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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 7 months ago

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The Dangers of Hope Epilogue

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: None.

Word Count: 5,849

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So this is it, the epilogue, the end. I'm so sad to say goodbye to this series. I've really loved writing it, even if it kicked my ass a couple of times. I know I've said this already, but it definitely bears repeating - I'm so unbelievably grateful for the love and support you've all shown this series. Thanks so much - and I hope you enjoy this little peak into Dean and Y/N's lives a decade later. This ended up about twice as long as I'd planned. Lol! Enjoy! ❤️

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The dividers below were created by @saradika

Spring, 10 Years Later

The rumbling engine of the Impala was silenced as Dean pulled into the garage and parked Baby in her spot. The camp had eight cars now, so they'd had to expand the garage two summers before. The cars got shuffled around all the time, but Baby always kept her spot on the end. Everyone knew it was her spot.

The late afternoon sun shone in through the garage windows as Dean removed the keys from the ignition and pushed them back into his black, denim jacket pocket.

Sam was sitting beside him and shot him a questioning look when Dean didn't immediately jump out. “Dean?”

Dean nodded and then looked over at his little brother. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

Sam sighed. He'd already answered this question from his brother, in various forms, three or four times.

The Deerling Survivors Camp, a small camp located almost seventy miles away, had sent a message to Dean a week earlier, requesting a face-to-face meeting. Dean had asked Sam to come along and they'd stayed overnight at the fledgling camp. The pseudo-leader there, just a young kid who’d been thrust into the role, had asked them to let Deerling join Camp Chitaqua, and after seeing the shape of the camp, Dean had agreed on the spot.

Years earlier the four smaller camps surrounding Chitaqua had joined them, expanding the camp by miles and miles and raising the population by more than two hundred people. It had been a big decision, and Dean had consulted with the council for a couple days before agreeing to the expansion.

It was a very good decision in the end, since they now had enough land to plant six, four acre farm plots. They made sure to rotate crops, leaving one field fallow every season and using it for grazing pasture. But all that fertile land meant that the campers all had plenty of fresh vegetables. Their expanded size also allowed them to enlarge their barn, so they could now house and care for four cows and a bull, two horses, dozens of chickens, a rooster, two pigs, and eight sheep.

They'd bartered and traded with other camps for most of their animals or found them wandering around alone and unclaimed. But they bought their sheep from a farmer living in what used to be Iowa. A lot of farmers had started over there, scratching out a new life from the soil, now that the world had started turning once again.

Seven years ago they'd finally succeeded in producing a vaccine. It had taken a lot of hard work. For three years, every single person that worked on it did so with nothing more than a promise of a better tomorrow.

It had taken another two plus years to get the word and the vaccine out to people, but now most of the population was vaccinated. The vaccine had also been carried overseas. They couldn't be sure how things were going across the pond because communication was still very limited. But they'd heard rumors that it was going well.

Some infrastructure was up and running again; they had electricity in some places, and some cities had running water again. There were even some places that had phone lines connected - in and around the bigger cities where people were beginning to congregate.

Things seemed to be progressing quickly out west in the former California, where they'd reportedly started broadcasting some form of Television again. Not very many people had TVs anymore to watch, but it seemed comforting to people just to know something resembling their former lives was returning.

Not everything was perfect, of course. There was no centralized government, or structured, widespread laws. Most areas had variations of camps like Chitaqua with leaders in charge, or occasionally small, internally elected governments that ran the camp. Lawlessness still existed in a lot of places, but it was being beaten further back every day as groups banded together.

There were also still some areas that were uninhabitable because massive groups of Croats still roamed there. The researchers that had created the vaccine were working on a cure for those who’d already been infected, but thus far they’d proved unsuccessful. Croat attacks still happened sometimes, but the vaccine meant that people just had to deal with the bite itself, making sure it was healing properly - something that was becoming easier as medical stations were springing up in and around larger populations as well, as doctors went back to healing people as they’d been trained to do.

Chitaqua had a physician, Dr. Turner, who lived in the camp. The Medical Tent was no more and instead the doctor’s office and their cache of medical supplies were now housed in a big log structure that had been tiled inside to keep it as clean and sanitary as possible. Patrick was happy to be rid of guard duties these days, working alongside Dr. Turner to watch over the health and well-being of the campers.

There weren’t many tents left nowadays either. They had a bunch stored away in case the camp ended up with a big influx of new campers and temporary housing was needed. But most people lived in log cabins of varying sizes, dotted over the two and a half square miles of the camp. There were well over five hundred people in the camp now, since amalgamating the four other camps. They also had a reputation for being a prosperous, strong community, so people tended to migrate there as well - which continued to add to their numbers.

Now, after the meeting with the Deerling camp, they’d be adding another ninety-six people to their ranks, inflating their population to nearly seven hundred people. Dean was worried about the fact that he’d made the decision to absorb the smaller camp without consulting the council this time.

The council was a group made up of eight other people besides Dean. Sam and Y/N were on it, as well as Brandy, Risa, Dr. Turner, and three other campers who were there representing the hunters, the farmers and the builders.

Day-to day decisions were still handled by Dean, but he relied on the council for other bigger decisions - taking their thoughts, ideas and opinions into account before he ultimately made a decision. Agreeing to take in another flock of people and develop another thirty acres of land was definitely one of those big decisions he’d normally take to the council, which was why, Sam knew, Dean had been second guessing his unilateral decision to say yes to Deerling’s request.

Sam shook his head at his brother as he answered Dean’s worry again. “Dean, you acted out of generosity, the council will understand. I can vouch for the fact that those campers need a lot of help very quickly. Those kids were starving, you could see that.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know, but I just brought the camp more strain on resources with no benefits.”

Sam shrugged. “Well, there’s the land.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, unfarmable land that’s separated from us by almost eighty miles. And Brisbane camp sits between us and Deerling, and they already think we’re trying to take them over. Joining with a group on the other side of them is gonna make them even more suspicious and possibly turn them unfriendly.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I should have consulted the council.”

“Dean, there’s no way the council would have opted to just let a bunch of kids and sick people die. They’re definitely going to agree with your decision, and this way you’ve simply ensured that we can get food and medicine out to them by tomorrow instead of making them wait days for it. Trust me, you made the right decision.”

Dean grunted his response, still unsure.

Sam slapped the back of his hand against Dean’s shoulder. “Now, I’m gonna go talk with the Doc about getting supplies together and coming out there with me tomorrow. Will you talk with Brandy later about food?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” A smile finally lit his face. “And then I’m goin’ home.”

Sam smiled and opened his door to climb out of the Impala. “Good plan. Give Y/N and the kids a kiss for me.”

Dean climbed out too and slammed his door behind him. He called Sam back as his brother began to walk away.

“We should also figure out a time and day to have a sit down with the new leader from Brisbane, talk with her about our intentions regarding Deerling. She’s tough, but she seems more approachable and level-headed than their last leader. Maybe we can convince her we’re not looking to take anything over.”

Sam nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Dean frowned. “What’s her name again?”

“Eileen Leahy.”

Dean noticed his brother’s cheeks turn pink and he immediately turned back into an annoying big brother, his grin wide.

“Right, right, you met with her alone last time. She’s cute, huh? Something we should know? Maybe you should invite her over to our place for dinner next week. We can have our little sit down conversation then. What do you think?”

Sam had already turned and started walking away. “You’re an idiot!” He called back over his shoulder. But Dean made a mental note to tell Y/N all about it later.

With Y/N firmly in mind he started out across the camp. Their cabin was situated on top of a low hill in the Southwest section of the camp, not all that far from where their old red tent used to sit.

They’d built their cabin when they came back to Chitaqua eight years ago after helping to set up the research facility. The vaccine was still a year away, but they’d done all they could do and they were ecstatic that after two years of traveling back and forth from camp, gathering doctors, researchers and searching for other psychic kids, (they’d only found two others) and after Y/N had given gallons of her blood to science, they could finally come home for good.

Not long after returning home, Y/N realized she was pregnant and Dean became obsessed with building them a beautiful home. It was around that time that the camps had all joined together and building homes for everyone became a priority of the camp.

The builders grew in numbers as they took on apprentices and taught them the trade so that more people in the camp could join in the work. It took almost four years of constant building, but eventually all five hundred plus campers had permanent homes.

Gotta pull the tents out for the Deerling folks, Dean thought as he walked, his mind immediately occupied with figuring out the logistics of where the new campers could stay, and how they could join in the life of the camp, once they were all healthy.

He stopped by Food Storage and spoke with Brandy as Sam had requested. And just as his brother had suspected, when he explained the situation, Brandy was one council member who was very glad he’d made the decision he had. He felt more sure now that the others would feel the same.

As Dean wound his way through camp he got stopped quite a few times, people wanting to talk with him about one concern or another. He generally pointed them in the direction of the person or group in the camp that could help them. But he also got stopped by friends wanting to say hi and talk for a moment or two.

He was happy to talk, but anxious to get home to Y/N.

He looked out towards the large school building where Y/N still taught every day. The new building had been built on the site where the main cabin had been burned down. It was even bigger than the old cabin, with six rooms for the seven teachers that worked there now.

Y/N was also the principal of the school for all intents and purposes; she and the other teachers taught over two hundred kids from ages five to sixteen. Theresa had finished school and immediately joined the staff as a teacher, working with Y/N every day and loving it. Brandy was so proud.

But Dean wasn’t surprised to see the building empty now, however; he knew it was a day off. He picked up his pace, weaving through the buildings that resided where the old tents had taken up space.

They’d greatly expanded the food storage, and had an entirely different rations system now that fresh vegetables, fruit, fish and game made up the vast majority of their diet. Brandy was still in charge and was constantly innovating to make things easier and to stretch their food as far as they could in order to feed everyone.

The former tent area also housed three large storage sheds, a small building that worked as an office/meeting space for whatever group needed to use it, and a small mill where they processed the wheat they grew - that process had included a steep learning curve, but they’d eventually made it work.

There was also a small, open area where a kind of market had popped up organically as the campers traded amongst themselves for things like homemade jewelry, homemade clothes, and other non-essentials.

He walked behind the buildings and began climbing the gently rising path that led to their cabin at the top of the hill. About halfway home he heard loud barking and looked up to see their seven year old Bernese-Husky cross, Clifford, bounding towards him, the way he usually did when any of the family came home.

“Hey, boy.” Dean said softly, scratching him behind the ears. “Miss me?”

Clifford barked happily in answer and ran ahead and then back to where Dean stood, obviously urging him on towards home. Dean laughed and sped up, chasing after the big dog who sometimes still acted like a puppy.

As the path through the trees ended, opening up into their wide front yard, Dean sighed deeply. “Home sweet home.” He murmured.

Even though he'd been away less than two days, he was still so happy to be home. He felt the peace that filled him up every time he stepped around the last bend in the path and caught sight of their home in the distance.

The way smoke curled lazily from the chimney and the scent of something delicious wafted through the half open Dutch door, never failed to make him ache to get his arms around his wife and bask in her light. Dean shook his head at his sentimental thoughts, but hurried his pace to get inside.

As he drew closer however, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to see his son walking East, coming out from behind the house. Dean figured he was heading over to his friend Freddie's, and he was about to continue on into the cabin, but then he noticed what his eight-year-old was holding in his hand.

“Gabriel Eric Winchester!”

Dean's voice bellowed out, freezing the young boy where he stood. Dean strode towards him, anger clear on his face. To the boy's credit, even when he turned and saw his father's anger, he still walked forward slowly, until he was standing directly in front of him.

The gun he held, however, was tucked just behind his back, as though he was hoping Dean hadn't noticed it.

Dean held his hand out. “Give that to me this second.”

Gabe's face fell and he brought the gun forward reluctantly, dropping it onto Dean's palm.

Dean immediately checked to make sure the small, .38 caliber, Smith and Wesson revolver was unloaded and when he saw it was, he held it in his fist, directly in front of Gabe's eyes.

“What the hell do you think you're doing with this?”

His son's eyes were wide and they got watery quickly.

He shrugged. “I was just gonna bring it to Freddie's. Josh said he could teach us to shoot.” He said, referring to his friend’s older brother. “Just cans on a fence.” He was quick to reassure Dean.

“And did you ask your mother if you could remove a gun from the weapons chest?” Dean asked, already well aware of the answer.

Gabe shook his head. “No.” He said quietly.

“How did you get it?” Dean asked brusquely.

Gabriel’s voice was still soft as he admitted what he’d done. “I grabbed it yesterday when mom took out a rifle to scare away some raccoons that were trying to get into the compost. Josh said he could teach us if we had guns. So when I saw it last night I just…” He trailed off as he looked up at Dean's face.

“So what you're telling me,” Dean said quietly, “is that while your mother's back was turned you STOLE a gun and planned to use it without asking either of us for permission.”

Gabe's tears spilled down his cheek at his father's disappointed tone and accurate words. He nodded and then sniffed.

“I'm sorry.” He said thickly.

Dean crouched down so he could look his son in the eye. “Gabe, a gun is not a toy. I thought you knew this. It's not something to mess around with or use on a whim. It is a weapon. It's incredibly dangerous. If you'd gone off and started shooting, even just at cans, you could have seriously hurt or killed yourself or your friends. Do you understand me?”

Gabe nodded but bit his lip. “But you carry a gun.” He said, pointing to the ever present gun strapped to Dean’s thigh. “And you started using guns when you were even younger than me. I heard you talking about it to mom before. And I…” He sniffled again. “I just wanted to be like you.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Oh, buddy, I want you to be so much more than me. Your mom and I, we've worked really hard to make things better for you guys, to make the world safer so that when you grow up, hopefully you won’t have to walk around with a gun strapped to you at all times. It’s my job to protect the people in this camp. That’s why I carry a gun, and why I sometimes carry a rifle. But that’s not your job. Your job is to just be a little boy.”

Dean saw Gabriel pout a bit about being called a little boy. He smiled gently and squeezed his son’s shoulders. “Trust me, buddy, you should enjoy being a kid, don’t try to grow up too quickly.”

Gabe nodded begrudgingly and Dean pulled his son in for a hug. After a moment, he pulled back from him and stood up straight again, before nodding towards the cabin. “Go to your room now until supper, and when you come out, you’ll owe your mother an apology for going behind her back. Also, nothing but school and home for a week, do you understand?”

Gabe looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it when Dean gave him a stern look. “Yes, sir.” He said in acceptance and turned to run into the cabin.

