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pretty-batty · 3 months ago

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The Shoe

Eddie x Original Female Character Pt 6 of Eldath's Priestess 2431 Words

Warnings: Reefer Rick slander, not canon compliant, causal racism from Chrissy's mom. Bi Eddie. Jealousy, intrusive thoughts, rumination, body image issues, hurt/comfort. Now on ao3 Thank you again to @anakinkshamer! My beta reader and bestie.

Summary: An unbearable question threatens our lovers' great reunion.

Having Eddie back in her life was like a dream. Waking up to him beside her, the sun streaming through the curtains and forming a halo around his deep brown curls. The sweetness of his sleeping smile was only lessened by Judy’s desire to get up. As, just as he used to, Eddie’s sleeping body had boxed her in.

She sighed, sitting up and stirring from the bed. They had to wash a lot of sheets the past few days. Of course, that was only when they connected in bed. They worshiped each other everywhere and found any way to give each other pleasure. Even if it was through a touch over clothes.

But Judy saw the filth in his stitches, the irritation of his skin around it. They weren’t even surgical, just doubled up embroidery thread. They needed to be changed. Margie called in an order shortly after Eddie entered their home again. For surgical silk thread, isopropyl alcohol, surgical steel needles. Wayne was well-versed in stitching up skin. Not being able to afford healthcare for generations did a lot for practical wound care.

Judy attempted to crawl out of bed from the foot, only to be nabbed by two loving arms and dragged back to her pillows.

“Nooo.” Came a deep whine, but Judy continued to wriggle out of his embrace, “nooo.”

“Eddie, I got stuff to do.” She smiled, kissing returning each sleepy kiss from his lips. “Gotta pick up that stuff from the drug store, take care of your stitches.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, dragon-man. Maybe eat some food, shower, figure out how to brush your teeth correctly, trim your claws.” She smiled as she listed each thing, tracing her finger over his nose. Eddie did the same, his dark talon running along the slope of her nose. She wasn’t wrong, his claw began to hook over now.

“Do I need like…dog nail clippers? Maybe what they use for horses?”

“They’re called nippers.” She slowly crawled her way out of his arms, not knowing how exhausted she was until her feet graced the floor.

“Sure.” He groaned, finally sitting up and stretching. Judy gazed at his body and smiled. “Like what you see, Buttercup?”

“Always.” She finally stood up, rolling her head from right to left, crackling each time. “Pass my slippers and glasses, please.”

Eddie did so, allowing her to shuffle with protected feet and clear eyes to the side of the bed, giving him another kiss. She hummed, “stinky breath.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Another kiss, and the couple got ready for the day together, taking turns in the shower. One sitting on the toilet seat lid. Eddie first, then Judy.

As Judy showered, she’d catch a glimpse of Eddie’s face. Biting and pursing his lips, trying to make seductive faces in the silliest way. Anything to get Judy to smile at him again, to giggle and snort at him, to make him feel real. And she gave him what he longed for, flicking some water at him through the gap in the curtain.

But all morning fun must come to an end, and a clothed Judy left the house. Her hair blown dry, the volume returning but contained, makeup on but moderate to make her look as if there were nothing there. She had to hide her joy, but it was impossible to conceal it completely.

That was until she reached the drugstore, no longer in her car, standing and looking at the first aid supplies.

“Well, if it ain’t Judy Sondheim.” The voice was thick with grit, the accent faked in an attempt to sound less threatening.

“And if it ain’t Reefer Rick,” she answered, “still selling weed to minors?”

“Well, I had someone doing that for me.” He sighed, “if only I had been there to protect him, but I still had time on my sentence.” His hand rested heavy on Judy’s shoulder, unwanted, scratchy. “How y’all holding up?”

Judy tried to pull back her venom, “ya know…hanging in there.”

“Yeah,” he sucked his teeth, “he uh…was a good kid.” A somber nod.

More angst poured against her teeth. Weed and shrooms, less hard drugs, those were never a problem. But Rick always had more. His pockets were always deeper. Always ready to make a sale. He would always go harder if you needed to. If not shrooms then acid, dmt, pcp, if not weed then prescription drugs, Xanax, Oxycodone, Ketamine…Heroin.

Judy cocked back her venom in her mouth, “Which he? Eddie or my brother?”

Rick simply froze, giving a pat on her shoulder before turning to leave the aisle. “Good to see you again, Judy.”

After her trip to the drugstore, she caught a glimpse of the remembrance wall. Chrissy’s picture was the largest. Her place of death was no longer visitable, so her mother set up one in the most accessed area in Hawkins. She allowed others to place their photos, missing loved ones, faces of the dead, but Chrissy’s was going to be the largest.

Judy often wondered if it was something her daughter would have wanted. She remembered when Chrissy and her mother visited the record store the spring before Judy left.

Chrissy was such a mousy little thing around this grim woman, with that perm and gritted smile. She remembered watching Chrissy linger in the rock section. Classic rock, mind you, nothing too hardcore. Her mother was thumbing through Doris Day. Judy simply waited for them to make their purchase.

“Excuse me, miss?” The woman said, “yes I’d like to know if you have any recent music from the classics?”

“Sadly, many of the crooners haven’t put out music since the seventies. Any time someone asks for new music from the genre, I point them to Lionel Richie.”

“Isn’t he” her voice tapered to a hiss, but still with a jovial smile, “colored?”

Judy tried to contain her desire to roll her eyes, make a bitter statement about how he was a freemason as well. But if the woman was this bigoted, she might take that and run with it.

Judy simply said, “You are unlikely to find anyone who produces the same sound you’re looking for who isn’t Black, ma’am.”

“You don’t need to be rude about it.” The woman commented, “is there anyone else more helpful?”

“No, ma’am, just me.” Judy didn’t realize that her sharp tongue would alienate yet another customer, sending the woman to the arms of the Star Court mall and their record store that was twice a big and had a wider selection than Judy could ever dream.

And as Mrs. Cunningham wished her a pointed good day, sweet little Chrissy followed. So different from the bubbly teenager Judy had seen her senior year. Time was beginning to weigh on Chrissy, and her mother’s constant hammering voice was forming her into something palatable. Something Chrissy, herself, did not wish for, but did not fight back.

Two years later, she saw that finished product in that photo. Too thin, forced smile, eyes glossed over and empty, cheer uniform fit to chafing.

So why in the Hell was she in Eddie’s trailer?

There was no way he’d harm her, but why was she there in the first place? Why would she die and implicate him by her presence? What the fuck was Cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham doing in Judy’s boyfriend’s home?

They were probably fucking.

Judy slammed that door shut in her mind.

Hell no, Eddie wouldn’t.

Chrissy may have been pretty, petite, primmed and perfect. She may have been present when Judy was 5 hours away. And she knew Eddie would forget about things he could not see.

But she was not Judy. Not in the slightest.

Chrissy was small. A lot of men liked smaller women, made them feeling bigger, more in control. And Judy was taller, heavier. Not petite. Not pretty. Everything about Chrissy was petite, her face was cute, even her nose like a pleasing whisp.

Not like Judy.

Hag face. Jew nose. Dark hair too quick to tangle itself. Wide thighs to ripple and wrinkle. Breast to smother and wrestle control of. Thick and soft, hard to lift and handle like a doll. Not thin, not small.

A lot of men loved that smallness. To control, to fetishize for some lust for power.

Maybe Eddie did too. Deep down, clamped in his chest, a hidden shame. With his taste in men there was no shame, but there was shame his secret love of petite, skinny, goyishe women.

And Judy spiraled in this fiction, in the walk to her parked car, in the drive back home, in pulling into the driveway.

Oh, she stewed on this fictitious narrative. Oh God, the guilt she felt while she stewed. She could be wrong. She hoped she was wrong. She was probably wrong.

But what was Chrissy Cunningham doing in Eddie’s trailer?

As Judy returned home, surgical silk and other medical necessities in a paper bag, that nagging pain didn’t stop. As she unloaded her horde onto the dining room table, the ache dropped into her feet, and filled her up to her gut.

I need to know.

So, as Eddie sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to get back, she approached him.

“Why was Chrissy Cunningham in your trailer?”

Nothing, he froze, eyes wide in a stare that burned a hole in the bedroom rug. His gaze grew wide and vacant.

“Why was she in your trailer, Eddie?” Judy asked again.

Eddie remained silent, eyes brimming with tears.

She waited for a moment before continuing. She had to know, the aching in her gut pressing into the matter further. “Were you going to fuck her, Eddie?”

He silently shook his head, hanging his head and hiding behind his curls.

Judy knelt down and peered into his eyes. “I want to trust you and leave it at that. But there was a dead cheerleader in your trailer. I know you didn’t kill her, baby, but why was she there in the first place?”

“She…” He sniffed, running his hands down his face, “she wanted drugs. Harder than weed. I agreed to sell her…” His breaths became more erratic, realizing that the truth was going to be more upsetting than the idea of cheating. “Ket…” He clamped his jaw shut, holding his jaw in his fist.

“Ketamine…” Judy whispered, voice breaking, “Rick had you selling ketamine?”

He looked up to see Judy’s gray gaze grow wet with tears.

“It wasn’t just ketamine either, was it?”

He shook his head again, sucking in a shaking breath before sighing, his knee bouncing neurotically. “PCP, Coke, Oxy, Xannies…”

Judy stood up, facing away from him, and waited for the shoe to drop, there was one last drug she knew he’d hide. And judging by his reluctance to finish his list, she did it for him. “Heroin.”

Eddie started rocking himself slightly. The fear of losing her, upsetting her, hurting her was overwhelming any control he had over his body. To Judy’s disappointment, he did not disagree, did not shoot the accusation down in disgust. And that nagging ache in her gut dispersed through her body, sending a cold shock along her skin.

“Rick said that it was the fastest way to make enough cash to get out of here.”

“Rick? Why would you trust a fucking thing Rick says? He’s the reason Joey is in the ground.”

“We don’t know tha-”

“Don’t.” Judy snapped, turning around and facing Eddie. Her face was hot. Her pale olive skin reddening with rage, “don’t you dare. He got Joe hooked. He was his main supplier. Refusing to sell to him was not an act of kindness or brotherly love, he just didn’t want to be held liable.”

Eddie immediately quieted. Judy continued, “if he actually cared about you, he wouldn’t have had you selling hard shit that could get you or Wayne jailed for possession. He just wanted to make sure his product got moved while he was locked away.”

“I thought…”

She shook her head, opened her door and walked to the bathroom. Before Eddie could catch up with her, she closed the door. She ran cold water in the sink, splashing it on her face to keep her from boiling over. Eddie’s weight shifted from one foot to the other, as he always did when he waited for her, then a gentle thump of his forehead against its wood.

His plea was muffled, overtaken by the sink. She turned the water off, allowing Eddie to repeat himself. “Please let me in.”

She finally spoke. “You made a promise. When you started working for Rick, you promised me that you wouldn’t sell hard shit. Not after Marty, and not after Joe.”

There was nothing Judy wanted more than to be held by Eddie, as she had been in every horrifying moment that she could remember. Her rage had subsided, and soon fizzled out when she heard him answer her.

“I know,” he whimpered, “I know I did Judy. I’m so sorry. Just…please…” His voice was lower, having sunk to his knees.

Judy felt cold. That itch in her veins reaching out in need of Eddie, a primal and senseless ache. It embarrassed her to feel it. She needed him to tell her everything was going to be okay. She needed to feel his fingers in her hair, his heartbeat beneath her ear. Finally, she opened the door, his face falling against her thigh. Sinking to her knees beside him, hands on the carpet of the hall, legs on the bathroom linoleum, she gazed at his red, puffy face.

They both were ugly criers.

“Baby girl,” he sniffed. Judy’s jaw clenched in bliss, eyes closing at the sweetness of his voice. “Please forgive me. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I was just stupid. I wanted more money, and I believed Rick when I shouldn’t have. I made a really bad choice.”

She leaned into his face, gently dragging her nose along his. Their foreheads pressed together. “I know.”

“I thought these ugly-ass limbs and mangled face were the worst of my punishment. But I couldn’t live with these consequences if it meant losing you.”

She leaned into his chest to Eddie’s relief. He scooted them to the adjacent wall, beside her bedroom door. Judy sat between his thighs, her legs beneath one of his, tucking her head beneath his chin. His arms closed around her, clutching her to him. “I just wish it never happened.” She whispered.

“Me too, Buttercup.”

Thank you for being patient. I appreciate the time you take to read this. I smile at every like I receive, kick my feet at every reblog. If you wish to be added to the tag list, please comment.

Tag list: @loserboysandlithium

#eddie munson #eddie x oc #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfic #Judy Sondheim #stranger things oc #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic #canon x oc #eddie x judy #monster!eddie #angst #hurt/comfort #tw: drugs #bisexual eddie munson

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shadows-starlight · 2 months ago

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Shadows and Starlight

Book 71: The Secret Pool

It was the dog days of summer in Ebonvale with the kind of weather that made people find different ways to cool off, even if it meant spending all day indoors.

Even the air around seemed to shimmer with heat.

Well, for some people, or sorcerers like Malakar, he was not going to spend another minute in this scorching heat.

So, with a flick of his wrist, he and his little daughter, Aurora, changed from their normal attire to some swimming costumes and prepared a bag full of things you would use for a day by the water. He picked up Aurora, who fidgeted and had a flushed face from the heat.

"I know, it is very hot today, little one," Malakar murmured, stroking her sweaty cheek. "And I know just the spot."

With an incantation, Malakar waved his hand, and the shadows around them seemed to bend and twist, transporting them to a hidden cave known only to magical beings. A tranquil pool lay before them, the water an inviting shade of turquoise, glimmering in the faint light.

Aurora’s dark olive eyes widened in wonder as she gazed at the gentle ripples of the water. She kicked her legs excitedly, a delighted gurgle escaping her lips.

Malakar chuckled. "I see you like our secret swimming spot, Aurora," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. He set her down on a blanket he had conjured from thin air, its edges embroidered with silvery stars. "Let’s get you ready, shall we?"

Since they were already in their bathing suits, Malakar proceeded to apply sun cream on the two of them. Aurora watched him intently, her chubby fingers grabbing at his long, silky black hair.

Malakar winced slightly as her tiny hands tugged on his hair, but his smile never wavered. "Alright, alright, I suppose I deserved that," he chuckled, gently detangling her grip. "Now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

He stepped into the cool, crystal waters, holding Aurora securely against his chest. The water felt cool against his skin, instantly easing the heat's burden on them. He lowered himself gently, letting Aurora’s tiny feet dip into the water. She let out a squeal of surprise and then a delighted giggle, her hands splashing wildly.

"There you go, little star," Malakar whispered. "Nice and cool, isn’t it?"

They spent the entire day at the pool, swimming, splashing, and playing games in the water, taking a break in the early afternoon for a picnic lunch before heading back into the water again.

Malakar shifted Aurora to one arm and used his free hand to conjure a floating ring with colorful fish that swam around it. He set Aurora into the ring, letting her float gently on the water. She squealed with joy, reaching for the shimmering fish that darted around her.

Malakar watched her with a content smile, allowing himself to relax in the cool water. "I could get used to this," he murmured. "No dark arts, no bothersome creatures, just you, me, and a quiet afternoon by the water."

Aurora splashed again, her laughter echoing throughout the cave.

The sun started to set by the time Malakar and Aurora dried off and made their way back to the lair and after all of the swimming she did today, she started to feel sleepy. She was so sleepy that she nearly fell asleep in her high chair during supper time and in the tub while Malakar washed her hair during bath time.

When Malakar tucked her into bed that night, Aurora fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Gentle snores escaped her lips. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Rest now, my little star. We’ll go swimming again soon.”

With that, Malakar left Aurora to dream about crystal turquoise waters and colorful darting fish.

#sliceoflife #family #father and daughter #original characters #shadows and starlight

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 11 months ago

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Heart’s Choice - Chapter 30

*Warning Adult Content*

- John -

I spend more time in the shower than an environmentally conscious person should but no amount of water can wash Carlos from my mind.

He lingers in my memory, the scent of him, the feel of his skin against mine.

Before I know it, I'm rock hard and I haven't even touched myself.

Giving in, I let my imagination wander and ejaculate so fast I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't alone.

After catching my breath, I finally shut off the shower and get dressed.

Downstairs, Becky is curled up on the couch with the dogs and a book, undoing weeks of 'not-on-the-furniture' training in one fell swoop.

She looks up when I enter the room and sets her book aside.

"I think that was a record-breaker," she says, referring to my marathon shower.

"You must have a lot on your mind."

She's opened a bottle of wine, so I grab a glass and join her, though I don't particularly like cabernet.

"It's this case. I'm missing something."

I settle across from her on the opposite sofa.

"I can feel it like an itch in my balls."

Becky snorts.

"You sure that's the case?"

I glance up sharply and her expression softens.

"You really caught it hard, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

She sips her wine, setting the glass aside before answering.

"Well, little old aromatic me can't speak from experience but I've seen it plenty of times in close friends. You're in love."

I scoff.

"With who?"

She lifts a shoulder.

"I don't know. Oh, by the way, Carlos called while you were in the shower."

Instantly alert, I lean forward eagerly.

"He did? What did he say?"

Becky smirks.

"Case in point."

"Becks, I'm serious."

She flicks her hand at me and pours herself more wine.

"I know you are and I'm happy for you. Surprised but really happy. That said, are you sure about moving? You could have something good here."

"I said I was thinking about moving. Not that I would."

"Oh."

Her brows shoot up.

"It sounded like a done deal."

I blow out a breath and rub the back of my head. I guess it could have sounded that way.

"You're right," I admit.

"I got it bad. First time in my life I can't get someone out of my head. Thing is, it's complicated."

Becky nods.

"I believe it. You're a complicated guy and I'm well aware I don't know the half of it."

I look up at her sharply.

She smiles.

"John, you're a conundrum, a puzzle box locked up tight and an open book at the same time. That's what I like about you. You're never boring. On the other hand, I know I'll never be the one you let in. If you've got a chance at real happiness here, you should take it."

Sighing, I take a gulp of wine and grimace.

Growing up with David spoiled my taste.

"It's in his hands," I say.

"I've told him how I feel and what it means to... get involved with someone like me. If he's willing to take a chance, I'll stay. Otherwise, David's offered to make arrangements for me."

Becky shudders.

She's only met my 'foster father' twice, once at our wedding and once when he'd paid me a surprise visit, seeking intel on one of his targets. He hadn't left a good impression either time.

"I still don't know how you turned out so normal, being raised by that guy."

"Quinn hated him," I say, my gaze drifting around the spacious room, which still bears all the marks of my brother's taste and nothing of mine.

"That was the source of the biggest rift between us. He thought David was some kinda uber-rich pedophile, playing the system to pick up foster kids."

I scoff.

"Believe me, if David wanted a sex slave, he'd buy one, not fill out reams of tedious paperwork and sit through awkward visits from social workers."

"Quinn was almost an adult when your parents died, wasn't he? Why didn't he take you himself?"

"Are you kidding? He'd gotten into a prestigious school on a scholarship. He could barely delay his plans for our parents' funeral."

I sigh and set my glass aside.

