground the heel of his palm against his trousers. “Fuck.”

There was a quiet whine on the other side. “Behave Wright.” Came the weak protest.

“Sorry. Uh. Boundaries?”

“No derogatory language. At least at the start.” Yeah okay. “And… don’t call me perfect or any iteration there in.”

“Huh? But-”

“That one’s a hard rule. Please.”

“…” Perfect. Perfection.

Von Karma.

“Yeah. Got it.”

“Hm… I can’t think of anything else. Sorry. I haven’t spent a great deal of time thinking about this.”

“Well that makes one of us.��

“… Did you even know I was an omega?”

“Well. No. That wasn’t. What I meant.”

“I see. Yes well.” He coughed. “Fantasy is one thing. The actual mechanics are another. What are yours?”

“My fantasies?”

“Boundaries.” Miles deadpan replied.

“Oh um. Don’t threaten to kill me?”

“That may be difficult depending on how irritating you are in bed.”

“Ha. Ha. Uh… Don’t convince me I’m dating you when it’s actually your secret twin?”

“… Wright are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Yeah no I’m totally fine.” He laughed nervously. “I mean that happened years ago.”

“And you just got closure yesterday.”

“I’m fine. It’s just fresh on my mind. I really do want this.”

“This won’t be my last heat Wright. There’s always next time.”

“Edgeworth. I’m sure.”

“… Alright.” There was the distant sound of Franziska yelling. The phone was muffled as Edgeworth yelled back a reply. “… Anything else?”

Swallowed glass.

“Don’t… Call me Feenie?”

“Why would I call you that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well. I won’t.” There was a pause. “Anything else?”

“I got nothing.”

“Well. If you’re still certain-”

“I am.”

“Don’t interrupt.” He rolled his eyes. Sorry. “You may ask Franziska for the address.”

“You’re not just going to tell me?”

“I’d prefer to give you a few minutes to attempt to think this over. She won’t respond until she’s done at very least.”

“As much as that annoys me I guess that means we won’t run into each other. Little victories.”

“Quite. Alright. Then… See you soon Wright.”

“Phoenix?”

“… See you soon. Phoenix.”

Yeah. This was going to be all right.

Miles apartment was nice. Really nice. Like someone might call the police on him for being here levels of nice.

It was kinda nerve wracking.

Then there’s the multi paragraph directions Franziska sent him. Where the fridge was. Where the food was. What he should order as takeout during if they need more and exactly what exactly he should order.

Where the laundry was. How to run it. How often he needed to change them out or else she’ll whip him for mistreating her brother.

Strongly worded reminders about how he is to make sure Miles is eating and drinking because he hates to eat during heat and-

It’s a lot.

But he pushes open the bedroom door- even he can smell the cloying scent of Miles drawing him in – and the room is empty. A neat bed perfectly made. An open bathroom door. Curtains drawn over the windows.

A pile of water bottles, blankets and towels right next to the closet door along with a laptop, plugged in.

“Edgeworth?” He tries. “Miles?”

“If your nose is still running you should grab some tissues before entering.” Came the response from behind the closed closet door.

He picked a box up off the nightstand and knelt down next to it. “Uh… Omega can I come in?”

“This isn’t porn Wright.” The door cracked open. Edgeworth’s back to him. His head covered by one of Franziska’s blouses. “I hope you don’t expect anything exciting. My head hurts and I just want to sleep.”

He slowly climbed in. It was a beautiful nest. With soft canopy ceilings that must have been attached to the clothing rack and a plush mattress floor covered in soft blankets and towels. The walls intricately weaved together.

“Fuck. Miles its perfect.” Shit. “Sorry.” Messing up right at the gate.

“Yes, It is. Franziska made it.”

“Wha- wait what really? But she’s an alpha.” Although. It did definitely smell like her. He sat down on the floor and stared up. Admiring the handwork. The smell was only… a minor irritant.

Okay it was super annoying. But soon enough it would smell like the two of them and it wouldn’t matter.

“Close the door Wright.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I don’t know how to make nests. Franziska’s always made them for me. Or Larry, that one time.”

“Really? Isn’t it supposed to be instinctive?” A small noise escaped him. “I mean there’s all those tutorials online, right? Maya even made me help her a few times.”

“I could learn. I choose not to. It’d would never be as nice.”

“Why not?”

“… Because I’d have made it.” A growl built in the back of his throat. “Will you lay down?”

He did. “You’d make a great nest Edgeworth. You’re great at pretty much everything you try.”

“Paper cranes.” Well shit. He remembered all those crumpled pieces of paper. Edgeworth’s tear stained face as another one crumpled into recognizable garbage. “Even if I became a master I would only see the imperfections. It’s better for me if someone else makes them.”

Miles rolled over and tucked himself into his chest. Into the sweatshirt he’d pulled on for the trip over. In the darkness he reached out and found the soft grey hair of his head. Stroked it. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

A purr started. He yawned. Alright. He was more tired than he thought.

He nestled into the nest and let Miles purr carry him off.

#wrightworth #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #writing #one day i'm going to finish this #and its partner piece

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mintchocolatechipnut · 4 years ago

Text

the boys in a haunted house

ft. shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto & kirishima eijirou

Note: This came to me in a vision... okay not really but SEVENTEEN’s GoSe episode on the ghost really inspired me to write this. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: fluff, real comedic geniuses here, vague understanding of haunted houses

Word count: 2.3k

SHINSOU HITOSHI

Now Shinsou isn’t really afraid of anything in particular, as in he’s not rattled by jump scares in movies

Instead, he has a penchant for psychological thrillers, because as much as he doesn’t use his quirk for villainous motives, he does like to fuck with people in general

So when you ask to go to a haunted house with him, he’s pretty indifferent, only letting out a non-committal hum as you tell him how this new set has been getting rave reviews from your friends

When you get there, Shinsou’s reminded of the time his class set up a haunted house for the cultural festival, and wonders if he could glean more ideas from this experience should they decide to hold it again this year lmao

As you enter, you’re relieved to know that Shinsou’s interested to at least a certain extent (but for the wrong reasons lol)

When the first jumpscare appears, Shinsou doesn’t so much as flinch, even as he feels your fingernails dig into his arm where you clutch him

He just stares, as if memorising the appearance of the zombie/mummy/ghost and wondering how he could replicate the look with the limited budget his class had for the festival

You didn’t hear this from me, but some of the haunted house actors were creeped out by Shinsou himself

I mean, his purple hair sticking up all ways like that of a mad scientist, coupled with his piercing unnerving stare, while the bags under his eyes carry even more bags and stand out against the pallor of his skin? Boy is setting himself up to look like a real zombie or vampire here

Anyway, if his s/o is more on the timid side, he doesn’t mind letting them hold onto him in any way as they walk through the set

Clutching his arm so tight he wonders if his skin will break under their hold, or the hem of his sleeve being tugged so hard it might tear, Shinsou just likes that you can depend on him and that he makes you feel safe

Though do not put it past him to mess with you even though you’re afraid

He won’t be pushing you toward the ghosts despite your shrieks and wails, or giving you a jumpscare of his own while in the house, but since he likes psychological thrillers so much, he’ll play a prank once the experience is over

‘Gee, Y/N, did you see that guy? He wouldn’t leave you alone at all’

‘... wait what do you mean’

‘You know, the one who followed you around with a knife in his hand? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. Oh wait, you didn’t? Could’ve been my imagination then. Just it was so vivid...’

You’re scared shitless when you talk to the owner and there’s no such ghost, while Shinsou stands a ways behind you and winks conspiratorially at the owner

Cue you hanging onto his arm even on the way home, but Shinsou doesn’t mind one bit

Seems like he’s up for a night of suffocation where you’ll be holding onto him like your life depended on it

Maybe then he’ll tell you it was all a joke. Or that the man with the knife seemed to have followed you home...

Whatever he’ll do, he knows he’ll have fun as long as it’s with you (and as long as you don’t get too mad and kick him out of your room)

Now, if his s/o isn’t easily scared and is more of the playful sort, he’d like doing gag commentary with you as the ghosts show up one by one

Whether your laughter is a coping mechanism, or just the result of plain unadulterated fun, Shinsou’s having fun nonetheless

If you’re really playful, and Shinsou’s feeling it too, you two cook up a plan to scare the ghosts together

While it’s only semi-successful (in which you scare one or two of them and actually earn some human-like screams from them), the both of you can’t stop cackling on the way home

Overall, Shinsou has fun, and he isn’t afraid to tell you so

‘Maybe we should do it again next time, and make a record of how many we can scare individually’

You: ‘BET’

TODOROKI SHOUTO

Given his upbringing, it’s no secret that Todoroki has never had the chance to do things normal teenagers do

So naturally his first reaction to you suggesting a visit to a haunted house is pure curiosity

He knows they exist when class 1-C did it for the cultural festival but he didn’t get the chance to visit it the last time, so why not now?

As you tell him about it, Todoroki’s already whipping his phone out to do some research beforehand, but he relented when you tell him it’s better if it’s a surprise

He doesn’t show it on his face but he’s infinitely excited to be there, in a ‘I have no idea what to expect’ kind of way as he watches you buy tickets

Cue him thinking the whole thing is like the simulations in class and actually creates flames in his hands so you can see clearer in the dark

You have to tell him amidst your laughter that he’s not supposed to do that, and he’s bewildered alright, but he complies

Now Todoroki isn’t a big reactor by any means but since you know him so well, you can tell how the haunted house affects him

Like, he’ll pretty much react the same way he did during the test of courage during summer camp last time in that he’ll flinch silently, but you can see in the dim light how his eyes widen a minuscule fraction and how his shoulders tense up during jumpscares

It’s weird, because as a future hero nothing should faze him, but even when he’s expecting to be scared it does nothing to stop him from actually being scared

Halfway through his hand would automatically reach for yours, and when more jumpscares occur he’ll tighten his grip on it

His grip varies; when he senses a jumpscare his fingers will curl around yours a little more but when he’s actually frightened expect a violent squeeze of your hand, but nothing too painful

If you’re the timid sort, Todoroki’s glad that you feel the same way in some sorts, and feels reassured that it’s the normal way to react to such things as haunted houses (poor baby doesn’t have a clue about social norms, so he’s always questioning whether he’s weird for being the way he is and not being typical in his reactions—the answer is, of course, that he’s loved either way)

If you’re the unfazed sort, Todoroki will admire you as you march through the haunted house hand in hand, his gaze on your small but strong back as you move towards the exit. How you don’t react to anything, and instead even exchange pleasantries with some of the ghosts makes him see you in a whole new light

And then when you’re finally out in the open, where you return to your usual caring self and ask if he’s okay, Todoroki thinks that he couldn’t fall in love with you more than he already has

Spoiler alert: he’s wrong

When you cheekily tell him you’ll protect the next time you visit a haunted house, he buries his face in your shoulders while he hugs you to him tight

‘Thank you.’ You can hear him whisper beside your ear, ‘but let’s not do that again for a while.’

If you’re an absolute horror junkie, you’ll try to convince Todoroki to visit with you again

If he’s still hesitant, you opt to getting him used to jumpscares by watching horror movies together

Sometimes Todoroki can’t help but question what you find so fun about them when you yourself squeal in half-horror and half-delight when you get scared by something on the screen

But if the way you cling to his side is any indication, he likes it anyway

Pretty soon he does get used to jumpscares, in that his heightened senses from all his hero training lead him to predict the right moments where jumpscares occur

Cue him telling you ‘There’s a jumpscare at this part’ and two seconds later a monstrous face appears on screen

At first you’re in awe at his sudden ability only after watching like three films, but pretty soon it gets old and you have to break it to him that it ruins the show for you

Your heart nearly melts when he murmurs in a low voice, ‘I thought I’d just warn you in advance so you wouldn’t be scared.’

In that moment you’re eternally grateful to have someone as awkward and kind as Todoroki as your boyfriend who constantly looks out for your well-being and does his best in making you happy

You kindly explain to him what makes horror movies so good and why jumpscares are supposed to be unpredictable, but not before leaning in to whisper a ‘thank you’ and plant a kiss to his cheek

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

Now Kirishima’s usually game for anything you want to try, but just so you know, he wouldn’t exactly consider a haunted house as an ideal date spot

What’s so romantic about getting scared by a bunch of ghosts who are also paid actors in a small dark space? But hey, if it’s for fun and you want to, why not

But just because he’s the glue of class 1-A, he’ll ask if he can bring some of his friends along since ‘it’ll be more fun that way’

The thing with Kirishima is if he sees other people enjoying this kind of thing he’d like to invite them, and when he can’t picture something being just between the two of you he’s likely to call other people to join

You might be a little disappointed and exasperated about it, but knowing where he’s coming from you can’t really get mad at him

Though if you’re truly bothered about it, just say the word and he’ll change

Sweetie will do anything for you as long as it’s within reason and he knows where you’re coming from

But anyway, you’re not against the idea of having the rest of the Bakusquad join you, since they’re a fun-loving bunch and having them at a haunted house is bound to be ten times funnier

So there’s Bakugou in his usual black skull shirt and Sero and Kaminari, while Mina’s ready to snap away with her camera so she can get some funny reaction pics out of the boys

While lining up for tickets you’re surprised by Kirishima learning in from behind you and whispering into your ear: ‘Don’t worry babe, I’ll protect you from anything you find scary in there!’

Heat immediately rises to your cheeks when you think about the utter cheeseball he is, and when you turn around to face him Kirishima has his trademark toothy grin on his face as he looks at you

How could you even be disappointed about this not being a date when Kirishima is still being his caring, romantic self?

Mina, who’s behind the both of you in line, immediately scrunches up her face in mock disgust. ‘Ew, you two,’ she says in mock disgust and you know she’d heard Kirishima. ‘Get out of here and get a room.’ The three of you end up laughing it off anyway.

When you step into the haunted house, Kirishima naturally takes your hand in his, and an immediate sense of safety washes over you when you feel his hand encapsulating yours

Going through the haunted house with Kirishima is an absolute hitch, as he knows just how to react and still have fun with you

Kirishima isn’t the kind to be scared easily, but he always acts scared alongside you because he doesn’t want you to feel alone in your fear

Jokes on him because you can tell exactly when he’s scared or not, because laughing is his coping mechanism for these things

The louder he laughs, the more scared he is, and he laughs a fair bit while you’re walking through the haunted house

When he really gets frightened though, he accidentally activates his quirk so you feel his skin harden a little in your hand

Just as quickly he retracts his hand and forgets his fear in favour of worrying over whether he hurt you, the sweetheart that he is

But the highlight of the night is really when Bakugou nearly blasted Kaminari to smithereens when he appeared behind him wrapped in Sero’s tape like a mummy, but not without Mina’s acid melting through the tape so he looked like he’d just escaped from his ancient sarcophagus

The only reason Bakugou stopped himself from yelling ‘die!’ is when he hears a ‘whey~’ escape from the mummy’s mouth, which is when he drags the ‘mummy’ by the collar out through the exit while the rest of you rush after him in hysterical laughter

Whether it’s because Kaminari instantly sobered up when Bakugou threatens to blow him up, or that Kirishima notices that Bakugou’s palms and forehead are tinged with cold sweat, you all have a great time nonetheless

When you confront Kirishima about purposely faking his fear in front of you, an embarrassed blush immediately overtakes his face

‘I just thought it’d cheer you up, so you wouldn’t focus on your own fear too much,’ he says, and his face turns even redder when you laughingly point out his own tells

‘I guess I really can’t hide anything from you,’ he then smiles after looping his arm with yours on the way back, the Bakusquad squabbling a ways in front of you so they can’t hear his next words that make you swoon. ‘But I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

#bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha x reader #mha headcanons #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

The Haunted Ones: 1 Hello, Welcome Home

Tom Hanniger x Reader

Words: 2603

Series Summary: Scarred by their past, Tom Hanniger and his girlfriend decide to face their nightmares together. When the reader’s past begins to resurface, the two must hold fast to each other, or submit to insanity.

Episode Summary: After six years together in the institution, the reader takes Tom back to her hometown. Back to where it all happened.

Notes: I know I said fourteen imagines for October, but I just couldn’t resist this idea after watching this movie. I wrote a fic series for the video game Until Dawn and I’ve wanted to write something similar for a long time. I don’t know how often this’ll be updated, so just continue to check in if you enjoy!

Thanks to my wonderful beta @suckmysupernatural. She’s a beautiful human and I love her!

Shake. Shake. Shake. You could hear the pills rattling around in your pocket. Shake. Shake. Shake. The jeep slowly creeped down the road, a heavy fog making it nearly impossible for Tom to see. You were getting close.

Trees stretched up to the sky, looming over the car like they were ready to swallow you. You used to love those trees. Even they seemed to have turned against you. You kept your gaze on the road and with every mile, the weight on your chest grew heavier and heavier. It wouldn’t be long before you passed the house.

Tom noticed the way you shrank into your seat like you were trying to disappear. The look in your eyes was one he was all too familiar with. It was a crippling combination of crushing guilt and absolute terror. You’d had it since you’d left the institution and it only intensified when a narrow road split the trees apart. It gaped at you, mocking your fear. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that the house was watching you. Tom drove faster, hoping to put your memory in the rearview mirror as soon as possible.

With a trembling hand, you dumped a couple of pills into your palm. Shake. Shake. Shake. You brought the little white ovals up to your lips, feeling Tom’s worried gaze follow your movement.

“Maybe we should go camping like we talked about.” He suggested, pulling the jeep over. He knew you hated those pills. He hated his too.

“No.” You swallowed, shaking your head. “I have to go back. I have to go home.” You hesitated and made sure Tom wasn’t looking before you poured one more pill into your hand. Shake. Shake. Shake.

“Fucking hate motels.” Tom muttered as he stuck the key in the lock. You felt all of the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Someone was watching you. Afraid to look, you slowly turned your head. The curtains of the room next store closed in a flash.

“What is it?” Tom asked, eyes searching the direction that you were looking.

“I thought… nothing.” You pushed inside the room. You were just being paranoid. You just had to keep reminding yourself what the nurses said. Dr. Krychek was dead. She couldn’t hurt you anymore.

Tom placed both of your bags at the foot of the bed before collapsing onto the comforter. You kicked off your shoes and crawled up beside him. Tom slowly unbuttoned your jacket and laid his hand over the large, jagged line that stretched across your stomach. His touch grounded you. It kept you from going back there. Back to that house.

While he soothingly ran his fingers over the length of the scar, you tapped the rhythm of his heart beat on his chest.

This was a routine that you’d fallen into anytime one of you was having a particularly rough day. HIs touch kept the pain at bay and your steady taps reminded him that he was still himself. You anchored each other to the present to keep from slipping into the past.

“Thank you.” You whispered into the fabric of his sweatshirt. The olive green color reminded you of a pond - steady and calming.

“I still think we should leave.” He huffed, his arm tightening around you protectively. “I don’t care what the nurses said.”

“It’ll help me get closure. I need to move on.” It was a line you’d heard over and over again. Your voice sounded automatic, rehearsed. The following words were your own. “I have to go see her, Tom. She’s probably wondering where I’ve been all these years.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, last time you saw her was the trial and she nearly broke your nose.” Tom pulled away to give you a concerned glance. You shrugged.

“From what I’ve heard, Amanda has been doing okay. She’s married now and adopting two boys.” You had a tone of envy in your voice. “She certainly coped better than I did.” For one, she didn't spend the last six years being fed a bunch of self-help bullshit.

Tom didn’t try to argue. He just wanted to keep you safe, whether it was from this town or from yourself. Your eyes locked together and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Can we talk about something else?” You pouted. It had been a long day and you wanted to forget where you were, if only for a few hours. Tom nodded.