“Gabriel!” Dean called. When his son turned back, the tear tracks on his grubby cheeks still visible, Dean spoke quietly but with conviction. “I love you and that’s why I know you can do better.”

Gabe’s face lost some of its forlorn look and he gave Dean a slightly awkward smile, lightly banging his fist against the side of his leg. “Love you too, Dad.” He said quickly before bolting for the house.

Dean shook his head and slipped the gun into his inside jacket pocket. He’d have to have a few more conversations with his son about gun safety and responsibility, but he was confident he could drill the dangers into him.

He walked up the stairs to the front door, more than ready to see Y/N and his girls. When he walked inside, however, he could hear voices coming from behind the kitchen door, and they didn’t sound very happy.

He pushed open the swinging door and saw Y/N and Emma inside. Y/N’s face lit up. “Dean!” She said happily as she saw him and crossed to the door to pull him down for a kiss.

“Ew.” Emma said.

It was the standard reaction from all of their kids when they kissed in front of them. Emma had a hand over her eyes as Dean finished the kiss and looked over to where she stood by the sideboard that held all their plates, cups and glasses.

“You can look now, kiddo, we’re all finished.” Dean told her with a grin. “For the moment.”

Emma rolled her eyes and made Dean chuckle. Y/N frowned up at him. “Did I hear you yelling at Gabe?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, gotta talk to you about that, but you guys sounded angry when I came in. Anything wrong?”

Y/N looked at Emma and shrugged. “I’ve been telling Emma that she needs to invite her new friend for dinner.”

Dean’s brow wrinkled as he looked at Emma. “You don’t want to bring your friend over for dinner?”

Emma looked at Y/N with frustration, clearly annoyed that she’d told Dean anything.

Dean tried again. “What’s going on kiddo, since when don’t you want us to meet your friends? Who is it, by the way? Didn’t realize any new kids had started at the school.”

Y/N shook her head. “Jeffrey’s not a new student, he’s just a new…friend.” She said meaningfully.

Dean caught on and his face immediately dissolved into a scowl. “Oh.” He said without enthusiasm, crossing his arms over his chest.

“See?” Emma barked out, pointing at Dean, but talking to Y/N. “I told you this is how he’d be!!”

“What?” Dean asked defensively. “What are you talking about?”

Emma folded her arms, her posture and scowl mirroring Dean’s. “You get like this every time I bring a boy home, even when he’s absolutely just a friend. You scare the shit out of them!”

“Emma!” Y/N said, reprimanding her for her language..

But Dean just scoffed. “I don’t know what you mean. How do I scare them?”

Emma glared at him. “You interrogate them, Daddy, you know you do.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, if they’re too freaked out to answer a few simple questions then-”

“Simple questions?” Emma interrupted with a humorless laugh. “When I invited Timothy Sutherland over here you forced him to sit down and answer a thousand questions about his family, his background, where he grew up, what his plans were when we finished school. He ran out of here and never looked back.”

Dean threw his arms out. “Do you really wanna date a loser like that anyway? Who can’t even answer a couple questions?”

“Ugh!” Emma stomped her foot and stormed out the back door.

Silence reigned for a moment when Emma left before Y/N turned towards Dean, giving him a tilted smile. “So, welcome home!” She said in a would-be cheerful voice..

Dean sighed as he pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head. They enjoyed the simple peace of each other’s embrace for a few minutes before Y/N spoke.

“What happened with Gabe?” She asked.

“He stole a gun and was gonna go shoot cans with Josh and Freddie Young.”

“What?” Y/N shouted, pulling back to look into Dean’s face.

He nodded. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I handled it. He’s in his room till supper and he’s grounded for a week. And I talked to him about how dangerous guns were. I have more conversations planned around the subject for the near future.”

Y/N shook her head before laying it back on Dean’s chest. “Good lord.”

After a couple minutes Y/N pulled away and poured them each a cup of coffee. They settled beside each other at the wooden table and instinctively linked fingers.

Dean took a sip of coffee and sighed. “I don’t really interrogate all her boyfriends, do I?”

Y/N pursed her lips. “Well, she’s never actually had a real boyfriend. And I don’t think that's because boys don’t want to date her. She’s smart and kind, beautiful and well-liked. So…” She shrugged. “It seems probable that the boys who like her are just too intimidated by her father - you know, the legend who fought monsters, Croats, angels, and WON - the soldier that leads the camp, wears a gun, and asks scary questions, all while donning a very good mean-face.”

Dean exhaled loudly, but before he could respond, their youngest child came bouncing into the room. She was just six years old, and looked so much like Emma at that age that it sometimes caught Dean off guard.

But she was definitely her own little bundle of energy. Having never known hunger or hardship, she was all bright smiles and busy excitement. It seemed as though she’d been born smiling and simply hadn't stopped. Very little bothered her, and she was absolutely spoiled by the entire family, including their found family members in the camp.

Everyone loved Hope.

“Daddy, you’re home!” Hope shouted as she jumped into his lap.

“Oof.” He grunted as she landed hard on some sensitive places. “Hey sweetheart!” He said, slightly out of breath.

“I missed you. Mommy said you might not come home until tomorrow, but I said that you would come home quick because you like to be home and you don’t like to stay away. Right?”

He nodded, trying to keep up with her racing words. “Yeah, baby, I love to be home.”

Before his sentence was ended Hope was on to her next thought. “I saw Emmie running out the back door and I tried to talk to her, but she looked mad. She was sitting on the tree swing in the back and I wanted a turn, so I told her to push me, but she just helped me on the swing and then she left to walk through the front yard and leave. And when I tried to follow her, she told me not to leave the yard and to go inside and see you cause you were back. So, I did.” She paused for breath before asking, “Why was Emmie mad?”

Y/N answered. “It’s nothing sweet pea. Why don’t you help me make supper? You can shuck the corn.”

Hope clapped her hands. “Yes, I want to pull all the strings off.”

Y/N held her daughter’s hand as she hopped off of Dean’s lap, and then leaned forward to kiss Dean slowly.

“Ew.” Hope said, shielding her eyes as her sister had.

Y/N smiled against Dean’s lips and whispered to him. “Go talk to your daughter.”

Dean nodded and stood up, bending to kiss Hope’s shiny chestnut curls on the crown of her head. “Hey, promise me something short one.” He said, continuing when she looked up at him. “Promise you’ll take a really long time to grow up, okay?”

She smiled at him, cheeks round and rosy. “Okay, daddy.”

He winked at Y/N who smiled indulgently. “She promises.”

***

Dean instinctively knew where he’d find his oldest child. She coped with stress and frustration the same way he did, the way he’d taught her to.

He walked through the door of the garage and sure enough, there was Emma, wearing old, blue coveralls that were too big for her, and bent over the hood of the little Chevy hatchback that sat next to the Impala. He knew she heard him come in, but she didn’t say anything, just kept working.

Dean hopped up on Baby’s hood and waited for her to be ready to talk. Eventually, she caved and looked over at him, her face slightly shuttered and a little hard to read. “Hi.” She said simply.

He smiled at her. “Hey kiddo.” He nodded at the open hood she was under. “How are things looking? Still need a new oil pan?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I replaced that last week. Risa found me one in the back of the storage shed.”

“Good.” Dean said. They were both quiet as Emma leaned back in and continued working.

After a moment she cleared her throat. “Looks like I’m gonna need new brake pads though. Think we could go to Lowry’s and see what he’s got.” She asked, referring to a guy in Brisbane who collected car parts and often traded with them.

“Sure. I’ll be busy for the next day or so. But we can go after that. One day after school?” He asked.

Emma nodded and stood up, wiping her hands on the rag she had stuffed in her pocket. She was quiet as she slammed the hood closed and then stepped out of the coveralls and hung them up on the hook beside the door.

She wandered over to Baby and hoisted herself up beside Dean on the hood. After a moment she leaned her head onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Dad. I’m glad you’re home.”

Dean lifted his arm so she could snuggle closer, and then wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, squeezing her into his side.

“No, you don’t have to apologize, baby. Apparently I’ve been unconsciously scaring away the tons of boys who would otherwise be beating down our door. Though, if I’m being completely truthful, it probably wasn’t entirely unconscious. Cause I just know not a one of them is gonna be good enough for you.”

Emma chuckled. “I don’t think it’s tons of boys, Daddy. And I’m not interested in a bunch of boys. I’m interested in Jeffery. And I really do want you to meet him. I think if you give him a chance you’d like him. He’s really sweet and funny and just…” She sighed. “I just like him.”

Dean squeezed her again and felt his chest constrict with love and bittersweet memories, remembering how she used to crawl into his lap and let him read her to sleep. Those days were long gone, but she was still that little girl to him and she probably always would be. But he knew she was growing up and he needed to loosen his grip, at least a little.

So he sighed now and nodded. “Okay, kiddo. If you like him, I’m sure I’ll like him too. So, invite him over for dinner one evening and I swear to keep my questions to a minimum and be perfectly cordial.”

Emma laughed. “I don’t know if cordial is ever a word I’d use to describe you, Dad. Let’s just try to leave out the death stares.”

***

That evening after dinner, it was Gabe and Hope’s turn to do dishes. Gabriel washed and Hope dried with some assistance from Dean. As they were finishing up, Keisha and Julianne showed up on their doorstep asking if Emma was free to go for a walk around camp.

Y/N nodded when Emma looked to her for permission. “That’s fine. Be home before dark. Oh, here.” She said to the twins, grabbing a bag and passing it to them. “Take these home to your mom, it's the dress patterns she loaned me.”

Keisha went to take it, but Y/N pulled it back. “On second thought, nevermind. I’ll bring it to her tomorrow afternoon. Gives me a reason to visit and gossip.”

The girls all laughed and then waved as they headed out the door. Dean had to smile as they walked away, their high pitched voices and giggles floating back to them on a breeze. Some things hadn’t changed and he was grateful.

Gabe went to his room to read, since he was housebound for the next while. Hope played with some well loved and worn out dolls for a little bit before they took her to her room and put her to bed. They tucked Gabe in not long after, and then took their coffee cups out onto their little front porch and sat in one of the big Adirondack chairs that Dean and Sam had built three years ago.

Y/N settled happily into Dean’s lap, her hands cupped around her warm mug. The late spring air was soft and warm, and the sounds of the camp drifted up the hill towards them. They listened contentedly for a little while as Clifford came out of the house and flopped down on Dean’s feet.

They talked about the kids and they talked about the Deerling camp; they talked about Sam, and Y/N admonished Dean for teasing him about Eileen.

“Be nice.” She scolded. “I hope he will bring her to dinner. If he likes her, I mean.”

They talked about anything and everything, and as the sun began to set, Emma came up the path and smiled as she saw her parents cuddled together in one chair. As much as she rolled her eyes and hid her face when they started getting kissy, she loved how much they loved each other. And she knew she’d never settle for anything less than what they had together.

She told them goodnight and went inside, Clifford rising slowly to follow her and sleep at the end of her bed as he did every night.

Soon the fireflies were buzzing loudly and the camp was getting quiet, so Dean stood up with Y/N still in his arms, leaving their coffee cups to sit on the porch until morning. She laughed as her husband carried her effortlessly into their bedroom.

He set her on her feet and locked the door before he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her to him, crushing her lips beneath his own. Y/N moaned softly and immediately pulled off his flannel shirt and yanked his t-shirt over his head so she could spread her hands across the wide expanse of his still beautifully muscled torso.

“God I missed you.” She breathed, even though it had only been one night. “I hate when you go away.”

He smiled against her skin as he stripped her down to her bra and panties. “Missed you too, sweetheart. Promise not to go anywhere ever again.”

Y/N laughed at his impossible promise as he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He continued kissing her as he crossed the room and lowered her to the bed. She wouldn’t let go of him and pulled him down on top of her.

Dean chuckled at her hold on him and then mouthed his way down her body, licking and nipping at her skin. Ten years later she still had the ability to make him instantly hard and aching for her.

They spent most of the night making up for the one they’d been apart. In the darkest part of the night they found light and life in each other’s arms and fell asleep knowing tomorrow would dawn bright and busy - filled with responsibilities, joy, love and most of all…

…hope.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean fan fic series #endverse

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nowoyas · 1 year ago

Text

Boiling Point 4: Finale - Miguel O'Hara x Reader (NSFW)

First - Prev - M.list - Ao3

A/N: by the power of banana pudding rum we got there. thanks for waiting and please enjoy!

Summary: We reach the part where you get what you want.

Notes: smut. this is the part with actual sex for real. uh biting mentions, blood drawn, etc.

Word Count: 2800

None of this has exactly been how you expected this night to go.

At any turn, you were expecting something else. Not eating sandwiches atop the Empire State building and sipping fountain drinks while you floated, quite frankly thinking you were out of your damn mind and dreaming some truly deranged shit, as Miguel acted exactly like normal in response to having discovered that your sex drive is basically controlled by whether or not he breathes in the same room as you on a given day.

By the time you've nearly finished your drink and near pulling off the lid to crunch the ice, mostly to have something to do with your mouth other than fuck up, Miguel lets out a heavy sigh.

Honestly, you're still stuck on the part where he knows. Clearly he's somewhere miles past you, speaking frankly, as though this is a normal conversation to be having. Just a Spiderman and the Spider belonging to this version of New York, far above the ground. You stare at the stars while he stares at the streets below.

"Are you understanding anything I've said to you? I'm starting to think you're not."

The ice cube cracks in your teeth. You spit it back into your cup to respond. "It's more like I think I'm being punked right now."

"Punked?" he repeats back. You wonder if that's because that's not a thing in Nueva York, or if it's because the idea is so stupid that he can't believe you've put it into the world in the first place. (It is, in fact, a little bit of both.)

You double down, because that is your best quality. "Yeah. Like, tricked? Pranked? You're sitting here having taken me out for chicken sandwiches in response to—hell, I don't think I can make myself say it out loud, but anyways you are Miguel O'Hara and it takes all the work in the world to not think of you by your full name every time because you're just that fucking amazing."

He lets you go on, watches you as you watch the stars. You pause to crunch another ice cube before continuing. "Like, I'm not sorry for thinking you're the hottest thing to walk any Earth. I am sorry you found out, because I can see how that would be uncomfortable to discover, but like. You are hot. I could go into excruciating detail, if you'd like, but I think that's a bit too much, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to be, like, normal?"

"You're not any less normal than anyone else we’ve brought into the multiverse," he says. "I am now completely convinced that you haven't been listening to anything I've said, though."