"He made a choice to bury his pain under layers of ambition and commitment. He chose to put himself and his career first. He always seemed so resilient but it changed him. And now where is he?"

I cast my eyes heavenward, though I'm not sure there's anything up there but stars and empty space.

"Anyway. What did Carlos say?"

"He just asked you to call him back. That's all."

Becky sips her wine without meeting my eyes.

A frown of unease tugs at my mouth and that same feeling tickles the back of my mind, like an infuriating itch that I can't scratch.

"And what did you say?"

She winces.

Tact is not her forte, especially when she's excited.

"Maybe too much. We talked about the case a little. He seemed surprised to learn your suspect's alibi is female and I... may have mentioned your move. I thought that's why you wanted me to take the dogs."

"Shit. No, I just can't look after them on my own right now and I know they'd prefer to go with you than to a kennel."

"Damn right."

She ruffles their ears and makes kissy noises. Two tails thump rapidly in apparent agreement.

"Maybe you should call him back and clear things up."

I nod and rise, pulling out my cell-phone, I retreat to the kitchen area for some privacy.

Becky didn't say as much but she's clearly planning to spend the night, which means I'll have to scrounge something for dinner.

Carlos would have no trouble, he doesn't give himself any credit for it but he's a skilled cook.

Meanwhile, I look at my cabinets and see individual ingredients without the slightest clue how to combine them into something edible.

Carlos' phone goes to voicemail and I swear under my breath.

The feeling intensifies.

Instinct, David would say. Primal and raw.

With a tingle of adrenaline in my fingertips, I text him.

John: Hey. Where are you?

I wait but get no reply.

I'm relieved when I see the notice that the message was read.

He's got his phone at least.

He just doesn't want to talk to me.

I type a longer note.

John: Becky doesn't know what she's talking about. I'm not going anywhere until I hear your answer. The only reason I'd leave is because I know I can't stay away from you.

I wait again but no 'read' notice appears this time.

He probably put his phone away and silenced it.

I send one more text, hoping he'll see it soon.

John: Call me. Please.

I'm not usually a jumpy guy but I jump when my phone rings barely two seconds after I press send.

It's not Carlos, though.

"McKenzie. Tell me you got good news."

Latoya's voice comes through loud and clear as always.

"Sure do. You know that earring back you collected? Forensics actually got a match on the DNA."

"No way. How?"

"It was already in a databank from a previous arrest. Belongs to one Regina Morelli."

"Morelli... Why is that familiar?"

"Because her brother is Rafael Morelli, the lucky landscape gardener who just inherited a sizeable estate."

"Fuck."

"Hang on. I'll send a pic."

My phone pings with the incoming message.

I open it and swear.

"Fucking hell. That's Rexi."

"Who?"

"The chick from the burger truck. Also the last known person to have seen Kyle alive. You on it?"

"Just about. You coming?"

"Yeah. Text me the address. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I end the call and stride back across the living room.

The dogs jump up when I grab my jacket and keys, nearly upsetting Becky's wine.

"Where are you going?" she calls, rising to follow me.

"Out. Work. Stay with the dogs."

"No way. I'll come with you."

"You're half drunk."

"No I'm..." she trips on the edge of the rug and sits back down with a thump.

"You're not coming. Rick, Morty, stay."

The pair sit obediently, heads tilted to the side.

"Good dogs."

Outside, I run to my car and open the door, when the front door opens after me and Becky peers out.

"John. You forgot your..."

The dogs bolt past her, nearly knocking her over and sprint at full speed to my car, where they dive seamlessly in through the open driver's side door and into the back seat.

Apologetically, Becky trots over and hands me my wallet.

"You forgot that. Sorry."

"Shit. This is why they failed the academy."

I eye the car.

I don't have time to waste getting them out again.

They know I'm going somewhere and for some reason they got it in their dumb heads that they get to come along for the ride.

Convincing them otherwise is a lost cause.

"Fine, I'll take them with me. You stay..."

The passenger door slams shut and Becky grins at me sheepishly from the seat.

"It's my fault they got loose," she says.

"I'll keep them in line. Besides, you know I'm packing, too."

She lifts the side of her suit jacket to reveal a dainty firearm.

"Becky, I don't have time for this."

"Then get in."

Defeated, I swear and slam the door after me for good measure. It's then I notice she's got her purse, which she wouldn't have needed if she was just bringing me my wallet.

"Becks... did you do that on purpose?"

"What?"

She blinks at me innocently.

"Of course not. You know me."

The feeling flickers in my gut and the dogs whimper with excitement as I shift into drive and step on the gas.

"Yeah," I grumble. "I do."

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satoruvt · 3 years ago

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know i’ll keep it forever

pairing → kim mingyu x reader

word count → 770

genre → fluff. just complete fluff ↳ tags: established relationship, Self Indulgent (tm), mingyu is annoying and my favorite person, cold medicine </3, mingyu being a housewife really, mentions of soup., mc is sick and mingyu is Done, crying i wish this was me rn, a single kiss, cute teasing and banter i think, anniversary shenanigans sick ver

song inspo → emerald by rini <3

warnings → none i think!!!

a/n → guys. this is actually the most self indulgent work ive ever written because its my 1 year with svt and im SICK. anyways i figured i cant do a fic for every member LOL so i decided to do mingyu because he was my very first bias in svt!!!! 1 year is a long time for me hehe so i hope this feels as special to you as it does to me... thank you for reading on such a special day <3

It takes more effort than you thought it would to swallow down the medicine (cherry flavored cold medicine because it was all the store had in stock), and you let out a weak cough when you finish, shivering at what little you could taste of it. Mingyu sighs, taking the the little plastic cup from your hand.

“Stop being dramatic,” he tells you, and you gawk at him like he’s insane.

“Dramatic?” You repeat, motioning to your sick self covered in blankets and surrounded by tissues. “I’m dying!”

Mingyu rolls his eyes but both of you are smiling. In all honesty, this isn’t the worst cold you’ve ever had - more annoying than anything else. You take a generous sip of the water Mingyu’s offered you, hoping it’ll wash away the lingering taste of alcohol and fake cherry. “I can’t believe you got sick on our anniversary,” he says as you swallow. It’s not teasing like before, more like disappointed awe. Neither of you expected your own health to get in the way of things.

You place the glass back on the bedside table, your hand moving to rest on the side of Mingyu’s face. He leans into it. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling guilty. “I know you had a lot planned.”

He shakes his head, hand resting on top of yours. “It’s not your fault. Maybe we needed a night in, anyways. A sign from the gods.”

You giggle but it dissolves into a few coughs, and Mingyu looks at you with puppy dog eyes that make you want to get better immediately. But even at your most resilient, it takes a few days to get back to full health, and you know you’ll be bedridden for a while.

“You’re gonna catch whatever I have if you stay here any longer,” you tell him, moving your hand away from him. Your fever gives you cold chills and all you want is to cuddle up next to him (he’s basically a human heater anyways) but you hold yourself back, not wanting him to share your pain. “You should stay at the dorms tonight.”

“What happened to dying?”

“I’ll die alone if it means you’re safe.”

Mingyu pushes your shoulder with so little force you barely move at all, but you groan out loud like you were punched with all of his weight behind it. “I’m sick and dying,” you wail, writing under your blankets, “and this is what you do to me.”

“Sorry, baby,” Mingyu says, adjusting himself so he stops your wriggling. “Want me to kiss it better?”

You already know where he’s going with this. “Kim Mingyu,” you warn, watching his face come closer. “You will not.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” He asks, grinning ear to ear. He only gets closer, blankets ruffling under the shift of his weight towards you. “You’re too weak.”

“If you get sick, I’m gonna have to take care of you,” you tell him like it’s a threat. You don’t try to stop him, still. “You’re more dramatic than me, and I’m gonna have to baby you for a week.”

Mingyu shrugs, not bothering to hide his amusement. “I’ll look forward to it.”

And then he kisses you square on the lips, kind and sweet just as usual. He’s warm and your sick brain convinces you that he’s already crossed the line, there’s no use in holding back now, so you melt into him and kiss him back, hoping the medicine taste still doesn’t linger on your lips.

It’s a quick kiss, ending soon after it starts. You flick Mingyu on the forehead and he immediately recoils, whining. “You are unbelievable.”

“Think of it as an anniversary present,” he says, cheeky. You wouldn’t be able to hide the grin on your face even if you wanted to. “It goes along well with the soup I’m about to cook for you.”

“Really,” you hum, watching him clean up a few cough drop wrappers and rogue tissues. You’ve always been aware of it, but you really are lucky.

(Sometimes you think it’s not luck, but fate.)

“Hey,” you call right before Mingyu leaves the bedroom. He turns around to look at you, cute and confused pout on his lips. “You know I love you, right?”

You swear he shines brighter than the sun whenever you tell him. “I know,” he affirms, like he still can’t believe it (like he’s the one who needs to be in disbelief). “I love you too.”

Sleep catches you in a haze of what you can smell of Mingyu’s cologne mixed with the sound of him already starting to sniffle.

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #kpopscape #ficscafe #sick on my very own svt day that is so wrong </3 #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu imagine #svt mingyu x reader #svt mingyu imagine #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu imagine #kpop x reader #kpop imagine #x reader #reader insert

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years ago

Text

BTS DRABBLE-OT7

Contrary to peoples' opinions-surrounding the fact that you're dating seven men that belong to the mafia-you're not helpless. You can defend yourself. But a close brush with some dangerous people has your boyfriends questioning that fact-wondering if you can protect yourself enough-and true to their natures, they're not going to stand idly by if you're in any sort of danger whatsoever.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, OT7, BTS x you, BTS x reader, OT7 x reader, OT7 x you, Poly!BTS, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff, Kim Seokjin, Min yoongi, Jung hoseok, Kim namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim taehyung, Jeon Jungkook

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Title: Protect You

The garden that surrounds the mansion is usually quiet this time of morning-the sound of birds just starting to sing their songs, the trickle of the fountain that runs down into a meandering stream through the trees-but this morning, the clear morning air is broken by the harsh, insistent sound of a squeaky toy.

"Tannie, Tannie!" You hold aloft the rubber duck and squeak it once more enthusiastically, the small dog dancing around your feet-eyes bright, ears perked, tongue lolling-as he waits for you to toss the toy once more. "You want it? Go get it!"

You throw the duck across the open space of the courtyard and the dog streaks off in a flash of black and tan fur, tiny legs churning, as he barks happily, chasing after the bouncing rubber toy.

You sit back down on the bench, slightly laughing to yourself at the dog's almost maniacal enthusiasm, and reach out a hand to caress Holly's head where he sits beside you, paws folded neatly, on the stone seat beneath the shade of the fruit trees.

"To have that kind of energy, eh, Holly?" You ask gently, glancing over at the older poodle, who gives you a slight wag of his tale, pink tongue hanging past his lips, though he has been doing nothing but sitting in the shade. You stroke his head affectionately, rubbing his soft, silky ears between your fingers. "Yeah, I know. I like the shade better too."

Tannie appears back at your feet again, panting hard, dark eyes glittering, as he proudly drops the duck he has retrieved at the toes of your sneakers.

"Good boy, Tan!" You exclaim, leaning over to pet the other dog, as he dances in place and his tail wags furiously at your praise. "You brought me your toy! You're so good. You did so good."

You stand from the bench, reaching down to round up the toys Yeontan has been playing with, and Holly rises-stretching languidly-beside you, as you glance between both eagerly waiting dogs and ask, "You guys want some water? Wanna go inside and take a break for awhile? Let's go get some water."

Yeontan, circling your feet, yips happily and bounds toward the back door, leading the way back toward the house, as you glance back to make sure Holly is following-albeit a slower pace-behind the two of you.

And that's when the pair of men step out from behind the trees that line the tall wall that surrounds the property.

The shorter one grins at you, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his slacks, and flicks the toothpick he holds between his teeth around with a light twitch of his tongue. "Hello there, Mrs. Kim."

You watch the pair warily, as they continue to advance toward you on slow, stalking footsteps. "Gentlemen. Can I ask what you're doing in my garden?"

The man who had spoke before-the one with the long greasy hair tied at the nape of his neck-spits his toothpick onto the ground and arches a brow in your direction, hands still hidden in his pockets, though his shoulders raise slightly as he gives you a casual shrug. "Just out for a walk. Thought we'd stop in for a visit."

Holly growls at your feet, hackles raised, as the two men step closer still, and you reach down to pick him up, sheltering him in your arms, as you ask calmly, "Really? Because I don't recall that we've ever met."

"Oh, we haven't." The man replies, flicking a finger toward his taller counterpart, who has yet to speak. At his motion, his partner circles to your other side, so that you're now backed into a corner of the garden-the men on either side-and no easy escape in sight. "But we've met your husband many times." He flashes you a dangerous grin that has your insides squirming.

They're referring to Namjoon, you're sure of that. That's always been the agreement between the eight of you-you belong to all of them-but Namjoon is the public face of the relationship.

"He's never mentioned you." You state simply, trying to keep any micro expressions off your face that might hint at the fact that you're starting to get nervous. Your eyes flick toward the back door of the house, about a hundred yards away and blocked by the trees.

"Hmmm." The man leans beside you on one of the tree trunks, and you can almost taste his sweat and his rumpled suit jacket smells of damp and something resembling smoke and cat piss. "Really? Odd." He cocks his head, and his dark eyes hold a dangerous glint, as he reaches up to stroke a finger down the side of your face, Holly baring his teeth in your arms at his close proximity. "Speaking of, where is our good friend Mr. Kim? Away at work?"

There's no use trying to lie. You know-by the way he's watching you, and the stupid leer that crosses the other man's face-that they already know quite well that Namjoon isn't here.

"Yes." You nod, just barely, and jerk your skin away from the man's still trailing finger. "He had business in the city today."

"Oh, well that's too bad." The man clucks his tongue against his teeth in a display of fake disappointment, and his eyes darken as his gaze sweeps down your body. "It's a shame we missed him." He grins wickedly. "I guess you'll just have to tell him we stopped by and relay our message for us."

Before you can react, the shorter man has grabbed your wrists in clammy fingers, Holly frantically barking and snapping in your arms as he closes in on the two of you.

"Get the damn dog out of here." The man barks, struggling to maintain his grip on you as he dodges Holly's flashing teeth.

The taller man rips Holly from your arms and tosses him across the garden away from the three of you, and though he yelps, you're grateful they've released him and not tried to harm him.

Because the pit in your stomach is telling you you won't be so lucky.

The shorter man, his grip on your wrists still tight and painful, has become distracted in that moment, watching his partner toss Holly, and you take the opportunity to slam your shoe down hard on his foot.

He yelps, releasing you for the briefest second, and that's all the time you need to dart past him and toward the door of the house.

You hear the man swear behind you and yell something to the taller man about catching you before you make it inside, but all you can focus on is not tripping and tangling yourself in the foliage as you sprint toward the house.

Your salvation is within maybe ten yards, when the taller man catches up with you.

He catches your wrist and before you can make a sound, slams you with the weight of his body back against the stucco wall of the house, right beside the back door and your only bid for freedom.

You're all breathing hard when the shorter man reaches the two of you, fire blazing behind the dark rings of his irises.

"Stupid bitch." He growls out between loose lips, before hitting you hard across the face with the palm of his hand.

The slap sends your head careening back against the stone wall behind you and leaves your cheek stinging, and as you orient yourself once more-still breathing hard-you can taste the copper sheen of blood on your tongue from your newly split lip.

The man reaches for the buckle of his belt, still glaring at you, and spits on the ground at your feet, before he addresses the taller man who still holds you pinned against the wall. "Hold her still. I think it's time we taught Boss Kim and his little bitch here a long overdue lesson."

The taller man nods, and the way his fingers tighten around your wrists has you wincing slightly.

"Now." The other man steps up to you, and the stench of his warm, putrid breath washing across your face has you feeling as if you're about to vomit. His fingers close on either side of your chin and wrench your gaze up to his own. He smirks wickedly. "I hope you know, I'm going to enjoy this."

You spit in his face violently, saliva and blood mixing into a pink spittle that splashes across his face, which instantly darkens, as he releases your chin and raises his hand into the air to once again deliver a stinging blow.

And then, the sound of a gun cocking has everyone freezing in their tracks.

"What the-" The man glances at his counterpart, who has gone still and is staring with wide eyes beyond his shoulder line, and then directs his gaze in the same direction behind the three of you.

The scene he's met with instantly has his previously venomous gaze filling with terror.

Yoongi's finger is steady on the trigger as he holds the gun on the two men, features dark and deceptively treacherously calm as Jin flanks one of his sides, Hobi on the other-and their faces are just as unreadable and blank-though you know there is a dark, dangerous current of emotions brewing just beneath that calm surface.

Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin complete the half circle surrounding your attackers, and glancing at the absolute and utter fear on the two men's faces, you can't blame them.

Looking down the ready, waiting barrels of six guns would make anybody-no matter how brave-wet themselves where they stood.

"I told you the truth." You speak into the suddenly electric silence that has fallen over the group, and your assailant glances back at you, as if he had forgotten you were there, mouth agape, eyes wide. You offer him an innocent smile. "Namjoon is at work. But I didn't say the other six were."

The sound of another gun cocking into position has the two men whirling back to face the circle of men surrounding you.

Taehyung's finger finds the trigger of his pistol, and-normally warm eyes dark-his lips quirk upward into just the hint of a humorless smirk as he stares down the two men beside you, and when he speaks, his voice is cold and absolutely murderous as he parrots back the words the intruder had used just moments before.

"I hope you know, I'm going to enjoy this."

**********

"What happened."

It isn't a question as Namjoon strides into the room, loosening his tie as he enters, usually unruffled attitude an odd mixture of humming danger and worry.

Yoongi glances up from where he sits in the corner, polishing his gun, and grunts out darkly, "Couple of goonies thought they'd get the upper hand and take out the boss's wife."

You can tell, by the way his normally controlled movements are jerky on the barrel of the weapon, that he is still worked up.

Namjoon crosses the room to where you sit on the sofa, coming to stand before you and the boys that surround you, though Jimin doesn't look up at him, focusing on cleaning the wound that cuts across your bottom lip.

"Ouch!" You hiss out as he hits a particularly tender spot with the antiseptic, jerking back from him, as he meets your gaze and offers you a slightly apologetic look as Hobi, who sits beside you, arm around your shoulders, gives you a comforting pat on the hand.

Namjoon crouches down and ignoring Jimin, pushes past the younger man, eyes softening slightly as he runs his thumb carefully over your split lip and up the purple bruising that is just starting to show on your cheekbone. "Whoever did this, I'll make them pay. I swear it."

You lean your cheek into the palm of his hand, his skin warmed by the afternoon sun, and offer him the hint of a smile, though it hurts your lip to do so. "I know you will."

"What do we do if this happens again, Namjoon?" Jin asks from where he is leaning against the desk, watching the interaction between the two of you with careful gaze. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, and he shifts from one foot to the other, brow furrowed as he regards the younger man. "If next time-"

"There's not going to be a next time." Namjoon cuts him off abruptly, standing up once more, as he sends the other man a hard look. "This is never going to happen again."