It felt odd, having no one to hide from. Your nurses discouraged romantic attachments, especially with other patients. They said that a relationship would only confuse you more. They also thought that you were just some fragile little girl afraid of her own shadow. They didn’t know what you were capable of.

And you weren’t hiding anymore.

Tom’s breathing hitched as you lowered his hand from your scar to the waistband of your jeans. His free hand undid the rest of the buttons on your jacket and snaked around your back, unclipping your bra with one motion.

With your hands free, you removed his sweatshirt, followed by his belt. He slipped off his jeans before shimmying yours down your legs. You threw your jacket on the floor, followed by your shirt. The cool air found your bare skin, making your shiver, but his body was quick to warm yours. He whispered your name, kissing a trail from your neck down your stomach until he settled between your legs. Your fingers laced through his hair, desperate to feel something other than fear or anger or despair. You just wanted to feel him.

By the time Tom woke up, you were half dressed. You walked around the motel room in slacks and your white lacey bra. He couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

“Hey,” He greeted, lazily swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“I’m just going out for some coffee. Sleep in.” You playfully shoved him back onto the pillows. Tom hooked his fingers through your belt loops and pulled you onto his lap.

“Give me a second to get dressed and I’ll go with you.” His strong arms locked around your waist and those green eyes nearly had you. You shook your head and kissed his forehead.

“I can go get coffee by myself, Tom. You spent all day driving yesterday. You need the extra rest. Especially after last night.” You silenced his argument with a kiss. “I won’t be gone long.” Tom gave you a disapproving frown.

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. You pried yourself away and put on one of your nicer blouses. You wanted to look decent for your return to your home town. If you could look sane, maybe people would believe it.

You went out the door and Tom laid down, but had no intention of sleeping. He didn’t like sleeping alone. Without you, he saw him again. Swinging that fucking pick ax into someone’s skull. Sometimes it was your body he saw in those mines. Sometimes he saw his own.

You didn’t really just go to get coffee. You to Alli’s, the diner in town that you went to as a kid. You had heard that Amanda was working here as a manager. Funny. She used to be a law student. But hey, who were you to judge?

The subtlety you’d been hoping for was quickly ruined. It felt like every pair of eyes were on you. Cars even slowed down to get a better look. You tried your best to ignore them. None of them understood. None of them except Amanda.

The sign of Alli’s had new paint. It used to be blue. It was red now.

Going in was like a scene from a movie. The music stopped, all chatter halted and everything just froze. Dozens of stares burned into you and you wished you could sink back into that motel bed with Tom’s warmth pressed against you. Holding your chin a little high, you approached the register.

“What is going on out here? Y’all look like you’ve seen a-” Amanda froze, eyes meeting yours, “ghost.”

“Hey Mandy.”

Just like that, it all flooded back into you. And from the look of her eyes, you knew she felt it too. Neither of you were standing in that diner anymore. You were back at the house.

Seven Years Ago

Your legs ached, your muscles screaming from being strapped down for so long. But you couldn’t stop. If you stopped, she’d catch you.

“We have to go back for her!” Amanda sobbed. You were practically dragging her down the hall, fingers clamped around her wrist. Your other arm was pressed against your bleeding stomach like you could keep your insides from spilling out. With the amount of blood gushing from the wound, your vision was turning black around the edges. And still, you pulled Amanda along behind you as you kept running.

“Stop it! Stop!” Amanda fought your iron grip. “We have to go back for her! Ashley! Ashley!” Her screams for her sister went unanswered.

“Ashley’s dead.” You blurted. Amanda pretended not to hear you.

“Ashley! Ashley!” A figure appeared at the end of the hall.

“Get back here!” Dr. Krychek shrieked.

“Fuck.” You muttered, yanking Amanda through the door. She kicked and she screamed, but you didn’t care. You were getting out.

Present Day

“Y/N?” Amanda gasped. “Jesus, I thought you might be-”

“Dead?” You laughed humorlessly. You stepped towards her. “Nuts? Yes. But very much alive.”

You waited for her to yell. To slap you and to order you out of the restaurant. You weren’t prepared for her to fling her arms around you and cry happily into your shoulder.

“I thought I would never see you again.” She cried. “And after everything I said at the courthouse… I’m so glad you came home.”

Still shocked by the rush of affection, you hesitantly returned her hug. The last time you saw Amanda, she clawed your face and called you a murderer. She had to be pried off you by courthouse security. They said she wasn’t thinking straight because of the trial, but she was the only one who knew the truth. Dr. Krychek didn’t kill her sister. You did.

Back at the motel, Tom was getting anxious. Your ten minute coffee run had turned into an hour. His call to your cell went unanswered, sending an icy panic through his veins. If you were alone for too long, you could have one of your episodes, with or without those damn pills.

“She’s abandoned you, Tommy boy. Left you all alone with me.”

Tom ignored him and called again.

“Come on, you’re not really worried about her. You’re worried that, without her, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Tom quickly downed a handful of his pills and continued to ignore the voice. Leaving one more unanswered call, Tom decided enough was enough. He put on some jeans and his sweatshirt and grabbed the keys to his jeep.

“I’ll be back, Tom. You know I will.”

Tom took a deep breath and started the car. He didn’t make it far before he saw the glare of red and blue lights. Again, the freezing hand of panic seized his heart. No, no, no. He slammed on the breaks, leaving the jeep in the middle of the street to investigate.

The yard was teeming with police and paramedics. They had been called too late, judging by the body being loaded into the ambulance.

“Poor woman.” One of the neighbors. “Emily was supposed to play cards this weekend… poor woman.”

He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t you.

“What happened?” He wondered genuinely. The woman shrugged.

“The gardener found her. All cut up on her kitchen floor.” She shook her head. “It’s like the Krychek killings all over again.” She mused before walking over to a group of other neighbors. Tom observed the scene for another minute or two before returning to his jeep.

He found you walking down main street with another woman. You were smiling.

Tom quickly pulled over and caught up to you. You noticed the worry on his face before he threw his arms around you. In catching up with Amanda, you had forgotten he was waiting for you.

“You didn’t answer your phone and when I saw those cops I-” He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Paranoid, I know.”

“Tom, I’m so sorry.” You pulled back and placed an apologetic kiss on his cheek. “We got to talking and I didn’t even think about how worried you would be.” His eyes darted between you and Amanda.

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Amanda. Y/N and I were friends when we were kids.” She held out her hand to shake his and he took it, eyes narrowed slightly. She just kept smiling.

“It’s okay, Mandy. He knows.” You could tell that she had this part rehearsed well, but there was no need to pretend with Tom. She visibly relaxed. He gave her a small smile.

“Tom Hanniger.” Her expression was quizzical, as if she was trying to place the name. Tom clarified. “That Hanniger.”

You forgot that you weren't too far from Tom’s hometown. The news of the mine collapse and the Harry Warden murderers spread all over the state. Even after nine years, she recognized the name.

You recalled something strange Tom had mentioned.

“What were you saying about the police?” You asked. His expression darkened.

“They found a body.” His lips formed a grim line. There was something else.

“What?” You urged. You never hid anything from each other. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I heard someone say…” He trailed off, reluctant to share in fear of scaring the two of you. You and Amanda watched him expectantly. “They said it was like a Krychek killing.”

Amanda gasped, but you didn’t make a sound. It was like a light in your eyes just switched off. This is what he was afraid of.

“Baby, hey, look at me. Y/N, look at me.” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb lightly tracing your trembling lip.

“W-what’s wrong with her?” Amanda squeaked.

“Y/N, I'm right here. You’re right here.” He slipped his hand in between the two of you, resting it over your blouse where he knew the scar was. After a moment, his touch brought you back. You blinked and the light flipped back on.

“Tom?” You whispered. He enveloped you in his embrace.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He swayed slightly, rocking you in his protective arms. Amanda gave the couple a small smile.

“I’d better get back to work.” She sighed. Her eyes brightened with an idea. “Come to dinner tonight. Matt and I would love to have you.”

You parted from Tom to give her a nod. She excitedly walked back to the diner, leaving the two of you behind.

“She seems… well adjusted.” Tom noted, leading you to the jeep.

“She certainly coped better than I did.” You scoffed, repeating your statement from the previous night. Still feeling the aftermath of your attack, you pulled out your pills and dumped them into your hand. Shake. Shake. Shake. With a heavy sigh, you looked at the town you once called home. “God, it’s like nothing’s changed.”

“One thing has.” Tom put his hand on top of yours. “You’re not alone anymore.” Your lips turned up in a loving smile. With a sweet kiss Tom started the car.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

#my bloody valentine #jensen ackles x reader #not dean #but kinda dean #tom hanniger x reader #halloween #horror #slasher #there will be blood #lots of blood

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anoutlandishfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Metamorphosis Chapter 25: In the Womb of the Earth.

*waves at all y’all collectively* I CAME BACK LIKE I SAID I WOULD!!!

So, I started this chapter way back in November/December (read: after the previous chapter posted) and then everything fell apart. My health took a nosedive (I’m having surgery day after tomorrow) and I was literally focused on getting thru the day and surviving work and my brain couldn’t function on the level I needed it to to write this chapter. Things have gotten a little better (soon to be a LOT better) and I managed to crank this one out!

Special thanks to @thefraserwitch for the constant stream of texts that inspired a whole heckuva lot and to @diversemediums for being the confirming POST IT voice that I seem to always need in my life. Y’all rock.

BUT ANYWAY HERES THE DEETS

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night to Jamie?

You can find the previous chapter here (Part One / Part Two) if you need to catch up (I wouldn’t blame you). You can also find the master list of the whole fic here on Tumblr or its also current on AO3.

___________________________________________

February 20th, 1744; The Abbey, Scotland.

“I’m fine,” I glared at Jamie and pointed to our chamber’s door for good measure, insisting, “Go.”

He made no move to do so, his auburn brows bunched together in concern instead as he observed, “Ye’re lookin’ a bit green aboot the gills, Sassenach.”

“I’m just tired,” I hedged.

It certainly wasn’t a lie.

We’d sail with the next morning’s tide and the knowledge had everyone on edge. No one had slept well the night before, nor had anyone high hopes of the day passing quickly. Time seemed to stretch on forever now that the end was in sight and my husband’s nervous presence — though well intended — was becoming insufferable.

“Can I help ye back into bed, a’ least?” he offered. “Do ye think you could sleep a wee bit?”

I contemplated this, then turned my gaze to my usual chair by the fire. It was a worn out sort — overstuffed to the point that it made reclining bliss — with a low footstool to accommodate my swollen ankles.

Did I want to lay down completely… or just sit a while?

A wave of bone-aching fatigue washed over me, but my brain rattled off all the things that still needed to be done before we left.

How many more linens would Brother Erastus let me turn into nappies?

Brother Nathaniel said he’d see to the food stores for the journey, but I wanted to inspect them yet today… so I’d have time to repack should I need to.

Come to that, were our things packed?

I winced, knowing I’d think of a dozen more things my weary mind had forgotten once I got started.

Maybe I would just sit a bit.

A decidedly Scottish noise broke into my thoughts as a warm hand slipped around mine, gently leading me towards the edge of the bed.

I opened my mouth to protest but stopped as he eased me onto the soft mattress, swinging my feet up and helping me roll onto my left side. I grabbed for all the available pillows — gleefully seizing Jamie’s — and was soon completely ensconced.

Bloody hell, this feels amazing.

I heard a rumble of laughter from above me and lifted my face for a kiss, Jamie happily obliging.

“Sleep well, my hen,” he crooned, his thumb gently stroking my cheek as his lips hovered just above mine.

I realized that I really must look something like a mother hen tucked up in her nest and a slow smile spread across my face as I kissed him again.

“I willna be gone long,” he assured me a moment later when we came up for air. “Jus’ to see Murtagh about the carriage, aye?”

“Take your time… I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Jerking awake to the sound of the door bouncing off the wall, I caught a rather undignified squeal of alarm just before it left my lips as I was yanked from a deep, numbing sleep and thrust unceremoniously into the land of the living.

I lifted my head from the pillow and discovered I was no longer alone in the room, but now in the middle of a veritable bear pit. Loud, male declarations of Herself’s safe arrival and that there’d been nae trouble aboot the matter at all only muddied the waters as I blinked groggily, hastily looking for my husband amid the array of kilts and breeks.

“Aye, place it there,” came his voice, followed by a muffled thud as they did so, and I dropped my head back down onto the pillow.

He was here. He obviously had things — whatever the hell they may be — well in hand. If I were needed, he certainly knew where to find me.

My hand slid up between the sheets and I lifted it to my face, rubbing my heavy eyes as I tried to place what on earth they could be talking about. Why they couldn’t use proper nouns in this godforsaken country like any other civilized people was beyond me.

The movement accomplished nothing except to wake the rest of my body up, settling a dull, pulsating throb in the depths of my skull and my hip to aching with such a veracity that I could have sworn my fall in the Theive’s Hole had been yesterday, not four months ago.

“Jamie?” I called and the room fell instantly silent as they all quite suddenly remembered my presence.

My voice had sounded pitiful, even to my own ears, but I didn’t care. I needed him to explain what the hell was going on and get the rest of these men out of my room… and he’d better do it quick.

“Och, I’m sorry to be wakin’ ye, lass!” Willie’s voice was the first to profess from somewhere at the back of the crowd, “Tis only tha’ we thought ye’d be wantin’ to ken wha—“

But Jamie immediately pushed through the throng and succinctly cut him off, his face drawn with concern as he nearly threw himself onto the floor at the side of the bed. I reached for him and he bent over me, kissing my brow softly as he apologized profusely, “Christ, I’m sorry, lass!”

My abject confusion over the situation must have been evident, for he continued on without letting me speak.

“Lady Drummohr sends you her good wishes, mo nighean donn… She says she hopes she’ll see you at dinner but understands if you dinna feel up to it… Says she remembers bein’ this far wi’ her own bairns an’ wouldna blame ye if he didna leave yer chamber this evenin’... I’ll give her your thanks, aye?”

I shook my head, dismissing both the notion that I was so feeble that couldn't leave my room and the cancellation of the opportunity to see a real, bonafide mother in the flesh for the first time since arriving at the abbey ten weeks ago.

“What is that?” I scowled vaguely in Murtagh’s direction, where a good sized trunk lay at the man’s feet. He stood beside Jamie with the barest hint of a smile beneath his heavy beard and I knew something was up.

I may have a name to go with the who but I still hadn’t the foggiest idea of the what.

“Aye, tis from the Lady,” Jamie continued, his face brightening with excitement. “She said she didna ken how much you were able to take awa’ with you, so she brought some things you may be needin’ for yourself an’ the bairns.”

“Oh, Jamie…”

All of the air left my lungs in a mighty whoosh as everything came rushing back to me.

We would, indeed, be sailing to France, but first we would have to successfully make it aboard the ship.

There were at least half a dozen of His Majesty’s finest dragoons stationed in the village just outside the abbey and positioned at strategic points between here and the harbor. We would need to fool every single one of them… and Dougal had found a perfect cover for us in one Lady Margaret Grant of Drummohr. Hailing from Dalkeith, a good three days' ride away, she would not be recognized as anything other than a traveling woman of good repute.

I could then take her place with a nom de guerre of my choosing, with Jamie and Murtagh trading places with two of her footmen, and we’d safely ride to the harbor in our luxurious borrowed carriage. Should we be stopped leaving the abbey — and heaven forbid we would — I could explain in my blatantly British accent that I was sailing for Le Havre where I would be meeting my merchant marine husband.

But I hadn’t counted on Lady Margaret being generous above and beyond her arrangement with Dougal.

My free hand lifted to my lips, my fingers trembling as Jamie undid the latch and opened the trunk. He lifted out a small quilt and placed it on the coverlet before me, then froze as he spotted the fragile contents below.

“Oh God, Claire,” Jamie wheezed, immobile at the sight of four tiny baby gowns.

I reached out blindly through sudden tears, needing to touch the garments — to touch him — and was rewarded with both. His arms wrapped around me again, his head dipping into the curve of my neck as the tips of my fingers reverently traced the swirls of thistles and leaves around the neck of one gown.

“I don’t... I didn’t have any clothes for them,” I swallowed hard, trying to tramp down the feeling of complete and utter inadequacy, “Jamie, I barely have nappies for them to shit it, how the hell am I supposed to be a mother to them?!”

His head lifted and his blue eyes — so completely calm, damn him — focused on mine, one corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile as he assured, “We’ll manage it, mo nighean donn… There’s the both of us, aye? I’ll no’ be lettin’ ye fall.”

I kissed him then, pulling him closer in desperate urgency. His lips met mine and anchored me to him, holding me fast as I tried to make sense of the storm building around me.

“I’ve got you,” he crooned, pressing my head against his chest when we came up for air.

I concentrated on the sound of his pulse, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek, and slowly felt clarity return to me.

“What else is in there?” I sniffed.

His arms loosened around me and he peered over the edge of the trunk a moment.

“More wee things for the bairns… but I think this one’s for you, Sassenach.”

With this he let go, retrieving a bodice and woolen skirt dyed a deep navy blue from the depths of the wooden chest.

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t fit you,” I grinned and took it from him.

He grunted good naturedly at my jest and obediently bent his head for a closer look when I shoved the bodice back into his lap, cheering with delight.

“Oh, aye,” he nodded appreciatively, yet his voice held that hollow tone of disproportionate earnest. “Tha’ll do verra nicely for you, Sassenach.”

I rose one brow at him, “You have no idea why I’m excited about it, do you?”

“Aye, well… tis a new frock, isn’t it? An’ a bonnie one a’ that,” his grin turned sheepish as he confessed.

I lunged for him, meaning to poke him between the ribs, but he caught my hands well in time and I laughed.

“The boning, the lacing of it,” I nodded towards the bodice, “It’s made for mothers!”

“Oh, aye?” his brows shot up at this and he dropped my hands in order to take a second, proper look.

I began to examine the waistband of the matching skirt as he did so and very much liked what I found.

“So’s this,” I continued. “I can wear it now and continue to after they’re here.”

He handed it back with a greater appreciation, his gaze growing wistful, “Did Jenny’s gowns have such things?”

I nodded, fighting back my gut-wrenching yearning for Jamie’s elder sister. It was always there, brooding under the surface as I contemplated our life to come. I didn’t have much of anything in the way of worldly goods, but what I did have, I’d gladly give to have her with us.

“We may be leaving Scotland at dawn,” I whispered hoarsely, then swallowed hard in order to continue, “but I know we’ll be back… I just know it. You children will see their birthright. I promise you.”

He leaned forward and kissed me softly, the promise of his body, of his protection and undying love echoing my own.

Leaning back after a moment with a sigh, his gaze fell on the tiny baby gowns and his eyes took on a light of complete wonder.

“I havena held a bairn in a verra long time,” his voice was deeper than usual, husky with longing to take his own children into his arms. “I ken they’ll be wee… but, a dhia, Sorcha, I forgot just how much so.”

I draped the gowns over the swell of our children and brought his hand to the place where one insisted on causing a disturbance within me.

Nodding, I pressed hard against them, urging them to respond to us, “But they’re strong.”

“Aye,” he brought his lips to mine as his children proved my point emphatically, “Just like their mother.”

…

Later That Evening

Dinner had been delightful, though we’d still excused ourselves as soon as was appropriate, citing our early departure.

But in truth, I had only one destination in mind.

The hot spring.

I shut the door of our chamber behind us with a grin and leaned against it, insisting abruptly, “Take off your clothes.”

Jamie started visibly then burst out laughing as he sat down hard upon the bed.

“Oh, aye?” He rose a brow when he could finally speak, his shoulders still shaking, “Is tha’ how it’s goin’ to be?”