“I haven’t… not been listening?”

“Okay. Then, what have I been telling you?”

You thoughtfully crunch another ice cube.

“…shit.”

He sighs. “Okay, let’s take it from the top. I was hoping you would figure out you were being an idiot before you sent yourself spiraling directly into sub drop, but that clearly didn’t happen. As fun as it’s been watching you drive yourself insane, this isn’t how I wanted to see you fall apart.”

“…okay.” He’s watching your every movement, and you, in turn, are trying to control each one, down to whatever microexpressions you can. Part of you wants to cry from the embarrassment of it all. But dammit, you are not sitting at the top of this building to cry for once. “So… how did you want to see me fall apart?”

“I can show you.”

Please hold. Buffering.

“Okay!” It comes out a squeak, but this is not a man who has the time to let you cringe, apparently, because you’re suddenly being bodily lifted from your perch, your trash nearly forgotten except your quick thinking to web it to you. Responsible superheroes don’t leave their trash on skyscrapers.

“Limits?” he says as he carries you, so easily for a man only using one hand.

“What?”

“What are your limits? Dirty talk, biting…”

Oh. Your face flares hot. I think you’re finally starting to get it. Good for you. “Um. I don’t… like… assplay?”

He nods, not even looking down at you. That’s fair. He’s a little occupied with the web-swinging right now. Actually, it’s kind of fun to be carried like this, rather than being the one doing all the work. You should find some way to con him into carrying you around like this again sometime.

“I can work with that. Anything else?”

“Um… normally I like degradation, but maybe not right now?”

“Makes sense. Safeword?”

You’ve suddenly forgotten every semblance of a safeword you’ve ever known. Good going. 10/10.

“Pumpkin,” you blurt.

“Pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin.”

“You didn’t just make that up on the spot, did you?”

“Not that you can prove.”

He lets out a soft huff, more felt than heard, and lands on the roof of your building. “Not sure I want your neighbor listening in.”

Ah. Yeah. That… huh.

(You are so fucking eloquent.)

You flash a grin. “Yeah, uh, I think he’s been doing that for a while. I might move, actually. When I can afford it. Do you think this is… better?”

He sighs. “No. But I need a moment.”

“Oh, okay, I can—“

His lips crash down on yours, and fuck it, this clearly isn’t real, so of course you’re going to moan against his lips and kiss him right back. He’s so much bigger than you—all muscles and hard lines and, when he pulls back and you open your eyes, deep red eyes and sharp teeth.

He must like something he sees in the way his eyes roam over you, because he groans and drops his head a bit. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to not think about taking you like this?”

“Like what?” You do your best to sound innocent. It does something, a fact you’re proud to state you know from the way his clawed fingertips suddenly flex into your flesh.

…he is going to completely destroy you.

You, for one, are fully prepared for that outcome.

…probably.

Making out on the rooftop becomes making out in your bedroom becomes Miguel getting you out of your Spider suit in record time. (Maybe you’ll ask him for pointers after this, all things considered.) At least you’re not the only one getting surprised today—when he gets your top half bare and finds your tits bouncing free, not a bra in sight, there’s a growl passing his lips that leaves you shuddering.

“No bra?” His hand hovers over your breasts, as though waiting for permission.

You press your chest forward, right into his waiting hands. “Built into the suit.”

“That’s… dangerous.” His eyes are dark as they fixate on you, on the way your soft curves squish in his hands. “Have you ever worn a bra under the suit?”

You laugh, wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No, sir, I haven’t. You find me a stretchy spandex that doesn’t show every line underneath and then we’ll talk about bras and underwear.”

Without another word, he grabs at the rest of the suit bunched around your waist and yanks down. You yelp as you move with the suit, as you go from “superhero” to “ass-naked” in one fell swoop. That’s just unfair.

Dark eyes search your face, just a moment, just long enough for him to take in wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever he’s looking for, clearly it satisfies him, because his next step is to jerk your hips up and hook your legs over his shoulders.

“So why don’t you tell me a bit about why you thought a contract like that was a good idea?”

You refuse to meet his eyes. Large hands dig into the flesh of your thighs—not painful, not enough to bruise, but enough that you feel the tiniest pricks of his claws threatening to press in.

“Come on, cariño. I wasn’t asking.”

You throw your arms over your face, hide your eyes so you don’t have to look at him when you admit it. “…I kept overheating the motors in my vibrators.”

He startles you with a real, genuine laugh. “Really.”

“Yes!” You jerk to try to face him, which leaves you in a weird half-crunch position. “You’re… a lot, okay? And I’m not, like, constantly constantly thinking about sex, with you or anyone else, but you do shit that gets me started and then I can’t stop and—“

“There you go,” he purrs. “That’s a good girl.”

Your rambling cuts off into a low moan as he buries his face between your thighs at last. His tongue enters your core, his fingers toy with your clit, and he works you up just to the point that you actually contemplate murder when he pulls away.

“Miguel, I can’t keep doing this,” you whine, tears already springing to your eyes in response to yet another denial.

He shushes you, gentle. You do not want gentle.

If we’re being completely honest, if this man does not break you tonight, your body is going to completely atomize itself on the spot.

“Please,” you whine.

He quirks a brow you-ways. Tilts his head. “What are you asking me for?”

“Anything. Need to cum. Please.”

A soft laugh. “You need it?”

“Need it.”

His fingers brush against your core, and you whine out.

“Okay.”

You nearly cry—first at the feeling of his fingers entering you, the promise that this is finally over, you’re finally done breaking toys and breaking yourself just to do something right, now someone else gets to break you—then at how expertly he manages to bring you back to the brim with two thick fingers pumping into your heat.

“There you go. You’re doing so well. So, so well, cariño.”

You smile through your moans, meet his blazing eyes as he works your walls and your clit. You cum hard and fast, writhing around him until he has to put a firm hand down on your stomach to keep you still, and this time, you do cry—from release, from overstimulation, from the fact that you got here and you did it and you did so well.

He doesn’t stop when you stop to catch your breath. The swift removal of his fingers is replaced once again by his mouth, and you cry as he laps up the fluttering remains of your first orgasm in so, so long. A jerk of your hips from the contact has just the barest brush of his fangs teasing against your pussy, just enough to remind you that they’re there and you’re finally, finally getting what you need.

“miguel,” you breathe out in lowercase.

He groans against you, grips your thighs again, and this time he does leave thin red lines behind as he loses himself in your pussy.

The second time you cum, you haven’t quite stopped with the tears from the first. It’s almost everything you’ve dreamed of. You’ve dreamed of some weird shit, though, so basically it’s everything worth dreaming of.

And again he barely stops. He pulls away, yes, when your walls stop spasming around his tongue and your whining drops to low keens, and he repositions himself to fondle your flesh, to smooth a large hand over the plush of your tits and thumb lazily at a single nipple, and when he kisses you, you taste yourself on his lips. But he isn’t done, and he makes quite clear he isn’t done quite quickly.

Lips trail from yours to your neck, and when you reach down in hopes of finding the truth of his cock, he grabs your wrist and nips at your throat.

You do not bother trying to repress the shudder as his teeth graze you.

He sighs, nearly laughs. “You’re seriously turned on by these?” he asks, pulling away to look you in the eye.

“M-mhm. All of you.” Oh dear. You didn’t think you could get stupider, but somewhere between edges, you must have found a shovel and started digging. Poor you. “But I really like teeth. Used to be so into vampires. Werewolves. Anything with big teeth that could wreck me.” Okay, that’s enough. You can stop talking now.

Oh, thank fuck, he took his turn in the conversation. That was getting bad. “Guess you’re lucky, then.”

“So lucky.” You nod.

Another graze of his teeth, and then again he pulls away. Bastard. Like you haven’t been edged enough these past few weeks, through no fault or decision of your own. “You know I can’t bite you, right? Paralytic venom?”

“Like I can move after what you just did to me anyway?”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll think about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

“I can tell.” He leaves you there on the bed, a bit limp from the double orgasm action, and removes his own suit, slow and careful. “Lucky for you, I wasn’t done yet. That was just the prep work.”

“Prep?”

Ah. He’s big. Yeah, okay, that makes sense. Maybe you should have trained for this. He climbs right back on top of you, cock weighty where it rests on your stomach, and kisses you slowly. Almost loving, if you hadn’t known any better.

When he presses into you, it’s a stretch, big and sore and dragging out yet another whine from you. He shushes you gently, like this is something you’re supposed to be able to just push through, but he does and you do and when he bottoms out you’re honestly surprised he fits.

“There you go. There’s a good girl. Still doing good?”

No one here is completely sure whether you’re whimpering because his cock is finally inside of you or because of the pet name, but we’ll just say it was overstimulation and call it a day. You manage a nod, which has him arching his brow and holding very carefully still.

“I need a verbal answer, [name].”

“Still… still doing good. You’re good.”

“Okay.”

One slow, careful thrust turns into two turns into three turns into another, and you have to cling to him and claw just to find some sort of purchase before very long at all. By the time you’ve lost count, it’s more because you’ve lost your mind than anything. The overstim-sore gives way to a delicious stretch, and you’re sure you’re babbling something, though you’re pretty sure it’s just his name. That’s all that’s in your head, anyway.

What you know is this: his grip and his pace become bruising, at your enthusiastic pleading, and he fucks you until you don’t remember whether you came once or twice or stopped until he was done. You know that he pulls out, that he cums across your stomach in thick ropes. You know that he cleans you with a warm, damp cloth, tends carefully to the cuts on your thighs where his claws dug just a touch too deep. When you can sit up, you blearily take the kit from him and dab at the bits on his back where you managed to draw blood. Marks of your own left on his skin.

“You did good. Better than I was expecting, honestly.”

“You’re rude,” you shoot back with a sleepy-sounding laugh. “And big. And good.”

You’re not sure the etiquette here. In the light of no longer being mid-fuck, you cringe at the dance that socialization inevitably becomes. He’ll go back to his universe, and leave you here, and probably send Lyla to let you know of new assignments, but what do you do now except begrudgingly accept the chocolate he shoves in your mouth and make sure the cuts on his back are disinfected?

“Sorry about your thighs. That’ll sting for a while,” he says as you’re busily trying to memorize the muscles on his back.

“I’ll be fine. Quick healing and all that. Um…”

“I’ll do some work to figure out the venom thing, if you were serious about wanting me to bite you.”

“Of course I’m serious!” You squeak. “Your damned fangs were at least two of my casualties that started this whole thing!”

“Casualties?”

You fluster, turn away. “Yeah. Casualties.” A brief pause where it sinks in. “Wait. So you want to… do this again…?”

“Was that not clear? You’re a bright spot in the multiverse. If you’d just stop throwing yourself into stupid shit…”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m already perfect.”

“You are. I’m still not biting you without being absolutely sure I won’t kill you in the process.”

“Aw, that’s half the fun!”

He gives you a sharp look, and you cringe.

“Right. Yeah, I get it. Feel free to surprise me when you figure it out, though.”

He pulls you into his arms, and in his warmth you feel yourself finally relax a little bit.

“I think I’ll take you up on that one.”

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @yohoe-hoe @ambientcryptidsounds @roxannarichie @vegas-writing-den @cooch1ecruncher @bluepeanutharmony @instanttragedyfire @thesilenthill @topreice @rhae-blackqueen

If you'd like to be tagged, shoot me a message or an ask, or ask here in the replies, tags, or reblogs and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in (all works, all works specific to a character, all smut works, etc.). If your name appears on this list but is not underlined and you didn't get a notification, please check to make sure that your blog is NOT set to not appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got that set that way for a particular reason, consider subscribing to the fic on ao3 for an equivalent update notification, as I always crosspost simultaneously! After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the list.

As always, thanks for reading! <3

#my fics #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara/reader #reader inserts

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thiswasinevitableid · 2 years ago

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Deep Down (Indruck)

The winner of the "mer society" prompt poll was: Cultural differences between surface mers and deep-ocean mers. Duck is based on a Senator Wrasse and Indrid is based on a Gulper Eel). This fic is NSFW and contains mentions of ovipostion, but none actually occurs.

How can anyone live down here?

Duck disembarks the VertoSphere miles below where he’s ever stopped before. It opens into an abyss, so dark and empty he fears he set his coordinates too low and now he’s hovering above the Marianas trench.

He swims forward and bumps into something solid. A wall of glass coral. At his impact, a familiar an unexpected voice floats from a recording above him.

“Hello. This is Vincent Mullidae, head of transportation and Security for the Greater Pacific Region. Welcome to the Midnight Zone. If you are a resident, please feel free to draw the open symbol and be on your way. If you are visiting, please float by for more instructions.”

Duck sets the two, woven bags he’s brought with him on the floor and waits.

“If you know the name of your destination, please state it now.”

“Uh, Indrid Cold’s house?”

A pause, then yellow and pink pinpoints of light flicker in the water beyond the glass, “This color indicates the route to that residence. If at any time the lights go out, you lose your path, or you need to change course, use the tablet provided before your departure to locate the direction. It is advised that any mers unfamiliar with the area stay on the lighted paths at all times. Are you ready to proceed?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Nothing happens.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Thank you for traveling with the Pacific Municipal Vertosphere System, and enjoy your stay.”

The glass parts and he swims into the unknown. It’s a relief to find that the lamps lighting his path cast a wide circle in spite of their gentle glow.

He’s not a kid. He knows that the stories about deep sea mers lurking at the edges of trenches or the border where the light stops reaching just to drag unsuspecting sunlight mers down to do who knows what with are made up. Relics from a time when mers had shittier communication and couldn’t travel between the levels of the ocean to get to know each other. All the same, it’s hard not to see tails flicking just out of view, or imagine that the other lights he sees–mainly pathways and store fronts, now that he’s closer to the town of Sylvain–are lures meant to coax him to his doom.

Plus he’s pretty sure there are still some big-ass sharks and squids down here.

Now and then another path flickers to life, but as he understands it the local mers don’t really need the illumination to see, since they long ago adapted eyes that could pierce the darkness. It’s both useful and comforting when another path appears–each one in a different combination of colors–since it reassures him that he’s not down here all alone and also gives him a sense of the basic layout of the town.

It turns out his host lives on the end of it, and he swims up to a sea cave with an oddly rectangular opening. He raises a hand to knock at the wooden door, clearly salvaged from a wreck, when a face appears in the porthole.