"But what if it does." Jungkook speaks up, and his normally large doe eyes are flashing with anger, irises no longer warm, but dark, as he slams his palms down in frustration on the desk his elder leans upon. "What if it does happen again, hyung? What then? We can't keep putting her in danger like this."

"I'm really fine-" You start to protest, speaking around Jimin's fingers, who has moved back into position to keep cleaning the long cut on your lips. His fingertips press into the plush skin of your mouth, effectively cutting off your words with a gentle admonishment.

He tilts his head and stares at you, full lips curving into a gentle smile, eyes crinkling, making you feel slightly better in the way only Jimin can, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, just like his touch.

"No one is doubting you can take care of yourself, baby girl." His fingers caress the line of your jaw and his gaze is thoughtful. "We just don't want to put you in situations where you have to."

"Hyung." Taehyung steps up beside Namjoon, who is now staring out the large window behind the desk and down onto the gardens below, and when his hand rests on the leader's arm, you note that his fingers are still speckled with blood from the stand off earlier.

When he speaks again, the deep timbre of his voice shakes slightly, as if he's still so pissed off that he can hardly control himself. "Those sons of bitches almost touched her. If we hadn't been here-"

You wince at his choice of words, because he's right. Without them, you would have been left to an incredibly dark fate at the hands of the two intruders.

"I'm with Jungkook." Yoongi finally speaks up once more, and he stands from the corner, laying his now sparkling gun aside, as he approaches Namjoon and Taehyung, still silhouetted against the window. He heaves a sigh and glances in your direction, before addressing Namjoon seriously. "She needs to be able to protect herself. God forbid, there's another time, but if there is, we can't just leave her defenseless."

You can tell that Namjoon does not take the older man's opinion lightly, and you can visibly see him weighing his hyung's words before his shoulders slump in defeat, and he lets out a tired sigh. "All right."

He strides across the room again and crouches down in front of where you sit once more, long legs folded beneath his body, as his eyes meet yours in a firm gaze. He reaches out to take your chin in his hand, in a much gentler, much more loving grip than the man had used earlier, and his lips purse into a serious, stern line, before he intones quietly, eyes soft, "It's time to teach you a few things, darling."

******

The first thing you can think when Jin leads you into the armory and you see all the weapons lining the walls is holy shit.

The second thing is how have you never noticed how many different guns the men you love have at their disposal?

"So, you've got your assaults, your machines," Jin gestures to each rack of guns as you pass by on your tour, Jungkook trailing along behind the two of you, sometimes running loving fingers up certain weapons as you walk by. "Pistols, handguns, snipers, rocket launchers-"

"Have you guys used all of these guns?" You ask, mouth agape, as you glance around the huge room full of deadly weapons.

"No way." Jungkook shakes his head, bounding up to stand beside you, as he slings an arm around your shoulders and gives you a deceivingly innocent bunny smile, as if he's not talking about guns that kill people. "Some of these are specialized. We have to hire professionals for those."

"Aren't you professionals?" You question curiously, grinning slightly as Jungkook laughs at your query.

"Okay. Eventually, you can pick what feels most comfortable for you, princess." Jin reappears from another smaller room, cocking and loading a small handgun into his palm, as he approaches you and Jungkook. "However, we're going to start small for now."

He offers the gun to you, and you hesitate only a moment, before reaching out and taking the gun from him. The metal feels cold against your palm, as you fingering the gun, trying to get used to the weight.

A low whistle sounds from the entrance of the room, and you glance up as Taehyung enters, eyes scanning the racks of guns almost fondly, as he states lightly, "Look at all the pretties."

Jin sighs from beside you, rolling his eyes, though you catch the hint of a smile, before his expression becomes neutral again. "Can you please stop talking about assault rifles the same way you talk about shoes, Kim Taehyung?"

Taehyung smirks and winks at you, eyebrow cocked cheekily, as he reaches your side and throws his arms around you and Jungkook's shoulders. "C'mon hyung, lighten up. You know our girl's gonna be a natural." He chucks you playfully under the chin. "Right, sweetheart?"

You shrug, still trying to get used the feeling of the gun in the palm of your hand. "I dunno. I hope so?"

Jin takes your hand in his and leans over to press a kiss to the side of your forehead. "I'd believe him if I were you. He's uncannily good at predicting what other people are good at."

Taehyung grins at the praise. "Yeah! Like I can tell you that I predict that Jungkookie is gonna be shit at Fortnite when we play later tonight."

"Hey." Jungkook leans around you to try and catch Taehyung with his fist as the older boy laughs.

"All right, all right." Jin berates them lightly, though you can tell he's trying not to grin at the younger boys antics. He waves toward you and the gun you still hold in your hand. "Let's get (Y/N) to the shooting range then."

Taehyung slings his arm once more around your shoulders as you all follow Jin toward the range. "Trust me, sweetheart." He offers you the hint of a soft smile and squeezes your fingers between his own. "You're gonna get so good, next time those bastards try anything, they won't know what hit them before you blow their brains out."

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candidhart · 4 years ago

Photo

Made this one some time ago and had the HONOR of collabing with my dear friend @royai who wrote this AMAZING piece!

Love u Katie :3

After Dark

by @royai

It came as a surprise to Riza Hawkeye that the light could be as fearsome as the dark.

It never occurred to her that trouble could exist in the thin space between the two, that it should preserve itself there for a hundred years, maybe longer, and wait. She imagined herself as a girl asleep in her bed, moonlight slanting through her four-paned glass window, a ferry for the monsters and the things that were worse than monsters. Children checked under their beds and inside their closets, refused to venture into cellars and attics, thought of warding off the unknown with fat oil lamps and candles melting into their brass candlesticks. That things with spindly arms and bodies blacker than ink could use light as a conduit for their demented games…

That they could touch her, even…

Nightmares took up residence in Riza’s sleep. In her waking too, they lingered there, limned her mind with the briefest flashing of tendrils. She curled into herself at night, closed her eyes on the horrors. The blackness found her, though. A million spider’s legs on her body, ghosting the flesh, raising the hairs, and that line on her cheek where the monster had touched her would weep. And she would weep, too, because it had been so long since dread had forced its way in. The tendrils brought strange, frantic memories to the forefront. A panic as familiar as church bells.

Riza’s father, a monster in his own right, in the way that men become monsters and in the way that she had become a kind of monster too. He never minded her but to be those tendrils in the dark. Never in the light. That was her comfort, her safety, her promise.

The light.

A betrayal.

***

Central reached for her like a beggar. Grimy hands, oil-stained, gunk under fingernails chipped and jagged, it closed its hands around her and she was reminded, again, again, again, about the stories her father would tell. He would tell them in his sleep, and make promises of them in her ear, and he would tell them, even, through mouthfuls of blood. That Central was a bastard city. Its towers, spires, and cobblestones bathed in storefront lights bleeding from ornate windows, in the yellow glow of street lamps.

Riza left her apartment and slipped off a curb, first thing.

She remembered her first night in the city. Automobiles flicked light into her windows, made shapes out of the lamp she kept on a pile of boxes in the living room. Shadows in the dark. There were sounds all the time. Movement like tree branches.

Back East, back home, Riza could wander into the fields when she couldn’t sleep. She took a military vehicle into the countryside, an hour or so west, just a bit further inward. It parked fine on the dirt roads. Headlights would go black, melt into the darkness all around, and the hip-high grass cradled her as she sank down, down into the cottony earth. Most people counted sheep to sleep; Riza counted stars, stalks.

She always woke before the sun. Home in time to rinse the sticks from her hair and brew coffee on her electric stove.

Central did not exist to afford her any of that. Central was alive like hordes of flies are alive. Incessant buzzing, a whirring in your ear that you can’t see, that you worry might bury itself in your eardrum. Even before the tendrils and the monsters Riza would lie awake in her bed, books unearthed from boxes, clothes folded in neat squares over her dresser, a chest of drawers not quite filled yet, her apartment unpacked and unsettled, and fret over the whole of it: Central.

She slipped off the curb and scraped her achilles on the concrete. Her teeth crashed together with the force, and she massaged her jaw as she reached down to rub her wounded ankle, fingers coming away wet and red.

A car beat over the cobbled street, spewing dampness from its tires. Riza wasn’t aware that it had rained but she smelled it now, acute and intense, like a single pinprick on the skin.

Out east, that smell was earthy, ancient: soaked stone and evergreens, swollen carriages and damp horse hide, wetted dirt and a choked fire.

Riza took Longmont to Leander, cutting her way through the city via back alleys where moonlight and street light was caught on brick corners and cordoned off by severe angles. She read the stories of women assaulted in Central well past dark, and had seen all the headlines he placed strategically at her desk, a tiny dog-shaped paperweight holding the newspaper steady until the moment Riza could read it and be properly warned. But it was never the people of Central who made her uneasy.

It was several blocks to his apartment. Riza folded herself into the dark. The creature could follow but he could not show himself here, not without a conduit, not without the light. Everything black, nothing inside of it, a void.

A rectangle of light exploded over the ground. Riza stopped, terror seizing her hard. A woman with greying hair hummed and whistled as she sprinkled water out over hanging potted plants. Riza’s chest bounced frantically as she watched the shadow of the woman’s hands in the light, the shadow of the watering can wandering back and forth across the chasm of yellow, methodical as a pendulum.

It happened so suddenly that Riza had little time to react. A mist, a gathering shadow, one red eye peeked out at her from the fluttering darkness. Then, like snakes, tendrils crept out of the line of black and into the little patch of light. Riza willed the woman to close the window, begged her, thought for a moment that she might shout or cry, but it was likely that the woman would only become curious and the window would remain uncovered as she came to watch from her lighted perch.

The monster was an ancient child and yet, in this form, none of his features were childlike. His smile was wolfish and cruel, thin like a knife’s blade, and his tendrils sharp as barbs. They thrashed up against the liquid dark where Riza was hiding, attempting to gather her by the ankles.

The child spoke using a dozen voices.

“Where are you going, Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

Home, she thought. An impulse, the truth, spoken so carelessly in her mind. To him. To the stars or the stalks, that tall grass and damp earth. Somewhere known.

“You have made a rather purposeful attempt to evade me.”

“Forgive me,” she bit, “but our last meeting was less than enjoyable.”

The monster smirked.

“Do I trouble you so much, little Riza?”

The nickname, familiar in sound, comforting in its use, was a bitter poison on his tongue.

“I’ll ask again for transparency.” The tendrils clawed at the ground, raked it. “Where are you going?”

Away from Central.

Away from the light.

To him. To him. To him.

He’ll shut off all the lights, pull all the curtains closed, feed her hot tea and leftover lentil soup and summer sausage. His apartment will smell like cologne and the candle with petals baked into it, and they’ll settle into the down of his bed and see nothing, and the monster will never even realize he has lost.

“You have only as long as the window stays open,” she said, gaining confidence. “I am not bound to you. I can go wherever I want.”

As she said it, the woman in the window started to stir. Her footsteps grew closer, the sound of the humming rising, rising, rising into the final closing of the curtain. The monster’s frown was washed away by the night.

Riza ran.

His apartment was several blocks east of Central Headquarters. The storm’s eye, the quiet, the massive, white and oppressive thing. Riza wound her way past it without managing to sneak a glance. She didn’t need to. She could feel its gaze on her, what all of it represented. And the squared coach lights were tiny pillars of threats, waiting for her to come closer and be beckoned.

She thundered past several shuttered windows; an older man on a stoop hunched close to the ground; the sounds of women chattering together like preening birds, their heels clicking over cracked brick and concrete.

Riza took the stairs two at a time, lunging forward through the hall light, praying nothing would lurch out from the darkness and drag her away. She learned at a young age to fear the sudden jerk of the unknown.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he said. He must have heard her coming, because his door was wrenched open, and he stood there in pajamas and holding a cup of tea, the bag still soaking.

“We’ve had an emergency at the office, sir.”

His brows trundled downward.

“Please, come in,” he said, and moved aside as she nearly tripped her way into his apartment. “Excuse the mess.”

There was no mess, not quite like someone would expect. The Colonel’s apartment was better kept than hers, although she had just moved and he had gotten to stay. Things were collected together in neat piles: alchemy books gathered at one arm of the couch, on the floor, an old mug sat atop them, and there were coats strewn about too, though placed strategically, two on dining chairs and one on the lounge by the front door. Pots hung together in clumps along his kitchen walls, white-tiled, much nicer than Riza’s tan wallpaper; and on his floor, beneath the coffee table, several sewn blankets, all gifts from the Madame’s girls, as far as anyone knew.

Riza reached for one as she folded herself into his couch. “Please, sir. Can you turn off the lights?”

He set his tea on the counter. Again, he looked at her with concern, but the lights started to fall away the closer he came to her. First the kitchen, the six squares of dining space, the hall light he shut off as he sat opposite to her on the couch. The lamp was last. And finally, with the lights of Central thoroughly shut out, Riza could breathe.

It was much like how she would lock herself in the bathroom as a child, plugging the bottom of the door with a wet towel, the waxy shower curtain a flimsy barrier between herself and her raging father. Eventually he removed the locks, and then the knobs. Even now, she felt the cold, hard press of the tub’s porcelain on her back.

“Thank you.”

Silence, and then: “What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

Coming home.

“I’m not sure myself, sir.”

The Colonel shifted his weight. He was a full cushion away from her, but his heat radiated all the same.

“What happened to your cheek?”

“I cut it on a bramble while fetching a lost toy for Hayate at the park.”

Fingers pressed to her skin, a thumb ran slanted along her wound.

It was reminiscent of childhood, for sure. Riza had always courted this quiet, contemplative darkness. It was when she was a little older that she invited Roy into it, and he welcomed the invitation, and he was a kind, treasured guest. But tonight she was feeling particularly fragile.

She took his hand and fit his knuckles under her chin.

The monster had allowed her to be here, that much was certain. There was no other reason that he wouldn’t have stolen her from those stairs.

She crushed Roy’s hand into herself.

What was he after?

What was the motive?

Was it… afraid?

Roy leaned closer to her. His fingers squeezed hers. He wanted to say something, she knew, or ask her why she had come to him and begged for the dark.

She would not tell him. Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight she was fragile.

Riza found his mouth in the dark. She set his hand free and it wrapped itself around the curve of her neck, tipping her head back. His other hand gave her hair a gentle tug.

“Are you all right?” he managed to ask around her lips, while she occupied herself with tracing the scars on his hip and in his abdomen. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled him toward her until she was on her back and he had to brace himself against the arm of the couch. “Lieutenant,” he said, though the sentiment was weak, ill-willed. He was attempting and failing at control.

“I’m all right,” she said, and kissed him again. He tasted like his tea. Again his fingers brushed the cut on her cheek, and as they did she was shocked, jolted. She broke away from him and sat upright. “I’m, uh…”

“I really just need to know if you’re all right.”

“I’m going to go.”

“Lieutenant— Riza.”

The name was too much, the break in her skin was too much, the darkness was not enough. It was not enough. The curtain hadn’t been enough. The porcelain. All the nights cascaded in the dark, the world pulling itself to a close around her, fitting like a glove.

“I have to go.”

The Colonel kept to his place on the couch as she stood and put her hand on the door and wondered again about what the monster wanted.

She hadn’t known as a child, and she had survived anyway.

She had survived.

The light swallowed her whole.

#royai #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #selim bradley #fma #fullmetal alchemist #LOVE U KATIE #so nice to do a collab....#AND ITS SO GOOD #also yes I have a lot of feelings about the whole Pride situation #myart

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saltwatersweetner · 4 years ago

Text

End Me

Eren x Reader

A Prequel of Sorts. Eren never fought for control preferring the security of your hold on him but you could never fully domesticate a wild animal it seemed.

Part 1 Part 3

CW: Manipulation, Toxic Relationship, Attempted Murder, Unhealthy coping mechanisms all in all mildly unsettling themes.

Eren knew how to be good—painfully so. He also knew how to be bad—concerningly so. He was a creature of habit. He did whatever he decided was best for him at the moment and maybe thats what lead you to your current stare down.

“Eren I said move.”

“Fuck what you said.”

Frowning you tried to think what honestly could have brought this mood upon him. It couldn’t have been because you were going out he always understood your random need to socialize. You also can’t remember purposefully setting him off, not in the mood and you weren’t completely cruel to ignore his random—even for him mood change—more in tune to your partners mood swings and emotions than you were to you own.

Carefully reaching out for him you raise an eyebrow when he moves away from your—for now—gentle touch “Are you really upset or just being a brat?”

“Stop talking to me.”

Huffing you choose to ignore his attitude and slip your coat over your shoulders just in time for a knock to be heard from the front door. With Eren on your heels you open the door for your friend.

“Y/N I called but you didn’t answer so I just came up.”

You get a flashback of Eren throwing a tantrum not even 30 minutes ago and launching your device from you 6th floor apartment “Yeah I dropped my phone off the balcony but lets go—Eren be good.”

His glare turns even more deadly when Reiner politely wraps an arm around your shoulders. Closing the door behind you Reiner laughs into the quiet hall “Be good? What is he your dog?”

“Something like that.”

Reiner was a friend an attractive one at that and Eren didn’t like it at all. He hated anyone that was even remotely close to you because you already didn’t like anyone but with Reiner it was different. You let him touch you and hold you.

Eren hated it, he hated it so much—and to make matters worse you didn’t care about his feelings—not one bit.

After a night of bar hopping and watching Bertholdt make a fool of himself in front of Annie, Reiner once again brought you home.

“It was nice seeing you, without your guard dog.” The face he made at the thought of Eren wasn’t a nice one.

“Aw sweetheart don’t be mean.” Reaching up you hold his warm cheek in your slightly chilled hand.

You knew jealousy when you saw it, could detect the slightest change of emotion when it was presented to you. He leans into your hold like a cat seeking out affection—much different than Eren’s wild way of seeking you out.

“Don’t be jealous my dear use your words.”

Reiners face was slowly moving closer to yours and you smirk in amusement. It would seem you had a knack for catching the attention for boys who were looking to be controlled.

“Y/N....”

Your door swings open before Reiner can kiss you and Eren is looking beyond livid. Reiner freezes his fight or flight telling him to run but you keep him steady with your palm.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Eren’s nod is slow and deliberate his eyes still glaring at the nonexistent space between you and the blond.

“Then that ends our time together, goodnight Reiner.” He shivers in what you think is glee from the acknowledgment of the time you spent with him.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t acknowledge Eren any longer and hurries out to the elevator.

Turning back to the aforementioned boy you make a motion with your wrist “Move.”

When he eventually does get out of your way your hyper aware of the way he sticks to you almost like glue. Throwing your coat over the back of your couch you stretch and lead him to the kitchen.

“You hungry? All I’ve done is drink tonight I could really eat—“

He swings you into the wall by the neck. The alcohol in your system made it incredibly difficult to feel the pain you knew was blossoming up your back so all you could do was stare at the man before you.

You saw the endless sea of madness that unlike you he didn’t bother to cover up. Everyone found the look endearing on him like he never left that childishness behind but you knew the truth.

You could slowly feel yourself starting to suffocate. You didn’t bother panicking because as it had it Eren had all the power right now. If he or you moved the wrong way your neck was as good as snapped.

“Why did you let him touch you?”