Heat rose to my cheeks as I shook my head in mock derision, reaching over to the nearly empty chest of drawers and withdrawing two homespun robes of a deep chestnut hue. I tossed one to him and his amusement turned to curiosity.

“I want to show you something,” I blurted, not wanting to give away the surprise and yet needing to get him out of the room somehow.

Both brows rose nearly to his hairline as he looked at me skeptically.

“An’ I must wear this?”

I undid the lacing of my new bodice, commenting, “We both are.”

“Ye’re delirious, Sassenach,” Jamie shook his head. “Ye canna be tellin’ me ye mean to wander about in nothin’ but that?”

“Well,” my blush rose considerably and I wished he’d just put on the damn thing and be done with it already, “it covers more than you’d think… and I stick to the shadows.”

“Ye’ve done this before?!”

The incredulity of the idea had him back on his feet in an instant, a fire burning bright in his eyes.

“I have,” my chin rose defiantly, “and I plan on doing it one last time before we go.”

A slow grin spread across his face, the indignation in his eyes melting into unfettered requirement.

“With me?”

“Of course with you,” I snorted, shoving his robe against his chest. “Just put the bloody thing on, will you?”

He did so immediately, then helped me in turn, all the while his grin permanently splitting his face in two.

“Good,” I appraised him, adjusting the belt around my waist more securely.

“Shall we go, then?”

Jamie rose a brow at this and opened the door, bowing low over his hand as he gestured into the deep shadows of the hall.

Slipping my hand into the crook of his arm, we made our way wordlessly along the dark passageways. We turned this way and that, the slope of the floor slowly dipping as we got closer. Finally reaching the door to the passageway, I opened it and sighed with relief as I found the sconces already lit.

We continued on for some time and eventually had to walk single file as the tunnel narrowed.

“Are ye sure ye ken where we’re goin’?” Jamie asked skeptically from behind me, his frown evident in the darkness.

I suppressed a laugh and brushed the tips of my fingers along the solid rock wall, “Well, there’s no chance of us taking a wrong turn, now is there?”

The tunnel was dimly lit and full of twists and turns, but held no offshoots or forks of any sort. It simply led to our destination, which was the only reason the brothers let me travel to and fro unattended. There was absolutely no chance of me getting lost underground as I traversed completely naked beneath my borrowed robe.

Brother Jeremiah had introduced me to the abbey’s restorative hot springs during the long weeks of Jamie’s recovery. I could slip away and find relief for a few hours as Murtagh watched over our beloved charge. The warm buoyancy of the water relieved the pressure of the lives within me, rewinding time to give my body back to me. The quiet solitude soothed my frazzled nerves and slowly healed the mental and emotional wounds inflicted by the horrible ordeal we had all just gone through.

The heat of the spring wafted towards us quite suddenly and a shiver of excitement ran up my spine, raising gooseflesh in its wake.

“We’re almost there,” I assured him unnecessarily.

The light of the cavern was discernible before us — bless the brothers for preparing it for us — and Jamie now could see it for himself. We continued on a few paces more and then we stood in the midst of the gaping cavern. Sconces were positioned here and there between us and the shore, attempting to illuminate the void, but great gaps of darkness stood beyond and it was clear that the space was a good deal larger than either of us could imagine.

I let out a sigh of absolute delight, so relieved to finally be here, and asked, “Do you like it?”

Jamie didn’t answer but looked around with his mouth agape. I knew the feeling fell, but my eagerness to be within the pool had me disrobing before my poor husband knew what was happening. I had one foot in when his voice stopped me.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he burst in delight, “‘tis a hot spring!”

I laughed and continued my descent down the carved stone steps.

“Oh, you do. Good,” I grinned and reached the bottom. “Do come in, then.”

Jamie shed his robe, but kept a firm hold of his skepticism, asking from the top of the stairs, “How hot is it? Should ye be bathin’ in it in yer condition, Sassenach?”

I shook my head, my curls splaying this way and that on the surface of the water, and I rolled my eyes.

If he only knew how bloody amazing it feels in here.

The muscles of my lower back had immediately relaxed upon contact with the water, my hips loosened and my breathing eased. They seemed to like it too, for they tumbled with delight at the first and then settled into a blissful slumber. I could walk slowly about, stretching my long limbs without the strain of gravity. Or I sometimes lay my arms on the stone ledge of the shore, resting my head atop them as I let my legs float out from beneath me… levitating weightless in the water.

“It gets hotter the further out you go,” I assured him, gesturing vaguely into the darkness. “I stay over here in the shallows and I’m just fine… it's like a splendid bath that never grows cold.”

He continued in, the water slowly swallowing him up as he joined me. The awe was back in his eyes, now seeing and feeling for himself what a splendid thing this was. He wiggled his toes in the clean, black sand at the bottom of the pool, sending pulsating currents over my own. The surface looked deceptively still, but there were small currents here and there if you knew where to find them… the pulse of the living, breathing spring.

Jamie turned to grin at me in the darkness, his teeth flashing white in the sconces’ flickering light.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he repeated and shook his head, completely at a loss.

I laughed, “You approve, then?”

“Oh, aye,” he insisted, looking ‘round excitedly. “I do, indeed.”

Jamie bounced on his toes slightly as he squinted out into the darkness.

“How far does it go?”

“I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “It got too hot for me.”

He nodded with an adorable sense of determination and I knew he was out to explore this oasis I had just introduced him to. He started to move away but I touched his arm, stopping him for a moment.

“Be careful, alright?”

His face melted and he leaned back in for a kiss, nudging my nose with his, “Aye, I’ll keep an eye for any wee beasties.”

“Any big ones too.”

“Mmm,” he kissed me again, “I think we’re quite safe, m ’ionmhas. Though, tis a shame we left our pet selkie behind, hmm?”

I laughed and shoved him away, letting him explore to his heart’s content. I could hear him splash this way and that, muttering to himself, but was surprised when he returned shortly after he left.

“Nothing out there?”

He snorted, “Entirely too much that I canna see… and you’re right, tis a good deal hotter out there.”

His skin was delightfully warm as I slipped my arms around his neck with a sigh. Resting my cheek against his chest, I let my feet float out beneath me. He towed me slowly around the edge of the pool, the water rippling over my legs and abdomen feeling remarkably like his caressing hands. I became warmer and more aroused by the moment, the tips of my sensitive breasts brushed against his chest and set off fireworks deep within me.

He found the man-made niche cut into the wall that I liked to frequent and sat on the wooden bench, pulling me to sit sideways on his lap. I knew there was plenty of room for both of us on it and pushed him backwards as I moved to straddle him. The eager glow in his eyes set me afire as I settled myself more comfortably, treasuring him for a moment before guiding him home. The accompanying inrush of hot water surprised me for a brief moment, but I soon found it incredibly exhilarating and settled myself with a sigh of pleasure.

“Oh, I like that one,” he purred.

I blinked at him stupidly and asked, “Like what?”

“That sound you made,” he explained, the delight evident in his eyes, “the wee squeak.”

I didn’t think it was possible to blush — I knew my skin was already flushed to the point of beet red — and I found myself dropping my gaze, hoping my hair would fall in my face and hide my embarrassment.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be noisy.”

Jamie tipped my chin up, brushing the curls from my brow as he insisted gently, “I said I like it.”

I nodded, not entirely sure what to say to that and found I didn’t have to, for he continued.

“And I do… ‘tis one of the things I like best about bedding you, Sassenach,” he grinned, “the small noises that you make.”

He cradled my head in his hands, kissing me with an urgency that made me forget myself once more, and shifted his hips just so beneath me. I half stifled a gasp and he commented softly, “Aye, like that.”

“That's what I thought most about,” Jamie murmured, his hands slowly caressing my back, curving around to cup my breasts, to frame the swell of our children.

“In prison, at night… chained in a room with dozens of other men, listening to the snoring and farting and groaning. I thought of those small, tender sounds that you make when I love you… and I could feel you there next to me in the dark, breathing soft and then faster, and the little grunt that you give when I first take you, as though you were settling yourself to your job.”

My breathing was certainly coming faster now, my head light. Had it not been for my rather firm hold of him down below the surface, I was sure I would have floated far away into oblivion.

“Even better,” his lips brushed against my neck, sending a shiver of delight up and down my spine, “when I come to you fierce and wanting... and ye wimper under me and struggle as though you’re struggling to get away, and I know ‘tis only that you’re struggling to come closer... and I’m fighting the same fight.”

His hands sank to my hips, slipping between us to caress the stretched and yearning point of our joining. I quivered and my breath went from me in an unwilled gasp.

“Or when I come to you needing… and you take me into you with a sigh and that quiet hum like a hive of bees in the sun,” a sweet smile played at his lips, “and ye carry me into peace with a little moaning sound.”

“Jamie,” I hoarsely whispered, my need nearly strangling me. “Jamie, please.”

He kissed me soundly as his hands settled around my waist, slowing me until I groaned around his lips.

“Not yet. We’ve time, mo chridhe,” he calmly answered. “I mean to hear ye groan like that again… to moan and sob, though ye dinna wish to, for ye canna help it… I mean to make you sigh as though your heart would break and scream with the wanting... and at last to cry out in my arms… and I shall know I’ve served you well.”

With that, my release overtook me, shooting like a dart into the depths of my belly. It loosened my joints so that my arms slipped limp off his shoulders, Jamie’s steadying hands all that kept me from drowning.

Resting my head against his chest, I felt boneless as a jellyfish. I didn’t know — or care — what sort of noises I’d been making, but felt incapable of coherent speech.

That is, until he began to move again... strong as a shark under the water.

“Oh God, no,” I protested. “Jamie, no. I can’t bear it like that again.”

The blood was still pounding in my fingertips and his movement inside me was an exquisite torture.

“You can… for I love you,” his lips brushed against my neck. “And you will, for I want you… but, dinna fash, for this time I go with you.”

Bloody hell, you’re coming with me, I vowed.

I lifted my hands to his chest and splayed my fingers wide, still trembling as I pressed my palms against his slippery skin. Sliding my hands up, I took hold of his shoulders and shoved him the couple inches backwards into the stone wall of the niche with all the strength I could muster.

Jamie’s eyes flew open in surprise and the arousal I found there was the second wind I needed.

His brows rose suggestively and I sat back — settling myself to my business, as he had so eloquently stated before. His hands settled at my waist, curving round to clenching my buttocks tightly as I rode him towards oblivion.

A low groan rumbled within him and I cupped one hand beneath his head, pulling back up to me by the scruff of his neck. I was rewarded with a Christ, Claire and kissed him hard as I sank even deeper. It wouldn’t — couldn’t — be long now for either of us and with that knowledge, I tossed restraint to the wind.

“You are mine,” I repeated, the final vowel twisting into a cry of pure ecstacy.

I heard his own cry and I knew I had served him well.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #Metamorphosis AU #chapter 26 #in the womb of the earth

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diyunho · 5 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 2

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The Joker feels your hand searching around and he knows what you’re looking for: the yellow teddy bear.

“Here Pumpkin,” J gives you the toy that landed on the other side of the bed during the night; a couple minutes pass and his cheek is covered in soft kisses. He opens one eye and you instantly pretend to be asleep.

“I’m onto you, Y/N!” The King of Gotham sneers while you giggle at his affirmation. But as soon as he pecks the scar on your collarbone, your attitude changes.

“No…”, you whimper and cover your face with the sheets.

“I told you before I don’t care about scars,” The Joker tries to reason with you because it happens each time he touches the numerous stitch marks scattered all over your frame: some are deeper lacerations perfectly normal after the surgeries you sustained, others are cuts that might diminish in a few months. “Princess, are you listening?” J traces the lesion on your wrist.

Y/N is so stiff though he has to fight in order to pull the covers away from her.

“Hey…hey… See? I have scars too,” The Clown attempts to distract you. “Are you having a panic attack? No need to!”

You try to keep up with what he’s saying and it’s pretty difficult giving the circumstances; at least you do understand J is making you relax.

His cell phone starts vibrating on the nightstand and he reaches for it.

“Perfect timing, Frost!” The Joker takes his frustration on Jonny. “What do you want?!!”

The short conversation ends fast with The King yelling a bunch of angry stuff, including an interesting grand finale: “Next time you interrupt when I’m on a roll struggling to get laid, maybe you’d like to intervene and convince Y/N her scars don’t bother me!!!”

Why is he mad?...

You watch him toss the phone on the floor and crawl by him, intrigued.

“Upset?” you begin caressing his hair with the teddy bear’s paw.

“My throne won’t be ready until June, Princess! I requested that fancy chair for a reason and paid a fortune to have it customized! What am I supposed to use at the club?! I don’t like the old furniture anymore!!”

You already lost track of what he’s saying: something about not having a throne???… … …

Oh, there’s one really close by!

You grab The Joker’s arm and drag him out of bed towards the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” he inquires, confused.

You quickly guide him to the toilet, making J sit on the closed lid.

“Throne,” you point at the porcelain bowl and The King of Gotham frowns, immediately bursting into laughter afterwards.

“You’re brilliant, Pumpkin! Brilliant!” he praises your interpretation as you are pulled on his knees.

“Hm?”

“You’re a clever Kitten and whoever says otherwise is an idiot! Turns out I do have a throne,” he admits and gropes you.

Too much for your brain to decipher all his sentences, yet Mister J seems content and that’s enough for you.

“The plan for this morning is simple,” he continues. “We’ll have sex, then take a shower and whatnot, then eat breakfast. Later I have a meeting; you just stay here and wait for me, alright?”

“Mmm…” you hesitantly process the words coming out of his mouth, opting to agree for his sake. “Ok?”

“You naughty girl,” he pulls down on your tank top spaghetti strap. ”I know you hate me sometimes, but in the end can’t resist my charm.”

“No hate… Love,” you snuggle to J while he walks back into the bedroom carrying the sweet burden of his existence; of course he ignored your statement because why would he pay attention to nonsense?

*************

You’re outside the car and sulk when Alice sneaks on the passenger’s seat that literally belongs to The Queen.

“Stay here, Princess. I won’t be too long,” The Joker mutters.

“W-why?” you ask since you are not a fan of the idea of having your boyfriend’s ex riding alone with him.

“You get bored at meetings,” he explains. “Circle the property and let the boys know if you need anything,” J emphasizes and drives down the path leading to the gates, leaving a puzzled Y/N behind: you never liked Alice and that didn’t vanish after the accident.

“Bye, Y/N!” she shouts and you can’t make a lot of sense of what you’re feeling, still one detail is certain: it hurts.

How come you couldn’t go?! Why didn’t he give you a choice?! He always does.

If The Joker thinks you can’t put two and two together these days, he’s very wrong.

“Y/N recovered quite nicely,” Alice smirks.

The King of Gotham sighs and she fixes a rebel strand of green hair rebelliously flying over his ear.

“I was wondering if you’ll call me at one point. I missed you, babe.”

“Did ya’?” he scoffs at her bold confession; but she’s a direct person, one of the qualities J admired when they were an item.

“I can’t image how you two function; I mean… her unfortunate transformation, it must be hard for you to put up with someone fighting to comprehend the easiest tasks.”

“It’s not easy,” The Clown admits and gazes at her: Alice dolled up for their rendezvous. Everything he considers attractive is there: beautiful pair of legs popping from under the short skirt, his favorite perfume discretely lingering on her flawless skin, the tip of the purple lace bra she’s wearing casually showing each time the woman leans forward.

“I bet,” Alice pretends to sympathize with his problems. “A man like you has needs that I’m positive Y/N can’t even remember how to satisfy,” she pats his thigh, slowly working her way to his crotch.

The Joker chuckles, accomplice with her insinuations, also super annoyed when his phone rings.

“Yes?” he promptly answers.

“Sir,” Frost reports, ”we have a situation; Y/N is increasingly agitated and…”

“Deal with it!” he hangs up and strives to cruise straight despite the sexy distraction urging him to do otherwise.

“Why did we split?” she scoots closer to him, pouting.

“Beats me,” J purrs as she squeezes her fingers in his pants’ pocket.

“What’s this?” Alice rattles the small plastic pouch.

“Y/N’s anti-inflammatory drug; there’s not much that can be done now and this is helping with the blood clot pressing on her frontal lobe. The doctors say it will reabsorb; granted it won’t matter regarding her cognitive impairment.”

“Awww,” The Joker’s past flame pretends to be affected by his briefing. “That’s too bad, babe; probably the future is not too bright…” she shoves your pills in the glove compartment. “Why don’t we reconcile? You know I’d do anything for you,” the flirtatious tone makes J reply:

“Would you jump in front of a speeding car like Y/N did to save me?”

“Ha! I would,” she elbows him, snickering at his antiques.

“Prove it then,” J growls. “Get out of the vehicle and don’t flinch if I run you over. If you survive, I’ll take you back!”

Alice opens her mouth in amazement and the SUV halts before The King reprises driving.

“Got cha’!” he cracks up at her baffled reaction.

“For God’s sake, babe! You scared me!” she playfully pinches him and teases: “Are we going to our spot?”

“I was wondering when you’ll notice,” The Joker navigates the unpaved road guiding the automobile towards Clear Sky Summit.

“Pull over,” Alice urges him and he complies at once. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” she moans climbing on his lap. “I can tell you missed me too,” the woman grins at his body’s response.

“That’s my gun,” J buries his face in the revealing cleavage, firmly holding her waist.

“I bet it is, babe,” she winks while unbuttoning his silver shirt. “I love you!” she tries to bite him and he violently yanks her long hair, snarling.

“Is that why you tried to kill me?”

Alice cautiously exhales, a bit nervous at the switch in his demeanor.

“What are you talking about?!”

“Who was driving the car meant to hit me, huh? Tinted windows, no license plate.”

“Babe, you’re hurting me,” she winces in pain at his strong grip. “I swear I don’t know anything!”

“Are you sure?” J sniffs her scent.

“Yes I’m sure! I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our…”

“Our what? What exactly our means in this context? We separated more than two years ago!” The Joker crushes her spine against the wheel.

“Babe, let go!” Alice wiggles in his tight embrace.

“Why did you do it? Were you jealous I found a new fling? Took me months to track the culprit!!!” J restricts her movement when she stretches to open the door. “You fucked up my girl!” his hands forcefully twist her neck and the snapping noise of fractured bone halts the argument.

The Joker pushes the corpse off him, numb to the murder he committed out of pure rage: what’s another name added to the list?

Yet… this was personal.

He keeps staring at the trees surrounding the trail without discerning their shape. 30 minutes pass and the phone’s alarm alerts him it’s time for your remedy: The Clown Prince of Crime is so out of it he doesn’t stop it until he’s on the main road.

He speeds up to ensure a timely arrival at the mansion where Y/N will definitely confront him after being abandoned in such fashion: the truth is he doesn’t mind.

What he does mind though is that no matter what happens, Y/N will never be her former self.

***************

The Joker parks in front of the villa and hops out of the car, barking instructions at the goons patrolling the area:

“I want this gone!” he gestures at the cadaver crammed under the front seat. “Where’s Y/N?”

“In the garage, boss” Frost indicates. “You should know that…”

“I got it! I got it!” J waves and sprints towards your destination.

Nothing prepared him for the carnage.

“Holy… … shit!!!” he inhales at the shocking landscape depicting all five of his most beloved vehicles mauled to pieces: broken windows, scraped paint, karoseri indents…a whole mess!

Bam!!! You smash the rearview mirror of his favorite Ferrari with the baseball bat.

“What are you doing, Pumpkin????!!!!” J screams, aggravated.

Oh, he’s back!

“Y-you like her??!!” The Queen redirects her wrath. “B-because she’s smart??!!”