“Ah, Duck Newton. Welcome” The door opens, revealing a mer with a long, black tail dotted with a line of silver dots along the top. These match his hair, which is half tied out of his face, giving Duck an unobstructed view of his glowing, red eyes and face that reminds him of sharp, pale coral. He’s a good head taller than Duck; unsurprising, given that deep mers tend to be larger than those who live in the sunlight zone.

“Please, come in. Apologies if I gave you a start, I can see the future, which means I’m always a little bit ahead. I did manage to get your room ready before you arrived; as you can see my home isn’t large, but I hope it will be to your liking.”

“Long as it’s got four walls and a roof, we’re good. I stayed some pretty bare-bones places doin’ field work.”

The other mer pauses, “Do sunlight mers also make homes from bones?”

“Uh, not usually? More like decorations or jewelry, since anything real big dies or falls down here. Mostly meant that I stayed places that weren’t much more than a glorified hole.”

“Ah, I follow. Here we are.” The mer gestures to another wooden door. Duck opens it to find a simple, seagrass bed, rock shelves for all his supplies, and plenty of lights nestled into the walls. There’s also a mosaic on the ceiling, shells and bone and debris from human wrecks cobbled together into a stunning,swirling pattern.

“Wow. You make that?”

“I did. I wanted my guest room to feel welcoming.”

“Mission accomplished.” He swims in and sets his bags by the bed.

Indrid trills in thanks, and several points of light flash blue at the end of his tail. Duck doesn’t mean to stare, but he’s never seen a light display before. The deep mers he’s met in the past were always up in his realm, where such flashes either weren’t necessary or were easy to miss.

“A rather odd place for it, I know. I do have these, but they only light up on command, not automatically.” The silver spots on his tail disappear as a row of feathery spines rise, “although these have the benefit of being slightly poisonous if something bites them or I pull one off and jab it into them.”

“Yeesh, you ever had to do that?”

“A handful of times. Mainly to other mers when I was younger and the deep was less…settled. It isn’t permanent, it just induces sluggishness for long enough for me to swim off.”

“Wow. Mers back home will just grapple if they’re really pissed over something, but most of the time you just gotta tell them to back off and they will.”

“Then I shall make a mental note not to wrestle you.” Indrid smiles, suggesting he means this as small talk, “I have some errands to attend to, but please make yourself at home. Anything in the kitchen can be shared.”

“Got it. Thanks, Indrid.”

The other mer swims towards the hall, then pauses, “Oh, and do not go beyond town once a string of red lights to the left of the house turns on. That means the giant anglers are about. It happens once a week or so. Well, see you soon!”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone he told was surprised Indrid had agreed to host a sunlight mer. None were half as surprised as he’d been when the futures suggested it was a good idea.

A corps of them has been sent down to study various parts of the deeper ecosystems over the course of five months. Indrid fully believes in cooperation between deep and sunlight mers, and has traveled upward on more than one occasion to lend his services as seer. But those trips involved very little contact with sunlight mer society more generally, and even with Duck having been here a few days, Indrid still fears he’ll be too awkward or alien and the other mer will request a new host.

It doesn’t help that he’s been called weird by other deep mers. It’s not his fault that his tail wiggles that way when he’s extremely happy, or that certain fish down here are too gelatinous for his tongue and he’ll refuse them rather than seize any meal that goes by. And he doesn’t mean to have odd manners; it’s just hard to remember all the rules of interaction when he sees others so infrequently. Even with a town in place, many deep mers venture into the sea beyond for weeks at a time.

The first week of Duck’s stay is going well, but he remains nervous no matter how kind and polite his guest is. But today, Duck asked him if he was willing to guide him to an area where certain, dark-loving anemones grow.

They’ve found the spot with little issue, and Duck is now flitting from rock to rock with understated delight.

“Lookit the shape of the base. I wonder if that helps ‘em..hmm, if I can just” he peers at where it's anchored to the stone, “no, ain’t that. Hmmm” As he swims to another outcropping he stops, looking at Indrid, “do you need to go back? Don’t bother me none if you stay but me starin at plants ain’t the most exciting thing in the sea.”

“I’d like to stay. I find it rather peaceful out here.” He settles on a rock as Duck nods and gets back to work. He sorts through some futures, lets his mind wander, but mostly he watches Duck move from spot to spot with a growing desire to see his tail in full sunlight; the green is doubtless dazzling.

“Oh damn, Indrid come look at these!”

He swims over to find Duck shining his penlight on a cluster of pale, swaying shapes.

“Ghost seahorses! I know we have them but I never manage to spot them.”

“Looks like the anemone let’s ‘em live on it. So fuckin’ cool” he makes notes into his recording shell, then waves Indrid over to ask him if that rock is supposed to be glowing (it’s not, it’s an orange spitfish in disguise).

They spend enough hours talking, or simply working and watching in companionable silence, for them both to become ravenously hungry. Once they arrive back at the house, Indrid sets out crab for dinner while Duck puts away his supplies.

“Any chance we could turn the heat up? Think the spot we were in all day was in a colder current than usual.” Duck rubs his arms to warm them as Indrid turns the knob to draw in more heat, once again grateful for whichever of his peers figured out they could guide steam up from the deepest ocean vents to heat their homes when needed.

They’re chatting about Duck’s youthful misadventures hanging out in abandoned human piers when a shape catches his eye through one of the only other windows in the house. He puts a finger to his lips and takes Duck’s hand, guiding him over to the window. He presses a button, sending deep red light across the rocky alcove, allowing Duck to see what he does without scaring away their visitor.

“Holy fuck, I didn’t know umbrella octopuses could be black.” Duck moves closer to the glass.

“As far as I can tell it’s rather rare. I started seeing one this color years ago, and left out food to entice it and other tentacled friends to visit. They are not long lived, so I suspect this one is the offspring of the one I saw when I first moved in.”

“Thanks for lettin’ me see him too.” The other mer glances at him, smile warming him more than a dozen trips sunward.

“My pleasure.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck’s packing up a box of recording shells to send up to the researchers who stayed in the sunlight zone when there’s an argument at the door. Poking his head into the hall, he sees Indrid’s tail flickering orange and red.

“For the last time, if you want predictions that complex, you have to bring payment with you. The contingencies alone will take me hours to sort through.”

“Fine” The voice at the door snaps, “I’ll bring you something. Keep your tail here until I do.”

Duck bristles at the tone; no one deserves to be spoken to like that, least of all someone as captivating as Indrid.

“What was all that?” He swims to the door as Indrid leans against it, arms crossed.

“A party of mers are going out in search of a giant squid. I assume to sell to humans or to eat. They want my help but keep trying to get out of paying for it.”

“Can’t you just take an IOU? Back home we do that all the time, figuring folks are good for it. Or you do a favor knowin’ they’ll do one for you down the road.”

“I wish it worked like that, but deep mers are still so prone to limited interactions with each other it is hard to trade favors. And an IOU is useless when so many of us are content to disappear into the abyss rather than make a home somewhere.”

“Makes sense. You want me to catch dinner so you can wait for ‘em?”

“Please.”

Duck picks up some crabs–Indrid and he both like them, and he happens to know these ones are pests if you live in a house made of wood, bone, or both–and returns to find Indrid dragging something white through the front door.

“Is that-”

“-whalebone? Yes. And big enough that we can throw out that uncomfortable bench in the main room and replace it with this.”

It’s a good idea. Besides, then Indrid could paint or carve into the bone, really make it nice and, and…

And Duck should stop thinking about that. About staying. About this being his home, too. Eventually he’ll have to go sunwards again. So he should just enjoy his time with Indrid while he has it.

—----------------------------------------------------

“Inside! Get back inside!”

Duck reverses course, backing into the house as Indrid comes barreling towards him. The instant the other mer is in, he slams the door and hurriedly swims to each window.

“What’s-”

“-Biting shrimp, an entire migration of them. And worse, after that subsides three days from now, we have two days of red devil squid to look forward to.”

Duck shudders, “Those come up sometimes to feed and I fuckin hate ‘em. One nearly took a chunk of my tail.”

“Hence my absence this morning and my hasty arrival; I had to warn as many neighbors as I could before the swarm began. Ugh!” He flinches as the first few shrimp hit the windows, “I hate them, the biting is bad enough but they crawl all over you and I HATE how their little feet feel–no don’t open that!”

“I won’t let ‘em in to crawl on you.” Duck opens the side window enough to reach his hand out and grab the black octopus, who wriggles in alarm until he releases it inside.

“Oh. You…you wanted to save Void. I mean, ah-”

“I know you named him, ‘Drid. Heard you talkin’ to him the other day. His kind ain’t feisty, and it’d break my fuckin heart to look out that window and see a squid get him.”

Indrid’s tail flashes light purple, “Thank you. I am sorry, I was hoping your time down here would be pleasant but alas, the sea had other plans. We have more than enough food, so hopefully it will not drive you mad to spend five days stuck in the house with me.”

Duck can tell when a joke isn’t a joke, and so he swims close enough to brush his tail along Indrid’s, “I like your company plenty, ‘Drid. Besides, this ain’t all that worse than seabird season; can be minding’ your own business and then BAM, something dives after a fish and smacks into you instead.”

“Goodness, that would be startling. Even for me.”

“My buddy Ned got one tangled in his hair once.” Duck moves to the dinner table, “wanna play Ten Shells before dinner?”

“Oooh, yes please!”

The first two days don’t feel all that strange. He and Indrid eat their meals and play games and listen to books or nap, often side by side. But by day three his body and brain register that he’s been cooped up instead of out in the kelp forests and reefs (or the crags and open ocean, as the case has been these last few months). Sensing his restlessness, Indrid pulls a surprise from the pantry.

“Coconut wine? Damn, how’d you get this?”

“A friend of mine who’s a cook. He likes to send me care packages since moving upwards.”

Indrid’s bedroom is the most insulated from the sounds of the shrimp hitting the house, so they’ve taken to spending a lot of time there, safe from the skitter of thousands of feet. Void floats after them, in search of either kelp snacks or new items to take apart or squeeze inside of.

The wine goes down easy, so easy that when Indrid suggests they open another bottle Duck is all for it. By the time his tablet shows its sunset on the surface, he and Indrid are well past tipsy, trading stories of their younger days and travels.

“You, y’know, a, a buddy of mine swore he took a summer trip and hooked up with a deep mer that had six eyes and, and six dicks.”

Indrid laughs, “Claiming both is, hic, rather a stretch. I’ve known, hic, a few with four eyes but, hic, never six.”

“What about the dicks?”

“A gentlemer never, hic, tells.”

“Aww, c’mon.” Duck rolls so his head is on Indrid’s shoulder, “always wondered if, if deep mer fuckin’ s’wild as they say.”

“Mmm” Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “because every–hic–one knows sunshine mers only kiss in the clear blue water and, hic, mate after marriage.”

Duck giggles, “Pfft, naw. Get up to plenty of wild stuff. Just, y’know, when you’re all sixteen and shootin the shit, someone always talks ‘bout a friend of a friend who got carried off by a deep mer and came back swimmin’ funny or with bites. Or didn’t come back at all ‘cuz the deep mer was so horny it kept ‘em.”

“Goodness” Indrid’s tail flashes deeper and deeper purple, “we don’t do that. No, hic, no matter how fun it sounds. Unless you, hic, think it sounds scary. Then it’s scary and I’d, hic, never do it.”

Duck nestles closer, blushing “Definitely jerked it a few times thinkin’ about it. And if it were you…wouldn’t be scared of you. Couldn’t be.”

Indrid trills softly, tail a pale blue, “I would never want you to be. No matter how fun it sounds to hunt you.’

“Thought you didn’t eat us.” He teases.

His friend yawns, then curls his tail beneath him, “Some deep mers prefer quick mating, hic, sessions. But others prefer to draw them out, to chase each other down once they’ve agreed to, hic, be together. Both come are holdovers from when it was much harder to find others in the, hic, dark depths. I always preferred the hunt.”

“Let you hunt me anytime, darlin.”

A gentle purr as Indrid takes his hand, “Let’s let the wine wear off first. Then we can talk about it.”

Duck snuggles in for a nap, “S’fine by me.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a long talk and what felt like an even longer wait, Duck floats in the main room, realizing just how much a courtesy Indrid did him by keeping the lights on all the time. Because with them all off he can’t see more than a few inches in front of him.

He swims forward, unnerved by the fact he has no idea where the other mer is; the house isn’t that big, and Indrid isn’t small. So where the fuck is he?

“My, my. Whatever is a little ray of sunshine doing down here?”

Duck spins to his left in time to see glowing red eyes appear in the darkness, accompanied by a possessive, green flash of the tail.

“I, I don’t mean no harm. I was out for a swim and I got turned around and with all those squid around I had to find shelter.”

“I see…” The red eyes move closer, “and you’re not at all here because you’re a nosy little thing who wanted a peek at some big, scary, deep mers?”

“No” he gasps as Indrid’s tail coils around the base of his own.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you what happens to sweet, warm sunlight mers who wander too far from home?”

“N-nope” He shivers as Indrid’s tail loops tighter. Is it really so much longer than his?

“Then allow me to enlighten you: it is a lonely life down here. My own kind prefer to move, never settling in one place, which makes, shall we say, courtship? Difficult. Which is why some of us like to find a foolhardy mer who swam further than they should and keep them as nice, soft toy. Or place to lay, if that’s one’s preference.”

“It ain’t!” It’s more of a squeak than he means it to be, but all the same he wrenches his tail free and swims as fast as he can away from Indrid. This doesn’t get him very far, and he pretends not to know where the bedroom doors are as Indrid rounds the corner after him. The other mer hits a rock on the wall as he does this, bringing enough light to the space to reveal himself.

If Duck really was minding his own business and turned to see that rushing towards him, he’d be terrified.

As it is, the most he can manage is a moan as Indrid catches him with his arms and tail.

“Such a rude guest, running away from the one who gave you shelter.” He plucks a spine from his tail and jabs it into Duck’s own. It doesn’t hurt, but Duck thrashes to keep up appearances.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Some insurance against you running off again. It’s not as if I need you mobile for this.”

Duck’s tail is barely strong enough to keep him afloat, his arms feel heavy, and his brain is foggy, meaning it feels like a slow-motion dream as Indrid pulls him in for a kiss. It’s shockingly gentle given the context, and even the little nip to the corner of his mouth as Indrid pulls away feels sweet.

“Much better. Come along.” Indrid carefully guides him into his bedroom, pausing as they reach the pile of seagrass that he nests in, “sweet one? Are you certain you’ll be able to respond if it becomes too much?”