Putting a calm hand on his wrist you try and fail to alleviate some of the pressure being forced down on your windpipe “Why. Does. It. Matter.”

Eren was breathing unevenly stuck between fighting his impulses and actually causing some damage “You’re mine you’re—you’re not supposed to—“

“Says. Who?” That makes him let go.

As it would have it you and Eren weren’t dating in any shape or form but he belonged to you. You brought him pleasure that he couldn’t find anywhere else. He was entirely devout to you and you only, all on his own fruition. From the moment he’d accidentally bumped into you and saw through the mask you wore. From the moment he stalked you from the moment he’d shown himself to you begging for salvation.

He wanted to play the game—wanted to be entertained in the morbid way regular people would get sick to their stomachs at—and you let him. You found him amusing enough to keep around but you refused to belong to anyone but yourself.

He was losing the game and fast. As his god you couldn’t be bothered with feeling bad for him.

“Now we can eat or you can sit here and starve whats it gonna be?”

Eren looked terribly unwell like he was about to fold in on himself “u-um eat please.”

You’d never seen him look so unsure before and it made you excited. How would he cry for you next? Would he try to fight more, yell and scream? Or would it be silent and broken?

Flicking your wrist you busy yourself in the kitchen “Good choice, go sit.”

He does as he’s told mumbling words to himself along the way. Was it cruel? Maybe. But you couldn’t be bothered considering how much of a thorn in your side he’d been all day.

You wanted to break him more and till he was nothing but crushed up stars slipping away in the wind. You almost felt bad for how much you were going to ruin him.

But he was your property after all to do with what you wanted. No one could stop you even if they tried. Especially because he let you and thats what made keeping him around so worth it.

You didn’t have the capability of feeling anything close to love no matter how fond of the boy you actually were. So you settled with ownership—they were damn near synonymous anyways.

So you proceeded as normal—well as normal as you are. You order the food you feed him and you move on to wash the dishes. He’d eventually get out of his feelings because he didn’t have the mental capacity to dwell on certain emotions for too long. It was all but routine now.

“Eren bring me whatever dishes you left lying around.”

“...ok.”

Filling the sink with a mixture of water soap and a drop of bleach you wait patiently for the boy to bring what you requested. Turning off the tap You almost get impatient when it seemed like he was taking forever.

“Eren—“ you’re grabbed by the back of the head and shoved face first into the sudsy water.

You try with all your strength to get your head out of the sink but Eren just doesn’t stop. He��d never...hurt you before? Never acted out in this manner it startled you maybe.

And you were slowly but surely drowning.

When he finally does let you up you drop to the floor taking in large gulps of air. Your eyes stung from the mix of bleach and soapy water and you were suddenly freezing.

“Dont,” you look up to eren to see he once again wore that livid expression.

“Dont you ever think about leaving me do you understand?” His breathing was already heavy but now it was slowly turning into hyperventilation. “I’ll kill you I’ll fucking kill you if you ever l-leave me.”

You watched him begin to sob, dropping on his knees he crowded closer to you looking every bit of the victim he made himself.

“Im sorry I’m good I’ll be good I swear!” He tries to touch you but you smack his hands away making him sob harder.

You knew Eren you knew him. His inclination of violence had never been towards you and yet?

“Hit me hit me hit me im sorry please im good I promise.”

Those were the only words that made sense to you in the moment. You were a violent creature by nature one who prioritized your own life before anyone else’s, you’ve never done anything you didnt doubt you’d be able to get out of and yet? Eren had surprised you and not in a good way.

Your eyes come back into focus and you see the pitiful look he wore as if he hadn’t just almost killed you “Hit me please?”

And so you do.

You punch him right in the face with all your strength causing him to fly back against the tiles and you don’t stop there. You let out all the frustration from your near death experience out onto his body completely aware of the blissed out smile he now sported.

Regardless your mind was going 1 million miles per hour as one thing became clear. Eren was slipping out of your control and fast. One day you feared he’d be the one in control and that wasn’t a game you wanted to play.

You’re in control.

You were IN control

You not him.

You.

You freeze. Fist inches from his face.

It was like your body was in forced reboot you couldn’t move your thoughts finally spiraled too far and too fast for you to reach.

You weren’t in control?

Starring at the needy expression on his face you came to the horrific realization that maybe you’d been playing in his hands all this time. He’d been able to get anything he ever wanted out of you—he knew it too.

Did you really—no you couldn’t be right?

“I’m good see?”

Wrong—you were in so fucking deep.

Slowing your breathing you lower your once trembling fist “Get. Out.”

“Huh?”

Climbing off his chest you wipe the remaining water off your face “Get the fuck out I dont wanna see you.”

Eren hadn’t expected this outcome considering how hurt he looked “B-but where am I supposed to go?”

It was a stupid question you both knew he had his own dorm to himself but he’d been so used to sleeping with you every night that he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Rolling your eyes you til your head “I dont care.”

“I cant sleep without you.”

“Cry about it.”

Hauling his shocked form up and out of your home you slam the door shut and immediately turn all three locks ignoring his soft cries from the other side.

Pulling at your wet shirt you could feel the breakdown coming. How did he do it? How’d he make your carefully crafted control snap?

Going into your room you lock that door as well before snatching the throw blanket from the end of your bed and a pillow. Going into your walk-in closet you close the door behind you and navigate in the dark to the farthest corner and sit.

You sit and sit and sit and sit and sit...and then you scream.

You scream until your lungs are raw and your voice is gone and you’re not sure when exactly you started scratching at your face but the stinging thats left behind is brutal.

You needed to think.

You needed a plan.

You needed—fuck you didnt know.

But you did know Eren was about to become a much bigger problem.

#eren yaegar #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #aot x gn!reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #snk imagines #snk x reader #reiner x y/n #gn!reader

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lexibugsblog · 4 years ago

Text

Got Time For A Sinner

WARNING: NSFW

Got a little saucy with this one, hope you still enjoy ;D

What if you left with Arvin after the woods?

The autumn leaves church under my feet as the blue jays sing in the trees. As I stroll through the woods I see two crosses nailed to two trees. Arvin had only ever told me once about this place, but upon my request he left no detail out, so I knew I was close. As I walk through the branches, leaning into each other forming an archway of some kid, I see it, his father's church, then I see him.

“Arvin?” he was kneeling on the ground in a white shirt and his old blue jeans. I felt like I was seeing a ghost, as his head whirled around and he scrambled to his feet.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I was passing through and I just- I guess I wanted to see where it all began for you, since I thought I'd seen the end of you...Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry.” he mutters on the verge of tears, as was I.

“You left me.” I state a little more harshly than I intended.

“I did what I had to do, for Lenora, you know I had to.” He came a little closer.

“I get why, It was the right thing to do, but it still hurt.” I finally looked up at him, as I bit my lip he took my hands in his, “Now they're saying you killed Sheriff Less, sister and husband...I’m just...” I knew Arvin had a good reason for what he had done. Who knew what she was involved in, but the whole town knew how Lee covered for her time after time, her death shouldn't be any different.

“I know.” he places a soft kiss on my forehead as his hand cups my cheek, I place my hand over his, looking up at him once more, blinking away the tears in my eyes. Truth be told i didn't care what he had done, I was just happy to see him again. Before he could pull me in for an embrace we heard a twig snap behind us, we both stared at each other for a moment, then another, louder this time. Without warning Arvin grabs my arm, pulling me along with him to the ground behind a fallen tree a few yards for where we were. Footsteps get louder and louder until, “Arvin Russel!” Sheriff Lee yells. “I know you're down there somewhere” Arvin peaks up above the tree to see if he could pinpoint where Lee was and more importantly if we could escape, “Sheriff Bodecker son! Got a couple questions for you!”

Ruling out an escape Arvin peaks over the tree once more, Lee sounded pissed but would he really hurt Arvin or I? We hear a bird, followed by the echoing sound of a gunshot causing both Arvin and I to jump. I look at Arvin wide eyed, “Sorry bout that! God damn bird scared me!” Lee yells sounding out of breath, “I ain't here to hurt you!” Arvin pulls out his gun, struggling to load it, “And I know you don't wanna hurt me! Come on out so we can have a talk!” Arvin finally gets the magazine loaded, and the gun cocked, “Okay” he whispers, he lays back closing his eyes for a moment to get his bearings.

“I figured this might be where you'd come!” Lee shouts as he arrives at where we were standing just moments ago. “Remember that night you brought me up here!” Arvin nods at a branch next to me, understanding what he wanted me to do, I grab the stick and hand it to him. “That was an awful thing your daddy did.” Arvin throws the stick into the brush away from us, the sound of the stick clattering followed by the sound of another gunshot. “God dammit boy don’t-don’t fuck with me!” I swallowed a lump in my throat as Lee ran towards where Arvin had thrown the stick. Arvin looks over at me, taking short breaths in and out, I shake my head, my eyes pleading with him not to speak, it’d only give away our location.

“Put the gun down Sheriff, I got one pointed right at you!” I sign inwardly, trusting in Arvin.

“Can’t do that, son!”

“Just set it on the ground and step away!” Arvin begged.

“What?” Lee prompts, and Arvin repeats himself, yelling even louder this time, I could hear him closing in on us.

“So you can kill me like you did my sister and that preacher in West Virginia?” Arvin closes his eyes, his breath shaking as he responds, “I’m not a bad person, Sheriff.” my heart ached for him in that moment, “That preacher weren’t no good! He hurt my sister so bad she killed herself, Sheriff.” My mind flooded with images of the day of Lenora’s funeral, or aunt Emma clinging to Arvin and uncle Earskill becoming a shell of a man. Once the funeral was over Arvin drove me home, trying to remain strong for me too as I cried inconsolably in the passenger seat. “I had no choice!” I remember reading the note Arvin left me, I knew what he was going to do, hell maybe I could have stopped him, but in truth I didn't want to. I wanted the preacher dead for what he had done to Lenora and I knew that Arvin had to be the one to do it.

It was Then we see Lee approaching us, Arvin trains his gun on him as Lee sneaks behind a tree, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Sheriff, but your sister..and her husband, they weren't no good neither! I got a snapshot in my pocket of her hugging on some dead guy!” I knew Lee's sister and her husband were odd but I did peg them as killers. “You let loose that gun and I'll show it to you!” Before Arvin can barely finish the sentence Lee runs from behind his tree charging at us, two gunshots ring out in the air. I scream, closing my eyes as Arvins body shields mine. I was never very religious but in that moment I prayed to every god I'd ever read about. Once silence fills the air again, I open my eyes as Arvin unshields me, I sit up, both of us scanning each other over for wounds but neither of us find any. Confused, but relieved we look up to see Lee lowering his gun, looking stunned, as he opens his arms wide, revealing the blood beginning to pool on his shirt. He stumbled back, falling to the ground. Arvin stands up lending me his hand as he does so. Once we're both on our feet , we climb over the tree hesitantly, I grab onto Arvin's arm as we cautiously make our way over to him.

I let go as Arvin makes his way over to Lee, who's gasping for air, as Arvin reaches in his belt throwing away his hand gun. Knelt beside him, Arvin pulls out the snapshot he mentioned moments ago, presenting it to Lee“I had no choice.” he says once more his voice strained, as he explains further, “They were going to kill me, I swear. I begged her to put the gun down.” Lee finally looks away from the picture and up at the trees, “I'm sorry.” Arvin states, as I place a hand on his shoulder. It seemed hours went by as we listened to the Sheriff fighting to stay alive. In reality it had only taken a few minutes, “We should go.” I warn, as the Sheriff takes his last breath.

Before we leave, Arvin plants the remaining evidence he had had on Lee’s sister on Lee himself, maybe once the body was found and both crimes investigated, maybe we could come back, but neither we wouldn't, even if we had wanted to, it would be too risky. As we walk over to gather his things, Arvin takes the gun, placing it with the bones of his childhood beloved dog, this was a new chapter for us both, a chance to put everything behind us.

We both rush back to my car, Arvin goes to throw his things in the truck, noticing my bags were already present. He shoots me a questioning look, “Like I said, I was passing through.” I explain, before hopping in the driver's seat. Not long into the drive, Arvin had already passed out in the passenger seat. As the hours ticked by the night drew in, I decided to pull into a motel and grab us a room. Once the room was paid for and I had gotten the keys, I walked back to the car, where Arvin was still sleeping. I gently rap on the window, with the keys waking him. He startles awake, relaxing only once he realizes it’s me. He opens the car door with a large yawn, closing it behind him as he helps me grab the bags from the trunk.

We both drudge up to our room. I flick on the lights illuminating the uniform room. I had always hated motels, they always seemed so impersonal for something that is meant to make people feel at home, but we both needed a shower and a place to rest our head for the night.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” I inform Arvin as I set my bags on the stiff bed. I undress as the steam from the shower fills the room, I test the temperature of the water before jumping in. Another reason I had always hated motels, terrible water pressure, granted this time, I was happy to just be under the water, ready to wash away the events of today. I close my eyes running my hands through my hair as I hear the curtain being pulled open. I could feel his presence behind me, before he took my hair, pulling it all to one side over my shoulder. Pressing soft kisses along my neck as he does so.

“Got time for a sinner?” he asks in a tired, husky voice.

“Always.” his hands fall over my body, down to my hips, as his kisses trail over my shoulder and down my back. I sigh into him, as his hands snake forward finding my folds, wasting no time finding my clit with his thumb as his other two fingers find their way into me, curling to hit my spot. “Arvin,” I moan, reaching back for him to steady myself as his other hand finds my neck squeezing softly as he places a more fiery kiss against my skin, the water pelting down, making me even hotter. “Christ” I mutter as he picks up his pace, my hips involuntarily moving to meet his pace. “I'm really sorry for leaving.” He whispers into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “It’s-fuck!” I pant, as I feel a familiar coil in my stomach as he begins rubbing my clit once more, pumping his fingers in and out faster, coxing out an orgasm, I let out a loud moan, as I come hard on his fingers. His fingers then slow helping me ride out my orgasm, before leaving me completely. Once I catch my breath I turn to him, I stare into his lust blown eyes, “Promise you won't leave again.” I demand.

“I promise,” and with that I finished my shower and dried off. Arvin finishes before me so when I finally finish I pull on my silk bathrobe he must have brought in with him earlier. As I exit the bathroom I find him sitting on the edge bed, his head in his hands. As I walk over to him, he lifts his head, his hands go to my waist as he places his head to my stomach. I run my hands through his soft hair, placing a kiss on the top of his head, before tilting his chin up to look at me. His eyes swimming with remorse, “I forgive you.” I say as I place a chaste kiss on his forehead. When I pull back, we both stare at each other for a moment, my fingertips tracing his lips. He places a kiss on my thumb as he pulls me to his lap, both my legs landing on either side of him. My fingers find their way into his hair as he places a gentle kiss on my lips, as if testing the boundaries he pulls away but just barely. “I love you.” he whispers. A smile forms on my lips, as I look into his chocolate eyes, “I love you too.” I reaffirm, his lips find mine again, this time the kiss was deeper, harder, as he pulls me as close to him as possible.

His tough slips into my mouth, my brain lighting up at the familiar taste. I finally pull away to catch my breath, as I do his hands begin untying the belt of my robe as his lips trail down my neck and chest. My eyes flutter shut at the sensation, finally his lips meet mine again. I begin to fumble with his belt before untucking his shirt. We break the kiss once more, so Arvin can finish ridding himself of his shirt and pants. Once he finishes he pulls me to him once more, his fingers gliding over my skin as he pushes the robe off my shoulders and onto the ground. I pull him to the bed with me. His lips trail up my neck until they find my lips as he slides between my hips, hovering above me. I wrap my legs around his waist as he reaches between us, probing my entrance, before slowly pushing his length inside me, his forehead resting against mine as I gasp at the feeling of him inside me. “Are you okay?” he asks

“Yeah, I want this, I want you” I reassure him, then without hesitation Arvin begins thrusting. As he increased the pace even more he raised his head, looking down on me affectionately, “You're so beautiful.” he grunts, his body blanketing mine. His hands sliding under my ass, as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. I wrap my arms around his neck, meeting his thrusts, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room, “Oh, God!”

“Are you close?”I nearly came just at the sight of him, beads of perspiration and water trickled onto me from his hair. I knew Arvin could tell I was close by the way his thrusting slowed but he went deeper, all the while whispering how badly he wanted me. Suddenly my pelvic area began pulsating and contracting, “Yes!” I yelled out almost pornographically as I rode out my orgasm. His lips crashed to mine, kissing me like I was his only source of oxygen. When he finally pulled away he was dragging his tongue against mine before biting my bottom lip, as I continued moaning he pressed his lips to my neck.

“Shit!” Arvin grunted as if gasping for air.

I felt him cumming inside me. The heat spread as he muttered how much he loved me. “Was that okay?” He checks in, slowing his movements, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I nod my head as he allowed me to ride out the orgasm at my own pace while biting my neck. “If you ever try to leave again, I'll kill you myself.” I swear to him causing him to smile against my skin. Once he finally pulled out of me the cold air prickled at my skin, however it wasn't long before he pulled me to his chest, my leg slung over his waist. He gently pulls the covers up over me, while rubbing my back. “By the way,” I start and he raises an eyebrow at me, “Everything you did, was for the right reasons, and for what it's worth I think that makes you a good person, or at the very least not a bad one.” Arvin has a big heart, i don't know if he will ever be able to forgive himself for what he'd done, even if he'd been told it was right a thousand times, but ill be damned if I wasn't going to try, He places a kiss on my hand, then placing it back on his chest, laying in silence until we both drift off to sleep.

#the devil all the time #Arvin Russell #arvin russel x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #arvin russel smut #arvin russel imagine

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sin-of-jess · 4 years ago

Text

Overhaul

Type: Smut

These days it felt like I only worked for Overhaul. I was a hired gun and not a particularly popular one at that. I had enough work to live comfortably, but things changed the first time Overhaul hired me. It had started as a simple hit job, take down a low life impeding in the yakuza's business, then onto much more. It's as if I'm his personal dog now. I was so busy doing work for him that I rarely did work for anyone else. I couldn't complain though, Overhaul trusted me so the rest of the Yakuza fell in line with their boss. Again I find myself in Overhaul's central headquarters, struggling to keep up with the twists and turns that all seemed to look the same. Finally reaching his office, she didn't stop to knock and walked in "The job is done, and I've given the intel to Mimic." I tell him, learning early on that he disliked when she'd toss him the possibly contaminated portfolio's. Overhaul was acting as if she hadn't said anything, his fingers laced and tucked under his chin. It's not until I reach the desk that I realize the only item on it was a bag from a popular lingerie store.