“Who? Alice?” he quizzes for no reason whatsoever: The Joker’s aware of the reply.

“Wh-where did you go, hm?” you point the wood weapon at the man taking you for a fool; you try not to stutter but it’s impossible with the strained neurons firing up a storm inside an already troubled brain.

“Nowhere, I killed her.”

“Hm?”

“I killed Alice!” The Joker raises his voice and watches you squint your eyes, a clear hint you’re analyzing his disclosure. “Look what you did, Princess! Are you happy now??” he finds the perfect opportunity to divert the outcome of the mayhem he actually created: J repeatedly learned this is the best strategy.

“U-hum,” you serenely admit since you’re indeed pleased with the results of your rampage.

The two parties glare at each other in silence and The Joker grabs the yellow teddy bear resting on a nearby hood, proposing truce before you bash something else:

“I’ll trade you the fur ball for your bat.”

Yikes, you’re reluctant to his treaty: further distraction is required.

“My collection is destroyed, Pumpkin!” The Joker approaches with the toy he stole for you on your first date. “Who we’re gonna call on such short notice to fix all this crap?!!”

Oh, you know this one! You and Mister J watch the movie on a regular basis.

“Mmm… Ghost Busters?” Y/N innocently suggests.

He puckers his lips at the astonishing proposal and it takes a lot of effort not to laugh.

“That’s brilliant, Y/N! Best idea I heard all week!” The Joker proudly compliments your intuition. “You’re a clever Kitten and whoever says otherwise is a moron!” he swiftly snatches the baseball from your grasp and replaces it with the teddy bear.

He rolls the weapon by the closest tire, signaling you to follow.

“Come on, Pumpkin, it’s time for your med. Why are you limping? Is your knee hurting again?”

“U-hum.”

“Serves you right for going rogue!” he scolds. “Com’ere,” J lifts you up, placing your legs around his midsection. “I expect apologies by the way!”

“No,” you sniffle while dangling the toy with one arm.

“Pain in the ass!” he huffs and you kiss him. “This is not an apology!” The Joker spanks you butt.

“Mine,” you cuddle to his shoulder, totally blocking his grouchiness.

“Yeah, yeah, yours,” J grumbles heading for the elevator. “So this is how the rest of today will unfold, Y/N: I’ll be mad until evening time, then we’ll have makeup sex and dinner, the last two not necessarily in the same order. And you’re not going to freak out when I touch your scars, OK?”

“Mmm…OK?”

“Why is that a question?” The Joker continues bickering. “You have other prospects? Boyfriends I should know about? Are you even listening?”

“U-hum,” you poke J’s star tattoo. “No… freaking out.”

“Fair enough,” he compromises and lifts you higher on his hips when you cling to him: selective perception is infinitely better than none. “Is this Pink Blossoms?”

“Yes,” you nod at the familiar brand you use all the time.

The King of Gotham smells his favorite perfume in the air, reckoning he wouldn’t enjoy it if another woman wears it for him.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker leto #joker suicide squad #mister joker #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu

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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years ago

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Found the ones with the horniest vibes for me! 39, 62, 103, 114, 127, 149. You know e x a c t l y what I want bby 😌😏 -CockAsInTheBird

Hi bby!

As one of my biggest supporters, and with how many prompts you gave me, you’re getting two fills. For the first one, well, you’ll see. Hope you enjoy!

Also a quick thank you to everyone who has sent in a little request so far. It means the world to me. I’m slowly making my way through them all and will get to each one in time. Having a full time job really does take up vaulable writing hours let me tell you. There’s still plenty of prompts available from the list here, or if you wanna just spin me your own ideas that’s totally okay too. My ask box is always open.

#62 - It’s okay, they’re he’s gone now. #149 I just want to look at you

2k | dead dove do not eat | murder ahoy.

Part I is here

Serial Killer AU Part II

“If you could kill anyone, who would it be?” Steve asked casually, passing back the shared cigarette, smoke filling the air between them like barely there fog. Billy was laying down, plaid sheets bunched around his middle, looking up at a popcorn ceiling, shaggy brunette hair and dangerously calm amber eyes. Billy took what was left of the cigarette and inhaled slowly, but he didn’t have to think of an answer. He knew. Had known for years, if given the chance, who he would kill without a second thought. Had spent nights thinking about it over and over again.

“My dad.”

Those dangerous eyes twinkled in the dark, the only light coming from a lamp sitting on the nightstand, casting the room in a too bright orange glow. A smirk started to grow on Steve’s face, half hidden by shadows, the wheels starting to turn. He shifted, sank more under the sheets from his sitting position up against the headboard until he was on his side, propped up by an elbow, reached across the small space and thumbed Billy’s jaw tenderly like a lover would. It was little touches that pulled Billy more under his spell, little soft words here and there. Affirmations he was doing something good for the first time in his life.

He was good. After all this time.

“I think that sounds like a fun date night, don’t you?” Steve’s hand crept up to hold Billy’s cheek, cupping it softly, brushing his fingers over the bone underneath, tracing his skull like that’s all Steve could see. Was all he was interested in. “And you were so helpful with my little Hagan problem, I think you deserve it.”

Tommy had been three days ago. Billy drove. That’s what he did now. Drove Steve around wherever he wanted to go. Helped whenever he needed it. Mostly loading and unloading. Holding people down. Being the muscle. Keeping people quiet. Making sure their eyes were open. Steve liked that. Liked people watching him work. Liked to see the will to fight turn limp and tearful upon realisation.

Tommy never locked his door. Never had apparently. Steve had been in his house many times. Knew exactly where to find him, knew his mom was working out of town for a week after a little reconnaissance. Steve was still the town’s darling after all. Tommy put up more of a fight than most. Almost got away if Billy didn’t stop him at the door. Because he did that now too. Kept watch. Kept watch for cops and onlookers. Nosey neighbours. Made sure no one got away. No possible loose ends that would need to be tied up.

He'd looked up at Billy so betrayed.

Steve stabbed Tommy fourteen times in the kitchen of the Hagan house. One for every year they had been friends. The last one was in the heart, so powerful Billy heard a rib crack from the other side of the room.

Disobeying the King had broken Steve’s heart. So he had to break Tommy's in return.

Blood was everywhere. Steve was covered in it as he panted over Tommy’s body, choking and gurgling on the last few moments of life. Looking up at them both helplessly, like maybe this was just a nightmare and he'd wake up soon. Steve waited until all was silent, got to his feet and set the knife on the kitchen table, regained his composure and swept his hair back with a bloody hand and a deep sigh. During the act he looked manic. Possessed by pure evil. Eyes wild and crazy. Unblinking. Not missing a single moment of his own handiwork.

“I don’t want Mrs Hagan to find this, she was always nice to me," he said calmly, eyes never leaving Tommy’s body. It was an order without the words.

Clean this up.

So Billy did, without question. Grabbed rubber marigolds and bleach from under the sink and scrubbed and scrubbed until the kitchen was sparkling again. Tommy was rolled up into a bedsheet and dumped like old luggage in the trunk of the BMW. Billy drove them out to the outskirts of town when it was nearly dawn, a little side road Steve had picked out especially. He liked to display. What he was doing was art at the most carnal level.

"We used to come here when he was wanting to experiment," he explained calmly, like he wasn't propping up the body of his former friend against a rock for a hiker to stumble across on their morning trail. "Wasn't gay if it was out of town. It's not gay if you don't take it Stevie."

Billy had just smoked. Kept the engine running for the headlights and watched. He could have ended everything right there. Crushed the maniac under the wheels and ran. Someone would surely believe his story. He was innocent. But he didn't. He just stood and smoked. Waited.

Internally, he'd been trying to convince himself this was all for self preservation. Billy knew he was on Steve's imaginary list. He had to have been. Everyone else had been picked off and there wasn't a single hope he wasn't next. But Steve never said a word about it. Never gave off a look or an attitude that he was even contemplating it. He gave Billy smiles and compliments, reassurances that everything was okay, Billy was good at this, that he needed Billy's help, couldn’t do it without him. And something deep deep down clung to those kind, blood soaked words.

Billy had never been told he was good before. Always a bad kid, a troublemaker, only fit for a chain gang. Even in elementary school. Good grades but a poor attitude. Constantly in the way of everyone's good time, fit for nothing. So many times he'd heard his father's rage towards him, both in front of and behind his back. Cruel words snarled like Billy was nothing but an old dog that just wouldn't die. Didn’t fit in with the new family. A ghost from the past.

Steve told him he was good. Almost constantly. And he’d never really liked Tommy that much anyway.

With how those dark eyes glittered in the dark of Steve's room, looking directly into Billy's very soul, calling to him like a siren in the middle of a storm, a date night sounded like a great idea.

***

Max and Susan were away for the weekend. Billy remembered it being on the family calendar pinned to the wall by the door the last time he was home. The day of Nancy. Written in bold black ink and circled three times. They were visiting some aunt or cousin or whatever. Billy hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation other than when the phrase 'boy's weekend' innocently left Susan's lips and Billy's very core turned the ice at the thought of there being absolutely no barrier between him and his father’s rage for three whole days.

A lot had changed since then.

For as much as Billy detested his father, he knew his routine. An ex military man. Always kept impeccable timing. It had gotten Billy in trouble more than once. Being a minute late for curfew and having to spend the night freezing in his car, shivering under a leather jacket and not much else.

He could feel Steve practically vibrating with excitement in the passenger seat as Billy cut the engine pulling up to Cherry Lane. He squeezed Billy's thigh firm but tender. Reassuring but serious.

Don’t back out now.

"You ready for this stud?"

Billy could only nod looking up at the house and what he knew what inside. It was late and a Saturday night. Neil would be passed out on the couch in front of whatever movie was on tv, half drunk on warm beer if Billy wasn’t there to be the punching bag.

He wasn't scared. Wasn't really thinking about the consequences of all of this. This was revenge now. Payback. For years of abuse both mental and physical. For being beaten down and made to feel lower than dirt. For every foul word and sharp backhand. For every dinnerless evening and night alone willing himself not to sob into a pillow because boys don't cry William. For being made and twisted into a creature that was now beyond human, beyond all control, but Steve understood.

They shared the same soul, the same creature. It rattled around them deep inside. Jerked and pulled and warped and swelled and became unstoppable. Billy just needed someone to unlock the cage. Steve had the key that fit perfectly.

Billy squeezed Steve's hand before they left the car. Billy still had keys even though he hadn't been home in close to a month. No one came looking for him. He didn't expect them to. He very well could have been dead in a ditch the way the body count was growing and the cops were being incompetent. But it all just added fuel to the fire.

The entire time Steve's grin was delicious. That same manic look back in his eyes that was always there when they did this. Like a shark when there was blood in the water. It made Billy’s heart flutter. For this one they swapped places. Managed to get the surprise swoop and have Neil pinned with a hand over his mouth before he could properly register what was happening. Before he could spit one last drop of venom in Billy's direction.

Steve had given him back his switchblade. A present for being so loyal and helpful. A sign of trust that it would never be used on himself. Billy twisted it into his father's neck with no remorse. Buried the blade so deep it hit bone. The gush and waterfall of blood was warm on them both. Billy stepped back from it to watch realisation and anger and then abject hopelessness wash through steely eyes that had been nothing but cruel his whole life. Steve laughed. Cackled towards the ceiling, biting his lip like a schoolgirl. Made sure to get blood on his hands like he was washing them under a wild spring. Billy felt some drip off his cheek, stain his shirt as he just panted, heart hammering in his chest and thrumming through his bones as Neil was let go to twitch and die on the carpet. Finally gone.

Steve took Billy's head in his hands gently, cupping his jaw and thumbing up to his cheeks. Everything was slick and warm. Spreading blood everywhere that had been clean. Marking his teritory.

"Oh baby, I just wanna look at you, I'm so proud of you!" Steve spoke comfortingly. Like a mother would after their kid won a third grade spelling bee. His eyes sparkled like diamonds. He was genuinely proud of what Billy had done. And that made Billy warm inside. Emotions mixed and twisted as it sunk in what Billy had done. He was crying a few solitary tears before he knew it, but they were gently brushed away by caressing thumbs.

"Hey, hey its okay, he’s gone now" Steve cooed. "The first is always the hardest. Especially if it's family."

That had been Steve's first. His own father. He'd confessed one night in bed, both of them sweaty and hard. Like talking about this kind of thing was a turn on. It certainly was for Steve. Made him hard as a rock. He muttered his sins into the back of Billy's neck as he fucked into his protege so vigorously the headboard slammed off the wall and threatened to snap. Scraping his teeth over tanned skin as he let memories fly. About how he'd poisoned his father and just watched him convulce on the hallway floor. Just watched as the man begged for help but received nothing but the cold eyes of his own sixteen year old son.

He always came hard to that story, knuckles white, fingers digging into Billy’s hips and leaving bruises for days.

Billy tucked his head into Steve's neck, wrapped his arms around the thinner waist and let himself be held in return. Let himself be kissed. Let himself taste copper pennies and iron and smoke and spearmint gum from an hour before. And excitement. Let himself be pushed up against the wall of the hallway he'd walked through countless times and feel his partner hard against his hip. Let thighs slot together and bodies start rutting. Both running on adrenaline and excitement as a slain monster lay defeated on the floor. No longer part of the story. Groans being eaten. Hair being pulled. Bodies running tighter and tighter until the inevitable conclusion and cum soaked denim aftermath.

Steve panted warm against Billy’s temple, lips stained and swollen. Before this would have never been allowed. Never ever. Now Billy was free. Unchained. Knew deep in his heart and his head he would follow Steve to the ends of the earth as thanks for this wonderful gift. Words would never be able to describe how grateful he was.

It was the best day of his life.

#harringrove #my writing #serial killer au #billy x steve #dead dove do not eat #tw: murder #tw: blood #tw: horror #tw: gore

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themculibrary · 4 years ago

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Undercover (Missions) Masterlist

A Darkness Upon Me, Flooded in Light (ao3) - Anonymous Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: “We’re retired,” said Steve.

“Right, I know, same here! Just—could you look into this one tiny thing. Please. It’ll be super quick, low profile. Heck, consider it a vacation! If you and Barnes could just—”

When recovering a mysterious, dangerous artifact requires two people with a "bond deeper than death," Steve and Bucky are the only ones who might fit the bill. Retired or not, maybe it wouldn't be so bad going on one last mission with Bucky if that mission involved pretending to be married to him.

A Lifetime Of Dreaming (ao3) - shatteredhourglass Pairing: Clint/Steve Rating: Explicit

Summary: “Clint,” someone calls out, and Clint blinks.

Art Thief, Heart Thief (ao3) - odetteandodile Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: Mature

Summary: Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case.

Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier.

So they strike a deal, mutually beneficial and entirely business. But a few days undercover, an undeniable growing chemistry, and some ill-timed Feelings entering the mix, and all bets are off.

Bloodstains on the Carpet (ao3) - Artemis_Day Pairing: Steve/Natasha Rating: Explicit

Summary: Infiltrating organized crime rings is just part of the job for FBI agent Steve Rogers. That is, until he meets the enigmatic and seductive Black Widow, and gets a little more than he bargained for.

Bruises On Your Thighs (Like My Fingerprints) (ao3) - RedTeamShark Pairing: Clint/Brock Rating: Explicit

Summary: “Nothing gets an Omega compliant like a little family to look out for, Rumlow. If you can flip an Avenger to our side, there’s a bright future for you and him.”

It's nothing but another mission for Brock Rumlow, S.H.I.E.L.D. S.T.R.I.K.E. Commander and undercover Hydra agent. Clint Barton is a target, an objective, an Omega that the Alpha need only manipulate into sex. It's a success as soon as he steps into the room, even if he keeps finding reasons to not just hold the heat-rattled Omega down and force him to take his knot. Nothing Barton could do would change the outcome of this. Nothing.

Hidden Identity (ao3) - Peps4lyfe Pairing: Wanda/Peter, Peggy/Steve, Clint/Laura Rating: Mature

Summary: Broken. Scared. Running. Wanda Maximoff knows nothing beyond those three words after her and her brother, Pietro, get tangled up with Hydra. Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, are assigned to protect Wanda from the Red Skull, along with Sam Wilson, Clint Barton and Tony Stark. They give Wanda a new identity and together, take refuge in Manhattan where she meets Peter Parker, a boy who finally makes her feel alive after years of being on the run. But Hydra is still after her. And no matter where she goes, she is never safe.

Losing Control (ao3) - tennou Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: Explicit

Summary: Fury sends his best duo undercover to investigate Hydra involvement in a small city government in California. Steve is less than enthused with the idea of spending the next few weeks being fake-married to the man he's been suppressing feelings for for months.

Mission Gone Wrong (ao3) - The_Winter_Writer Pairing: Tony/Thor, Tony/Others Rating: Not Rated

Summary: It was supposed to be a relatively easy mission in a Realm known for peace and technology. Tony was supposed to be safe, spend a few months undercover and then he'd be finished with a bunch of alien tech to play around with.

He wasn't supposed to get captured, sold and turned into a pleasure slave.

Pine Lake Oasis (ao3) - infiniteeight Pairing: Clint/Phil Rating: Explicit

Summary: When SHIELD gets intel that an arms dealer might soon be receiving Chitauri technology, Fury sends Clint and Coulson undercover to establish surveillance, ingratiate themselves with the arms dealer and his right hand man, and possibly intercept the sale. The catch? The arms dealer and his lieutenant are apparently posing as a couple, which means the best way for Clint and Coulson to get close is to pose as a couple, too. The longer the op goes on, the more Clint wonders which relationship is more real.

Playing House (ao3) - TheScarletAvenger Pairing: Phil/Darcy Rating: Mature

Summary: S.H.I.E.L.D agents Coulson and Lewis are sent to a small town on a special undercover assignment to investigate a supernatural phenomenon. For the next two months they will have to pretend to be husband and wife, while they try and figure out what’s going on. Will they develop real feelings for each other?

Something New Every Day (ao3) - ifitwasribald Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: Explicit

Summary: Tony never expected that Nick Fury of all people would send him to a sex club. He definitely never expected Bruce Banner to accompany him there.

But at the end of the day, Tony's pretty good at coping with the unexpected.

The Beginning of Always (ao3) - hellhoundtheory Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: Explicit

Summary: Bucky goes to work with the new SHIELD the moment he can. Where Bucky goes, Steve follows. He just didn't think that would mean pretending to be a couple after people start to go missing at a scenic couples' retreat.

Things are changing (ao3) - asgardianthot Pairing: Sam/Bucky Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: Sam and Bucky have an undercover mission going terribly, and concealed feelings ready to burst.

this city bleeds its aching heart (ao3) - Renne Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: Explicit

Summary: The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

This Could Be Paradise (ao3) - Onthecyberseas Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: Steve and Sam must pose as a married couple at a Hawaiian resort. However, Steve doesn't want it to be fake.

til you make it (ao3) - puckity Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: Teen And Up

Summary: “Really?” Agent Hill raised the glass to her lips but didn’t swallow. “It seems like it’s a problem.”

Trust Building Exercises (ao3) - chezamanda Pairing: Clint/Natasha Rating: Explicit

Summary: From the moment Clint brought a young Natasha to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., he had been impressed with her abilities and perseverance. Over the years, their partnership grew and Clint realized that not only did he trust Natasha with his life, he had fallen in love with her.

Undercover Mission: High School (ao3) - kuro Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: General

Summary: Steve and Tony are forced to go undercover as high school teachers to catch a villain called 'The Ruler'. Tony seems to be surprisingly okay with that. Steve... not so much.

Undercover, Underground, and Under Duress (ao3) - EVVS Pairing: Bucky/Clint, Steve/Sam Rating: Not Rated

Summary: When undercover, there are a few rules:

• When you get a cover story, stick to it. • Don't ever lose your cover. • Don't screw over your partner.