“Uh huh” Duck pets his face, “feel a little loopy, but I’m all here.”

A relieved smile turns sharp, “Good. Now let me see what I have to look forward to.” He pushes Duck onto the bed, curling their tails together as his fingers tease the sensitive patch of scales near Duck’s belly. Duck whimpers as they ripple open, revealing his slit and several short, flexible tendrils on all sides of it.

“Oooh!” Indrid trills, tail wiggling even as it holds Duck in place, “you sunlight mers, every part of you is so welcoming.”

“Fuck you.” He gasps as Indrid sinks his teeth into his shoulder. The pain doesn’t let up until he actually cries out.

“Now, now, don’t fuss.” Indrid grins, “If you behave I will have no need to do that again. Here is what will happen. I am going to try you out, and if I enjoy myself, I will keep you.”

“I, uh, I ain’t gonna, I won’t, uh, fuck.

“It doesn’t matter if you enjoy it. I just said it was for me.” a hungry purr, “and how could I do anything but enjoy myself, with a lovely thing such as you?” Indrid moves a hand down his tail, gripping the base of the cock emerging from his slit. It’s thicker at the bottom than at the tip, though there are two short protrusions on the tip, giving it the appearance of horns. Two rows of bumps run along the bottom, which is a new one for Duck.

He tries to back away but the combination of Indrid’s grip and the poison make it impossible. All he can do is lay there as Indrid slides in with a low, possessive trill.

“Nnnnf, oh you are wonderful. So warm, so soft” he digs his fingers into Duck’s belly, “I, I do not know why any of you waste your time up there, when clearly all you were meant for is being willing holes for mers with far harder lives.”

“No, no we’re not.”

Indrid thrusts harder, “‘We?’ Not ‘I’? Interesting. Maybe you did come down here just for this.”

“Uh uh, I didn’t, I FUCK” he moans as the horns at the tip of the dick begin moving on their own.

“Do you like them? They double as ovipositors. Right now they’re, ah, investigating to see if you’re the right place. Ohoh it seems you like that.” Indrid grins triumphantly as Duck’s tendrils coil around the base of his cock.

Duck nods, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Indrid inside him, of their tails twined together, to keep up the ruse of resistance.

“Good. Now, let me see, if they’re positioned like that…”

“AHFUCK” Duck clings to Indrid’s biceps as he fucks him harder, the motion functionally jerking the tendrils off, “fuck yeah, that’s it’s darlin.”

“Oh I’m darling now, am I? I like the sound of that.” He nibbles Duck’s neck, “such nice manners you have up there.”

“‘Drid, please, please I’m gonna cum if you keep doin’ that.”

“That’s rather the point. Well, that and fill you so full you never doubt who you belong to now. But no laying today, I think. We can do that later. It’s not as if you’ll be going anywhere, my lovely little cocksleeve.”

Duck cums with a groan, the sensation heightened by the fact the rest of his body can do little but twitch as it races through him. Indrid pounds into his limp body with a triumphant snarl, tail and spines flashing blue and purple as he cums in him with a trill.

They roll onto their sides, in no hurry to separate, and Indrid coats his face in slow, loving kisses until Duck drops it onto his shoulder.

“Satisfied, sweet one?”

“Fuck yeah. Sleepy too, but I can’t tell how much is from you stabbing me or you just wore me out.”

“Technically both are stabbings.”

Duck snorts a laugh and headbutts his shoulder.

There’s nothing but the faint sound of Void playing with a puzzle cube until Indrid murmurs, “I wish you could stay forever.”

“Me too. And maybe I could, someday. Or maybe you could stay with me.”

“Dearest, your trip ends in two months.”

“So? Don’t even take twenty minutes from here to home in the VertoSphere. We could visit each other whenever we want. There’s some places up there I’m dyin’ to show you. If, uh, if you want.”

Indrid cuddles closer, purring, “You would truly let a deep mer be your partner.”

Duck kisses his nose, “Hell yeah I would.”

#indruck #mermay #duck x indrid #indrid cold/duck newton #mermaid au

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tr0p1cal · 3 years ago

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language buddy

Summary: your taking about wanting a streamer friend that speaks the same second language and chat screams someone’s name.

Pairing: CC!Sapnap x gn!reader

Warnings: none that I can think of, but let me know if there’s something pls <3

Length: 700+

A/n: I hope you enjoy lololol I wrote this while very sleep deprived, so it probably doesn’t make any sense tbh🕺

“Honestly, it would be so cool to have a language buddy. I don’t know of like any streamers that speak Greek,” y/n whined softly. “It’d be so fun to have a streamer language buddy and you can’t change my mind. Sadly I know of no one who speaks the language that I do though,” y/n said with a soft sigh.

“Sapnap knows Greek! You should stream with him. That’d be so pog!” The dono played as y/n read the chat that was practically screaming about this sapnap person.

“Woah- it seems basically all of you are screaming about someone named Sapnap? I think I’m saying that right? To be honest I’ve never heard the name in my life, but I guess I can look them up.” Y/n pulled up a separate screen to search this person. “Should I look them up on twitch or just online?”

After a few seconds the chat was moving a mile a minute, but it was pretty much just “look up his twitch!” Or “do twitch, he’s live rn!!” So y/n did just that.

Opening up his stream and listening for a few moments before going to type in the chat. “Okay first, this dude has a much larger following than I do; second, he sounds fucking hot as hell- I don’t think I’d be able to be in a vc with this mans without simping,” y/n said with a laugh. “I’m not a lil bitch though, so I guess I’ll ask if he really does speak Greek.”

Y/n quickly typed out a short message asking said question. Sapnap just so happened to look down at his chat as the message flew passed, somehow catching his eye. “Do you actually speak Greek? Yes, yes I do. I’m pretty much fluent.” This had y/ns chat going crazy. One message and they already got an answer? Main character energy much?

Y/n just shrugged. “Guys even if he answered the question it doesn’t mean he noticed me. There’s literally no way I’d ever be able to talk to him,” y/n said with a short laugh before moving on from the distraction and going back to their game. A few minutes later and it’s all chat will talk about. “Come on y/s/n! You have a big following too!! You can totally get him to notice you!” Donos were flooding in about it and chat was being chaotic as always.

“Look guys, please stop talking about the Sapnap guy. He has no reason to know who I am or to talk to me. The fact of the matter is that he is in a very different league than I am and there is no way I’ll ever be able to reach that level. Yes a language buddy would be totally awesome, but he’s just simply not the person for that,” y/n snapped, trying to get the topic to finally change.

Little did y/n know that their name was being spammed in Saps chat so he too decided to check out the other and heard the whole rant.

“You’ll never be able to reach a higher league if you believe it’s unreachable. All it takes is dedication and I suppose a loud chat helps too :) Hi there.” A dono ran through.

While y/n was listening, they looked to see who had said it. “Thank you for the advice and dono Sap-“ y/n paused as they read the name. “What the fuck! Why are you here?!” They yelled out in shock. “Literally what is going on man how do you know me,” y/n cried out, half worried, half laughing.

“My chat was yelling your name so here I am. Now, if I’m understanding correctly, you speak Greek too and are looking for a streamer buddy?” Another dono ran through.

“Please stop giving me money, oh my god,” y/n said in a worried tone. “But yeah, that’s right. I just followed you on Twitter, but of course it’s up to you whether or not you’re interested. If not, that's totally fine! It was just a fun little idea I had anyway, so it can always wait.” It was when y/n was rambling that they noticed the little four month sub badge next to Sapnaps name. “Wait I second- YOU’VE BEEN SUBSCRIBED TO ME FOR FOUR MONTHS?” Y/n scrambled over their words, unsure how to process the new found information.

A ding on their phone brought them back to reality. They glanced at it to see and saw a pm on Twitter from none other than Mr. Sapnap himself. The message was simply his discord info and “call me? ;)”

#mcyt x gn!reader #mcyt #dsmp x gn!reader #dsmp #dsmp x reader #sapnap #sapnap x reader #sapnap x gn!reader #mcyt sapnap #dsmp sapnap #x gn!reader #x reader #cc!sapnap

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icequeenbae · 4 years ago

Text

Stay with Me (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Long-distance relationship, established relationship, grumpy Baek, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, upset sex (is there such a thing), oral (f receiving), consent is not explicitly stated but implied

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Baekhyun was upset because you had to leave again. His frustration made things escalate to an unexpected extent. He might’ve just wanted to make you late for the plane though.

Let’s celebrate my first ‘writing comeback’ anniversary together ❤❤❤ [February 17, 2020 – forever]

Author’s Note: Soooo… This was actually the first fic I wrote after many years of my writer’s coma. Wasn’t going to post it, but it’s important to save the date. A year ago during a business trip I was listening to Baekhyun’s ‘Stay Up’ in the backseat of a cab, and it suddenly got to me in a very new and profound way. As soon as I got to the hotel, the doc was created. Countless sleepless nights later, I can admit that I haven’t really stopped writing ever since.

Baekhyun isn’t just my bias or my favourite character to write, he’s so much more special to me than that. I’m not sure how long this journey is going to last or where it leads me, but so far he’s gifted me with one full year of this magic. He’ll always have a precious spot in my heart 🤍

Okay, done with the sappy times now (no). As usual – big thanks to @baekshoney for having a look, and I hope you guys enjoy this little oneshot!

This was one of those days. One of the days you hated, and Baekhyun didn’t do much to make it better for you. On the contrary, he was sulking since early morning. First, because you’d left him alone in bed and he woke up being cold. Then he just kept getting annoyed with everything. Why were you having coffee for breakfast again, when you should sleep on the plane? Why weren’t you packing snacks, when the airport food always made your stomach upset? You should’ve definitely worn one of his hoodies, since none of yours were warm and comfy enough, did he have to remind you?

Yes, this was the day you had to fly back home, leaving him behind once again. Which was exactly what brought his tsundere ways to the surface. He was just… upset.

‘Baby, it’s not the first time I’m going home, I’ll be fine,’ you grinned at his grumpy expression and poured him a cup of coffee as soon as he sat his butt down on the kitchen stool.

Baekhyun wasn’t exactly subtle in how he felt about you going away. The two of you had been doing this ‘long-distance thing’ since the very beginning of your relationship. You’d met during your first ever trip to Korea around two years ago and instantly clicked – just like that – not spending a single day without at least a quick message exchange with one another.

It was tough at times. There was no way for you to see each other more frequently, and you were often apart for months. Granted, you were keeping in touch religiously – texting every single day, having video calls every other night (whenever you could manage the schedules and time zones), posting ambiguous pictures on social media only for each other to understand. Still, you missed each other so terribly…

‘I don’t understand why you have to go anyway, you can just stay here with me,’ Baekhyun grumbled, eyeing the kitchen floor with a frown. You pursed your lips to contain the coo about to fly out of your mouth at how cute he was, pouting and complaining. Like an angry little bird. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out your hand and ruffled his already messy bedroom hair.

The way his nose scrunched up meant he wasn't in the mood to be playful. You sighed and leaned on the corner of the kitchen table.

‘You know I have work to get back to, Bae, I can’t be on vacation all year long.’

He was being rather childish about your departure, especially when you were already fully dressed and ready to go. The only thing stalling you was that Chanyeol, who insisted on being your ride to the airport today, hadn’t come to pick you up just yet, giving you some time to smooth over your boyfriend’s feathers.

Truth be told, you were only holding up the appearances for him. It was very possible that you were even more upset about having to go than he was. In fact, every time your week or two together were nearing an end, you felt nauseous at the thought that you wouldn’t be able to see his face, or hold his hand, or feel his warm breath on your skin, or kiss the tiny mole on his cheek.

In all honesty, you were... a mess. You only displayed yourself as calm and collected during your goodbyes because you knew his moodiness was merely a tactic to conceal his pain. So, you tucked your own feelings away to make it a bit more manageable for him. In reality, you broke down as soon as you arrived home and walked into your lifeless apartment. Each time, you had to find excuses and avoid talking to him via video messengers during those initial weeks, pretending to suddenly be swamped at work. You realized that seeing your eyes all red and puffy from crying every night would most definitely break his heart and worsen his longing. That you knew, because seeing him unhappy was excruciating. You wanted more than anything to deliver him from any further suffering.

It took all of your self-restraint not to reach out for his warm embrace or let the tears flow freely. He’d probably not let you go then, always telling you to just stay with him anyways. But you were both adults and had commitments, although hundreds and thousands of miles apart.

As your eyes were beginning to prick from observing his state and getting overwhelmed with your own feelings, you decided it was safer to move out ten minutes early, despite the call from Yeol not coming through yet. Anything to not let Baekhyun see you cry or cling to him desperately the way you wished to in that moment.

‘Well, you can pout all you want, I’m going to get my stuff,’ you said in an airy tone trying to elevate his mood slightly.

‘No.’

He stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist. You gazed at him, confused as to what he meant. He was still looking down, eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving with almost anxious breaths.

‘Bae?’

‘No,’ he repeated, softer this time, but still not making eye contact with you. Instead, he tugged at your wrist and pulled you closer to him. You felt his grasp weaken until your wrist was free, however, your waist was not. His arms snaked around it, and he pulled you into himself, basically nuzzling his face into your chest.

‘Baekhyun?’ You squeaked, doing your best to fight off the goosebumps that littered your skin immediately after the contact. Your body never once asked for permission to react to him, and this time was no exception. His right hand traveled down your spine to the curve of your ass as his nose nudged one of your breasts. You shivered, grabbing at his shoulders, and he suddenly growled, knowing, sensing that your nipples had already perked up underneath the fabric of your bra.

Although he was trying to put you into one of his many oversized hoodies all the time, it was summer, so you were wearing a sundress (like any sane person would). Lucky for Baekhyun, this type of clothing made it even easier for him.

He rose from his seat and hoisted you up so abruptly that you only managed to yelp and grab at his neck for balance. You were then placed on the empty side of the dining table away from the leftover breakfast. Looking down at where your boyfriend’s hands were, you watched him frantically pull your dress up, before coming to your senses and trying to stop him.

‘Bae… What are you doing? Yeol is gonna be here any minute, we can’t just f…ugh!’ You cried out in surprise as he yanked your hips forcefully up to his face, completely ignoring your words. There’s no way he was going to...