"Take that and shower, put it on once you're clean." He tells me in an empty voice. My chest clenches as I realize what's going on. We had hooked up a few times before; the first time was after an argument over how little intel she had gotten that gotten heated and ended in me bent over his desk. It was the only time they had sex without me showering first, and he made it very clear he was displeased about the fact. "For me?" I ask as I peek into the bag. "Yes." He answers, impatience clear in his eyes. I give him a cheeky grin as I pick the bag up by its straps with my pinkie. I saunter towards the bathroom door, making a show to sway my hips as I go. The bathroom is lavish, but that's to be expected when it belongs to a man who takes germs as seriously as Overhaul does. I know how to turn the knobs to the perfect temperature, hot per Overhaul's request. I put my weapons on the left of the counter and my clothes on the right, and hiss at the feeling of the hot water hitting my skin. The pressure of the shower is strong, and I shift around in order to get a gentle massage in my most tense parts. I hardly wanted to wash and get out, but knowing what was to come once I step out of the bathroom was encouraging enough. I take a moment to relish how thick and soft the towels are, drying my face and putting my hair up with one towel before drying off with the other. I scrub my mouth well with the toothbrush left for me, even brushing my lips to help them be soft and smooth. The outfit is shameful, and I hadn't quite realized how little material there was when it was in the bag. I struggle to put it on, but once I do I feel grateful for how silky it is. I tie the strap behind my neck, but all it does is push the underwire up and push my open breasts out more. There's a window between the chest and the waist piece that fully exposes me, and I tentatively rub my fingertips across my nipples before moving to tie the lower back. The entire back is open, and the skirt is layer upon layer of lace and silk that only ends at my upper thighs. I face away from the mirror and peek over my shoulder as I bend over, barely needing to before my ass is fully exposed. Finally pulling my hair out of the towel, I give the still slightly damp a little fluff with my fingers until I'm content. I turn and face the door, taking a deep breath before stepping out. The air of his office is cold, and I can't help but notice how Overhaul's eyes go straight to my quickly hardening nipples. I want to cover myself with my arms, but he's quicker to comment, "Keep your arms down and come here." He tells me as he turns his chair to face me. His stare is intense, but I quiver in excitement as I slowly make my way over. He straightens up in his seat, slowly rubbing his fingers up and down my thighs. His touch is warm in contrast to the room, and I tense up as his hand comes up under the skirt. "As nervous as ever, can't imagine you've ever had the nerve to kill anyone." He says, intentionally trying to rile me up. "It's why you keep me around." I cooly comment back. He lets out a hum as his eyes go back to my chest, "Not the only reason." He responds as he reaches up to twist my nipples between his fingers. He surprises me as he pulls me down suddenly, his gloved hand on the back of my neck as he roughly guides me into his lap. I can feel his hardness beneath me, and my breath hitches at how close he suddenly is to me. It's hard to maneuver around with his mask still on, but I think it's just another way to tease me. He grips my chin and turns my head from side to side, his look making me feel like a piece of meat. "Beautiful." He whispers, making me blush. He turns us in the chair before gripping my hips and putting me up on the desk. I gasp at the cool wood underneath me, but my breath hitches in my throat as Overhaul takes off his mask. He always calls me beautiful, but his face as a whole is mesmerizing. Realizing I look awestruck, I try to turn the look into one of grumpiness, "Touch me." I tell him. "Oh, think you're giving orders now?" He comments, standing up so that he's slightly above me. I look up at him through my eyelashes, mischief in my eyes. pushes me back until my back hits the desk and part of my head hangs off the back. He leans over, taking one of my nipples into his mouth. I let out a gasp as I grip his hair, the soft locks sliding through my fingers as I lean into his hot tongue. His mouth is everywhere, kissing and nipping every part of my chest he can reach. He slowly makes his way to my collarbone, kissing along each one as he goes. His tongue slides up my neck as his hands lift my skirt and begin to massage my hips. Sometimes in moments like this, I wonder if he's touch starved, the man taking the chance to kiss and rub on every inch of my body that he can. He reaches my chin and I can tell he's taking his time reaching my lips, knowing I enjoy kissing him. My chest is heaving against his nearly still one, and I lean my head down fast to catch his lips in a kiss. He pinches my hip, but dips his head to kiss me better. When he finally pulls away he stands up straight, there's a moment of total erotica. Seeing him stand between my spread legs was enough to make my body ache for him. He takes his time to remove his pants, the thunk of his belt nearly making me jump. His cock bobbed in the air and I couldn't help but keep my eyes on it. He suddenly grabs me by the back of my thighs and yanks me forward, his cock gliding easily along my soaked lips. He grabs himself by the base, rubbing the tip along as he coaxes me, "you going to take my cock good?" "Uh-huh," I nearly whine back, waiting on bated breath for him to fill me. When he finally does, I loud groan comes from me. I don't have time to think about how stuffed I feel, since he goes straight to plunging himself deep into me. My entire body shakes as he works me at a fast pace. He has my legs pulled back, hands pushing down on the back of my thighs as he stares at my bouncing tits. Lewd moans are ripped from me at every thrust, my hands desperately reaching out to hold onto something as a way of grounding myself. Suddenly he puts his hand between us, flicking my clit with his fingertips to stimulate me. "Come for me." He commands, something I was ready to do anyways. It only takes a few more deep thrusts to push me into seeing stars, my hands finding the edge of the desk above me and my knuckles going white. "Good girl," He comments as he speeds up, the overstimulation a lot before he suddenly stills, a groan slipping from his lips as he bottoms out in me. I realize he's cumming in me, and my body shudders as he slowly pulls out. a mixture of our cum oozes out of my slit and onto the floor, causing a scowl to cross across his face at the sight. "Get the shower ready," He tells me as he pulls me off his desk before walking over to a cabinet full of cleaning supplies. I pout, "But all this hot water's gonna make my skin dry!" "Y/N." He speaks lowly as he glares at me over his shoulder. I let out a soft chuckle as I do as he says, only giving in cause I know what's to come once he joins me in the shower.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul smut #mha x reader #mha smut

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owillofthewisps · 5 years ago

Note

Do you only write Geralt? Because although I adore our dear Witcher, I am IN LOVE with Jaskier. If you are willing to write for Jaskier, could you do one where he’s a big puppy dog over the reader but she’s very insecure and doesn’t notice? I know it’s cliche, but I like it. If you aren’t comfortable writing for Jaskier, could you do the same request for Geralt?

notes: hi anon! i’m sorry this took me seventy years - i am always and forever at the mercy of my brain and what catches its attention. hopefully this is close enough to what you were looking for since i deviated a little bit!

(additionally! when doing even the vaguest hint of research for this i realized something i had always thought was a midsummer tradition for…everyone…is actually just something specific to russia/ukraine [which would be why my grandmother wanted me to know it] but also i’m often wrong so who knows. either way it threw me lol.)

pairing: jaskier/female reader

rating: teen

word count: 3k

——–

Jaskier finds you by the riverbank just before midday. You’re bedded down in the lush thickness of summer clover, sprawled indolently across the verdant carpet. “Ah,” he says, settling down next to you. “A four-leafed clover amidst the cloverbeds. How lucky of me to find her. Blessed for the rest of my days.”

You snort, shading your eyes so that you can peer up at him.

He grins down at you, his smile almost as bright as the sun that outlines him. “Too much?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him. You consider reaching up to sweep his chestnut hair back from his blue, blue eyes. Lapis eyes, Lidka calls them, because she is a merchant’s daughter through and through. She’s wrong, you think, but you hardly intend to tell her that Jaskier has eyes like a lake, the type of clear blue of a mountain spring, something fresh and pure. You know when something is out of your reach.

“So you keep telling me,” he says. “And yet it barely touches on the words you deserve.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, Jask,” you say, shoving at his knee. “Don’t tease.”

Something passes over Jaskier’s face. It reminds you of a stormcloud on a summer afternoon, rolling through the sky to blot out the sun, swollen grey with rain. It passes like a summer storm, too, and that starlight smile of his blooms again. “I would never, dear heart.”

“Mhmm,” you say, letting your eyes drift closed again.

“Gods, has Geralt infected you? It’s bad enough trying to get him to use his words.”

“You use enough of them for both of you.”

“I use them much more prettily than he would!”

“S’true,” you murmur. “You use them more prettily than most everyone, though.”

The summer breeze stirs; it carries the scent of the season with it, soft grass and wildflowers, woven together into a fragrant bouquet. Beneath it all, the earthy tang of the soil, freshly tilled for summer sowing. The scent is not the only thing the breeze carries. The wind brings you the muffled joy of children, frolicking through the fields, and the steady song of a choir of hammers.

You roll over onto your belly and squint up at Jaskier. His cheeks are petal pink, the faintest hint of a flush coloring his skin, and you wonder if the heat is getting to him despite his open doublet. He reaches out and plucks a clover from your hair with his long fingers, the touch delicate.

“What, darling?” he asks, leaning close and teasing another clover from where it’s caught in your hair. The sun catches on the curve of his cheekbone, kisses soft against his skin, and you are frozen, a deer caught unawares, tail flicked high with nerves.

Darling, you think darkly. How unfair he can be, all without even realizing it. Women like you do not often hear anything but their name, and Jaskier seems to say everything but yours. You wish he would realize that sometimes it feels like scraping your knee against a river rock, to hear his smooth voice say that to you, knowing he means nothing by it.

Jaskier makes an inquiring noise, something soft and fluting, and you shake yourself out of the cobwebs of your thoughts.

You peer at him. “Are you trying to get out of building the summer shrines?”

“No,” he gasps, one hand flying to his chest. “How could you think such a thing?”

“Why else would you be out here with me?”

He blinks. “Why would I be anywhere else?”

You scoff. The clover crunches beneath you as you roll onto your back again. “Nevermind.” Why, you think. Why do you always ruin things, why do you open your mouth. Sometimes you think it’d have been better if you’d taken a vow of silence, had kept yourself from inflicting any attempts at conversation on unsuspecting folks. It’d be better than having them lie to you.

A hush falls, broken only by the far-off sounds of the village and the river’s quiet hum. You tear at the clovers beneath your hand, rip them up one by one as you squirm. Jaskier shifts beside you. You close your eyes again and tilt your face towards the sun. It is easier than being blinded by Jaskier’s light.

The bard sighs. He nudges closer, his thigh a warm streak of heat against your side, and you crack an eye open. His focus is solely on his lute, his eyes - the blue of the midmorning sky, deep and rich - trained on the strings. Better position to play, you think, nothing more, just another nip of unintended cruelty.

“Did Geralt tell you about the harpy?” Jaskier asks softly.

“Geralt speaks?”

The laughter spills from Jaskier like fine wine: everflowing and delicious. You gulp it down greedily, wishing your belly were a wineskin, so that you could carry some for later.

“You make an excellent point,” he tells you. “And how perfect. I’ve been waiting for a captive audience to test the tale on.”

The smile on your lips crumbles into dust. “Of course,” you tell him. “Go ahead.”

Jaskier launches into the story, tells it with twists and turns and beautiful flourishes, his voice a calligrapher’s pen. You listen intently, determined to be of use to him, knowing there is nothing else you can offer him. He spins his tale like a magic thread, spins Geralt’s exploits from straw into lustrous gold, makes the Witcher’s effigy something that is much more difficult to burn.

After he’s done, the two of you fade into idle chatter. You know you are boring him, can feel it in the way he shifts against you and the way his voice catches here and there, but you cannot help yourself. Finally, you fade into quiet and let Jaskier fill the hush with his lyrical voice. Beneath the sun’s warm kiss, you ride the edge of sleep.

“What does your crown look like?” Jaskier asks, his deft fingers plucking at the strings of his lute. Even his half-hearted chords meld together prettily to sweeten the air with their song.

“What crown?” you ask sleepily. You’re sundrunk, now, adrift in time, lost in a haze of heat and in the sweet perfume of the clovers. Sometimes you think the sun’s kiss will be the only one you ever keep.

“Do you have multiples?” he says, his voice laced through with laughter. “Your Midsummer crown.”

That washes over you like river water, runs cold over you like snowmelt.

“I don’t have one,” you say tightly, pushing yourself upright. You curl in on yourself like a nautilus shell, pull your chest snug to your knees, as if the arc of your spine can shield you. You’ve never made a Midsummer flower crown, could never bear to have the river whisper to you what haunts you in the dark of the night, what you hold in your heart. You’ll be alone, you know, plain little thing that you are. The river will carry your crown all the way out to the sea, and all of your prospects with it.

“What?”

“I said I don’t have one,” you bite out. “There’s no point.”

“Darling,” Jaskier says, his voice downy soft, “what in the godsdamned world are you talking about?”

“I don’t need the river to tell me my fortune,” you hiss. “And I don’t need it to confirm what I already know, that no one will want to catch it, that I’ll be alone.”

Jaskier wraps a large hand around your arm. He tugs you to face him, shows that hidden strength of his that had so surprised you all. Geralt makes him look small, but he is hardly delicate. “I would catch your crown, darling,” he tells you. That flush is back, peonies blooming pink across his cheeks.

The tears pool hot in your eyes before they spill over like rainfall, sweeping down your cheeks like a summer storm. You pull free of Jaskier’s grip and push yourself to your knees. “Don’t,” you say, chest heaving. “Don’t say something like that out of pity, Jaskier, that’s not fair.”

He gapes at you. You scramble to your feet, ignoring the grass stains bleeding across the front of your skirts, and wipe at your eyes.

“Darling,” he starts, and he is pushing to his feet, and you cannot take it, cannot take platitudes from a silver-tongued bard. Perhaps he’d thought it kind, to offer to catch your crown when no other would, that it would give you a chance to take part in a tradition that’s always scorned you. Instead, it reminds you of what you have always known - he is kind because he knows that you are to be pitied.

You stride off towards town, wiping at your eyes with a rough sleeve, and when Jaskier calls your name, you start to run.

—

“You’re such a godsdamned fool,” Sabina says, but her harsh words are gentled by the soft stroke of her hand across your hair. “The bard’s mad for you, everyone knows it.”

The two of you are tucked away in a patch of sunlight in a small copse near the river. The festival is blooming to life like a wildflower, cheers and music starting to lift to the sky. You’ll join them soon, you know, though you can barely stand the thought of it.

“That’s not true, Sabina,” you say.

She takes your cheeks between her work-rough hands. “He wrote you a song,” she says, her mahogany eyes flickering over your face.

The tips of your ears burn hot. “He didn’t,” you protest. “He wrote a song about the village!”

“Godsdamned fool,” Sabina mutters to herself, releasing you to throw her hands up in the air. She runs her fingers through her silvery curls. “Does the village have ‘a sunrise of a smile, lips that guide you to the warmth of day, a beginning unfurling across the horizon like a kiss’?”

“Those aren’t the words.”

“They very much are the words, I’ve just taken out the fluff in between.”

“Sabina, please,” you say, feeling the tears begin to prick. “Jaskier could never see someone like me as anything like that.”

She cups your face again, leans in to press her forehead soft against yours. “He can,” she murmurs. “And he does. Have you ever seen him sit at the riverbank for hours with any other woman? He asked you what your crown looked like because he wanted to dive for it, you ass.”

Sabina’s Midsummer crown is irises, you know, the deep purple of a fresh bruise to sit dark against her silver strands, and men will dive for it, will dive deep into the cold for the chance to place it dripping back on her head, to have the river bless their courtship.

“He didn’t mean it like that,” you say through numb lips, because - because you’ve heard Markus ask Lidka what flowers made up her crown, heard Iwo beg Tosia to use something unique so he knows which crown to pluck from the river’s fingers. Jaskier couldn’t have meant that. Not for you. You’ve never heard anyone ask about a crown for mere conversation, but - he couldn’t have meant that.

The sound that issues from Sabina would not be out of place in a filthy bar. But she knows you, grew up running in the streets with you, wove Midsummer crowns with you when you were both still far too young to actually sail them down the river, and she can see the crack in your stone. “He did,” she says. “He does.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say helplessly. “I didn’t make a crown.”

“I know.” She presses a kiss to your cheek. “Maybe next year.”

It’s for the best, maybe. Next year, Jaskier will be long gone, traipsing through the Continent. And Sabina’s confidence is not yours. She’s always been persuasive, always been able to convince others of her ideas.

“Come,” Sabina says. “It’s Midsummer.”

You follow her out onto the meadow that hugs the riverbank, into the flood of sunlight and cheer.

You dance, and laugh, and chase the children through the tall grasses, through the rolling fields of clover. The summer shrine sits regal in the distance. You think Geralt might be there, his broad form barely visible.

You stay with the children when the others flock to the river. Sabina plucks one of her irises from her crown and tucks it into the laces of your bodice, her deep brown eyes kind, before Anatol scoops her up and carries her off. The children dart about the meadow, barely minding you, which is fine. It’s Midsummer, and a festival, and also - you’re not sure why anyone thought you could corral them.

One of the older boys finally takes the other children in hand and guides them to a safe spot nearby in the meadow to play games. You sigh and flop back onto the soft bed of the clovers. The sun feels like a blessing against your skin, soft and warm, a lover’s kiss. You bask like a cat, stretch out in the sun, pillowing your head on your hands.

Eventually, you hear soft footsteps. The children are still howling in the distance. The footsteps slow, and then there is darkness cutting through the warmth of your sun. You open your eyes, pushing to yourself to sit upright, and go still.

“Hi,” Jaskier says. He’s soaked, his clothing clinging to him. Every inch of his wiry frame is outlined by it, and gods, he’s delicious, lean and hard with traveler’s muscles. The water drips from his pink lips, trickles down to his chest, beads in the thick hair there. You swallow.

“You dove for someone,” you say. The words creak out of you like an unoiled hinge.

There’s a flower crown hanging limp in his hand, dripping wet and sadly ruffled. He kneels not far from you and meets your gaze. Sometimes you think you have never known blue before you met him, before you saw his eyes. “I did.”

“Who?”

“You didn’t have a crown,” he says softly, raising the crown and presenting it to you, “so I made you one.”

It’s a crown of peonies, fluffy balls of petals pearl pink like the dawn. The petals are layered like ribbons over themselves, an unfurling promise of summer, and the soft color of them is all the softer against the hint of verdant green stems. And tucked in between the peonies like secrets, buttercups bloom gold, shining in the sun.

“Oh,” you say.

Jaskier shifts. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know. That you thought - that you thought I pitied you when all I wanted to do was slow down every moment with you, so that it could last through the ages.”

You make a small, hiccuping noise. It feels like there are words stuck in your spasming throat.

“It was never pity,” Jaskier says. “It was always so that I knew which crown to dive for.”

You reach out to touch the edge of a peony, let your finger trace over the delicate petal. It’s soft against your fingertip, even with the river’s chill still clinging to it.

“It’s yours,” Jaskier says. “If you want it.”

You draw back. Jaskier pulls in a tight breath. His eyes are like tidepools, deeply blue and glinting in the sun.

“I think I do,” you breathe. “You mean it? You aren’t -”

“Never,” he says. “It’s yours.”

“Alright,” you say, your pulse thundering like hooves, beating deep in your veins. You think you can hear your heartbeat. Even through the cotton that sits heavy in your head, muffling the roar of the river and the others as they draw close once again. “It - I - won’t be easy.”

“I don’t want easy,” Jaskier says, leaning forward, cupping your cheek gently, slowly, testing the waters, “not if it means I can’t have you. I’m not easy, either, or so Geralt tells me. When he’s speaking to me.”

It startles a laugh out of you, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, and Jaskier’s lips curve into something sweetly pleased. He rubs a thumb across your cheekbone.