Well, at least Clint can keep the prostitute part of his cover together. Everything else? Not so much.

(Bucky already has so many regrets.)

Wait Out the Sun (ao3) - agentverbivore (verbivore8642) Pairing: Leo/Jemma Rating: Explicit

Summary: Fitz and Simmons go undercover in the criminal underworld, trying to get intel on a crime family with mysterious ties to Hydra. It takes time, but eventually they get comfortable with their new identities - so much so that it gets harder and harder to remember why they should go back.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #missions #undercover missions #undercover missions masterlist

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psychedelic-ink · 5 years ago

Text

New Dawn(by lunna-star-8)

Dear Sabo and Ace,

Things haven’t been the best since Marineford, smiling hurts and Luffy shows no sign of waking up… I don’t know what to do… I keep expecting to wake up and the war never happened, but no amount of wishful thinking will get me that… Either way, I’m still not quite sure what day it is, the only time I grabbed a newspaper I ended up reading the comic strip instead. Sorry about that, I’ll end up finding what day it is, eventually. Adding to the list of things I don’t know, I have no clue where we’re heading but, before either of you worry, let me tell you that I trust Law.

And no, don’t make those faces, he saved Luffy and he saved me after the war. You’d trust him too. He’s a nice guy when—-

My letter got interrupted by a loud siren and the feeling of the floor suddenly tilting all to one side. I held onto the bed that was clearly secure to the floor but I felt the whole submarine rattle for a minute before the siren quieted down and I heard the unmistakable sound of canon fire.

Without so much as a second thought, I put my notebook and pen to the side before I darted to the door, I try to push it open but it wouldn’t budge – he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d find a way to keep me in the room. But neither was I when I said it wouldn’t be that easy, I looked around the room because it had to have…

I smirked when I saw the bared square hole on the wall “Vents.” I climbed on top of my bed to be able to reach the opening. It was relatively easy to get the grid off and I could see Law’s office from where I was and my math told me I should be able to fit in the space “If you don’t stay in bed, your wounds will open up again. So stay in bed.” His voice basically rang in my head as I stared at his office. It’s not like they needed me, they’re a more than capable pirate crew and it’s not like I’d be much help in my current state anyway…

Suddenly, I remembered Ace and his blood on my hands, I remembered Bon’s voice as we passed through the gate, I remembered Luffy’s screams when he took a hit from Magellan for me… I looked over my shoulder to see him still lying unconscious where he had been since I woke up and as I blinked, I could see Law in my brother’s place hurt and bleeding, plagued with nightmares he couldn’t escape from… I thought of the kind polar bear, Bepo, that had been nothing but supportive since I woke up… Or Ikkaku that always seemed to have a friendly smile saved for me…

When another canon blast was felt across the ship, I turned back to the vent and made up my mind, I was going out there and try not to be seen. I wouldn’t fight unless I had to but I would not sit still and wait for someone else to take another blow for me. I forced my claws out and used them to help me onto the vent, with a lot more ease than I expected, I pushed my way through the tight space until my head came out right on top of Law’s desk. Immediately I noticed that his two massive bookshelves were missing which I assume were what was now blocking the infirmary’s door. By generating a bit of wind, I managed to trip the chair backwards so it was out of the way and then set my palms over the desk, easily slipping my legs out of the vent and allowing gravity to softly flip me onto the floor. I checked, nothing seemed to be bleeding or ripped or even hurting – much, or more than usual, you don’t just miraculously recover from something like that war without constant aching limbs.

Snapping myself out of my amazement, I opened the door and made my way out trying not to be spotted. It wasn’t hard, the halls were empty due to everyone being engaged in battle, after some wrong turns and a couple of canon shots later, I had made my way outside without being seen.

“GET TO STRAW HAT AND TIGER LUNA, MEN!” some marine called out as he ran for the submarine… Hadn’t we been through enough? Hadn’t they taken enough…?

Not a second after the marine first stepped onto the submarine, I saw the light blue aura of Law’s ‘room’ before the man was chopped into pieces, he was screaming but as live as anyone. As I saw the man’s pieces fall to the floor, I peeked around the corner to see that Bepo was the only one on the deck, easily kicking the ass of a bunch of marines that seemed to have underestimated the bear, beyond him, on board of one of the marine ships, I could make out Law in his yellow hoodie and white hat fighting marines like the supernova he is – “Sadistic little bastard…” I chuckled to myself but then shrugged “Can’t really say I wouldn’t do the same with his devil fruit though, seems fun.”

I looked back around the battlefield, feeling the tiger in me wanting to join in the fight, standing at the side-lines wasn’t really its thing and, to be perfectly fair, can’t say it was mine either. My eyes shift down where the marine is struggling to, literally, put himself back together – I couldn’t resist, I manipulated the air around him to lift his limbs as I stayed as hidden as I could. Clearly, the marine had no idea what was going on as I started to throw his arms and legs at the heads of other marines around, I have to say that I probably should’ve felt a bit bad for the man, but I didn’t. I left the head for last, trying to talk myself out of doing what I was thinking, but who knew if I’d ever get the chance again? Not to mention, it would be cathartic after everything. Pulling it closer with some softer breezes, I ignored the marine’s complaints before figuring out where I’d be aiming and grinned – the ship where Law was. I took a couple of steps back before quickly taking them back and kicking the head probably hard enough to crack his skull. It landed right on the head of another marine and— oH, ShIt! Law turned to the sub. I really hope he didn’t see me, or I’m dead meat.

I looked up at the dark blue sky that was lighting by the second and at the dark oceans behind us… “We can still see the sky, we can still see the ocean, it’s not like it’s hell here!” Usopp said once. We were in Enies Lobby, in the middle of a Buster Call and those words stuck with me, they rang true in my heart and came back to me as the ocean breeze caressed my hot skin. There was a fight going on behind me, my heart was racing as I was painfully aware that at any moment anyone could round up the corner and see me or even a marine ship could come around or anything, really! And here I was, longing for the horizon that calls my name… It felt like ages since I last heard the calling of the sea, that pull in my heart like the tides, that whisper in my ear as the wind passes, beckoning me to take a leap. It made my skin crawl with excitement, it made me want to take to the waves once again…

The call to the sea that all four of us shared – that all four of us share.

Expecting enough time to have passed for me to be in the clear, I peek out of the corner again only to be faced with two people. Reflexively, I punch one in the face and flip the other over my shoulder dropping him straight on the floor before I realize that it’s two guys from Law’s crew, I had seen them before “Oh! I’m sorry!” I quickly say realizing that the red haired one was holding onto his nose, where I had hit him “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that…”

The one on the floor grunted “Can’t you scream or something, like a normal girl?”

I shrugged “It’s called a fight or flight reaction; I hope you realize.” He glared at me from the floor “I’m still sorry though.”

“It’s fine…” the red-haired dismissed seeming to have established that I hadn’t broken his nose “Makes us wonder what the captain’s so worried about, you can clearly fend for yourself.”

I frowned “What do you mean, worried?”

The one on the floor got up as he chuckled, rubbing his back “Kicking severed heads around isn’t exactly subtle, you know?”

I rubbed my face in annoyance “Damnit, he saw me, huh?”

The red haired nodded “Oh yeah. Turned to us like, get that damn girl below deck before I have to go deal with her myself!”

I looked over at him with an eyebrow raised “And that’s ‘worried’ to you?”

“It is with the captain.” They both replied in unison and I found myself tilting my head in agreement.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” asked the one with – I had just noticed – a penguin hat on “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep? I don’t know, in bed at least?”

I rolled my eyes “Yeah, like I’m gonna stay in bed while you guys are out here fighting. I don’t think so.”

“Well, you kind of have to now.” The red haired one said “We have orders to take you back and that’s what we’ll do.”

I looked between the two of them, feeling like a scolded child but it’s not like I had a lot of choices “Fine!” I give in, knowing that there was no point in arguing “But just so you guys won’t get yelled at.”

“Very considerate.” Penguin hat guy quickly replied as they escort me back to the door I had very expertly sneaked out of.

I was resigning to having to sit it out, when I see Bepo hit the floor bleeding, two swords coming down on the bear – I’m reacting before I’m thinking – I rush over. I know I’m not strong nor fast enough to stop the marines, but I can cover Bepo.

And that’s what I do.

I throw myself over the injured bear, acting as a shield between him and the blades and I brace myself for the pain to come, but instead, I hear what seems like metal hitting metal. I open my eyes to find out that both boys from before had stopped the swords with their bare hands and proceeded to kicking the marines away. With adrenaline rushing through me like a river after heavy rain, I helped Bepo to his feet and got us back to the same door I was so reluctant to pass through before. He struggled to stop me, he didn’t want to leave the battle, his friends were still fighting but I wasn’t about to even give him a chance to argue.

Yes, I’m the queen of ‘I get to do stupid stuff while injured that I sure as hell won’t let anyone else do.’ Have anything to say? Fight me.

Bepo needed a doctor – Bepo needed Law. But his captain was now stuck fighting a Vice-Admiral and it’s not like there was anyone that could ‘take over’ sort to speak. The only way to get Bepo help was to get Law but the only way to get Law was to get rid of the Vice-Admiral and they were right, it’s not like I was in any condition to get in a real fight, let along one with a Vice-Admiral…

There was, although, something that I could do. I didn’t like using it, aiming was a bitch and I kind of decided that it had been a bad idea to even try it in the first place, but it was also the only technique that I had that I could use right now that could: face up to a Vice-Admiral; be used from a distance; and not tear my body into grated cheese.

I carefully helped Bepo to sit down by the door and turned back to face the fight. Behind me, the sun was starting to break through the darkness of the night and I took a deep breath before I held out my arms in front of me, palms facing each other and I took another deep breath. I felt the air shift around me as I focused it between my hands, with my mind I gave it the shape of a bow and with my right hand, pulled back the non-existing string, forming an arrow of concentrated air in the middle as I did so. I felt the straightened air currents slice through the bandages on my hands and arms, the blood starting to be pulled into the air circuit, tainting it slightly red.

“When Sabo died, we said we wanted to get stronger so we wouldn’t lose anyone else. You took that burned off our shoulders by promising us that you’d never die. We believed you. I believe in you. You live in my heart now, in the memories I have of you, in the letters I write you, hence, I have no choice but to look after myself. I also can’t get stronger if I can’t get better first and I need to get stronger to protect Luffy and all the people I care about. Time to step up. I will come back a better version of me.”

With my thoughts decided and feeling the air settle into shape, I took yet another deep breath “RED GUARDIAN!”

I called out my attack aimed at the Vice-Admiral, my right hand fingers released the tension and between one second and the next, I felt a warm familiar touch over my right hand, but before I could turn around, I saw, to my amazement, that my arrow had caught fire in such a way that it looked like a big red bird.

My own thoughts came back to me “I will come back a better version of me.”

“A phoenix.” I could almost hear Ace’s voice right at my ear…

And then the next second arrived. The fire bird hit its target, sending the Vice-Admiral flying backwards into a wall on the ship in a blaze of fire before he fell face first on the deck of his ship. My jaw was on the floor, had I just done that?

Movement in the corner of my eye makes me turn to see Bepo sitting on the floor, still clearly in pain and the bleeding didn’t seem to have even slowed down “LAW!” I called out to the doctor that quickly ‘shambles’ his way closer to us.

He rushed to his friend’s side and looked him over with truly concerned eyes, examining the damage, gave the two guys from earlier some orders and then called over a very very tall guy “Jean Bart…” he spoke coldly as his eyes scanned the marines still standing “Sink them.” Without another word, Law disappeared into the submarine and Jean Bart went to do what he had been ordered.

Left alone once again, I held my right hand that still felt comfortably warm and remembered the feeling from before. I looked behind me only to be blinded by the rising sun, I couldn’t help but smile with him as a single tear slipped down my cheeks…

#submission #submit #burntsubmission #lunna-star-8 #monkey d luna #one piece oc #oc #one piece #trafalgar d. water law #chapter 5

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fallingstarstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 25 (WIP)

This is a preview of Chapter 25 (well, more like the first 2/3rds of it) and it is a work in progress, so some wording may change in the final cut. Also Tumblr ate all the formatting and I’m to lazy too put it back in, so just imagine italics in all the right spots.

Full fic on AO3: From the Mouth of an Injured Head

For @cipher-the-sidhe

- - - - - - -

You had so many questions.

In that moment, none of them mattered.

Gaster shuffled inside your apartment while you clung to him with your legs dangling, his arms wrapped securely around you while nudging the door shut behind him with a foot.

Gaster had feet.

The hand that wasn’t holding the bundle of weeds rubbed soothing circles on your back, but you could not stop crying. Your joy at seeing him was a very fragile and perilous thing, made of spun glass and inches from turning to dust. Part of you was convinced this wasn’t real.

Stars, let this be real.

You could feel hard bones pressed against your body under the lab coat. No longer was he an amorphous dripping mass of shadows. Skeletal arms, ribs, the knobs of his spine, all of it so strange and unfamiliar. He even smelled different, or rather you registered a scent where there was nothing before. He smelled of ozone, old books and magic.

Your sobs waned, hiccups taking their place and you felt Gaster bend down, his spine bowing, to set you on the floor. Your fingers tightened their grip on his lab coat, not wanting to let go. His head turned, reassuring kisses dusting your neck, and after a few moments your arms slowly unwound, falling back to your sides.

Gaster straightened up, smiling down at you in an abashed way that didn’t reach his eye sockets.

You shook your head, still trying to take him in with wide eyes, “I don’t understand.” you whispered. “It worked?”

<Yes, perhaps not precisely as intentioned, but as you can see...> He gestured almost grandly to himself, the success of the extraction process self-evident, he glanced around your apartment, noting the machine that was ripped apart in your hallway and the huge chunks of wall missing as well as the scorched and warped platform. The scene of destruction curved his mouth into a confounded frown.

Despite the litany of questions you meant to ask, somehow the first one out of your mouth was: “Why do you have a bunch of weeds?” you rasped, pointing at the greenery. There were dandelions, queen anne’s lace, and buttercups, all slightly wilted clutched in his hand.

Gaster flushed, and you noted that the color blooming on his skull was not the muted lilac you were used to, but a several shades closer to violet.

He held out the bunch of foliage, and you couldn’t help the broken laugh that escaped you, nor the slow, tired smile as you accepted the hastily constructed “bouquet”. “Thank you. You are too sweet. I don’t have a vase or-” you blinked, your exhausted mind sluggish to process his words. “What road?”

<The road down from Mount Ebott. I will speak with Doctor Alphys but clearly the procedure did not go entirely as planned and the convergence point collapsed. When I was ejected from the void I was flung out of the most proximal convergence point to this one.> he paused, waiting for you to find the answer, like his favorite pupil who always knew just what to say next.

You didn’t.

You were so tired.

Your head throbbed.

You SOUL hurt.

<...I exited the grey door in the Underground.> he provided the answer when you did not respond, eye sockets narrowing. His phalanges gripped your chin, tilting your head up so he could examine you closely and critically for the first time since he arrived. You were sure he was alarmed by what he saw. You could hardly stand to look at your own reflection, skin paler than ever, bloodshot eyes, and bruises under them. Chapped lips, wild-maned, broken.

“I look like shit.” you supplied, knowing he would never say that, even if he concurred.

<You look like you haven’t slept.> he signed, concern growing.

“‘Cause I haven’t.”

<Alex, it’s been two days.> His skull contorted with dismay.

“I thought you were dead!” you cried, voice splintering as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. Gasters eye sockets widened, taken aback. “Everyone thinks you’re gone. I couldn’t feel you and there weren’t any readings and Sans said I killed you!”

He dropped down to one knee, lowering himself so he could hug you again as you broke down into tears, pulling you against his ribcage and softly stroking his phalanges through your tangled hair. Your weeping almost instantly slowed, soothed by his presence alone. He wasn’t dead, he was here, he was out of the void, he was here with you.

he signed as he reluctantly pulled back.

You nodded, wiping your eyes with your palm and bracing yourself. The embers in your chest flared like they’d been exposed to fresh oxygen as you drew your SOUL out, hissing in pain through clenched teeth.

Gaster gasped, his bones rattling.

It was worse than you could have imagined.

The normally vivid blue was dull, no longer the bright glowing radiance that made your surroundings seem dim in comparison. Instead splotches of ashen grey mottled the surface, obscuring the usual luminosity giving your SOUL the appearance of being diseased. Of course it felt like it burned, but you hadn’t expected it to look like it too.

<What did you do!?> To say Gaster was horrified would be an understatement.

You shrugged, “Pulled you out of the void, apparently.”

There was an incredulous pause, then, <...What!?>

“The machine broke,” you gestured at the mangled device, “So I guess I got you out myself. Things got really foggy there at the end. I think I hit my head.”

He shook his skull, utterly dismayed at your flippant response. Swiftly, he took the flowers from your hands, dumping them on the counter and without warning, scooped you up, one long arm under your back, the other tucked under your knees as he stood back up and held you in an effortless princess carry.

<Have you any idea how much I’ve wanted to do this?> he signed with summoned hands, looking rather irate as he walked towards your bedroom, stepping over broken machinery.

“Carry me off to bed?” you said with an attempt at a cheesy grin, the expression marred by your exhaustion.

<Hold you, like this,> he corrected, <and I wish it were under any other circumstances. I have not seen a SOUL Burn so severe in all my years, how are you still standing!?>

“Alphys didn’t seem too worried.”

<Had she misplaced her glasses!?> he signed, outraged.

“Nah, I did actually, couldn’t find them anywhere... I didn’t give her a chance to look at my SOUL. Kicked them all out. Started cleaning. Didn’t stop.” you muttered.

“It does hurt. Feels like fire in my chest.”

“Sorry.” you murmured, leaning your head against his bony shoulder.

<No apologizing.> he tutted, shaking his head, <Humans are truly remarkable creatures.>

He laid you down on the bed, propping pillows under your back so you remained upright. Part of you wanted to object to being coddled but another part would have let him do whatever the hell he wanted. Let him dote on you, let him fuss. Whatever made him happy, whatever let him stay.

Which was why you tried to get out of bed to chase after him as he attempted to depart your bedroom, and he rounded on you with an uncommon amount of anger.

<Stay.> he signed sharply, pressing you back down against the bed, one large hand splayed over your chest. His expression softened, <Rest, please. It is my fault you are in this state->

“This isn’t your fault!” you yelled.

“Please don’t leave me, I don’t know if this is real, I can’t feel you.” your voice was trembling now.

He leaned down, kissing your forehead. <It is very real, I assure you. I will be right back. Please, stay here.>

“...Kiss me first.” you ordered, eyes hard.

He arched a brow bone at you.

“No, properly.” You were never like this. Needy and burdensome, sure, but it was rare you demanded something of him. But you needed to feel him, to know this wasn’t just a particularly vivid dream. And if you couldn’t sense him with your SOUL, well, this method would suffice.

Gaster was never one to deny you, and so his long fingers slowly curled along your jaw, tiling your face towards him and his skull lowered to meet your lips with his. This was the same, familiar in all the ways his restored form was not, soft lips against hard bone. And when your lips parted in an open invitation he did not waste a second, his tongue delving into your mouth, heatedly gliding over your own.

This was very different.

There was no icy cold. No strange shifting shadows, but a solid warmth, his tongue slick and buzzing with the unmistakable frisson of magic. Like fire whiskey, like a tingle of electricity, lighting your nerves, even your charred SOUL lurched in your chest from shock.