‘Baekhyunie, please stop, you know I’m going to be late, what is…’ He didn’t even let you finish your rant, leaving a trail of insistent wet kisses upon the sensitive skin along the panty line while leading up to your protruding hip bone. Breath caught up in your throat, you couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out even if you wanted to. Did you really want to? With his head right there between your thighs, his dark burning eyes looking at you – completely immobilized by him – in the most intense and intimate way possible. His lips were glistening after he ran his tongue over them habitually, and when he leaned in and licked at your still clothed center, you belatedly realized that you weren’t even breathing. The realization only came with the wheezing gasp you’d let out, when your legs wrapped around his head as if on cue. Like fuel to the fire, your responsiveness only spurred him on. You didn’t even have time to realize that your boyfriend had already moved your panties out of the way when his impatient lips were on you again.

‘B- Baekhyun…’ You muttered, reaching your hand down to give pushing his head away a feeble try. ‘We can’t do this now, please stop... the airport…’

His ears seemed deaf to your reluctant pleas as he only employed more of his tongue to make you lose the last bits of your sober mind completely, melting and thrashing underneath his touch. He eased one of your thighs off of his shoulder, pushing it up and spreading you out before diving back in, paying no attention to your increasingly disheveled state.

At this point you could only sob, speech incoherent, all attempts to push him away or close your legs futile. And that alone made him grow feverish with the need to be inside you, to feel you once again before he had to let you go.

He was really good with his mouth, as usual, so by the time one of his hands left your thigh to tease you a little further with his long deft fingers you were so ready to take more that you barely registered the burn of two digits sliding inside. You were still a little sore from the night before, which you’d spent making love for hours on end, knowing that you won’t be touching each other anytime soon. But that was meaningless now.

His tongue expertly swirled around your clit, while his wrist found a familiar angle that always made you get vocal. Your back arched instantly as you cried out his name, barely grasping that you were still tugging at his soft locks and possibly causing discomfort. It was clear that your release was mere seconds away with your legs shaking and inner muscles clenching, and that was exactly where Baekhyun wanted you. Aching for his touch, needing him as much as he needed you. Just the two of you, caught up in the act of lustful desperation.

He’d worked his tongue diligently, almost pushing you over the edge by sucking on your most sensitive spot for just a second, and... then you suddenly felt him pull away.

‘No, no- what?’ You could barely form sentences, let alone complain, but your frenzied tone made his already rock-hard flesh twitch. His pants were down in seconds, and there wasn’t even a thought of pausing to get a condom on or cool off a little bit. You were both on the verge of getting overwhelmed by this passionate longing when... your phone suddenly lit up, indicating an incoming call. Before you could snap out of the moment you were having, Baekhyun had you flat on your back, all slick and ready for him to push inside. And that he did — in one quick and rough movement, filling you up and giving you no time to even make a sound before his hips tested you out with a couple of low amplitude thrusts. The table moved slightly, soft clanking of tableware falling on deaf ears. Meanwhile, Baekhyun grabbed onto your hips, lifting your ass in the air for more control over the penetration.

‘Baek, I swear… You have like 2 minutes before Chan-’ A vicious thrust reached further than before, definitely getting your friend’s name out of your mind for good. And anything else for that matter.

Baekhyun snapped his hips as if he wanted to get as deep as humanly possible, as if he wanted to literally ruin you, and you could only scratch at his forearm while losing yourself in the feeling of his hips colliding with yours and the delectable sounds the action produced.

‘Baby,’ Baekhyun suddenly breathed out hoarsely, eyebrows knitted together as if in pain, ‘I can’t hold it off-’

Hearing his voice so strenuous and somehow vulnerable, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, spreading your legs further apart to allow him to better angle his powerful thrusts.

Your limbs were starting to grow numb and the veins on your neck popped when you moaned, and that’s when Baekhyun let out a strained ‘ah’, holding you in place by the hips to give you his erratic final thrusts.

In that moment you felt like something snapped inside you. Your core was tight around your lover’s cock, your body shaking in pre-orgasmic bliss, and you’d never experienced it this way. You felt so full and content in this moment when he was still moving his hips and groaning stiffly above you, riding out his high. There was nothing else he needed to do to take you along. The sensation of his warmth inside you made you pulsate, wailing so loudly that Baekhyun had to cover your mouth with his palm. He kept going for a bit to prolong your orgasm and let you slowly come back to your senses.

Your eyes stared vacantly at the kitchen ceiling and your throat was dry, although Baekhyun’s hand was still clasped over your mouth. When both of you managed to catch your breath, you just gazed at each other for a few long moments. You were so spent that you couldn’t even read the semi-blank expression on his face. He slowly slipped his palm off of your face, still hovering over your body.

‘Baekhyunie…’ You murmured, touching his cheek gently. He was usually lowkey annoyed whenever you went on to kiss the little mole on his face instead of his lips. This time, however, he only lowered his head further to let you do your thing. You pressed your lips to the tiny dot on his skin, leaning back onto the table to find his eyes with your own.

‘I love you,’ he suddenly whispered in a broken voice, then cleared his throat and started over. ‘I really want you to stay with me.’

It was… bittersweet.

You winced, feeling him pull out, and accepted his help sitting up. Holding your boyfriend close by the shirt, you nudged his nose with yours and looked up to his sad dejected eyes.

‘I know, Bae,’ your voice sounded as uplifting as you could manage. ‘I will find a way to come see you on tour in the next couple of months, I promise.’

Baekhyun was about to say something else if not for the sudden ring of his phone that made both of you snap out of your tiny little world.

‘Dang, I bet it’s Yeol. Pick up!’ You pushed your boyfriend towards the phone and eased down from the table, grabbing the tissues to clean up quickly.

‘Yes,’ Baekhyun responded.

‘Are you two fucking?!’ Your nose scrunched up at Chanyeol’s vulgar shout.

‘Yes?’ At this you paused and smacked Baekhyun’s pec for the shameless (yet truthful) response. ‘Whoa- feisty. Chanyeol-ah, better hang up before you hear her- Ow!’ He raised an arm to defend himself from your playful hits.

‘You realize that if you do not come down in ten you’re most likely missing the flight?’ You heard Chanyeol reply after a frustrated sigh.

‘Not a problem for m-’ Baekhyun was interrupted by your yell.

‘We’re gonna be down in ten, please check the fastest routes to the airport, Yeolie!’

You ran out of the kitchen barely catching Baekhyun’s grumbling as he repeated after you.

‘Yeolie. Why the hell does she even call you that. It’s not like you- What? Shut up, you bastard!’

You smiled to yourself. At least his friends knew how and when to mess with him. If you weren’t there… They got him. He'd be okay. And with that you were happy for now.

A/N:This piece was my reintroduction to writing, and I’d love to hear any type of comments you have^^ Thank you guys for all the interaction and amazing responses so far, I cherish each and every one of them. You're the best <3

#baekhyun smut #exowritersnet #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun x reader #icequeenbae fics #baekhyun scenario #exo baekhyun #exo smut #baekhyun #baekhyun x you #exo fanfiction #icequeenbae #stay with me #writing anniversary

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loth-wolffe · 3 years ago

Text

Midnight warmth

Pairing: Tech x reader (no y/n)

Summary: you try (not really) to convince your workaholic lover to come to bed, but instead end up joining him on the chilly floor of the Marauder to keep him company.

Warnings: none but fluffy stuff that will rot your teeth.

Word count: 1k aprox

A/n: to the anon asked me for something with tech a while ago, I completely forgot about it (sorry) and I wrote this and checked my request list just before proofreading and saw the request so, sweet anon, my love, this goes for you. i hope you still, and I quote, love tech as much as you can and are low (high) key pinning for him too. love u bubs, wherever you are.

The night was cold, not too much, but enough to make you leave your bed with the blanket over your shoulders, seeking for a particular someone to help you get warm. The blanket was, but you missed him.

Steps being muffled by your socks it's what lets him know you're up, a soft smile appearing into his lips as he finds you, sleepy eyes, and disheveled hair, your pijamas were basically one of his shirts and a short that was covered by the length of his blacks and the view made butterflies flutter uncontrollably in his chest.

"Hey." You greet, coming to place the blanket on his shoulders, his eyes going back to the task at hand on the floor of the Marauder, which was repairing Wrecker's blaster.

"Hello." He replies after a low thank you leave his lips, you kiss his cheek, his head titling slightly just so you don't have to lean down too much even though the action doesn't really help.

You look how his fingers move as they work, mesmerized for a second before remembering what you came for.

"Are you coming to bed?" You place your hand on his shoulder, settling the blanket better on his body, Tech's eyes doesn't leave the blaster.

"In a minute," but it's always more than a minute, finding something else to keep his mind on, not because he doesn't want to be with you, but because his mind is always going two miles a minute and he needs to keep it busy, "I just need to finish repairing this and I'll be on my way."

You let out a little oh, taking a seat beside him and he moves just a bit to make more space for you, pushing some tools to the side so they don't bother you, you smile.

"What are you doing?" He asks, pausing a moment to look at you as you start to lower yourself, brown eyes trying to find the answer in your face, chuckling you finally come to rest your head on his thigh. His face casts down at you and you give him a radiant smile that makes him feel dizzy, he doesn't wait for an answer as he tries to cover you with the blanket as well, your legs were mostly exposed but you didn't mind the chilly air nor the cold floor as long as you were with him.

"Waiting for you, silly." You say, as if the most obvious thing in the world, and he feels slightly taken aback, still getting used to the simplest acts of love you perform for him every day and wondering how is it that he got so lucky. "What are you doing?"

He looks a bit shy for a moment, eyes flickering to the tools before they go back to your own, the beginning of a smile make the corners of his lips lift upwards. Tech pushes his goggles back but it's no use as they move back to the end of the bridge of his nose as he looks back down at you, you giggle, his smile widening at the sound.

"Well..." he says after a moment before starting a rant about what's the exact problem with Wrecker's blaster, how he's supposed to rapire it and what's he currently doing.

Your eyes start feel heavy, and you don't know if it's because you don't understand half of the things he said or because the sound of his voice soothes you as if it were the softest lullaby. Probably both.

"That sounds like fun." You mumble, even if it doesn't, but he appreciates it with a hum and a light peck on your lips, eyes shining bright behind his goggles with a little something you can't quite place.

"It is." It's a simple statement, and the surprise that comes with the next one is one that you like to come back to sometimes, fluttering heart beating for him and you find yourself falling harder when he goes, "but it's more fun now that you're around."

There is something in his voice, maybe it's how small he sounded, or the honesty that was dripping from the words as they rolled down his tongue, but the feeling they brought, like a scream that wanted to leave your lungs, like a rush of emotions, of happiness and love, that wants to get out just to soak him full with everything he makes you feel.

You smile softly, touched by his words.

"Nice to know." It's all you say, and all you need to, really, a silent conversation that lets him know you feel the same happen fast between your eyes.

You cuddle up to him, forehead almost touching his tummy, hand coming to wrap around your shoulders as he moves slightly to keep working in what must be an uncomfortable position, but as long as he doesn't care, you suppose its fine.

"Do you mind if I stay?"

"Not really," he replies quickly, "as you should know, I quite enjoy your company." You smirk, never leaving the sight above you, a slight frown in concentration covered by his goggles, tongue darting just a little from between his lips, sharp jawline and cheekbones looking even sharper with the shadows, skin seeming lighter and yet warmer under the bright illumination.

"Quite, huh?"

He spares you a quick glance.

"Well, more like a lot." You chuckle lightly, and he gives you a warm smile, you could swear his cheeks taint with a soft pink, but you're not too sure as your eyes close with the feeling of lips pressing against your forehead.

You try to chase for his touch, humming again in content, words blurring in your mind as sleep clouds it whole.

"I don't mind if you fall asleep, either."

"You don't?"

"Of course not, you'll need your energy tomorrow," he says matter-o-factly, eyes squinting as he brings the blaster close to his face, "I wouldn't want you get hurt just because you couldn't focus for staying up too late."

You nod, not being able to fight him on the matter even if he was staying up late too, instead nuzzling closer to him, forehead against the soft fabric of his pajamas, and he tugs your blanket enough to cover most of your back.

"Tech?" He hums in acknowledgement, "I too enjoy your company a lot."

You hear him chuckle, a soft sound that disappears into the night as quickly as it came, he murmurs a sleep tight, and there's the ghost of a smile on your lips as you let slumber wash over you.

taglist: @foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @lightning-wolffe @hellothere-generalangsty @beskarprincessjenny @badbatch-simp24 @milppa @obi-bae-kenobi @baroclinicinstability @murdertoothpick @ahsoka1 @kybacrystal @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @amaryllis23

#goggles my beloved #tech x reader #tech x you #tbb tech #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years ago

Note

Hiii could you rec any fics where Erik or Charles or both are vampires and or werewolves?

Thank you so much dear lots of love

I'm so sorry for being so late with this, but in compensation I do have tons of fics that should quench your thirst for some vampire/werewolf cherik. Enjoy!

Vampire

And the Gunslinger Followed – musical_emjay

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hunts the things that go bump in the night.

He’s done so since he was a child, since the first time his mother put a knife in his hand and told him how to use it, told him why he should.

But ten years alone on the road has caught up to him, left him wrung out and longing for a place to rest, recharge, get his head back on straight. Though nowhere has ever truly felt like home, he heads straight for New York City, a place that’s always had more to offer him by way of warmth and comfort than any other. What he finds when he gets there, however, is several miles south of anything approaching restful. Old acquaintances, old memories, and a mysterious stranger who has him forgetting all his rules — Erik soon realizes there are decisions he needs to make, before circumstances intervene and make them for him. Otherwise, he might not like the result.

An Accident of Circumstance – manic_intent

Summary: Secret Santa, for azryal00, prompts: virginity, stalking or vampire AU. Decided to attempt all, in one fic. As part of a reward for his successes in border skirmishes, Sebastian Shaw allows Erik discretion to create a childe of his own, within reason. Erik rebels.

B-Negative – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the 5 Acts thing on livejournal, for toestastegood's 'Vampire AU' Act. This was originally going to be some sort of True Blood parody, but it somehow became a bit more serious. :/

Bloodbound – ikeracity

Summary: Finding himself strapped for cash at the start of his senior year, Erik decides to become a donor at TypO, a blood bar where vampires come to drink fresh blood from consenting donors, safely and legally. There, he catches the eye of Charles Xavier, vampire, telepath, professor at Columbia, and quite possibly the most alluring person Erik's ever met. Their first meeting sets into motion a bond much deeper than they can understand, one that neither of them had ever expected.