You push into him, catch his lips with yours, and he makes a noise before cupping your face in his large hands, pulling you closer. He kisses the breath right out of you, and for a moment - he kisses the fears from you too, teases them out of you with his tongue. You pull back panting, one hand knotted in the damp strands of his chestnut hair, and he coaxes you back to him.

He licks into your mouth with fervor, shifts so that he can pull you into his lap, and your chest is heaving as you press against him, as the cool river water starts to seep through your bodice. Jaskier is warm against you, and hungry in a way you didn’t think someone could be for you, not like the other men that have tumbled you. You kiss him until one of the children shrieks in the distance.

“Shit,” you say, pulling back, but Jaskier doesn’t let you go far. He presses another soft kiss against your lips before he lets you go so that you can fix your hiked skirts. He picks up the crown with his deft fingers, and sets it on your head.

The crown, you find, fits perfectly.

taglist (only including folks i know read jaskier/have requested all witcher fics): @witchernonsense @hina-chans-stuff @stretchkingblog97

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader

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radiant-flutterbun · 3 years ago

Photo

Siren’s Song

She stood in the center of the stage. Her audience looked up at her with eager eyes. She held a microphone in her claws. She opened her mouth and could see as her audience shifted in their seats in anticipation.

It was at that moment that Angel knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Exactly who she was supposed to be. That she was perfect as can be.

She sang and those beneath her began to cry. It was an ugly, beautiful sight. It didn’t matter what Angel sang about, the results were always the same.

And those peasants ate it all up.They threw money at her feet just for singing to them. Just to hear her glorious voice. To cry and slobber all over themselves like the animals they were.

She hated that she recognized so many faces within the crowd. She knew the ones who had been there since the beginning a little too well. She despised that she remembered so many that called themselves her ‘super fans’. But as long as they continued to give her their money she would pretend to enjoy their company.

There was one face in the crowd that bothered her. It was a wildclaw she did not recognize. And there were no tears running down its face.

After the show of course many tried to get her attention. They always wanted something. An autograph, an interview, a proposal of marriage. But she only stopped and turned to pay attention to only one who trailed after her.

The wildclaw who did not cry at her performance.

“What do you want?’ She demanded and ignored all others.

“Would you sing for my Queen?” the wildclaw asked.

“Depends how much you’re paying me,” Angel responded.

The wildclaw handed her a bag full of gems “If that’s not enough I can pay you more.”

The bag was heavy in her claws. She knew there could be no less than one thousand.

“Who in Sornieth is your Queen?”

***

Angel stood among a platform but for once she did not feel as though this was where she belonged. She was surrounded by water, in the middle of the Sea of a thousand Currents. Angel was a child of light and a coatl. Her pampered feathers were not meant to be exposed to the moisture in the air.

Her audience were all strangers to her, and she found herself missing her persistent fan club. But still these dragons had paid her a hefty amount to sing. So sing she must.

She opened her mouth and the music came out. The dragons in the water around her bobbed to her tune, but they did not cry. They danced and twirled and splashed and played. But no dragon shed one of those ugly beautiful tears for Angel that night.

When she was done she watched the dragons with icy eyes.

They had reacted incorrectly and she wanted to know why.

“Why are none of you crying?” She demanded.

“Oh my dear,” The one she was told was the Queen, a grey mirror with milky white eyes, spoke up “As sirens ourselves, we are immune to your song. Though it was quite a beautiful performance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your voice. It’s magic. You have the power to move anyone who listens to tears, that is unless they were sirens like ourselves of course.”

“Yeah? So? Why pay me to sing if you’re not even affected by my song?”

“Because,” the Queen smiled, “The song wasn’t for us. It was for the Monster.”

“Monster?”

“Abyss, be a dear and show her.”

The wildclaw who had been at her last performance nodded “Yes Queen Megalodon.” It climbed out of the water and onto Angel’s stage. To her horror its back half had turned into a fish tail. But with a flick of the tail its body returned to the usual form of a wildclaw, hindlegs and all.

“We are Clan Ula,” Abyss said ignoring her reaction “We are merdragons, and we are hunting a monster. A monster that took the sight of our Queen.”

Abyss showed Angel a diagram of a hideous creature. It was a serpent that had too many eyes, too many fins. Too many teeth. The diagram sparkled with what was most likely a spell to ward away water from damaging the parchment.

“And what does that thing have to do with me?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Queen Megalodon said “We believe your voice could be the key in capturing our Monster.”

“Didn’t you just say you had the power of the Siren’s Song as well?”

“We do, but none of our voices are quite like yours. Our voices can only affect dragons, but your voice. I’ve heard you can bring beastfolk to tears. That even the birds will stop singing to listen to you. That dogs and cats would run away from their owners just to sit and listen to your song. Your voice is so powerful that it affects every species. Our voices are limited only to dragons, and whatever that Monster is, it’s no dragon. Not anymore.”

“So,” Angel said “You want me to join your soggy clan with the hope that my singing will draw your Monster near?”

“That’s right.”

“Well I’d like to give that a hard pass.” Angel hmmphed and stuck her nose in the air.

Then the water grew darker and from behind the stage a huge creature breached the surface. It spun out of the water, it’s hundreds of fins causing a whirlpool to form. Its blue eyes that dotted its body streamed with tears and its maw was open with thousands of needle sharp teeth. The creature dove down and swallowed the stage whole. Angel and Abyss were nowhere in sight.

For a moment Clan ula stood still in shock.

“Was that…?” One merdragon finally said.

Queen Megalodon nodded, snapping out of her stupor “That was our Monster. The Siren’s Song worked. Now we hunt!”

But as quickly as the monster had emerged, it had disappeared once again into the murky depths.

***

Stargazer saw two bodies wash ashore on the Scarred Wasteland coastline. It was one of those places that he liked to sit and be alone. He had died on the coast once. It wasn’t a story he liked to remember. But he knew he could always count on the spot being vacant of anyone who would bother him. Until that very moment when he noticed that the bodies were very much alive.

He sighed and moved to investigate. He proceeded with caution, but quickly relaxed when he saw the mutations on the creatures. Multiple eyes and feathered wings. They were the telltale signs of magical radiation.

Stargazer nudged each body until they stirred. One was a white coatl, and the other a midnight wildclaw.

“Come with me,” He told them “I know where you’ll be safe.”

#Chimera Fang Caverns #multigaze #clan Ula #flight rising

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quixotic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Letting Loose

Song inspo: fuck away the pain/one night stand — divide the day

Summary: After breaking up with your boyfriend and kicking him out you begrudgingly head out for work at the bar. After talking it up with Q for a while, you decide tonight’s your night of fun and you invite him over, he gladly accepts and is willing to do anything to help relieve your tension.

Warning: Kinky smut ahead!!!

———————————————————

“Get the FUCK out of MY house.” I threw his suitcase of clothes out of the second story window and watched it fall onto the lawn with a loud thump that echoed through the whole neighborhood. I turn around to look at Devin and I glared at him. He smirked and walked towards me with open arms.

“C’mon baby, you know I didn’t mean it.” He places his lips on mine and I shove him off, reel back my hand, and give him a hearty open palm slap across his cheek. “Ow! What the hell!?”

“First off: don’t ‘baby’ me, i’m over the charms. Second: The HELL do you mean you didn’t mean it? Did you not think when you ‘accidentally’ slipped your dick into her? Huh, Devin?” He continues rubbing his cheek and I feel proud of myself knowing that’ll leave a nice mark for him to explain. “I am dead serious this time. Get out, stay out. I see you back here EVER again and i’m calling the cops.” I point to the door for him to leave the room. With a moment’s hesitation he finally leaves, I watch from the window as he picks up the suitcase and drag it all the way to his car like the sad sap he is. His guilt tripping won’t work on me this time, and i’m pretty sure he notices that because he finally turns around to look at me through the window with a scowl.

“You’re a needy bitch. No one will ever put up with you like I did!” He yells before stepping into his car. I didn’t say anything back, just slammed the window closed and turned my back. He wasn’t worth another breath out of me. I slump down onto the bed face down and scream into the pillow. I don’t understand how I forgave him for cheating on me last time, I should’ve known he would have done it again. I was so naïve and stupid.

I continue mentally beating myself up and seethe in my own rage. My skin feels like it’s boiling and I have a tension in my head that feels like there’s a stretched rubber band on the verge of snapping. I don’t know whether or not I want to murder someone, break something, or just find a stranger and fuck them out of spite of my now tarnished relationship.

“Fuck.” I said out loud as I realized I had work tonight down at the bar at 3, I look over at the clock on my nightstand that read 1:00 in red neon numbers. I really don’t want to go especially with the range of emotions I was experiencing, but I had already called out of work so many times this month. If I called out one more time my boss would either hate me or fire me, I really don’t need the second one happening especially because now i’ll be taking on the rent by myself. Even with Devin around, he only paid for the bare minimum so not too much would be changing except a few additional shifts down at the bar. The epiphany of his bullshit only made me even angrier.

I soaked in the tub for a bit to get cleaned up for work and ease my tension just a bit. I take in the scent of lavender and carnations, close my eyes, and gently float my hands through the sudsy waters. It helped a little, but I could feel my nerve endings firing off in annoyance still feeling ready to pounce at any moment. Anything happens at work tonight and I won’t hesitate to give someone a piece of my mind, i’m so not in the mood to be dealing with bullshit of any kind.

I drive over to work blasting some metal music to try and release some of my anger by screaming along. Once I step through the door, I can already get a sense of how this shift is gonna go. It wasn’t a negative energy, but it wasn’t a positive energy either. It was just gonna be the same old same old kind of shift where nothing really happens. Though it’d be boring, i’d rather have that over a high energy night.

“Girl, maybe it’s just me, but your RBF is looking extra intimidating today.” Trin says from behind the counter. I sigh and roll my eyes.

“I’m not rolling my eyes at you. It’s fucking Devin.” Her eyes light up and her eyebrows flick up.

“Please tell me...”

“Yup. I’m over it. This time for good, i’m tired of being his play thing.” She gives me a big hug and is jumping a little as she holds me.

“Finally! He looked like he was dipped in fryer grease anyway. Now you just need to get something else good, and you know that one regular we have is kinda cute. What’s his name again?” She taps me with her elbow a couple of times and I laugh it off. I know who exactly she’s talking about, but I try to avoid giving her the satisfaction of giving out his name as I continue washing glasses behind the counter. “Quinn! That’s his name!” So much for avoiding that.

“His name’s actually Brian, but Quinn suits him better. Yeah he’s cute but why would he want me? Also doesn’t it seem kind of bad to rebound like that immediately after throwing my ex out?” I wasn’t going to deny that Q was cute, but i’d just feel bad using him as a rebound.

“Well first off, I think you’re a smoking hot piece of work that was too god for your ex. Second, you don’t seem sad about losing him, just mad that he was a dick that wasted your time and energy. Why not live for yourself a little and let loose?” She shrugs and goes back to serving drinks and making small talk with customers. She’s kind of right, I didn’t miss Devin and I wasn’t sad about losing him, I was just sad that I willingly allowed myself to be played and manipulated. Her words lingered in my ears as I continued working.

The afternoon slowly bleeds into the evening, it’s Tuesday so all our patrons are taking things slow and easy. It was a perfect pace for me to work at. Not too much work and bullshit, but just enough stuff to do to keep my mind occupied. Trin eventually clocks out for the evening and in her place one of our newbies, Trey, clocks in. It was perfect because I made him do most of the work to get a handle of how the ropes work in the bar. Seniority had its perks. I gossip with a few bar goers as they tell me their stories of their shit office jobs or complain about the typical New York traffic.

“There’s my second favorite bartender!” I turn my head as a deep voice thick with an accent diverts my attention away from one of my customers. There was Q, sitting himself at the counter smiling like a goof ball to me.

“Second favorite is all I get Quinn?” I say with a twinge of sass in my voice. “Shot of Jameson i’m guessing for the big boy to start off his night?” I lean over the bar and I notice his eyes take a quick peek at my slightly exposed cleavage that spilled from my tank top.

“You know it! Besides, you know my buddy Sal will always be at the top as far as bartending goes.” I get his drink ready and slide it over to him. He raises the glass to me with a smirk before he downs it in a swift gulp. I unknowingly stare at him with a slight glimmer in my eyes and he quickly catches me. “Staring’s rude y’know, sweetheart. Could I just get a nice brew also, please?” He says sliding the shot glass back over to me.

“Could say the same for you, Quinn.” I retort back going to clean up some of the dishes and serve up other drink to the few others surrounding him at the bar. I pour him his drink and set it down in front of him with a slight sneer.

“Someone’s on edge today. Been coming here long enough to know when something’s up with you.” The ring band he wears on his middle finger taps against his glass as he awaits a response to his query. My emotions are showing a bit too much tonight and I loathe myself for it, I always held myself to a standard to keep my private life hidden and not allow it to affect my performance at work.

“That obvious?” I say feeling guilty that I may have unintentionally taken some anger out on him. He chuckles a bit and leans in closer, resting his elbows on the counter top in anticipation to see if i’ll play along any further. “I’ll spare you the woeful details of my pitiful heartbreak if I can even call it that. Long story short: Boyfriend cheated and I got his sorry ass out of there.” He has a shocked look on his face and seems as though maybe he shouldn’t have asked. I cackle at his reaction.

“And you still came to work? That’s harder than any shot of whiskey i’ve ever done.” He rakes his hands through his hair as he sits back to process the information. I stare at his arms and his tattoos and his thick fingers. And I, for a second, imagined what it felt like if he held me close with those arms, what they’d feel like gripping my waist. Maybe Trin was right, maybe I need to let loose and have some fun all for myself.

“You know, I may be mad, but i’m sure as hell happy i’m not with him anymore. I’ve been over him for a while to tell you the truth, love was long out the door. He was so restricting it was ridiculous. Can’t wear this, can’t go there, blah blah blah. Don’t know why I put up with it for as long as I did or why I stuck around knowing I didn’t even love him anymore.” I say recalling all the stupid rules Devin had for me. I couldn’t wear anything ‘too revealing’ because it’ll attract ‘negative attention’ and he’ll be ‘embarrassed.’ I couldn’t go to certain places without him, it was all so manipulative because he could do whatever he wanted. If it wasn’t the cheating, the stupid rules would have been the next thing to make me want to dismember him.

“Let me buy you a shot sweetheart.” He slides some money over the counter and I graciously accept, i’d love a little buzz to get through this shift. “Cheers to getting him out of your life. You didn’t deserve that shit. No one does.” Sympathy. That’s something I haven’t seen a guy display in a while towards me. He raises his glass to me with a soft look in his puppy dog eyes and it made my heart feel full. I smile and raise my shot glass before downing the liquid that burns my esophagus as it travels down.

The night carries on, Q and I continue hitting it off and chat the night away in the dreadfully slow bar. We both get bolder and bolder and a little more flirtatious as the time passes. When I look over to the clock overhead, I notice my time in the bar is close to its expiration and even closer to a sense of newfound freedom. I eye Q up and down and I hear Trin’s voice echoing in the back of my head: let loose a little.

“So, Quinn, I’d love to continue this conversation and hang with you more after my shift is over. Maybe go to my place?” We both know where an invitation like this could lead, I chew on my bottom lip a little hoping to he says the words I want so badly to hear tonight. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and then I knew my wish was going to be granted.

“Thought you’d never ask sweetheart.” His fingers trace the rim of his empty glass and I feel my heart start to pound out of my chest. Every time he called me ‘sweetheart,’ it hit me in a whole new way. I go to clock out of work and wish an easy night to my coworkers before officially heading out. Q follows me out and we walk towards the parking lot.

“Shall I drive? I only had one shot and it has long worn off already.” I offer to Q. He hadn’t had much to drink, only a shot or two and a beer and I know he can handle his liquor pretty well, but i’d rather play it safe and be the designated driver for the evening.

“That would be much appreciated since i’m a little intoxicated, also because I have no clue where you live.” He jokes around. We both hop into my car and my music blasts through the speakers. It wasn’t just any music either, it was my Slipknot CD, the one I listen to when i’m especially mad. We both jump at the sudden cacophony of noise and I quickly bolt to turn down the volume. “That tells me exactly how pissed off you were earlier!” He chuckles and I cover my mouth in shame, speechless that the guy i’m trying to swoon just heard the hell that I listen to.

“This is the only thing I have in, I hope you don’t mind.” I can feel my face turning red.

“That’s fine, I don’t mind and i’d love to listen to something a little different for once.” I turn the volume back on and we start to head over to my house. The whole way there as we talked about nonsense, I could see Q out of the corner of my eye head banging to the music, and it eased my nerves in a weird way. Sharing music with someone is a deep form of intimacy to me, seeing someone enjoy what I play is something that fills me with no greater joy. As I catch occasional glances at him, the way the street lights illuminated his face and framed his features just made him seem even more attractive.

We pull into my driveway and I guide Q into my now quiet home. He seats himself on my couch and I mix up a glass of rum and coke for the two of us. I hand him his drink and take a seat right next to him. It was then where he really wanted to get into the nitty gritty of my recent relationship status update.

“So he had rules for what you could wear, where you could go, what you could do? Sounds like the jabberings of someone who’s insecure if you ask me.” He sips his drink. The amount of disgust Q has for the actions of my ex is so reassuring that i’m not crazy.

“Had I not been working tonight, I would have broken every single stupid rule he had for me. Especially the one about what I can wear, that one bugged me the most.” I had a whole outfit saved hidden away in the closet that I had kept secret. I had a sneaking feeling that things would have come to a messy end and bought it out of spite.

“I would kill to see you in it.” Seems as though he’s following in suit with my energy and he’s on the same page as I am. He looks me up and down and slides a hand on my thigh, I already feel my motor revving to go.

“Why leave it to the imagination when I could just give you a show?” His eyes flicker like a candle and I can feel his desires radiating off of his warm skin. I quickly hop up and disappear into my room. In my drawers I find my black lace lingerie that framed and clung to my body in the perfect ways sensing the outfit wouldn’t stay on for too long. Next in the closet I fish around for the wine red velvet halter crop top and the black pencil skirt I had stashed away. As the cherry on top on completed it all with the black platform heels I had.

I step down stairs and Q quietly takes in the view. I slowly walk closer towards him and stop as soon as i’m in front of him between his spread legs.

“Didn’t you know staring is rude, Quinn?” He’s clearly taken aback and I can see him struggling to keep it together. I straddle him and his hands feel over the curve of my ass and venture towards my hips where they rest. He stares in awe at the goods I have on display until he makes eye contact. Those chocolate brown eyes could tell a whole story, and I could never get tired of it. I bring our faces closer and lock our lips together in a deep kiss. “If we’re gonna be having fun tonight, we’re playing by my rules tonight.” I say in a dominating tone. It was my turn to have my way.

“If that’s what you want sweetheart, use me as you wish, call the shots tonight.” I devilishly smile as the sinful thoughts and ideas begin to pour into my head and I feel myself growing wet at the scenarios that play in my mind. Without another word, I take Q by his hand and drag him upstairs to the bedroom. I throw him on the bed and he throws his shirt off.

“So what are your limits Quinn? Ever been tied up? Blindfolded? Teased?” I say as my finger tips trace along his inner thighs, he groans a little at my touch.