You squealed a surprised sound at the unexpected sensation, and before you could manage to pull away, his hand swiftly snaked around to the back of your neck, fingers woven through your hair as he cradled your head and kept you firmly in place. Insistently, yet not without tenderness, he kept kissing you, allowing you to feel and understand that he had changed. Even this act, this thing you had loved and found comfort in, would not be the same as it once was. But it was him. Undeniably, it was Gaster, he was here. A tension in your frame relaxed and you finally reciprocated, a tangle of tongues and lips and breath as you felt him sigh in relief.

Slowly he drew back, looking into your eyes, searching for a sign of alarm or discomfort. He wouldn’t find even a hint.

<Please, let me take care of you.> he signed, fingers carding through your hair.

You relented with a nod, and true to his word Gaster was gone and back in short order, fussing over you once again. He had water that he made you drink, and some nearly expired granola bars he’d raided from the very back of your snack stash, probably the only pre-packaged food he could manage to find that was remotely healthy.

“I’m not hungry.” you murmured.

<You need food if your SOUL is to heal.> holding the opened package out to you sternly.

Reluctantly you ate, the food flavorless and tasting no better than ash.

he signed, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Your magic is back?” you asked. It should have been obvious, if he was no longer in the void, it would stand to reason his magic would have returned to him.

he signed with a wry grin, <May I?>

You nodded, and with a wince, drew out your damaged SOUL again. He examined it closely, phalanges hovering over the surface but never making contact with the core of your being.

The ring-shaped pupil in his left eye socket lit up a brilliant ultraviolet shade.

Then, for the first time, you felt Gaster’s magic.

It was completely novel. You were familiar with Sans and Papyrus and how their magic wove about them, but Gaster’s was very far removed from theirs. Very far removed from your own. If Papyrus was a steady stream, you a flame, and Sans a veritable firestorm, Gaster was...highly structured. Rhythmic and orderly. Layers of magic that conformed to perfect, precise arrangements.

It was like music.

Warmth and green light spilled forth from his fingers and you gasped, shuddering as his magic poured directly into your SOUL. Stars that felt so good. Like your SOUL was submerged in warm water, seeping in and soothing all of the damage your outburst of magic had inadvertently wrought. There was a sort of pressure there too, like a firm hug, or being swaddled in warmth. It was hard to translate what your SOUL felt into physical sensations, that magical core just too far removed from the physical matter of nerves and flesh. Those sensations were overwhelming after only a few moments, and you felt Gaster’s hand hold yours after you screwed your eyes shut and tried to remember how to pull air into your lungs properly.

It could have been a few minutes or a few hours by the time his magic abated, your SOUL slipping back into your chest and your breaths a shaky series of pants.

“Mmmelty...” you slurred, “Like goop...”

He smirked, then stifled a yawn behind a hollow hand, and you watched him, fascinated.

“You’re tired.” you said, awed and wide-eyed.

<It would appear so, yes. I believe I am long overdue for a nap.> he grinned.

You matched it, perhaps a little more conniving. “You’re sleeping here with me.”

he quickly retorted, his grin slipping quickly into a frown, <You need your rest. I’ll sleep on the couch.>

“Like hell you will.” you responded hotly. You doubted he would even fit without his feet hanging off the end, “You’re staying with me. My house, my rules, and tonight I need my boyfriend here with me.”

He stared with raised brow bones at your declaration, as if waiting for you to correct yourself.

You did not.

he weakly objected.

“So?”

“So take it off.” you said, like it was obvious.

“Oh.” Was he shy?

...Stupid, stupid skeleton.

“Gaster I swear to god, if you don’t get in this bed in the next five seconds I will use my magic on you, I don’t care what state my SOUL is in.”

He sighed, hastily unbuttoning his lab coat, unbuckling his belt and kicking off his slacks, both carelessly tossed to the floor to reveal boxers with a little bone print pattern. It also revealed his bones, and you couldn’t help your eyes roving over his new (or perhaps old) form. He looked just as one would imagine, an animated skeleton with a broken skull, but it was so very strange to see the monster you’d fallen in love with appear this way.

“Cute.” you commented pointing at his boxers, and he rolled his eyelights.

He crawled into bed with you, mattress dipping down with his additional weight, and you situated yourself against him. You didn’t have much choice, he was huge, taking up much of the space.

“Does this bother you?” you asked, glancing up at his wary eyelights.

“Am I offending your modesty?”

“Not this one.” you answered simply, fingers lazily trailing over the bones of his arm in a tired sort of fascination. “Never you.” He wore the fondest of smiles then, carefully running his fingers through your messy hair, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy.

“Wanna make it even?” you murmured, words slightly slurred as you fought to stay awake.

You heard him make a sleepy ‘Hmm?’ sound, and felt it through his ribs, a low and deep hum that made a strange heat curl in your belly.

You reached for the hem of your shirt, grabbing a fistfull of the fabric and tugging it up your body--

Quicker than you could track, his bones clamped around your wrist, pulling your hand right back down, your shirt along with it. Gaster’s skull was a blazing amethyst, and his eyelights were dim little pinpricks.

<No. That will not be necessary.> You could hear his breath shuddering slightly, and you thought you might have heard a quiet rattle of bones.

“No fun.” you mumbled, rolling onto your side and tucking yourself securely against him. He was, well, bony. Hard and solid against you, perhaps not the most comfortable bedmate. You hardly cared, he was here, you were not alone.

<Will you please sleep now?> he asked, perhaps a little amused and exasperated at your antics.

“‘s long as you’re here, yeah.” you drowsed, words thick. “Thought I lost you.” Your eyes slipped closed and you could no longer read his signs, but you could feel unfamiliar arms made of bones wrap around you, and very familiar lips pressed against your temple.

“...Love you.”

You were asleep within seconds.

You did not dream.

#My writing #fanfiction #fanfic #undertale #w.d. gaster #gaster #from the mouth of an injured head

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prolestariwrites · 5 years ago

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Time To Go [8]: Shut Up And Start Talking

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 8/9 Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 8: Shut Up And Start Talking, in which the guys find a whole lot more than just Kyrie.

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Nero takes a steadying breath as he stares at the building across the street. The address Morrison had provided had led them to what looks like a closed shop, an apartment on top, in the middle of a perfectly normal street in Fortuna. He had let them borrow a car, and Nico drove as she rattled off what little she remembered about the demon named Mammon. The city is just starting to wake up, the bagel shop on the corner opening its doors and a smattering of people leaving for work or school, but mostly the street is quiet.

He checks his holster out of habit, then reaches back to press his fingers on Red Queen's handle. It's a ritual he usually does before walking into a job, reassuring himself that he has both at hand. His arm is laden with extra weight, however, and he glances at his wrist as it moves to his side, flexing his hand under the weapon Artemis that is now attached to him. He tugs the sleeve of his jacket down, wanting to remain as inconspicuous as possible for as long as they can. Sneaking into the building is definitely their best play.

Artemis had seemed the easiest one to choose, not wanting to be left out when Dante and Vergil had squabbled over their choices as they strapped weapons to their bodies. They look more than strange now with so much gear, and Nero's brow twitches when he examines them both next. Vergil is already holding Yamato in his right hand, Cerberus in his other as Nico straps Beowulf to his limbs. The ensemble makes his appearance stick out in the pale light of the morning, and Nero grimaces.

Dante is no better, wearing the cowboy hat gifted to him by Nico, Nevan strapped to his front and his Devil Sword strapped to his back. He was going to bring Agni and Rudra too, but after the two swords argued over who would wear the hat Dante had left them behind. Nero had wondered how he would use his guns or his swords with the scimitars as well, but decided that whatever answer he received wouldn't be worth the ask in the end.

He remembers what the motel clerk had said about them looking like the circus, and Nero has to agree at this point.

"Ready to roll?" Dante asks.

"Shouldn't we have a plan first?" The brothers look at him in slight confusion, and he sighs. "Kyrie is in there. We can't just bust in with guns blazing. We need to be careful."

"Let me go in," Vergil says. "I'll kill them all before they even realize I'm there."

"We're not killing anyone either, not unless we have to," growls Nero. "They might be humans. And if we kill them, then we won't find out why they did this, and if they're working for someone."

Vergil grumbles a half-hearted agreement as Dante tilts his head up. "You got an idea, kid?"

"...No," he admits, looking back at the brick building.

"Y'all are a bunch of dumbasses," Nico says as she straightens. She pulls out her cell phone and swipes the screen, giving it a tap as she scrolls. "Can't believe I gotta rely on damn Wikipedia for this shit. I got plenty of research on Mammon in my van." She gives Nero a scowl on the last word before turning back to her phone.

Nero swallows in embarrassment as she reads. "Okay, Mammon is one of the seven princes of hell. Can't believe you guys haven't faced him before."

Dante shrugs. "They all kind of blur together. But the name doesn't ring a bell."

"His thing is greed. Money, wealth, profit, that kind of thing."

"That's why they want this fortune," Vergil says. "If Mammon really is behind this, it makes sense."

"But how do we kill him?" Nero asks.

"Doesn't exactly say," she replies.

Dante flicks the brim of his hat. "Same way we do every time."

Nico folds her arms with one of those know-it-all looks he hates. "Just go in there and get her. With all this stuff you shouldn't have any trouble. You'll probably scare the shit out of them before you even get a chance to fight. Something tries to kill you, kill it first. Leave one alive. Jesus, a baby could do this."

"I'll go in," Nero growls, knowing this for sure won't be that easy. "The two of you cover me. Stay hidden unless you have to fight."

"Nah, not my style," Dante replies. He pulls Ebony and Ivory out and jerks his head. "Three of us are goin' in together. Let's go."

He nudges Vergil and the two cross the street. Nero watches for a moment, but before he can take a step Nico grabs his sleeve. "Don't fuck this up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he grumbles.

Nero checks to make sure the street is clear before crossing. The air takes on an unusual quality, the only sound a muted thunk of his boots as he walks across the street. He stops in front of the door and gives the street one more backward glance before leaning in to listen. Vergil and Dante move on either side of him, watching his back.

There is no sound inside. He pulls Blue Rose and with one quick movement, he activates his demon power long enough to bang his shoulder against the door and pop it open. In a flash he is inside, arm extended as he sweeps the room.

The other two sweep in, one of them kicking the door shut. They fan out together, Nero going straight as Dante and Vergil move towards either side. The room is empty, completely empty, no furniture even. The only light streams in through the dirty windows and Nero squints as dust dances in the air. On one side is a wide staircase that leads to the upper loft, which is also empty, although the space behind the guardrail is covered in shadow. Nero steadies his breath as he scans it with narrowed eyes, the revolver ready in his hand.

His heart pounds loudly in his ears as he slowly turns. The others also move slowly, Dante gripping his pistols while Vergil holds Yamato, both ready to fight. But there is nothing, not a footstep or a voice. "Anything?" Nero calls.

"Nothing," Vergil replies.

"I'll check upstairs," says Dante.

His footsteps echo as he takes them two at a time. Nero glances to the side as Vergil walks over. "Looks like an office or something back there," he murmurs, jerking his chin towards the back.

They approach together, and Nero points the revolver at the door, nodding at Vergil as he opens it. He enters first, Vergil at his back, turning until he finally lands on a lone figure in the center, giving a gasp when he recognizes Kyrie.

"Kyrie! Kyrie!" He holsters the gun as he rushes forward. She is tied to a desk chair and blindfolded, her head turning sharply at his voice. Quickly he pulls a gag from her mouth and the blindfold from her eyes, his hands shaking as he cradles her face.

"Nero," she says, her voice raw. "You found me."

"Of course, fuck, fuck." He presses his lips to hers for a quick moment before crouching down, starting to work on the cords around her arms and legs. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

"Just sore." He frees one of her arms, then the other, and his lungs struggle for breath as he watches her rub them together with a wince. "You came for me."

"Of course I came, shit, I gotta get you out of here." Nero bends down again to pull at the cords, cursing under his breath.

Behind him, Vergil says, "I'll go find Dante. Stay here."

He walks out of the office as Nero goes back to working on the knots. "Where are the guys that took you?"

"I don't know, they left before daybreak."

Nero grits his teeth. "Did they say why?"

Kyrie doesn't answer, so he glances up. Fear crosses her expression as she stares over his shoulder, but before he can turn and look he feels the barrel of a gun press to the back of his head. "Don't move."

Nero locks eyes with Kyrie. "Let her go," he growls.

"Not until our business is done," the voice behind him answers. "Don't look like you got our money."

The barrel pushes hard against his skull, forcing Nero to drop his chin a bit. "I'm working on it."

"Get up."

Nero raises his hands, trying to give Kyrie a reassuring look. Her eyes are wide in alarm, and he swallows thickly, his arms and back tensing in preparation to fight. Slowly Nero stands, his jaw clenching as he makes a quick calculation. Then he spins, his arm activating and grabbing for the gun, and just as the movement registers the guy shouts and pulls the trigger.

The shot goes wide, flying through the ceiling and bringing a piece down as the drywall crumbles. Nero yanks on the barrel of the gun, the metal twisting in his grip as his other hand swings. His fist connects to his jaw and sends the man through the wall of the office, more dust and drywall flying in the air as he crashes through and skids across the floor.

"Nero!"

Immediately he swings back to Kyrie, using his demon strength to snap the rest of the cords. "Stay here," he says, grabbing her and pushing her under the desk.

Kyrie scrambles underneath and he jumps through the hole in the wall. There are shouts from upstairs, but he can't worry about that right now. Nero moves in a flash over the guy, grabbing him from the floor and hitting him again. His devil arm holds him tightly by the collar of the shirt as he pulls Blue Rose, pointing it at his forehead.

The guy moans and shakes his head. He blinks his eyes clear, and then they widen on the gun. "Hey!" he shouts.

The flesh glows blue as his fingers sharpen into claws, and with the extra strength he easily holds him steady. "Stop struggling or I'll shoot," Nero growls.

"What the fuck is this!" he screams, his eyes wide in horror as he looks at the blue skin. "Danny!"

More commotion comes from behind them, and then a familiar shout of "Jackpot!" makes Nero grin devilishly. "Looks like your friends are toast," he says. "Now tell me who the fuck you are."

"Fuck you!"

A body goes flying, slamming into the wall and crumpling to the ground. Both of them turn to see, and Nero peers through the dark room. It's not either Dante or Vergil, so he stands, dragging the guy by the collar behind him. "Dante!" he shouts.

The railing that lines the edge of the loft is now completely smashed, and Dante appears, giving him a wave. "Hey! You alive, kid?"

"Yeah," he calls back. "You good?"

"Just knocked some bozo out."

He jumps from above, sliding Ebony and Ivory into the holsters on his back. Vergil follows, but he strides over to them furiously, elbowing past Dante until he pulls up in front of Nero. "Which one of you shot me?" he demands.

Before he can answer, Yamato flashes in the air, the blade slicing between them. Nero pulls back to avoid its edge, and both he and the man he has pinned gape up at Vergil, who is scowling at them both. "It was him," they both answer in unison.

Vergil lowers the sword when Dante steps up and pats his arm. "It didn't even hurt," Dante laughs.

"Holy shit," the guy says. Nero glances down to see he has scrambled to his knees, looking between the two brothers with wide eyes. "Holy shit, you're real. You're really demon hunters."

Dante and Vergil exchange a glance as Nero gives the guy a shake. "Shut up," he orders. "Now start talking."

He gulps, his eyes darting from Nero's hand still electric blue and Vergil's sword. "You're Dante and Vergil, right? I'm Mickey. I'm your cousin."

"His what?" Nero shouts.

"C-cousin," he stammers. "You're related to Eva, right?"

Blood rushes through Nero's veins, pulsing inside his head. From the corner of his eye he sees Dante and Vergil both tense, until a moment later Yamato is tilted and pressed to the base of his throat. "How do you know Eva?"

"Don't kill me! She's related. We're related!" he cries, his voice going wild.

"You're lying," says Vergil in a growl.

"I'm not! I swear!" He winces as the sword lifts to his neck. "My father was Eva's nephew on her father's side. My great-grandfather is your great-grandfather. He threw out his son and she inherited all the money." He glares up at Nero. "All I heard all my life is how we were robbed of our inheritance because Eva turned her parents against her brother. I just wanted my cut."

Nero eases back, dropping him in a heap. Yamato keeps the guy still on the ground as he turns to look at the others. "Is that true?" he asks Vergil.

"Of course it's not true," he growls. "Eva wouldn't do that."

"But you don't know that, do you?" Nero counters.

Vergil's eyes snap to him sharply. "Don't you think I would know what my own mother would do?" Nero huffs, wondering how to even begin answering that, when Vergil continues, "Besides, she never mentioned a brother, or a nephew."

"How did you know about us?" Dante asks. "Who told you who we are?"

"And it doesn't explain why you took Kyrie," Nero says threateningly. He points his gun at the man's head. "What does she have to do with it?"

"We just wanted the money! We weren't gonna hurt her!" he cries. He sits back on his legs and holds up his hands. "It's really you, isn't it? The demon hunters. He said you guys were Eva's kids and—fuck, I didn't think you'd kill Danny!"

"I don't kill humans, numbnuts," Dante says, then nods towards Nero. "But you better start talking before he shoots you. He's been really wanting to shoot someone today."

"Already shot me," Vergil adds.

Nero raises his brows, and the kidnapper nods. "Okay. We knew Eva had two sons, and we tracked down Dante. We didn't know where the other one was." He swallows thickly and looks at Vergil. "You're Vergil, right? We couldn't find you."

"You keep saying 'we'," Vergil says.

"Yeah. Me and Danny. We're brothers too. Our pops knew there was money from the family and we figured we'd come and get our piece, you know? We tracked down Dante, but he lives in a shit hole, so it didn't make no sense."

"Hey!" Dante protests.

Vergil snorts. "He has a point."

"We saw this one there," he continues, nodding towards Nero, his eyes trained on the gun. "You're his kid, right? That's what we figured, you were always hanging around."

"Wrong again, asshat," Nero growls, pressing the barrel to his forehead.

"Okay! Sorry! We just thought—I mean you both got white hair and you both hunt demons, like damn! We thought you were his kid. So we watched you too and you and that girl live in that nice house with kids and all and figured you had the cash. And you'd make a trade." He takes several quick, deep breaths. "We were just gonna trade. I swear we weren't gonna hurt her."

Dante puts his hands on his hips. "How did you find me?"

Mickey swallows thickly. "Mammon. He found us, told us he knew where Eva's kids were. He said he knew my pop. He knew a lot of shit, so I believed him."

"Wait," Nero frowns. "Mammon's a human?"

"A human?" he answers. "What are you talking about? What else would he be?"

He can feel the demon presence a split second later, like a pinprick on his neck. Nero turns at the same time as Dante and Vergil, and it's like a spark, a charge inside his chest. There is nothing but shadow, but it is there, and he can almost hear Yamato buzzing in his head and the Devil Arms reacting, one by one, as he reaches up to pull Red Queen from his back. To his left, Dante grabs his own sword and laughs. "Looks like we get to kill something after all."

"He's mine," Nero mutters.

But Yamato stops him as Vergil lifts the sword to block his way. "Take Kyrie and get out of here."

"Screw that!" he bites out.

Nero turns to argue more, but before he can a figure finally materializes. It is just a man, tall and broad and thin, and for a second Nero blinks, thinking it is V. But that is impossible, and as it approaches, he sees the skin is without tattoos, the features more round than sharp, the black hair cropped neatly instead of laying in waves across its face. "Mammon!" Mickey shouts behind them. "Help me!"

"Isn't this interesting," Mammon says. The voice is certainly not human, a deep rumble that makes Nero's stomach turn as he tightens his grip on Red Queen. "I came for riches, and instead, I got the sons of Sparda."