Old Metal (Blood, Memory and Rubber Ducks) – pprfaith

Summary: Erik is a vampire. Sookie, err, Charles is a telepath. Any questions?

Food Allergies – madneto

Summary: A bout of insomnia one fateful night leads Erik to Xavier's, the late night bookstore near Columbia University, whose owner Erik quickly decides is the best thing since... well, since maybe ever. Charles is brilliant, funny, passionate, handsome, and every other good adjective Erik can think of, and even though they've only been on three dates, Erik is convinced this is the start of something perfect.

Then Charles has a bad reaction to the food Erik cooks for them on their fourth date, leaving Erik to wonder if maybe he's completely botched his one chance at true love.

Series

The Price for Eternity – madneto

Summary: Erik and Charles are relaxing in the park when Erik decides to ask Charles a question that has long been on his mind, re: vampires. The answer is unexpected.

Series

The Boy with the Sigil Tattoo – keire_ke

Summary: Buffy AU. The story of a boy and his vampire.

Love and Other Secrets – Microsaur

Summary: Erik is a vampire that would much rather be left alone, Charles is a baronet that can't seem to accept that.

The First One – SassyDuckQueen

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a vampire living in a peaceful life in New York City, where he works as a night time security guard at the Pentagram. He's in a relationship with Charles Xavier, a young professor at a private university. However, his life is thrown upside down by the return of his wayward son, Peter, who informs him that an old enemy has resurfaced.

Series

Blood Bound – WaxRhapsodic

Summary: Charles is sick. Again. He decides to do something drastic about it and take a Blood Contract with a Vampire who turns out to be dangerously attractive.

Night Holds No Redemption – isabella

Summary: Vampire Hunters AU

When vampires roam the city at night there are also those who will hunt them down.

Charles Xavier and James “Logan” Howlett are vampire hunters part of the NIB – Night Investigation Bureau, in New York. When Erik, a vampire Charles failed to kill, comes back to haunt him Charles finds he no longer can run from his past and has to face the truth about the monster he created.

Pairing info: Flashbacks are Charles/Erik, present focuses first on the growing relationship between Logan/Charles, then on Charles/Erik.

Endgame will be Charles/Erik.

Night Life – Ook

Summary: he young journalist, or researcher, or whatever he is, is going to get himself in trouble around here. Erik can tell.

A researcher who doesn't know when to stop.

A man who doesn't take no for an answer.

A vampire that doesn't give interviews.

Werewolf

Dancing in the Rain – Pangea, velvetcadence

Summary: Werewolf alpha Erik found a human pup Charles alone in the forest and took him back to his lair. Erik protected and cared for the boy, though he was barely a mature wolf himself.

A few years passed, Charles grew up so pretty, and Erik was afraid he would miss his kind and go back to them, leaving Erik to be alone again - but Charles stayed and chose to be Erik’s mate.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

Loyalty and Obedience – Ook

Summary: A human rent boy working the streets gets rescued from a pimp by the Lehnsherr Pack Head and his Second on a recruitment trip. Werewolves, huh?

Who knows where this one's going?

Skin Deep – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the kmeme, Everyone-is-a-werewolf AU. Erik happens upon a seemingly abandoned mansion in Westchester during a full moon and finds an insanely clueless werewolf living in isolation.

In Escrow – manic_intent

Summary: Same 'verse as Skin Deep, between the final part and the epilogue. Charles abruptly realizes that he's unable to shift forms after a full moon. Which can only mean one thing.

Supernatural and the Scientist – Caradee

Summary: Charles Xavier is a upcoming geneticist and wildlife biologist who’s next big thesis reveals a little to much about the hidden werewolf community. Now Erik Lehnsehrr is suppose to figure out who it is feeding Xavier the information and put an end to it.

However, things are not what they appear.

Open Season – Caradee

Summary: Charles is a adorable omega wolf who has no sense for pack dynamics and wanders on his own. Erik is the exhausted Alpha of the pack who is unfortunately smitten with him. Its hunting season, nothing can go wrong. Right?

Only Hope – onaxe

Summary: According to werewolf law, an unwed Omega cannot legally hold custody of a child. When Charles is challenged for custody over his 17 year old sister, Raven, he desperately turns to the only solution available. He marries a complete stranger, Alpha Erik Lehnsherr, who is haunted by a mysterious past.

Note: Unfinished but a fun read.

Tooth and Nail – TurtleTotem

Summary: Erik is no longer part of Charles's pack. It's none of his business who he takes as a mate.

Vampires and Werewolves

For you, Eternity – gerec, lachatblanche

Summary: Erik still remembers the day he lost everything to a pack of werewolves; his family, his village, and the love of his life. Left with nothing but regret and pain everlasting, he turns to Sebastian Shaw - who promises revenge in exchange for loyalty eternal.

For centuries, he leads his clan of vampires in a war against their hated enemy, the same werewolf pack responsible for the slaughter of Erik’s village. But now Logan - the pack’s new leader - wants to make peace with their age old adversaries; an act that neither side particularly cares to pursue.

Adding to this volatile mix is one Charles Xavier, scientist and academic, drawn to the continent by his fascination for the supernatural and the locals’ tales of love, betrayal and never-ending war…

On the Scent – dedkake

Summary: The full moon is nearing and Charles decides to visit his neighbor.

Does not ebb – StarkMad

Summary: prompt: "...I would love a fic with Charles and Erik in an Underworld AU basically with Charles as Selene's character and Erik as Michael Corvin's character

and/ooor nonnie could do an Underworld: Rise of the Lycans and Charles as Sonja's character and Erik as Lucian (feel free and make me cry, dearest nonnie) feel free to do whatever you want as long as the AU still remains identifiable (and just kill me with tons of Chares and Erik drama and lurve and heartache and whatever.

Dear Neighbour Mine – issabella

Summary: Fill for the prompt by Lonelyparts: Charles is a telepathic werewolf living next door to a vampire who favours severe black turtlenecks and metal coffins.

Of course they have to annoy each other first, before dangerous circumstances bring them together.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #werewolf AU #vampire art #there are surprisingly more vampire fics out there than werewolf fics #thought it would be the other way round #asks #earnestly answers

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dialovers-translations · 4 years ago

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.3 Mukami Kou [Track 4]

Original title: 変わらないもの

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 3 Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Rejet really pulled up with the emotional monologue in this one. Even though almost all of the characters have some sort of tragic past/childhood, I personally believe that Kou had it the roughest out of everyone. Not only did he have to go through a lot of shit, but he really did have nobody to rely on at all. Not even the faintest spark of hope. So in that sense, it truly is amazing how he came this far and even found love ultimately.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 4: Things Which Never Change

*Rustle*

“...Nn...Ah! My room...? I moved places again...How?”

He turns his head.

“...! No wonder it felt chilly in here...The window’s left open.”

Kou gets out of bed to step towards the window.

“There’s still a double moon...Not only that, it doesn’t seem like the night is coming to a close despite all the time that has passed. I can’t wait to see the blue skies...If only all of this were just a dream.”

*Rattle*

“Hah...Why did things turn out like this!? ...I didn’t think being forgotten would leave such a strong impact on me. I wonder how you can retrieve one’s memories? What if they... never return at all? Will she continue to reject me forever? ...!! If we have to stay together under such circumstances, it’ll only bring pain and sadness! In that case, maybe I should just...give up instead?”

*TIMESKIP*

*Knock knock*

“...!! Who is it...? Ruki-kun...?”

You enter the room.

“M-neko-chan...? Why are you here...?”

You explain.

“Eh? Were you looking for me, perhaps? But why!? You were terrified of me...”

You point towards his hand.

“My wound on my hand? You were still worried about that?”

You offer to treat his injuries.

“...No need to worry. I told you earlier as well, but I’m a Vampire so my injuries heal quickly. ...Besides, my body’s already covered in scars as is.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Right...You don’t remember, do you? None of it...Well, it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter to you right now, after all~!”

You frown.

“It’s fine, really! I already gave up anyway. You won’t remember no matter what I do, right? If I continue to struggle in vain, it’ll only bring me more pain. You no longer love me. In that case, there’s no reason for us to stay together, is there?”

You simply stand there looking at Kou.

“...Listen, I’m basically giving you permission to run. So why won’t you move?”

You seem worried about him.

“Nah, it’s fine. I no longer care. So come on, hurry.”

You shake your head.

“...!! ...Why!? First you continuously deny me, and now you’re suddenly claiming you can’t leave me be like this!? Are you pitying me, perhaps? ...If not that, then what!?”

You note he seems sad.

“...!! ...But why? How can you...look through my facade and tell I’m sad...even though you don’t have your memories? Even though I already decided I would give up...”

Kou suddenly gets up from the bed.

*Rustle*

“Haah...”

You approach him.

“What are you doing? If you get this close to me, you’ll have your blood sucked again. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

You give him permission.

“...’It’s fine’? ...So why are you suddenly trying to understand me now?”

You mention that the two of you were lovers.

“Exactly. We were lovers. ...Although you seem to have forgotten all about that.”

You ask if that makes him sad.

“Well, of course. Anyone would be sad if their beloved one forgot them, no? ...However, right now, I’m nothing but a stranger to you. So why would you care about my feelings?”

You explain.

“...!! M-neko-chan...Ah...Haha~ You’re such a Saint. You don’t want to see me sad? I’m pretty sure most people wouldn’t want to retrieve their own memories for the sake of someone else. ...But it no longer matters. Even if you don’t remember.”

You tell him you might remember.

“I told you earlier, didn’t I? I’ve given up. There’s no way to guarantee they’ll ever come back after all. ...Besides, this might be a chance to discover a new love for you! In the end, I’m nothing but a Vampire with a horrible descent. Don’t you think you could become much happier if you were to date this really nice guy instead?”

You shake your head.

“Why!? You were terrified earlier after I did all those horrible things to you, no?”

You note that Kou seems sad.

“...Excuse me? How can you tell I’m not a bad guy even though you’re suffering from amnesia...!? You don’t know anything about me! ...I don’t need your comfort, okay?”

You ask him to tell about his upbringing.

“I see. If you insist, I’ll tell you. About how I’ve lived my life up till now. ...You see, I may be a Vampire right now, but I was originally born a human. I don’t any parents, and for as far as I can remember, I was living in a manhole. ...Exactly, it was dirty and stinky, a true hellhole. Obviously, I didn’t have the money to buy any food, so I had to avoid starvation by raiding the trash.

Even if I would get my hands on something nice like a loaf of bread or some money, rather than food, I’d much rather exchange it for something which would make me feel satisfied emotionally. Heh. I lived like that my whole life, so I figured I would continue to do so until my death. However, one day I was found by a couple of soldiers and brought to an orpahange.

Now, this orphanage was quite the experience as well. Honestly, the manhole might have been preferable. I was soon sold as a pretty-faced orphan and received money from aristocrats and politicians. My looks were miles above anyone else’s, so they all loved me! I was toyed with day after day...I even thought of making myself ugly by destroying one of my eyes in a desperate attempt to escape the situation but...It was no use. I never lived a good life, so I guess that part was doomed to stay the same even if I changed environments.

But...I did meet Ruki-kun and the others at the orphanage shortly after. One thing led to another and ultimately I became the person I am today. You understand now, don’t you? What kind of guy I am. I didn’t enjoy a nice upbringing, so I can’t promise I’ll treat you well. ーー And above all, I’m a Vampire. ...If you do remember me, it’ll be a bunch of bad things so you...might just end up ultimately regretting it, don’t you think?”

You sob softly.

“Hm? Wai...Don’t tell me...Hey, lift your face...!”

You slowly look up at him.

“...It’s the same reaction as back then. Even without your memories...You’d still shed tears for me, huh? Those tears...aren’t out of pity, are they?”

You confirm his suspicions.

“...I knew it!”

You clutch onto his sleeve.

*Rustle*

“...What’s wrong all of a sudden?”

You ask why he doesn’t cry.

“Eh? I won’t cry! It’s not like tears would suddenly come out now...I’m fine as long as you cry in my place instead...”

You continue to sob.

“Hehe~ Your eyes are getting red. If you cry too much, they’ll become swollen and you’ll be quite the sight, you know?”

*Rustle*

“I don’t dislike seeing you in tears but...Right now, I’m not a huge fan of it.”

You note that he is crying as well.

“Eh? ...Tears?”

Kou touches his own cheek.

*Rustle*

“Ah...! You’re right. I’m...crying...? ...Ah! Seems like I can’t help but shed tears when I’m with you...I didn’t exactly want to cry or anything...But...I get it now...”

He embraces you.

*Rustle*

“That even without your memories...You are the same person I fell for, aren’t you? ...A miss goody-two-shoes willing to cry for others but...so very kind...”

*Sniffle*

“Mm...! I’ve made up my mind! I’ll stop trying to force your memories to come back!”

You seem surprised.

“It’s fine, even if you don’t ever recall. I still love you regardless after all. ...So let’s just start over again from zero? Together. ...Okay?”

You nod.

“...Mmh~ I look forward to spending more time together, M-neko-chan. (1) ...Say, can I kiss you?”

You give him permission.

“...Thank you.”

*Smooch*

“Mm...I love you.”

*TIMESKIP*

The two of you are walking outside.

“...The morning just won’t come.”

You wonder if he perhaps hates the night.

“No, I don’t particularly dislike the night. ...But I want to see the blue sky, you see.”

You ask Kou if he likes the blue sky.

“Mmh, exactly. I love the clear skies. You’d assume morning would dawn soon but the night just seems to continue on forever, don’t you think? So I find myself thinking I want to watch the blue sky with you...”

You agree.

“Eh? ...Ah, thank you. I’m happy to hear you feel the same way. ...Oh, that rose.”

*Rustle*

“Here, I’ll give this to you. Of course, I thought it would look good on you, so don’t be modest and just accept it~”

You thank him.

“Hehe~ You’re welcome~ Hehe...I finally succeeded at making you smile~! ...Say...I’m sorry for doing all those horrible things to you. ...Being forgotten by the person I love the most in this world just made me so sad, I couldn’t believe it...Ah! But I’ll no longer force you to remember so...Let’s start making memories again together once more.”

You nod.

“...Hehe, thank you~”

*Rustle*

“I love you...Very much so, M-neko-chan...Hey? I won’t hurt so...Let me suck your blood?”

You give him permission.

“Mmh...Nn...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Ah...It’s so sweet and hot...Give me more...Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Hehe~ Look at you wriggling around...Does it feel good? In that case, I’ll suck you lots, okay? Nn...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Heh~ ...This side’s up next. Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mm...”