“Kinky tonight aren’t we?” I remove my shirt and skirt to reveal the lingerie hidden underneath and go to grab some special items from deep within the closet. “I can handle anything you give me. But just in case, my safe-word is pumpernickel.” I stop in my tracks and try to stifle a laugh.

“Interesting word, but I will be sure to remember it. Now let’s get you out of those restricting pants.” I tug at his belt and remove his pants to reveal the tent that was hidden in his boxers. I rub him through the thing fabric and watch as he screws his eyes shut. “Oh you have no idea what you’re in for now Quinn. This hard already and i’ve barely even touched you.” I bring out the scarf I had and tie his wrists together and tie them up to the head board of the bed, leaving Q vulnerable and open. As a final piece, I place the blindfold over his eyes.

“I’m not allowed to see that smoking hot bod of yours? Now this is torture.” For a moment I look over his body, needy with lust filled desire and it’s eye candy to me. He restrains against the bondage around his wrists and his muscles flex for a moment and I feel myself pulsate at the sight. I lean in close to his ear, the fun begins now.

“Oh darling, there’s much more coming to you.” I crawl between his legs and rub over his sizable bulge and watch as his breath hitches and his body twitches at the sensation. “You tell me when you’re close no matter what, if you cum too soon you’ll be punished. Don’t be afraid to make as much noise as you want, i’d love to hear what dirty noises come out of you. Never be afraid of using your safe-word, I may be in control but your well being still matters to me. Got it?” He whimpers underneath my touch.

“Yes, please continue it feels so fucking good.” I smirk as his mouth falls open letting his steamy hot breath escape. I lay a few kisses above the band of his boxers before taking the waist band in my teeth and slowly pulling them down to free his dick that stands at full attention before me. I quickly grab the hitachi wand from my toys and turn it on, a low humming sound fills the room and Q tenses up below me. I tease him a little and trace it along his inner thighs and just around his cock, but never touching it. “Please do something. Anything. I’m so hard please.” I smile because hearing him beg is truly a spectacle and something I wish I could hear all the time. His wish is my command and I place the the wand just below the head of his cock and his back arches off the bed and his fists clench above his head grabbing at the scarf to brace himself for the overwhelming and heightened sensation of pleasure that washes over him.

“Oh shit. God. Please more that feels so good.” I start running it up and down his length and watch as his hips convulse aching for more friction. “I’m close, holy fuck i’m close.” He confesses between moans and I quickly remove the toy and his dick twitches in attempts to find friction to chase the high it craves. Q whines at the loss of pleasure and it’s music to my ears.

“Not just yet. I haven’t even stripped down yet.” I remove my bra and panties and sit on top of Q’s hard on. I grind my hips and feel as his cock rubs against the folds of my dripping wet pussy. “Mmm~” A low hum falls out of my mouth because I know i’m in for quite a ride. He feels so thick and hard outside of my body in this moment, I could only imagine what it’d feel like inside of me. “How bad do you wanna cum?” I say teasing him in a pouty voice and all he can do is let out unintelligible babbles. “That’s not an answer Quinn.” I lift myself up and his groans only get louder and his feet kick at the sheets on the bed at the once again lost friction.

“Please I wanna cum so bad, let me cum please.” I travel up his body until my navel hangs above his mouth, I can feel his steaming breath blowing on me and it only excites me more.

“Show me how bad.” I lower myself down and the moment he realizes what’s going on he quickly gets to work lapping up really fast at whatever his tongue could reach. “Fuck Q that feels so good.” I moan out to let him know he’s doing a good job. I lavish in the sensation of the wet warmth of his tongue plunging into me and circling around my clit, humming to add vibrations, hitting all my most sensitive spots. This man knew how to please a lady. I start grinding my hips to help him out a little as I feel my climax slowly beginning to approach. “I’m gonna cum Q keep fucking sucking on my clit like that.” Like a dog he quickly obeys and gives my wanted attention to my throbbing clit as he bites gently, sucks, and licks it I feel myself come undone and tremble through my high with a drawn out groan.

I decided he’s had enough torture and go to remove the blindfold. He quickly blinks his eyes a couple of times to adjust to the dimly lit room after having that sense taken away. I lean down and kiss his lips that are soaked in my juices, moaning as I taste the liquid ecstasy, tongues tangles together in desperation. He hums back and I pull away to trail kisses from his jawline, to his neck, down to his chest, lower and lower until i’m met with his hard on that is leaking with a need for attention. I lick up whatever pre-cum resided on the tip and look up as he watches breathlessly.

“What’s wrong Quinn, cat got your tongue?”

“Quite the opposite. Bitch got my dick.” My eyes go wide and there’s no stopping the ugly laugh that escapes my mouth. It totally ruined the sexy dominating attitude I had going this whole evening but it was comical and swift on his part.

“Shut up that was terrible.” I say, still giggling a little bit. He gives a cocky smile in return.

“Make me.” Those were words he was soon going to mistake. I plunge down and take his whole cock into my mouth with my nose bouncing against his stomach. “Oh fuck!” He yells out at the suddenness of me taking him in. It sure did get him to stop talking as he dissolved into nothing but a moaning mess which only made me wet all over again. With each bob I take, I feel his hips start to match rhythms and start pounding against my face reaching in deeper as his tip hits the back of my throat and I gag a little. “I’m so close please let me cum dammit!” He cries out as the thrusts of his hips begins to falter but never losing power and I feel his dick twitch in my mouth. Just to torture him a little more, I slide him out of my mouth and back away so he falls away from the high he was so close to. “Please no, not again.”

“Just a little longer darling, all good things come to those who wait.” I straddle him again, but this time I line him up with my entrance, teasing myself as I rub his tip along my folds a little. I sink down slowly and Q’s mouth falls open and his head falls back at the sensation of finally being inside of me. I decided to reward him a little and lean up and remove the scarf that bounds his wrists. “Since you’ve been so good.” I say with a smirk. I slowly start to bounce my hips and feel as he slides in and out of me, hitting all the right spots that make it feel as though electricity is shooting out of every pore. Q’s hands grip at my hips so hard that I think that it might bruise, but it felt good and I knew I had built him up for so long tonight already.

In desperation and relishing the taste of his freedom, he starts slamming hard up into me and I knew he was close but he wasn’t going to say. Just as soon as he thought he had his way again, I tripped that thought away by stopping my movements and using my weight to hold his hips down against the mattress.

“Were you not going to tell me you were getting close?” He tries to use his hands to move my hips, but I wasn’t going to budge. I can feel him twitching like crazy in me and judging by his face he looks as though he’s going to be seeing beyond the stars when he finally releases all i’ve made him pent up. “Beg for it.”

“Sweetheart please i’m so close, this is the third time. You feel so good around me and I just want to cum.” The way he said sweetheart in a sad needy tone just made my heart melt. I release the weight I had on him and a fire ignites behind his eyes. He grabs my waist to hold me in place as he desperately thrusts into me getting faster and faster. I cum for a second time without warning as Q continues pounding into me relentlessly with feverish intent. I feel so oversensitive and i’m hunched over, leaning on top of Q as I whine from the overstimulation. It all came to a quick close with a final hard thrust he releases what felt like endless hot spurts of cum into me with a loud continuous throaty groan.

Finally we both lay there breathless and exhausting from what felt like the best sex i’ve had in ages.

“I haven’t had sex like that in a while.” I tell him as I push the now knotted, sweat drenched hair away from my face.

“I don’t think i’ve had sex like that ever. I don’t usually play sub, something about you got me down on my knees. Wanted you to have your fun.” I felt proud of myself for taking on the role, it felt empowering and a lot more satisfying. I could get used to this. “Y’know, I hope this isn’t just a one night stand because i’d kinda like to take you to a movie.”

“I think i’d like that a lot Quinn.” I say smiling and looking into the mocha puppy dog eyes that had me hooked from the start. Just when I had thought i’d have no chance throwing myself back into the dating ring, the universe drops the most unexpected twists into the tale. My twist: my favorite regular at the bar.

#This was really self indulgent and really long!!#brian quinn #q #brian q quinn #brian quinn imagine #brian x reader #q x reader #smut #suki writes

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destiniesfic · 4 years ago

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132 Hours, Chapter 7:

That’s what I think I fear most. Not the symptoms, but being out of control. My brain taking a backseat and letting my body drive.

Read chapter 7 on AO3, or read below:

“Seriously?” Cardan asks, holding up the local newspaper the Roach handed him. “We’re too cheap for the New York Times?”

“They were out,” the Roach grunts.

“This house is a nightmare,” Cardan says under his breath.

We’ve been brought out of our cell again to pose for a proof of life photo. Seated, because I can’t stand for long. Cardan is given the newspaper to prove the photo is current, although the Bomb is holding an old-fashioned Polaroid camera and I am not sure anyone will be able to make out the details. I have been asked to do nothing but sit still.

“Do you want us to smile?” Cardan asks, once the Bomb has the camera ready.

“If you want,” says the Bomb. “Go ahead.”

Cardan does. I glare daggers.

“Well, he’ll know it’s her,” the Bomb remarks. With a gloved, almost dainty hand, she pulls the Polaroid out and sets it on top of the minifridge to develop.

“Why did you smile?” I hiss.

Cardan shrugs. “Just because we’re hostages doesn’t mean we have to look like we’re having a bad time.”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Couple more,” says the Bomb, raising her camera again. “Bear with me.”

We do, as she snaps a couple more photos, presumably ones where I don’t look so much like I’m about to strangle Cardan. She takes the best ones and slides them into an envelope, which she seals shut with a little water on her gloved finger. No fingerprints, no saliva, no DNA. Just proof of life.

Cardan notices, too. “You’re pretty good at this crime thing,” he tells her. “Ever think about doing it for a living?”

“It’s really just a hobby for now,” she says dryly, handing the envelope to the Ghost, who heads up the stairs and out to deliver it who-knows-where.

“Looks like a full-blown side-gig to me,” Cardan returns.

The Bomb shrugs. “Well, this economy.”

I wonder if I should be alarmed or encouraged that our captors are beginning to genuinely like him.

It’s already late, after a long, mostly-silent stretch of afternoon in the cell, so we are fed and watered and allowed to relieve ourselves once more before we’re put away again. The Roach offers to help me walk, but I manage to make my way around the basement and eventually hobble to the mattress without assistance. It’s not dignified, but at least I maintain a scrap of my dignity.

Before the Roach is able to lock us in for the night, though, Cardan catches the door in his hand and leans forward. He’s whispering, but the room is small enough that I can hear him anyway. “Hey, um, so, can I have my drugs back?”

Around Cardan’s shoulders, I see the Roach’s face split into a terrible grin. “Nah,” he says. “But nice try.”

And then he closes the door and leaves us alone.

Cardan rubs a hand over his face and goes to sit in his corner. I am staring at him. “You wanted to get high? Now?”

“I had some O on me when they took us,” he says. “Good quality stuff. Pure. Synthetic, obviously.” He glances at me.

“Sure,” I say. It’s never really sat right with me that people have figured out how to distill some of the compounds in pheromones—O for omega, A for alpha—and that other, richer people now use them as party drugs, but, hey, at least it’s hard to overdose. And synthetic means the chemicals weren’t harvested from anybody, so, ethically sourced high. In theory.

I’ve never tried A, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Taryn has by now. Locke is not a good influence.

“Actually, I was thinking of trying to dull my receptors, in light of…” He waves a hand. “Well, tomorrow being what it is, you…”

“Oh,” I say quietly.

“Nic always said I’d ruin them if I indulged too much.” It’s dark, so I can’t see his facial expression very well, but I make out his silhouette slumping against the wall. “Thought I’d finally take that bet.”

It takes me a second to realize he means Nicasia, his ex-girlfriend. Still his friend, though. I think. It’s weirdly humanizing, the idea that he has a nickname for somebody he likes. It makes him more of a person. “You call her Nic?” I ask. “I’ve never heard anyone call her that before.”

“Well, no. You’re not allowed. It’s a special privilege.”

I snicker but don’t reply, looking down at my hands instead. Tomorrow morning will be three days since I took my last suppressant. Two days since I woke up in this cell, locked in with Cardan. I’m about guaranteed to go into heat, and I don’t know what will happen after that. Whether I’ll have enough presence of mind to care about what will happen. If I will even be myself.

That’s what I think I fear most. Not the symptoms. Not even that I might end up mating with Cardan, of all people. But being out of control. My brain taking a backseat and letting my body drive.

“Jude?” Cardan asks quietly.

I don’t want to talk about it. Not with him. Not now. So I shift to a more comfortable seat against my wall and say nothing.

But he surprises me by asking, “Did you mean what you said before? Do you really blame me for what happened with Valerian?”

“Yes.” But there’s a twinge in my chest as I remember the shock on his face, the way he avoided my eyes the rest of the day. I had struck my mark, but at what cost? As he said, it’s not like he was actually there. I press the heel of my palm into my eye. “No. Maybe. I don’t know, Cardan. You didn’t help.”

“Yeah, but like…” I hear him flick at some dust on the floor. “I didn’t know, you know? I didn’t know what he was going to do. If I had known, I would have stopped him.”

I blink in his direction. “I thought you did know,” I say abruptly, and I don’t quite realize how true that is until I say it aloud. That Cardan, who has historically masterminded so much misery, must be behind this, too.

“What?”

“After Locke…” I pick at one of the scratchy blankets. “I mean, Valerian was first, but then when it turned out Locke was trying to get with me and Taryn, I thought it was some awful competition between the three of you. Who could get in my pants first, or make me most miserable, or…”

“No, no.” Cardan actually has the audacity to look shocked. “Jude, I know that I can be a miserable son of a bitch sometimes, but there are lines.”

“Are there? You never acted like it. You insulted me every chance you got. You pushed me into a fountain.”

He chuckles weakly. “That again?”

“It was cold,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “I was cold all day. And I had to lie to my dad.”

And I don’t add the part that hurt most—that he said he was sick of smelling me and I needed to wash off. I can’t control how I smell to him. In fact, I always resented him for smelling so good to me when we clearly weren’t a match. It’s a little easier to get over since he’s so terrible, but it sucks to know that my body picked someone out who could not be clearer about his lack of reciprocation. A defect in me. Something else I can’t control.

“Well, yeah, but there’s a huge difference between that and rape.” He falls quiet for a second, then says, “I’m glad you defended yourself. I am. And I do admire you for that. That’s all.”

“Then you’re crazy. I don’t think anyone else does, aside from Madoc.” I look down. “It’s not what omegas are supposed to do. Fight back. Fight at all.”

I hear Cardan flick another dustbunny. “You know what Balekin said about it?”

My shoulders tense. I know that word of the whole thing had spread through the school like wildfire, even though the disciplinary meeting we had with the principal was supposed to have been confidential, but there’s a difference between knowing and hearing that Cardan’s older brother, of all people, had an opinion. “What did he say?” I ask slowly, dreading the answer.

“He said, ‘I don’t know what Madoc was thinking, sending those girls to your school.’ Like it was just something that was bound to happen.” I feel a little nauseated, but Cardan continues, “That didn’t sit right with me. I mean, you’d been going to school with alphas for ten years. You had alpha teachers. I mean, we had classes together for six years, and I never thought to—”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “You’ve been very clear about that.”

“No, but—ugh.” Cardan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I think Valerian was wrong. And Balekin was wrong. And you were right. I’d just never thought about it like that before.”

I sigh. “What do you want, a cookie? For thinking I deserve basic human rights?”

In the darkness, I see him wince. “You don’t pull punches, do you?”

“Not anymore.” I lean forward and run my hands over my bandages. The Ghost had done a good job with them. “I did mean what I said about you making it worse. Maybe you didn’t know what Valerian was going to do. Maybe you didn’t egg him on. But you upheld that hierarchy, you know. Strongest alphas on top, omegas on the bottom. You benefited from it.”

“Well, it’s just the—”

“The way things are. I know.” I exhale. “It’s not how they have to be.”

Cardan is quiet for a while. “Valerian liked to hurt people,” he says at last. “Anyone. Animals, even. It was his main alpha trait, that aggression. ‘Couldn’t be helped,’ according to his, I think, third psychiatrist. I think we all thought if we could direct that, use it for our benefit, point him in a direction like—I don’t know, an arrow…”

“Sounds like you need better friends,” I say. Managing Valerian sounds like trying to leash a rabid dog, and I truly do not envy him that. Hoping the dog will only bite other people is selfish and awful, but also bound to fail.

“I haven’t spoken to him since what he did to you.” His voice is unexpectedly firm. Again, he surprises me. “Tried to do, I mean. I told Nic and Locke to cut him off, too. He’s basically dead to us.”

“Oh.” I squint at him, feeling—I don’t know what I’m feeling. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“But he was your friend.”

“Well…” Cardan taps his finger on the floor. “Maybe I don’t want a friend like that.”

I sit with that admission for a moment, trying to make it square with what I know of Cardan outside these walls. It’s almost like there are two of him: the awful one wreaking havoc outside, and the one in here, with me, who sounds almost on the verge of apologizing. Who uses his alpha charm for good on our kidnappers. Who reads books. Who almost seems to care.

“Your other friends are also kind of shitty,” I point out. “Didn’t Nicasia cheat on you? With Locke?”

Cardan shrugs. “Nic’s not so bad. Locke cheated on her with you and your sister, so I consider us pretty much even for that. Locke, though…” He sighs. “I wish he’d just admit he has a crush on me and get over it.”

I let out a shocked, choked laugh. “What?”

“What other explanation is there for him making out with pretty much anyone I’ve ever really liked?”

I had known about Nicasia, but it sounds like there are others I don’t know about. Still, must be nice, being Cardan, having that kind of confidence in someone being mean because they like you. “He’s a douchebag?” I suggest.

“Maybe,” Cardan says. “Too easy, though. I want complex, psychological drama, Duarte. I want homoerotic CW drama.”

“It sounds like you want Locke to put his tongue in your mouth.”

“I mean, for the experience, sure. Frankly, I’m a little offended he hasn’t tried.”

My cheeks hurt, and I realize I am smiling. How is he getting inside my guard so easily? Saying a few nice things about admiring my tenacity isn’t enough to negate years of schoolyard warfare. It feels good, though. Maybe even better because the person delivering the compliment is totally unexpected.

“Fine,” I sigh.

“Fine what?”

“You’re clearly angling to get your spot on the mattress back. It’s working.” I lean over as far as I can and pat the empty half. “Come on. Probably the last night you can sleep here.”

“You sure?”

It’s funny how I can now tell he’s raising his eyebrow just from the way he asks the question. It’s not a soft, gentle ask—like he’s worried about spooking me—but a sardonic one. Almost a challenge. So even if he is worried about spooking me, he’s spared my pride. I appreciate that.

This is the most I have actually ever spoken to Cardan Greenbriar. It turns out he’s kind of fun.

I shrug. “Sure. Either we’re going to be keeping our distance and you’ll have to take the floor tomorrow, or we’ll be too busy humping to sleep. Like bunnies. Might as well make the most of it while you can.”

Cardan kicks his shoes off, then sits down next to me on the mattress with a grunt. “I think it’s more like wolves,” he says, grinning. “Or dogs. On account of the—”

“Knot.” I visibly shudder. “I know. Gross.”