"Jokes on you," Dante answers. "You ain't getting us, and we don't have any money either. So you're wrong twice."

Mammon laughs. The demon takes another step forward, the shadows swirling around its arms and legs, almost sucking the oxygen from the room. "I don't care what Sparda did, you know," it says. "I was sick of Hell long before he came here. But I want that money."

"Did you not hear him, dipshit?" Nero snaps. "There's no money."

The demon laughs. "Then you're in real trouble."

It begins to grow, its body twisting out and up, stretching as the shadows pull it like taffy. "What the hell?" Mickey moans behind them. "What the fuck is this? Mammon!"

"It's a demon," Vergil says through gritted teeth. "Nero, take the humans and go."

"Like hell—"

Mammon gives a roar, reaching its arms out and grabbing the roof. It pulls, and Nero dodges to the right as a piece of drywall falls, choking on the dust that rises. He gasps as he sees the demon thrash around, taking out the rest of the wall to the office, and he is on his feet with a cry. "Nero! Get Kyrie and go!" Vergil shouts, but he doesn't need to be told twice.

He sheaths Red Queen and bolts to the office, jumping over a pile of rubble when something grabs his ankle. Nero lands with a crack of his chin on the ground, and he kicks hard, pulling himself free. The shadows themselves are attacking, reaching for him with solid arms and hands as Nero lifts his arm and shoots Artemis.

Arrows through the air and slice through the shadow, which disintegrates on contact. Mammon takes a step towards him, but then bullets sail from the other direction as Dante begins shooting. He covers Vergil who dashes forward so quickly Nero sees only a streak, and when Mammon roars as the first swipe of Yamato slices through him, he is up on his feet and running for the office again.

"Kyrie!" he shouts once through the hole in the wall. He drops to his knees and reaches for her, and from under the desk she grabs his hands, sliding when he pulls her out. "Time to go," he pants, hauling her against him, and Kyrie wraps her arms tightly around his neck as his right arm holds her to his hip.

Together they climb back through, and he hears Kyrie whimper over the sound of the others fighting Mammon. Dante and Vergil take turns distracting the demon as the other hacks at the shadows that protect it. Nero is itching to get a few blows of his own in, but Kyrie goes limp against him, and he realizes she is going to faint if he doesn't do something fast. "Come on," he says, scooping her up in his arms, and he runs in an arc in the room as she presses her face to his neck.

Mickey watches the melee with wide eyes, but he shakes himself as Nero approaches. "Save me! Save me!" he screams, grabbing at Nero's pant leg.

Nero aims a kick at him. "Get up."

He obeys immediately, limping as he stands. Nero leads them towards the door, and he pauses and sets Kyrie down. "Go get your brother," he says.

"I can't!" His eyes are wide as he stares back at the demon. "Fuck, what is that thing?"

"It's a demon, idiot!" Nero shouts. "You stupid asshole, your greed woke the fucking Prince of Money." He glances at Kyrie, taking a deep breath. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," she says breathlessly.

"Good. Go. Nico is outside. I gotta go save this asshole."

She presses a kiss to his cheek before darting for the door, and Nero winces as the sunlight streams in once it opens. Mickey also starts for the exit, but Nero grabs him by the shirt. "No fucking way," he growls. "You're coming with me."

"Don't kill me!" he whines.

"Let's get your brother, then I'll decide." Nero practically drags him along, heading to the other side of the room where Danny still lays unconscious on the ground. He uses Artemis and sends a few warning shots when the shadows slither too closely, and when they reach the body he lets go of Mickey and grabs the brother by the arm. Hauling him over his shoulder Mickey does the same, he practically drags him out of the door, the sun too bright when he hits the sidewalk, dropping the body on the ground.

"Nero!" Kyrie is there, and Nico, who eyes the two kidnappers as Mickey collapses next to his brother. "Cops are coming. This them?"

He can hear the sirens way off in the distance, and nods. "Yeah, they're humans. But Mammon is inside. I need to get back in there."

Kyrie grabs his arm. "Wait, Nero, please—"

A blast from inside has them on the ground, Nero twisting to cover Kyrie as he kneels over her. His ears are ringing as he looks back, gasping when he sees most of the building is gone—or rather, reduced to a heap, the only things standing a few structural walls.

"No!" Nero screams. "Dad! Dante!"

He runs and vaults himself over the bit of wall still standing, landing hard on the ground on the other side. Nero scrambles forward but skids to a stop when he sees both Dante and Vergil in the center, very much alive in front of the smoking carcass of the demon. Vergil is kneeling, leaning on Yamato for support, while Dante stands with his hands on his hips, stretching his back. Nero stumbles forward with a cry, and both turn to look at him, Vergil frowning and Dante grinning when he reaches them.

"You okay there, kid?" Dante pants with a laugh.

"Yeah," he says, shaking his head to clear it. "I thought you were both goners."

"Nah," scoffs Dante. "Bastard got mad he lost and thought he'd pull down the building. No biggie."

"Where is Kyrie?" asks Vergil as he stands. "Is she safe?"

Nero nods. "Yeah. She's out there, with Nico. I got the others out, too."

Dante grins and pats him on the shoulder. "Nice work. Knew you had it in you."

He laughs and shakes his head, and then the three pick their way back over the rubble, heading towards the street. Once they are clear of the building, Kyrie runs to him, and Nero pulls her into a fierce embrace, pressing his lips to her temple. For a long moment he holds her closely, his arms trembling a bit as his fingers slide into her hair. His heart beats wildly to have her safe, and here, her warmth pressed to his as he makes a silent vow to never, ever lose her again.

A gunshot rings out, followed by a cry, and he jerks up and pulls out Blue Rose, yanking Kyrie behind him. Mickey is howling and grabbing his thigh as Vergil looks smugly over him. "You shot me!" he yells. "What the fuck, you shot me!"

"What are you doing?" Nero cries.

Vergil shrugs as he hands Ivory back to Dante. "He shot me first."

"Christ in hell." Nero rubs his neck, his shoulders drooping. "Now what?"

The sirens grow louder, so Dante says, "Give them to the police. They'll handle it."

He nods with a deep sigh. "Yeah. You two should go. I'm the only one here who is supposed to have a weapon in Fortuna."

"Right." Dante hits Vergil on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Nero pulls Artemis from his arm and hands it to Dante. "Thanks for this. And for uh…" Suddenly embarrassed, he turns to the side, his arm snaking around Kyrie's waist and pulling her against his hip. "For what I said earlier, I mean…"

"No problem, kid." Dante grins and salutes him as he walks towards the car. "Come on, Vergil! You're buying breakfast."

Nero glances at Vergil, who regards him with an unreadable expression. "I guess we're done here," Vergil says.

"I uh…" He squeezes Kyrie's hip as he clears his throat. "Thanks. For your help and everything."

Vergil hesitates, looking as though he wants to say something. Nero swallows thickly, wanting to say something: maybe thank you or sorry about tonight or hey I'm glad you didn't die back there, but none of it seems right, or not enough. They stare at each other for a long moment, but finally Vergil only nods before walking past them, following Dante. But he gives Nero a pat on the shoulder, and Nero's mouth quirks up a bit at the gesture.

"I'll drive them back," Nico says. She gives him a scowl before poking him in the chest. "Then you're taking me to my van."

"Fine," Nero sighs, waving her off.

Nero pulls Kyrie into another embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her. He strokes her hair gently, kissing the top of her head, his heart feeling grateful and his body tired when a groan catches his attention.

He glances over to see Mickey sitting on the ground, holding his bleeding leg and looking at him pathetically. "You're not really gonna tell the police, are you?" he moans. "Come on, dude, we're family!"

"Family, huh?" Nero laughs. "I got plenty already, thanks."

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A/N: Only one more chapter to go! Thank you so much for reading so far. See you next Friday for the conclusion!

#dmc #devil may cry #nerokiri #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nero sparda #dmc nero #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc kyrie #dmc nico #fan fiction #myfic #time to go

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 29

Unfinished Business

Warnings: swearing, blood, angst

Word count: ~6800

Masterlist

Read on AO3

The morning finds you, Sadie and Arthur camped out in Big Valley. Arthur has been relatively quiet since your discussion, not that you blame him. The end seems to be coming sooner than you thought, and the prospects of the future frightens you.

You get up just as the sun is rising over the mountains. The other two are still asleep. You take the opportunity to wander into the large meadow on foot, feeling at peace finally. Something about this valley, the forest and the meadow seems so pure and holy. You used to go to church as a child with your parents, but the thing everyone else claimed they felt inside of it never came to you. That feeling of peace and of having found your place in the world comes here, though. You wonder if maybe when Arthur finally decides it’s time to leave the gang and Dutch, he’d be willing to live here. Perhaps you and him could build a small cabin. Strawberry’s close by, which is ideal for when you need to visit a shop or a post office.

You sit down in the meadow near the thin winding river and study the scenery. A herd of pronghorns and a white tail buck graze nearby without any fear of you. In the distance, you spot three elk and even a herd of wild horses. If Heaven is real, it must look something like this. You pull out your journal and begin to sketch the view, finally feeling happy with the strokes of your pencil.

Nearly an hour passes and Sadie wanders towards you. “Hey, what you doin’?” she asks.

“Just enjoying the view.” You close your journal and stand up.

“Come on. Arthur ain’t up yet, but you and I can go scope the place. Try and get a count of how many of those bastards are there.”

You nod and follow Sadie over to Hanging Dog Ranch. It’s a relatively short walk and you both hide behind a boulder and look through your binoculars. Sadie counts over a dozen men, but you point out there could be more in the house and the barn. Plus there are tents set up and it’s possible that there might be more sleeping in them.

Sadie suddenly gasps. “That bastard is here.”

“Who?” you ask quietly.

She points out a fat man with a bushy brown beard walking around near the barn. He pulls out a cigarette and begins chatting with another man.

“He’s the feller who shot Jake. He left before Arthur and Dutch showed up, but I told him he’d see me again.”

“He’s yours then, Sadie. Now come on, let’s go get Arthur.”

Sadie growls and lowers her binoculars, grinding her teeth. You both head back to Arthur, who’s just stirring awake. He sits up and rubs his eyes. Sadie picks up her rifle and slings it over her shoulder.

“Fine mornin’ for a killin’,” she says to him.

He nods and stands up, picking up his own rifle. “You two seen anything down there?”

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of them,” you say.

“One of them,” Sadie snarls. “Fat feller with a beard. He’s mine.”

“Okay,” Arthur says and gestures for you both to walk with him. As you do, Sadie and you fill him in on what the ranch is like.

“I’ll take the lead once we get there,” Sadie says as you walk out of the cover of the trees.

“So no real plan then?” Arthur points out.

“Oh I got a plan. Now come on, get in cover.”

You and Arthur hide behind a large boulder near the perimeter fence while Sadie continues walking. She goes up to the front of the ranch where two O’Driscolls stand, keeping guard. They spot her and one says, “Hey. I think I know her! She’s one of Dutch’s-”

He’s suddenly cut off by Sadie’s bullet plunging into his skull. The other one falls as she shoots. You and Arthur stand up and aim, firing upon more of the men. Sadie begins screaming like a wild cat and runs into the ranch amidst the returning gun fire.

“Damn it, Sadie!” Arthur growls and he runs out from behind the rock. You follow him and together, you run into the ranch after Sadie and continue shooting. The loft doors of the barn slam open and a man with a gatling gun opens fire, sending you and the others diving behind stacked crates. Sadie takes cover behind an outhouse.

“Take him out, Arthur!” Sadie yells.

“I can’t get a good shot at him!” he yells back, reloading his gun. You peak around your crates and you can get a shot at him, but he’s directed the gunfire at you and Arthur.

“Arthur!” you yell over the thundering shots. “Can you direct his fire? I can get him, but it’s too much where he’s at!”

“Fine!” he hollers back. He takes a breath and then darts over to where Sadie’s at, successfully taking the man’s fire with him. You dart out quickly, aim and breathe out. Pulling the trigger, the gatling gun fire suddenly stops as your bullet strikes him in the neck.

The O’Driscolls begin hollering in anger as Sadie and Arthur leave their cover and the three of you advance on them. After a few more moments, the shooting stops.

Sadie lowers her gun. “There’s more in the buildings. You two take the barn, I’ll take the house.” She doesn’t wait for a response and runs to the house, kicking the door in as you and Arthur head to the barn. You see a wagon sitting near the barn with crates in it, creating a perfect platform to get to the upper floor of the barn without going inside of it. You do so as Arthur smashes through the front doors, firing on more of the men. You take cover outside of one of the windows and then aim inside, taking out two men. Another man yells in anger and aims his gun down at Arthur. Before he has the chance to fire, you take him out. All is quiet at last.

“You okay up there?” Arthur yells.

You climb in the window and look down at him, waving to signify that you’re fine though a bit out of breath. “Good. I’ll help Sadie, you loot these bastards, see what you can find.”

You nod and take the chance to catch your breath as Arthur heads over to the house. As you’re looting the men you shot, you hear Sadie’s shriek and then silence. If you didn’t know her, you’d think she was being murdered, but you know she must have found her quarry.

A few moments go by and you’re about to go into the house when the door opens. Out walks Arthur and Sadie, who’s covered in blood. Her eyes are watery and she sniffs loudly. Arthur whistles for his horse.

“I think I need to be alone for a bit,” Sadie says as you walk up to them.

“I understand,” Arthur replies. He looks at her and then gestures to her clothes. “You, um, might wanna get cleaned up.”

She smiles a bit and then thanks him and you before hopping onto her horse and galloping away. Arthur puts a hand on your shoulder as you both walk over to your horses.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Of course. Sadie?”

“Ah, she found that bastard she mentioned. Anyways, we probably need to head back.”

He hops onto Artemis and looks at you as though waiting for you to argue with him about returning to Beaver Hollow. Instead, you sigh and hop onto Rannoch.

“Can we just walk there?” you ask. “I know the station ain’t far, but… this place is so pretty, Arthur.”

“Fine,” he says. He’s still been acting strange, even cold and distant.

The two of you run the horses in relative silence. The forest changes from the thick, close pines to clusters of aspens. Just as you’re approaching the army fort, you hear someone calling.

“Help me!” the voice calls. “And I shall help thee.”

You pull Rannoch to a stop and look around for who the voice belongs to. You see a figure near the road leading to the fort, slightly hunched and using a walking stick. You call Arthur’s attention to the figure and trot Rannoch up to the person.

The figure turns out to be an old man, a wild gray beard hides most of his face. He doesn’t seem to see you or Arthur as you approach, but he must hear you. He calls out, “Penny for the blind.” He shakes a tin cup.

You dismount with Arthur and approach him, neither of you saying a word. The man must know you’re close to him as he stretches out the arm holding the cup. “Help a blind man,” he asks, his white eyes blinking.

You and Arthur pull out a coin and drop it into his tin. He rattles the cup and then pauses. Although he cannot see, he faces Arthur.

“Be warned, sir, be warned. Surrounded by fields of burning fire and flesh, the devil shall make his sacrifice.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks, I guess,” Arthur says.

The old man shakes the tin again, listening for the clinking of your coin with Arthur’s. His head, which shakes slightly, turns to face you.

“When the golden stag lifts his head, that is when you must go backwards rather than forward.”

“Um, okay. Appreciate it.”

You both stand in front of him, waiting to see if the blind man will say anything else.

“Please, I need to be alone with my thoughts,” he says. “They say old blind man Cassidy is crazy, but I see what others do not.”

Arthur shrugs his shoulders and returns to Artemis, hopping onto her and continuing on. You do the same.

“Hey,” he calls back to you. “You mind if we run up to Charlotte’s? I, uh, wanted to check on her. Make sure she’s doin’ alright.”

“Of course. And what about Hamish?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s fine, I’m sure. We’ll go huntin’ with him soon but we need to check in with camp again before we do that. Dutch mentioned somethin’ to do with the army and Eagle Flies. I’m worried he’s gonna try somethin’ real stupid.”

You sigh and agree. You’re beginning to get tired of Dutch and his warped plans, using the complicated struggle between the Indians and the army as a means to his ends. Arthur is getting tired of them too, but he still seems to want to stick around, try to help Dutch clear his head. Whenever you mention the possibility of you both leaving, Arthur brings up John. While you agree that John and his family need the chance to escape, John doesn’t seem interested in taking it. You wonder how long Arthur will wait for him before he decides he’s done. Although he agreed that if, by a month, he’d leave with you, he didn’t seem taken by the idea. Part of you wonders if he truly wants to leave, even though he says he does.

Arthur still says little as you both head up north towards Willard’s Rest, passing by a loft on a cliff which overlooks the sweeping expanse of New Hanover and Lemoyne. The trees return as you head down the mountain and rejoin the railroad tracks which will lead you right to Charlotte’s home.

The falls come into view and Arthur diverts Artemis off the train tracks and up the rise. He slows down just before reaching the cabin. As you do the same, you hear a gunshot and trot Rannoch up the path. Once the cabin is in view, you see Charlotte with her back to you, aiming a rifle at bottles she’s placed on a crate. She shoots again, but none of the bottles break.

“Darn it!” she calls out, lowering her rifle. You and Arthur walk up to her and she smiles when she sees you.

“How you feelin’, ma’am?” Arthur asks.

“Much better than I’ve felt in a long time. If we hadn’t caught that rabbit, I don’t think I’d have made it another day.”

“Well, you sure look better,” Arthur says, smiling. You nod. Now that you can see her face properly, she has more color and her face is clean, her eyes brighter.

“Better and determined, thanks to you two.” She pats the rifle in her hands. “If I’m going to to hunt, I figured it was time I learn how to use this.” She aims the rifle again.

“How’s that going?” you ask, watching with a smile.

“Well, let’s just say my prey is looking rather unscathed.” She takes in a deep breath and shoots, the bullet going nowhere near her target. “But the end of labor is to gain leisure, isn’t that what Aristotle said?” She places the butt of the rifle on the ground, the barrel pointing up past her.

Arthur grabs the barrel and points it away so she doesn’t accidentally shoot herself. “Well, I don’t know much about Aristotle, but I do know guns. Come on, I’ll show ya.”

You smile as he shows Charlotte how to stand and properly hold the rifle. It reminds you of when he taught you how to do the same all those months ago.

“Hold steady,” he says softly, “breathe slowly and always pull the trigger on empty lungs. I’ll show you.”

He pulls out his pistol and aims it, shooting at one of the smaller bottles on the crate.

“You make it look so easy,” she says.

“It is,” you say, pulling out your revolver. You point at another bottle and shoot it, the glass shattering. “You try now. Remember to breathe.”

Charlotte clears her throat and aims the rifle again. “Wait to breathe out,” she says to herself over and over. After a few seconds, she fires again, the bullet striking the corner of the barrel.

“Would you look at that?” she says happily. “I haven’t hit one that close all day!”

“Not bad,” Arthur says. “Focus on the inhale, shoot on the exhale. My turn.”

Just as Arthur is about to shoot, something scurries out from behind the shed.

“Oh no, that wretched rat is back,” Charlotte says. “It’s been a thorn in my side since we moved here.”

Without hesitation, Arthur pulls the hammer of his gun down and shoots the rat. With a sly smile, he looks over at Charlotte.

“Show off,” she says, a light blush on her cheeks.

Arthur chuckles and shoots a bottle. “Alright, Y/N’s turn.”

You clear your throat and shoot another bottle. Something about Arthur’s behavior is beginning to make you feel unsettled. He’s been distant with you the past two days, and now here he is being friendly with Charlotte. Helping people isn’t unusual for him, but something about their interactions seems different. You hope Charlotte isn’t growing something for him.

Charlotte nods in approval of your shot and then aims again. She hesitates once more and then pulls the trigger. A bottle explodes.

“I hit it! Did you see that? I hit it!”

Arthur chuckles and smiles at her. “That you did. You’re already gettin’ better.”

“What can I say? Thank you.” She pauses for a moment. “Listen, I still have some of the rabbit left. I’ve salted it up. Would you both join me for a meal? It’s the least I can do.”

You and Arthur thank her and follow her inside her cabin. The majority of it is a long, single room for the kitchen and dining, but two rooms lead off to the right side, their doors shut. Charlotte sets the rifle down behind the door and heads over to her stove where a pot of stew is boiling. She gestures for you and Arthur to take a seat.

You and Arthur do so and Charlotte brings the pot over to the table. “Well, it’s hot at least.” She grabs some bowls and spoons some stew into one, handing it to Arthur. “Bon appetit.”

“Huh?” he says.

She smiles at him. “Please enjoy.”

He smiles back at her and dips his spoon into it as Charlotte hands you a bowl as well. You thank her and taste it. It’s surprisingly good, better than Pearson’s anyways.

Charlotte sits down opposite you and begins filling up her bowl. “I really am grateful to both of you. You’ve already helped me so much.”

“It was nothing,” you say.

She smiles at the pair of you. “You’re good people.”

“Awe, I wouldn’t say that. Least not about me,” Arthur says.

“I know enough. There’s always more to find in ourselves. You helped me to see that. My husband Cal was such an optimist I found it to be very contagious. But if I’ve learned anything out here, it’s that there’s a fine line between optimism and naivety.”

She starts telling the story of how she and Cal had lived in Chicago. It’s very different from your life in Blackwater. While you had been able to enjoy the perks of civilization in Blackwater, it was nothing to compare to Charlotte’s life. Your father had enough money to keep you and your mother comfortably living, but Charlotte and Cal must have come from wealthy families.

“It turned out to be very crushing,” she continues. “My father could be overbearing. Then we came out here and I got crushed by this. When Cal first came up with this idea, I pictured myself picking vegetables from a garden, sipping homemade wine, writing a great novel. Instead I turned out to be a far more pathetic anti-heroine than I ever imagined.”

Arthur smiles at her. “I reckon you’ll do just fine, ma’am. I think you’ll find you have more strength than you realize.”

She smiles at him and then catches herself. “But listen to me. Throwing my worries and burdens on you fine people. I barely know anything about either of you except you’re familiar with guns and hunting.”

“There ain’t much to tell, to be honest,” Arthur says. It’s clear he doesn’t want Charlotte to know too much about the gang, nor do you simply as part of the code. He does tell her about his mother and father, the same story he told you. When he gets to how he was on his own until Dutch and Hosea found him, he makes it sound as though they lived fairly normal lives and depended on nature to survive.

Charlotte listens politely as he tells his story. “Well, they must be good men to have taken you in the way they did, this Dutch and Hosea.”

“They are, or were. Unfortunately Hosea passed away not long ago and Dutch, well. He’s changed since then. Been more rash and impulsive.”

Charlotte sighs. “Must be hard for him. Sounds like he and Hosea built quite a family and lifestyle together. Grief does strange things to people, and no one deals with it the same way. I myself have done things I never would since Cal died. There’s been times when I’ve become overwhelmed with anger and just want to… hurt someone or something so they can feel even a bit of my own pain. Perhaps that’s what is happening with Dutch.”

“I don’t know. He’s always been the more impulsive of the two, but it’s like now that Hosea’s no longer there to be the voice of reason, Dutch just goes around destroying everything in his path.”

Charlotte stands up and takes your empty bowls. “Well, he’s lucky to have you there for him at least. Maybe while he’s processing this situation, you can try and help steer him.”

“Oh I been tryin’. Things are… just goin’ from bad to worse.”

“How so?”

“Awe, it… it’s complicated.” Arthur looks at you and pats your knee. “Charlotte, thank you for the meal, we really appreciate, but we need to get back.”

“Of course,” she says, clasping her hands. “I understand, and thank you both again for all your help. I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m going to try hunting today.”

“Good,” you say, standing up. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

She smiles at you again. “Listen, if either of you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Anything I can do to repay you for your kindness.”

You both thank her once more and head back to Beaver Hollow. Once again, Arthur’s uncharacteristically quiet. It’s almost the way he was when he first asked you to marry him, he has that same distance about him. You think back to what was last said before he starting being this way, and you recall your discussion about setting a date to leave the gang if things haven’t progressed or if John hasn’t left on his own.

You both arrive back at Beaver Hollow and Dutch walks over to Arthur, his arms spread. “There you are, Arthur. Listen, I need you to come with me. We are going to help our friend Eagle Flies give the army a final tweak on its nose.”

Arthur hitches Artemis up and looks hard at Dutch. “You really think that’s a smart idea, Dutch? We’re already in the army’s bad books, you think this is going to help us or the Indians?”

Dutch puts his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “This is the right choice, Arthur. We need noise, and a lot of it to get those Pinkertons off our backs.”

“I thought that was the whole reason behind blowin’ up the bridge?”

“Yes, it was, but it didn’t create enough. Now come on.”

Dutch hops onto the Count and looks at Arthur expectantly. Arthur sighs heavily and gets back onto Artemis.

“You want me to come along?” you ask, hoping that perhaps you and Arthur can talk Dutch out of doing something stupid.

“No,” Dutch says. “The fewer of us involved, the better.”

Without another word, he kicks his horse into a gallop and Arthur doesn’t even have the chance to say anything to you. You watch them until they disappear beyond the horizon. As you’re turning to head to your tent, you suddenly bump into Javier.

“Shit!” you say, jumping a little. “You scared me.”

“Y/N,” he says without any other greeting. “I need your help with something. Heard of a stagecoach coming up to Annesburg. Big mailing stage going through Van Horn. Arthur says you did a good job a couple months back on one just like it.”

“Oh, okay.” You’re taken aback by this. Javier has never done a job with you nor asked for your help with one. It’s even more curious that he’s doing so now with how hostile he’s been with everyone in camp. He seems to sense your hesitation.

“It could have a lot of cash, Y/N. The more we get, the sooner we can all get out of here. We all need to help Dutch in order to help ourselves. Now let’s go.”

You sigh and begin following him when Micah calls him back. “Javier, I need you for something. Dutch mentioned you might have some knowledge on this train we’re thinking might be coming through.”

“Can it wait?” he asks. “Y/N and I are going out on a job.”

“She can do it by herself, can’t she?” he demands, waving a hand in your direction. Javier looks at you and then to Micah. It’s clear he doesn’t want to abandon the job. You pat his shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Javier, I can manage this one on my own. The drivers for this mailing company ain’t that tough. I’ll even save some of the cut for you.”

He pauses a moment and then nods. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Micah doesn’t look at you as he heads back to Dutch’s tent with Javier. You’re glad for this job as it allows you to get away from this place again. You feel a little bad, you and Arthur haven’t brought any kind of meat back in a few days and Pearson’s stew is probably fairly sparse at this point. You make a note to hunt after the stage.

Rannoch gallops down the path as you ride east and south in the direction of Van Horn. Your mind is elsewhere as he runs. It’s too late when you realize that things have gotten too quiet on the trail.

Just as you’re becoming nervous, a shot rings out through the trees in your direction. The bullet doesn’t hit you or Rannoch but it’s enough to make him stop and rear up, tossing you onto your back. He gallops off as two men come out from the trees.

You gather yourself and stand up, whipping out your guns. At first you think they’re Murfrees as this is still their territory and they’ve continued robbing people despite Dutch stealing their stronghold. However, you notice their clothes are only dirty, but not torn, old and rugged. The men also lack the wild glint in their eyes that Murfrees have. You wonder if they’re just desperate travelers robbing anyone coming down this way.

“Get her!” one of them yells. He has a flabby, long face with dull eyes and moppy brown hair. The other is a gangly blonde with red cheeks. He laughs loudly and points his gun at you. Before he has a chance to pull the trigger, you shoot your sawed-off at him and he drops to the ground, blood flowing from his chest where you shot him. The other man looks at you with his dull eyes.

“Let’s drop this,” he says in a slow voice. He throws his gun down and pulls out his knife. “Let’s see who’s the fastest and strongest.”

“You’re not trying to rob me?” you demand, suspicious.

He smiles, showing crooked teeth. “Ain’t never wanted to rob you, lady. Just doing my job.”

Before you have the chance to ask further, he lunges at you. You dodge out of the way and begin lifting your gun to shoot him, having no care to fight on his terms. He slams into you, his large body knocking you on the ground and your guns flying from your hands. He lifts his leg to stomp on you but you roll out of the way, crawling towards your gun. He swiftly kicks you in the ribs and then picks you up, throwing you to the other side of the trail.

A second passes and you’re on your feet again, spitting your hair from your mouth. Your ribs hurt where he kicked you, but you don’t acknowledge the pain. You pull out your knife and wait for him. He lunges once more and you dodge, but he trips you. As you’re falling, his blade swipes, the tip catching at your left cheek and gliding across your eye and up to your forehead. The knife misses your eye luckily and you clutch your face, pull your hand away to see it covered in a thick line of blood. The man chuckles and you get up to your feet again, determined despite the blood that’s dripping into your eye.

“Got you good, looks like,” he smiles when he sees the slash across your face.

“It’s nothing compared to what I’m gonna do to you!” You square your shoulders.

He adjusts his grip on the knife, clearly expecting you to come at him. Instead, you dive to the other side of the path, grabbing the sawed-off. You roll onto your back, aiming it. His eyes widen and he runs into the trees as you shoot, your aim off due to the blood in your eye. You blink several times and shoot more, but he’s long gone.

The sounds of his footsteps fade, alerting you to the fact that he’s not coming back. You clench your teeth and put a hand over the left side of your face. You’re glad camp isn’t too far away as you get up and whistle for Rannoch. A few seconds pass and he comes back, neighing. After holstering your guns and knife, you pat his neck and climb onto his back.

“Take me home, boy,” you say, grabbing his reins in your free hand and guiding him back.

As you trot down the trail leading directly into Beaver Hollow, Charles sees you.

“What happened?” he hollers, grabbing Rannoch’s bridle to better guide him into camp.

“Ambush. Guy caught me with his knife.”

Charles hitches Rannoch and then helps you climb off, guiding you with a hand around your shoulder to where Grimshaw’s standing. He calls her attention, stating you’ll need stitches.

“Again, girl?” she squawks. “I swear, you have the worst luck.”

She marches to your tent and beckons you to lay down on your cot. You do so and Charles hands you a cloth to soak up the blood. You’re beginning to feel a bit light-headed, a result of losing so much. Grimshaw stomps back holding a bottle of whiskey and Strauss’s medical kit, which got left behind.

She works quickly, sewing your face back together, dabbing whiskey on the cut. As she does, you tell her what happened to try and ignore the pain.

“He didn’t say why he was tryin’ to kill you?”

“No,” you say. “Just said he was on a job.”

Grimshaw grunts in confusion. Charles has stayed close to make sure she doesn’t need anything else. After a while, she finishes and tells you to get up. Just as you’re sitting up, Grimshaw’s hand on your shoulder, Micah saunters by.

“Get yourself into a spot of trouble again, hmm?” he sneers. “I’m guessing that stage job didn’t get done either. Real way to pull your weight.”

Without thinking, you launch to your feet and rush at him, determined to punch any part of him you can reach. Grimshaw stops you and Charles gets in the way. He tells Micah to leave before you completely lose control. Micah just glares at you and walks away.

“You need to calm down,” Grimshaw demands. “Otherwise you’re gonna bleed more. Now you sit down and I’ll grab you something to eat.”

You do as she says, trying to slow your breathing. She comes back after a few moments with a bowl of Pearson’s stew. She then tells you to take it easy for the night. You’d think she was being kind, but you know Grimshaw too well. She doesn’t want you to cause your cut to begin bleeding again and make you pass out. The pain has come in full by this point and it’s almost overwhelming. Your ribs ache as well from where the man kicked you. You grab the bottle of whiskey Grimshaw was using and start drinking.

By nightfall, you’ve drunk so much your face no longer hurts but you can’t feel much else either. You sit around the campfire, waiting for Arthur to return. The staring from everyone in camp has resulted in you draping your hair over the left side of your face and using the tip of your hat to hide your eyes the way Arthur does.

Dutch saunters into camp, but Arthur is nowhere in sight. He tells you he’s fine, just off hunting and he should be back soon. You’re barely able to understand what he’s saying as you’ve become so drunk. Dutch must be able to tell, he tells you to get to bed. You do so with little argument, stumbling all the way.

The next morning you wake just as the sun is rising. Your head pounds fiercely from the alcohol and your face feels like it’s on fire. Your ribs are sore, adding to the pain. You lie in the cot, wishing you could die where you lay. You flop your hand to Arthur’s side, only to find it empty. Just as you open your eyes to see if he’s in the tent at all, your stomach heaves. You leap to your feet and dash to the river, emptying your stomach of what little is left.

After a few moments, you splash cold water from the river onto your face, making your cut sting. It does little to cure your headache but at least you can think a bit more clearly. Getting back up the hill is an enormous effort, but you do and head over to Pearson’s fire to get yourself some coffee.

As your sipping your coffee, trying to ignore the pain, Mary-Beth walks up holding a small bowl. She holds it out to you.

“Here, I, um, I made some of that concoction Hosea made you when your leg was bad.”

You look in the bowl and see the familiar paste with bits of the crushes plants mixed in it. You take it from her, thanking her. You swallow it quickly, although it tastes awful, and chase it down with coffee.

By late morning, your headache is dull enough you can pick up chores again. Grimshaw flatly expresses she doesn’t want you going anywhere the next few days, stating you’ve had enough adventures for a while.

While you work, you think about how horrible things have become in the gang. So many people have died or left, it seems like hardly anyone is left. You observed Tilly and Karen having a heated argument that the entire gang heard as Tilly pleaded with her to stop drinking. The fight ended when Karen nearly struck Tilly but walked away at the last second.

Your own adventure from yesterday that resulted in your face getting cut open only adds to your worry. You haven’t been able to forget what that man said, how he was attacking you on someone’s orders. The question of who keeps circling in your head, providing no answers. You wonder if it would be best if you and Arthur left sooner than you agreed on. If things have gotten this bad in so little time, you don’t even want to think about how much worse they’ll be in a few weeks’ time.

As you finish scrubbing a shirt, you hear a horse coming down the path. Looking up, you see Artemis with Arthur astride her. You wave to him and smile, although it quickly disappears because it hurts too much. Arthur half-heartedly returns it. You get up and walk over to him, your face still half covered.

“Arthur, can we talk?” you ask as he’s hitching Artemis.

“Sure,” he says. He heads over to your tent. You ask him how things went with Dutch yesterday and he sighs heavily. “Whole thing was a mess. Eagle Flies has been taken prisoner by the army. I’m gonna talk with Charles, see if we can break him out.”

“And Dutch just let him?”

“Dutch didn’t see. The army came at us hard, even had a goddamn cannon. Dutch and I got split off from the others and had to jump off a cliff into the river. Had no choice, we got cornered. Anyways, after we escaped, I went digging around to find out what happened to Eagle Flies.”

You nod, biting your lip. “It’s getting worse, Arthur. Maybe… maybe after we get Eagle Flies out, we need to leave. You and me.”

Arthur turns and looks at you, his brow furrowed. “What about everyone else? We just gonna leave them all behind to suffer?”

“Arthur, we can’t help those who won’t help themselves. You taught me that. John has shown no desire to leave, to get Abigail and Jack out. I talked to her this morning, she says she won’t go anywhere without John. We need to think about-”

“Don’t talk to me about gettin’ ourselves out, darlin’!” he snaps at you, taking you back. “I told you I was gonna get as many people out as I can, and that’s what I’m gonna do. If you wanna leave, then I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

“Arthur, I’m not leaving without you. Where you go, I go, remember?”

“Then I guess you’ll be staying here with me until things get figured out.” He begins turning away when a slight breeze blows through the tent, lifting your hair slightly as you stare at him incredulously. “What’s that?” he asks, straightening back up.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your hair back over your face.

He sighs and brushes the hair away from your face. “What the hell?”

You pull away from his hand, realizing he must find the slash hideous. You push the hair back over your face.

“What happened, sweetheart?”

You tell him everything, including what the man said. “You see what I mean?” you finish. “Things are getting worse, Arthur. Someone is gunning for me and I don’t know who. Please, Arthur, let’s get out of here. Start our life somewhere else like we talked about.”

He lowers his brow again. “And like I said, I ain’t goin’ nowhere until I can get as many people out as I can. They deserve it.”

“Arthur, if they wanted to leave, they’d have done it by now.”

“So we just forget about them, hmm? We just tell Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen, John and all them to figure it out themselves? All because you’re scared about who’s gunnin’ for ya? I’ll protect you, sweetheart, I always have.”

“You ain’t always around, Arthur! Dutch has you runnin’ around so much, you can’t possibly do that.”

“So then deal with it! Go find who this bastard is and put a bullet in him. You took down your goddamn family, this should be easy.”

You can’t understand why Arthur is saying these things. You know he’s always been loyal to the gang, to Dutch. You thought he’d be willing to let it go if it meant having a new life with you.

“Arthur, please. Please, let’s get out here. We’ve saved who we can, the rest need to take care of themselves. We keep going like this, we’re all going to die!”

“Then go! If you’re going to be a coward, then get out of here!” His voice has risen considerably. You stare up at him.

“I- I’m not a coward, Arthur. I’m just trying to be real.”

He lifts his lip to you. “No, you’re just looking after yourself. That’s all you ever done. You don’t give a damn about none of these people. You just want me all to yourself, living in some cabin the rest of our lives like a goddamn fantasy.”

“No, that-that’s not true. Just listen to me. I’m scared for everyone, Dutch is on a suicide mission and he’s taking all of us with him.”

“You always blame everything on Dutch, don’t you? He’s workin’ on getting us out, that means all of us. He’s as sick of losing people as we are. But you… you just assume the worst of him. Once we all get out of here, he’ll get better.”

“Arthur, if he hasn’t gotten any better he won’t ever! Stop lying to yourself!”

He glares down at you and shakes his head a little. “I can’t believe you’d be so selfish,” he mutters. “After all these people have done for you, you’d just let them all die so you can live. You know what? Asking you to marry me was the worst mistake I ever made.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. He clears his throat, looking away. “Y/N, I didn’t mean-”

“Save it, Arthur,” you growl. “Fine, I ain’t gonna stick around only to watch you die because of the rantings of a mad man, and I won’t hang around as a reminder of your mistakes.”

You grab your satchel from the cot, ignoring his stammerings.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean- Let me rephrase that.”

You stomp across the clearing, trying to keep the tears from falling. You won’t give Arthur the satisfaction of seeing you cry. He follows you a few steps behind.

“Y/N, stop! I didn’t mean that, I’m just tryin’ to-”

“And I told you to save it, Arthur!” you holler, climbing onto Rannoch, painfully aware of the gang’s eyes on you. Arthur stands by Rannoch and grabs the reins.

“Y/N, please let me explain things.”

“You said your bit, Arthur, and no matter how much you try, you can’t take back what you said. But I’m glad to know what you truly think about me. Now leave me alone.”

His brow furrows again. “Fine, then run off like you always do. That’s all you ever done when things go bad. That’s what you did when you killed your family and that’s what you did every time you and I argued. All you ever do is run away!”

You bite your lip and look away, willing yourself not to cry. You look down and see his ring on your finger and your tempted to throw it at him. Instead, you look at him. “Good bye, Arthur.” You jerk Rannoch’s reins from his hand and gallop down the path, refusing to look at what you’re leaving behind.

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