His grin widens. “Absolutely disgusting.”

I have to take a breath. This is a very specific heat/rut thing, the knot of it all, and most non-heat sex doesn’t trigger it. It is also one of the things I have looked forward to least about eventual sex-having, eventual partner-having. I had kind of hoped I’d get to practice without it. “But all kinds of sex acts sound gross when you break them down on a technical level,” I say, trying to reassure myself. “So maybe it’s not so bad.”

“Maybe.” Cardan props one of the pillows against the wall and settles down on his back, his arms crossed behind head. A model of comfort, of ease. I wonder how much he is faking. No one could be that cool in our situation.

I am quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as though I can still count the criss-crossing pipes that run along it like country roads. “Does it bother you that you won’t ever have a mate? Not that you won’t mate, just that you probably can’t have a… like a mate mate?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan tilt his chin up toward me. “Does it bother you?”

“It’s different for me. You know that.” I don’t lie down next to him just yet, but I do look at him. His shirt’s hitched up a little above his jeans, exposing a line of his flat stomach, the ridge of a hip bone. “Everyone I know is an alpha. I’ll probably end up married to one. I could be…” I trail off. “I don’t even know if I like the idea. Being tied to someone like that.”

“Being knotted to them, you mean?” I give him a little shove, and he laughs, then says, “Marriage is tying yourself to somebody too, you know.”

“I know. But not on a biochemical level.”

They used to call the connection between mates a “soul bond” for how deep it goes, how sensitive it makes you to the other person, their moods, their wants. We know more now about how the actual chemicals at play work, which has demystified a lot of it. There’s still a kind of romance to it anyway, I guess. But mating bonds are really difficult to undo, so how are you supposed to know that the person you bite is the right one? What if you choose wrong? At least with marriage there’s divorce. Like many things, a mating bond is something I’d resigned myself to going without, although it would give me a measure of basic protection I don’t currently have.

“I’ve thought about it,” Cardan admits. “I think everyone expects me to eventually end up with Nic still, even though… y’know, and in that case I could have someone else on the side, maybe. It’s pretty common. Or I could be like your dad and marry an omega anyway.”

I snort. “Yeah, that worked out really well for everyone.”

“You know, with what we learned today, Vivi’s theory—”

“I know,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to think about it.” Because that’s how I deal with these things. I don’t think of them until I have the time and space to handle them, which may be never, and definitely isn’t now. The last thing I need is to lie awake thinking about how Madoc might be involved in all sorts of unsavory things, up to and including arranging my parents’ murder.

Cardan does not seem to be giving this the same consideration. “Do you think Madoc and your mother were mates?”

I shudder. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Vivi had to happen somehow.”

I slide down the wall to my pillow and make a small keening noise into my hands. “That doesn’t mean they were mates. I think Madoc would have found us a lot sooner if they were.”

“You mean he would have sniffed her out.”

“Yeah.” I frown, slipping briefly into memory. “My parents really loved each other, though. I remember that. They’d smile at each other, they’d kiss before my mom left for work, they—” My throat seems to close, and I swallow.

“Must be nice,” Cardan says under his breath. I’m not sure I’m supposed to hear it.

I look down at my hands. I rarely allow myself the remembrances of my mom’s smile, my dad’s arm looped casually behind her when we watched movies on the couch. They were both omegas. They were happy. “I guess I talked myself out of my point. Mates aren’t the end-all be-all of…”

Either Cardan is oblivious to my musings or he’s trying to spare me from them, because he continues, “I mean, regular sex is pretty fun. The not-heat kind. The not-mate kind.”

“It is?” I ask, trying not to let the question strangle itself in my throat. “So… are you saying you’re good at it? I should know, before—if this is all going to happen.”

His face screws up in thought. “I’d like to think so,” he muses. “T-B-H, it’s hard to get honest feedback when you have this much money. Girls, boys, alphas, omegas, they all tell you what they think you want to hear. Although Nic wouldn’t let me slack off in bed, so yeah, I think I know my way around.”

“Oh, well, good. That’s great.” I sink further down and pull my blanket to my chest, looking up at the ceiling. “If my hormones don’t render me totally incoherent, I’ll give you a rating.”

Cardan cracks another smile. “Out of five stars? Like an Uber?”

“Sure. You know. ‘Smooth ride, good driver.’” I cover my face with my hands. “God.”

“Maybe you won’t have to,” he says. “Maybe it’ll be okay. I mean, sure, we are living out the exact set-up of half the alpha/omega porn I’ve ever watched, but that doesn’t guarantee anything. Remember that movie everyone was buzzing about a couple of years ago, where they got stuck in the elevator but he held off?”

“That was a movie, with actors. Not a documentary.”

“Still, we’re dealing with, what? An elevator-and-a-half, two elevators of space? Could work out in our favor.”

I pull my hands down and look over at him. “Unlikely,” I say. “But sure.”

Cardan studies me, then turns onto his side and reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I am struck dumb, thinking he’s apologizing for everything he’s done to me. But he adds, “Just in case something does happen. I know… I know this isn’t what you want.”

Well, that isn’t nothing. I shrug. With him so close, smelling like he does, looking like he does, I almost think I could do worse. “I mean, it’s not like I’m your first choice.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him purse his full lips. “Still, I wanted you to know.”

I turn onto my side to face him directly. “When’s the last time you apologized to anybody?”

“When I wasn’t forced to by an authority figure, you mean?” A little crease forms between his brows. “I honestly don’t remember.”

Definitely not nothing. I don’t feel better, but I could feel worse. “Can you do one thing for me?” I ask, and it comes out a whisper, like I’m a frightened child.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice equally soft, which just makes the whole thing even more horrible. That he’s not being what I thought. That he’s not being cruel.

I swallow, but make myself say it. “Don’t hurt me on purpose.”

Cardan’s lips part. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, Jude.”

I turn over, giving him my back. I don’t want to look at his face anymore. As much as I want to hear him say he is sorry, I don’t want to see him feel sorry for me.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jurdan fanfic #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #tfota #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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craftypeaceturtle · 4 years ago

Text

B is for Baby Time!

Summary: They finally get to meet the newest arrival for their family.

Note: Part of a series but can be read alone! The ABCs of their little family! Demus and Royality.

The beginning- A is for Arrival

Next part: C is for Choas!

They got the call at exactly midnight. The second it turned to December they had prepared everything ready in case the baby would be early; they would not run around like headless chickens when the moment came. They had a baby carrier filled with blankets and a change of baby clothes that stood guard over their front door. But the 10th of December passed without any update. Remus was particularly insufferable but then again Janus had his own special brand of impatience. But all of that fell to pieces when they finally got the call at midnight that their surrogate had gone into labour. The baby was coming.

Janus blanched as he violently slapped Remus’ arm to get him up. He got up and started storming down the stairs all while silently gaping at the phone. Remus slunked after him before it suddenly dawned on him why Janus would be panicking at a phone call.

The plan had been to sit at home and wait until the baby was born then drive carefully and calmly to the hospital. That lasted a good... 20 minutes? “Do you want to go and wait in the hospital?” Janus finally sighed. Remus’ fidgeting stopped for the first time since the call.

“Why? Do you wanna sit in a waiting room for hours on end?” Remus kept staring ahead.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I can totally just sit here for several more hours.”

“We...” Remus sighed and wiped at his eyes, “We should be making the most of this really. Our last night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Okay then, go to sleep then,” Janus laughed. Remus chuckled.

“Okay, let’s get going shall we?” Remus got up and held out his curled arm like the gentleman he was.

“We shall... after you put actual clothes on. I’m sure the nurses don’t want to see your manky boxers,” Janus chuckled and pulled and flicked him with the waistband.

They launched themselves at the car and only just remembered to actually grab the baby carrier. Sitting in the hospital room both felt like a relief and horrifically underwhelming. There were here now! They were here ready for any and all news. No need to keep anyone hanging. They felt productive just sitting there. But also... Both of them were just sitting there. In their rushed on jogging bottoms and baggy jumpers, with Remus’ wild bed head and Janus’ own frizzy hair lying limply against his back. They were both shivering as the December weather leaked into the waiting room. “Just time to wait...” Remus smiled weakly.

An hour passed awkwardly. The second hour passed both quickly and also as painstakingly slowly.

Remus’ phone vibrated from his pocket:

Evil Twin Bro- Hey, you know lots of weird stuff about getting different stains out right?

- yep

-also it really isn’t that weird.

-it’s called being an adult.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you know how to get blood out of t-shirt material?

-is it dried or nah

-soak in cold water

-wash like loads of times

Evil Twin Bro- I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work. Also, why are you awake at 2 in the morning you maniac!

-could ask you 2

Evil Twin Bro- I asked you first.

-baby’s coming.

Evil Twin Bro- Wait really??????!!!!!!!!!

Evil Twin Bro- Congratulations!!!!

-haven’t got the baby yet. waiting 4 surro.

Evil Twin Bro- Are you at the hospital?

-yea

Evil Twin Bro- How long have you been waiting?

-like 2h

Evil Twin Bro- Woah, that’s rough. How you holding up?

-dunno

Evil Twin Bro- You don’t know?

-feel like I’m gonna vomit. but also excited.

-well I don’t know if it’s good vomit or bad vomit y’know?

Evil Twin Bro- I really don’t. What are you lot doing then?

-J fell asleep. I’m trying to save battery on phone.

-So just sitting here.

Evil Twin Bro- Do you want me to drop stuff off for you? Pat was planning this whole thing for when you lot got the baby. He was going to cook you lot some fancy dinner and take it to you three. So I don’t mind helping you out! I could give you some muffins (trust me you’ll start to get hungry) and I have an iPad with a few films downloaded so you won’t need wifi.

-jesus why cant you be like everyone else and send a sentence at a time

-we’re all goiufhgb

-Hello Roman. This is Janus. Yes, we would greatly appreciate you bringing some stuff.

Evil Twin Bro- Haha, no problem!

“I can’t believe you’re dragging him here,” Remus sighed as Janus wordlessly passed his phone back.

“Why not?” Janus answered honestly. His whole being looked dragged down by sleepiness. Remus shrugged and looked ahead. Janus usually put so much effort into his appearance. Even the most basic ‘going to the shop’ outfit was a dramatic black and yellow gothic Disney villain who actually did crimes look. But he was simply shrugged over in the chair. He looked sleepily up to him through his hair.

“Why was he even asking all that at 2am anyway!”

“You don’t want him to come?” Janus asked, Remus heaved a sigh and plopped his head on top of Janus’.

“I dunno... I think I’m just tired and panicky. It’s all good,” Remus muttered off to a whisper. He pressed a kiss to his hair and closed his eyes.

He didn’t actually sleep. He just wanted to stop all conversation. People continued bustling in and out and Janus managed to fall asleep again with his chin propped up against his chest. He was even letting out a steady stream of snorty snores. Remus kept his eyes closed hoping no one would try to start a conversation with him. Janus was the talker to other people of their relationship. He only opened his eyes when he felt a firm prod to his shoulder.

“Hey Reem,” Roman whispered before flicking his forehead.

“What do you want dickbag?” Remus answered without thinking. Janus thankfully stayed sleeping. Roman only gave a pity smile and held out his bag. He pulled out some muffins and bottles of flavoured water alongside the promised ipad covered in glittery space stickers. Remus was too busy dumping the bag on the floor to notice Roman trying to get him to stand up.

“C’mon.” He gestured to over where the reception was. Remus nodded heavily and gently prised himself from Janus.

Now that they were further away, Remus saw that another hour and a half had passed. “Woah, you took ages?”

“Yeah, I thought about waking up Pat and then you have no idea what a nightmare it was trying to find a 24 hour shop. Like it was so much harder than I thought!” Roman now spoke loudly with his on brand gestures.

“Right...” Remus fluffed up his hair and slumped into another chair. Hmm, just as uncomfortable as the other.

“You okay?” Roman lowered himself to his eye line, looking like he was talking to a spooked dog, “Like really?”

“Dunno. I-I just don’t know. I feel a bit all over the place to be honest,” Remus flung his head back, “What did you lot feel?”

“Pretty much the same,” Roman giggled, “Patton was a mess. I think it’s always one person does fine while the other has an existential crisis. That was definitely Pat. But he calmed down the second he got to see Logan.”

Remus nodded, not entirely sure if he was actually listening or just getting lost in the sensation of his heavy head tipping up and down. “Fair,”

“What’s going through your head right now?”

“Dunno... D-Do you...” Remus started before whipping his head to face the wall behind him, “do you think I’ll be like... I dunno a good dad?”

“Of course,” Roman slapped an hand on his shoulder. He was looking forward at the waiting room with an awkward wonky smirk.

“Okay listen. Let’s be honest. Being emotional and gross with you just feels weird. I’ve been fine with having a baby before this. This is purely me panicking right now. As you said, I’ll be fine. So we can we not do emotional conversation?” Remus laughed awkwardly but he lightened up once Roman relaxed as well.

“Oh thank god you said it!” Roman laughed and melted back into his chair.

“Why were you coated in blood in the middle of the night anyway?”

“I wasn’t coated in blood,” Roman gasped way too loudly which Remus cackled at. Roman blushed bright red and nodded at the concerned receptionist, “I got the most random nose bleed out of nowhere and I knew you were the entire person in existence who wouldn’t question me.”

“You make me sound like a total weirdo! I would question you!”

“But you didn’t!”

They settled into silence for a bit before inevitably Remus felt the need to speak, “How the hell did mum ever cope with twins? Like that seems like a lot...”

“Right?! Right after we had Logan, I think my mother’s day presents probably tripled in cost. She deserves it. Like all the same build up and worry but then you have another baby to come!” Roman shook his head.

“Aren’t babies are fairly gross as well?” Remus grimaced.

“Oh yeah! Don’t be put off from it! Oh, I feel so awful but the first time I saw Logan my first thought was ‘ew’. They don’t look anything like babies at first. Like Logan was blue with a traffic cone shaped head.”

“Their head is all fragile and mouldable. Janus made sure to show me pictures of newborns,” Remus stared off into nothing before turning to him with his signature smirk, only a little more tired, “But I am so telling Logan you thought he was an ugly baby.”

“Ahem,” Janus stood before them with an expectant look. Remus smiled and held out his arm which Janus jokingly shoved aside to sit down on the chair, “Hello Roman, I’m guessing you’re responsible for the pile of stuff that was at my feet.”

“Yep! How are you doing?” Roman smiled awkwardly.

“Tired but that’s to be expected. Are you staying long?”

“No, actually that’s a good point! I really shouldn’t stay out longer. Pat will actually murder me for butting myself in,” Roman stood up with an exaggerated old man groan, “But... please text when you finally say hello to the little guy! I expect pictures!”

Once Roman left, they wandered back over to their stuff and settled into a long night. Janus tried to stay awake. He knew that Remus was having a freak out. You would think it would be easy with the bright harsh lighting in the waiting room and the constant buzzing of conversation. Yet, his head bobbed lower and lower before Remus finally guided his head to his shoulder. He really tried but the tiredness and mix of emotions left him helpless. Remus only smiled at his useless husband before settling himself into Roman’s ipad. He settled into the Incredibles without much else to do.

It was 5am when Remus saw the husband of the surrogate walk over to them. He didn’t think about it has he flung himself upwards, flinging Janus wide awake. The guy looked exhausted. “Hey, Remus and Janus?” He asked, thoroughly mispronouncing Janus, with his hand held out. Remus nodded awkwardly before thrusting a still waking up Janus at him.

“Yes, hello.” Janus shook his hand firmly.

“Hey so the baby’s arrived,” He spoke softly as he walked back into the winding corridors he emerged from. They quickly followed after him, “He’s 6lb and about 20 inches. A little small thing but all healthy and average.”

“Aw, that’s all good to hear. Congratulations,” Janus sleepily smiled.

“Thanks but I think I’m supposed to be saying that to you two!” The guy chuckled awkwardly before he opened a door for them.

Inside was the mother looking absolutely exhausted, curled up into her pillow with her frizzy hair thrown about the place. Janus subconsciously flicked his hand through his own hair, only now realising that he never brushed it before coming out. Ah well, not like anyone was looking their best for the demon of the baby that woke them all up. And of course there was the star of the show.

The baby was fussing a clear plastic crib looking thing, his reddened arms flinging around with his tiny little feet occasionally kicking. His face was screwed up but at least he wasn’t crying. He was simply laying there. The little boy that would change everything.

Janus managed to pull away from the sight and say something to the mother. Remus deserved the first moments with their son.

Remus looked at the mother but she was busy talking so he quietly shrugged before holding his hands out. It felt bad. They baby was clearly still fussy but quiet. What if picking him up set him off? But his hands were also hanging over him now. Sighing, he gently lowered his hands so they just about touched the tiny baby. He was warm to the touch and Remus grimaced at his thoughts that erupted from that. Maybe it was just because he was in a warm room. It felt like he was five years old all over again. It was like when a relative you barely know has a baby and just dumps the baby in your arms because it’s cute but you have no idea how to hold this fragile floppy new human.

The baby sniffled at feeling his hands slowly worm underneath him but Remus then swiftly took hold of him and brought him to his chest, quietly shushing him without thinking. Thankfully, he settled down instantly. He was somehow both tiny and way heavier than he thought. “Heya little fella,” He cooed as he tried to uncurl his fist. The baby’s tiny little fingers uncurled and pressed back against his own finger.

“He’s gorgeous,” Janus sighed as he came up behind Remus.

“Aw, he is. What are you guys naming him again?” The mother quietly asked.

“Virgil,” Remus answered but he kept his eyes glued to his baby. Janus smoothed his hand over the baby’s head.

“Oh that’s a unique name!” The mother chirped.

“Has two people with unusual unique names, it only felt appropriate,” Janus muttered but his focus was completely enraptured by the baby, “Reem, do you mind doing the last of the paper work, then we can leave you all to recovery.”

“Cheers,” The father smiled awkwardly. Remus held out the baby and graciously lowered him into his arms. He perked up when he felt Remus press a kiss to his cheek, god he was clearly felt so sappy today. Not that he could really blame him.

They brought the baby carrier into the room ready to take him home and of course his eyes caught on their supplies. They brought a infant onesie- the cutest and non-halloween themed one they bought- but yet Janus frowned at the thought of trying to wrestle this baby into clothing. He looked much more comfortable pressed to his chest that he did lying down but he still looked like he could be seconds away from crying again. Of course, he couldn’t even begin to understand how stressful birth must be. The poor thing. He awkwardly bent backwards and grabbed the same blanket they bought about a month ago. Despite how much he tried, he couldn’t get out the black marker stain. It was just the first blanket they grabbed when preparing. Obviously. Of course. The first thing they grabbed. He grappled with the baby to gently cocoon him in the purple blanket. The spider web spiral sat in the middle of his back making him look like their little spider sitting in the middle of his purple spider web.

He didn’t track when Remus came back in. He didn’t even think to keep up conversation with the biological parents. All he knew was that he was slowly stepping back and forth while pressing his face into Virgil’s own squishy cheek.

Their little baby Virgil.

#sanders sides #My writing #remus sanders #Janus Sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #family dark sides #fanfic #fluff #family #demus #dukeceit

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