*Gulp*

“Haah, haah...Even though you made such a fuss earlier, you’ll no longer fight it already?”

You blush bright red.

“Hm? ...What’s wrong? ...Say, why are you going quiet now? Tell me. ...Do you dislike having your blood sucked by me?”

You shake your head.

“Then how do you feel? Say it.”

You grow even more flustered.

“Fufu~ No need to get embarrassed. I’m the only one here after all. ...All you need to say is that it feels ‘good’. Piece of cake, no? ...Come on, say it.”

You whisper.

“Hm~? What was that? You have to speak louder or I can’t hear you.”

You repeat your words, louder this time.

“Hehe~ Good job. As a reward...I’ll make you feel even better. Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Nn...Ah. ...I want some from this slender arm as well...You don’t mind, do you?”

Kou bites your arm next.

*Sluuuurp*

“ーー Ah. Haah...I’ve gotten dizzy for some reason...But I still haven’t had enough. You feel the same way, don’t you? It’s written all over your face after all. That you want more of my fangs. That expression is incredibly cute. Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“I’ll bite you as many times as you wish, so just entrust everything to me, okay?”

*BZZZZZT*

“Uu...Kuh...Right now...Again...!?”

You become worried.

“Don’t worry...It’s no big deal...Ugh...Then...Let me hold your hand at least...I feel like that’s all I need to push through...”

You grab hold if his hand.

“...Thank you.”

*WOOSH*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) これからもよろしく or ‘kore kara mo yoroshiku’ is one of those very common Japanese phrases which I always struggle with when I have to translate them to English. In a work-related context, it usually means something like ‘I look forward to continue working with you’ or ‘Thank you for the continued support’. In this case, I think it conveys Kou’s desire to continue spending more time with her as they once again fall in love.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kou mukami #diabolik lovers paraselene #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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make-me-imagine · 4 years ago

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Prompts: “Are you cold?” “No” “Liar” + ‘Wearing their jacket/hoodie’

Requested by: @skylett-skyler

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Gender: Neutral Triggers: None

Genre: Casual; Little Fluff Words: 1,771

Notes: I’m sorry it’s not really that fluffy, and doesn’t really have any ‘romantic fluff’, but this is all I could really come up with right now. I hope you like it either way~

Looking over the case file for Sherlock’s most recent case, you read through the evidence with interest. Apparently the case was so confusing and mixed in with political ties that Sherlock not only asked you for help, but also asked his brother Mycroft, much to his own annoyance. But Sherlock does not like involving himself in the political scene, so he figured his brother would be willing.

When Sherlock told you Mycroft would be coming around, you tried your best to hide the obvious nervousness that you felt. Sherlock saw it, obviously, but he said nothing. He had been scolded enough times by John to know when to not intervene. He was also slightly amused by it, as he did not understand how you could have feelings for his brother, though he knows you think the same. He also knew that Mycroft himself had feelings for you, which he also found amusing, but to him was more understandable.

You were annoyed by your own feelings for the older Holmes brother. When you first met him you disliked him and his cocky and somewhat arrogant attitude. But over the last few months you couldn’t help the attraction that seemed to slowly sink in. You would catch yourself getting anxious around him, your eyes often landing on him. You scolded yourself, telling yourself that it would never work. You two were way to different, you bickered with each other a lot, seemingly forming a love hate relationship between you.

Recently you had been avoiding contact with him, wanting to avoid the growing feelings you had for him. You had convinced yourself that he had no interest in you, though you knew that may not be 100% true. Often when you’d bicker, you thought that he was flirting with you, but you would push the thoughts away.

As these thoughts were rolling around in your head, you almost missed the fact that Mycroft had entered the room, only becoming aware of his presence when Mrs. Hudson announced his arrival with “Sherlock, your brother is here!”

When Mycroft arrived, you forced yourself to stay focused on the files you were reading. Mycrofts gaze almost immediately landed on you, sitting with your legs crossed, look of concentration on your face as you read, what he assumed, was some case-files.

“Y/n” he greeted, watching as your eyes lifted to meet his.

You gave him a small smile, trying to fight the butterflies that had begun to flutter “Hello Mycroft” you greeted him simply before looking back down at the files. Mycroft could barely repress his frown at your apparent indifference to his presence.

As Sherlock came back into the living room, he had to repress an eye roll as he noticed how intensely his brother was gazing at you “Mycroft” he greeted, before almost immediately getting into the details of the case.

Throughout the time he was explaining the case, he of course noticed the numerous times Mycrofts gaze landed on you, as well as the numerous times you struggled not to look over at him. Getting somewhat annoyed, and tired of not intervening, when Sherlock was done explaining the case he turned to you and Mycroft, he spoke to Myroft “Now I know that you know I don’t quite trust you to tell me all of the information you find out, so I would like for Y/n to go with you” he glanced at you, seeing you hide the surprise you felt at his suggested.

You and Mycroft looked at each other, Mycroft nodded his head “I will ignore the offense that I feel at your distrust of me brother and agree to your terms” turning to you he spoke again “I have a meeting this evening, so if you are able, I would suggest doing this now”

Looking between him and Sherlock, you thought you saw a small smirk on Sherlocks face. You shrugged your shoulders lightly “I’ve got the time”

“Good” Mycroft rose “Then we should be off” you stood as well, grabbing your things, turning to Sherlock and John he said his farewells as you followed him, after waving a goodbye to the others.

After exiting 221B you and Mycroft were taken to a nearby embassy, where Mycroft insisted he could get the required information. You then watched as he elegantly got some of the information he needed from multiple people, you broke in here and there, earning more pieces of information. It wasn’t really until this interaction with Mycroft that you realized just how much he and Sherlock were alike.

Finally leaving after what seemed like hours of politicians talking about various topics you had no interest in outside of the case. You had the information you needed. Leaving the embassy, you looked around for Mycrofts car.

Mycroft, upon seeing you looking around spoke up “I thought we’d walk”

You turned and looked at him “To where? Sherlocks flat is miles from here”

He hummed before adjusting his coat “After having to deal with those politicians for as long as we did I don’t quite feel like seeing my brother just yet” you shrugged slightly, somewhat understanding what he meant “So” he began “I thought we would walk up the street here and get some tea” walking past you he began down the road. Of course assuming you would follow, which you did, not sure what else to do.

Catching up to him you walked side by side in silence for a few moments before Mycroft glanced over at you “I was quite impressed with how you were able to get some of that information out of those people” he commented.

Looking over at him you shrugged “I may hate politics, but I’ve learned how to deal with politicians” Mycroft simply smiled as you continued walking.

After stopping in front of a cafe, Mycroft held open the door for you as you entered. Getting yourself some tea, you sat inside, near the window. After discussing the case for a little, you asked Mycroft about what exactly it was that he did. “Sherlock insists that you ‘are the British government’ is he right?”

Mycroft chuckled, eyeing you momentarily “Somewhat”

You smiled, shaking your head “You Holmes brothers sure don’t like talking about yourselves do you?”

Mycroft thought to himself for a moment “I would tell you more in detail” he looked around slightly “somewhere less...public”

Glancing around the near empty cafe you almost laughed, but understood he must be cautious. You looked back at him “I’ll hold you to that”

Mycroft smirked “So be it”

You ended up basically interrogating Mycroft about his and Sherlocks upbringing, which he obliged you with, though he did remain somewhat vague about his childhood. Not long later both yours and Mycrofts phones went off. Sherlock had begun texting both of you asking where you were and why it was taking you so long.

You chuckled as you checked the texts, Mycroft sighed in mild annoyance “Well I suppose I should take you back then, though, slowly I think”

“Just to annoy him further I suppose?”

He smiled “Of course”

After leaving the cafe, Mycroft gestured for you to turn right, and begin walking “My car will be at the park up the road, less traffic to get through”

You nodded as you began walking, realizing that the temperature dropped significantly since you entered the cafe. You also realized that you had not worn the proper clothes to stay warm.

Mycroft saw you adjust your thin jacket, as a cool autumn breeze clearly chilled you “Are you cold?”

As an immediate extinct, thought your not sure why you said “No”

Mycroft frowned slightly, but was also a little amused “Liar” he said as he began to take of his coat.

You watched as he turned to offer it to you, raising your hand you smiled “No, that’s alright Mycroft, really I-”

He cut you off buy basically forcing it over your shoulders “I insist” he said with a smile “You are clearly cold”

Hesitating for a second you grabbed the edge of the coat so that it would not fall off “Thank you” you felt your ears burning a little as the interaction “Are you sure you aren’t cold?”

He shook his head “My suit is thick enough to keep me warm”

You nodded before a thought popped into your head, realizing you and Mycroft have been together for the last few hours, the afternoon having become evening “You’re not going to be late for your meeting are you?”

He looked at his watch “I believe I will be right on time”

As you approached the park, now much warmer in the autumn evening, you saw a familiar car pulling up to you and Mycroft. Opening the door for you he spoke “My driver will take you to Sherlocks, and if you wish he will take you home afterward”

“What about you?”

He motioned his head across the street as he spoke “I am having my meeting across the street, no need for a car”

You looked across the street to see a fancy restaurant “Oh, I see”

Moving to take of his coat he stopped you “Forget it, I will collect it later. It will still be cold when you have to go back to your home”

“Okay, thank you Mycroft. Though, part of me wont forgive you for leaving me to deal with Sherlock alone now. I suppose that was your plan”

Mycroft chuckled “No, I assure you it wasn’t, I was just enjoying our time at the cafe and lost track of time. If Sherlock berates you in any way, let me know and I will apologize accordingly. Perhaps with dinner”

You almost missed the last part of his sentence, due to how casually he suggested it “Dinner?”

“Yes. Besides, you do want to know exactly what it is I do correct?”

“I thought you didn’t want to discuss it in a public place”

“It will be a private dinner” he countered, determined to get you to agree.

And you, not really having a reason to refuse, nodded your head “Alright. But expect a scolding, you and I both know that Sherlock will definitely berate me”

Mycroft smiled “Of course”

Smiling, you began to get into the car, Mycroft bent down to see you “Goodnight Y/n”

You smiled lightly at him “Goodnight Mycroft”

Closing the door, Mycroft watched as you drove off, his heart pounding from the interaction, and at his own boldness to finally ask you out to dinner. Part of him was surprised you agreed, but he was overall relieved, and very excited.

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

Ehh, not sure how I feel about this one. I always have a hard time writing for Mycroft I think.

If you’d like to be added to my taglists (for any show or movie) let me know~

Please consider reblogging, liking or commenting~

#mycroft holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock #mycroft holmes x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #mycroft holmes oneshot #mycroft holmes one shot #oneshot #one shot #bbc sherlock oneshot #bbc sherlock one shot #mycroft x reader #mycroft oneshot #mycroft one shot #mycroft holmes/reader #bbc sherlock/reader #mycroft/reader

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skylawrites · 4 years ago

Text

A/N: Hi! I wrote this a month or two ago, based on the song "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths. And it turned into this! It's Hurt/comfort. With some angst. Also I would like to mention that if any of my stories have a spelling or grammar error that I missed feel free to correct me! So I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt. Suicidal Thoughts. Yelling/fighting.

Davey was tired. He was tired of having to deal with this stress. The stress of everything going downhill. His family's health wasn't the best at the moment, and in a result he was being ignored. His basic needs being pushed aside because someone was worse off. He didn't want to resent his family but he didn't know how not to. How he was expected to be this perfect boy, when he too was human and made mistakes. His dad had gotten badly sick and now Davey had to work twice as hard as before to pay for the medical bills and so his family had a place to live.

He had basically been put in charge of caring for Les because his mom was constantly at work. Which in its self was hard. How do you raise a child at age 17? He didn't even have his own life together.

Davey was done.

The cold wind whipped through his hair. The lights sitting the sidewalk seemed small from the edge of the building. The people looked like ants, each having a role in society's anthill. And what was Davey here for? He wanted to have a life. Be able to talk to his friends again. If he had any left, after distancing himself from them for so long.They probably hated him, didn't want anything to do with him.

His feet were pressed against the edge. Looking below at the concrete, which he would soon hit. When he took this next step he would be gone. In a flash. No more running, no more hiding. Just gone. He wished he could say goodbye to Les one last time. But he couldn't back down now. Hopefully Les will understand. And someday grow to be a responsible, successful adult.

Taking a deep breath and absorbing the last of the feel of New York. His home. Then he stepped off with one foot.

🗞🗞🗞

Jack and Crutchie stood in the streets. Walking to their rooftop in which they lived to settle down for the night. Jack sighed in frustration . Davey had been avoiding Jack for 2 weeks now. Why? He had tried to exchange conversation but every time Davey didn't seem to hear. He wasn't coming with the others to Jacobi's like usual. Nor had he seemed to talk to anyone else. Jack hadn't seen Davey smile in a long time. And to say the least he just missed Davey. Was it something Jack did or said? Maybe if he-

"What's that?" Crutchie asked snapping Jack out of his thoughts and back to reality. Crutchie was pointing towards the top of the building. It was hard to make out but jack saw a person. Standing dangerously close to the edge. Jack immediately understood what was going on and gasped.

"Crutchie keep heading home I'll be right there." He said urgency prominent in his voice. As he was running away he called behind him "if trouble arises go to the theatre!"

And with that Jack was off. Climbing the fire escape stair by stair, the rattling sound of metal resonating through the silent night air. When he made it to the top he shook with shock.

Davey started to fall. But something Jerked him back. Something caught his body, hurling it back, Landing on top of someone with a thud. He hissed in pain.

"What the hell dave,"

Davey would recognize the voice of Jack Kelly anywhere. But opposed to the confident, sarcastic, flirtatious tone he usually had his voice sounded weak, scared, hurt.

Davey didn't respond. A hot tear glided down his face.

Jack placed a hand on Davey's shoulder. Looking him in the eyes.

"Why?" He whispered out.

Davey didn't respond.

"WHY!?" Jack yelled.

Davey couldn't look Jack in the eyes. His forced the words out of his mouth

"Jackie I am so sorry..."

then he broke. Falling to his knees on the pavement. Sobs racking his frame.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Jack took his arms and wrapped them the other boy.

Chiding him. He stroked a hand through Davey's hair.

Tears spilled out of Jack's eyes as well.

Davey cried until he had nothing left in him. He sat sniffling and gasping for air. He pushed away from Jack. Standing up.

Jack stood as well. Both boys eyes were red from the crying.

Davey turned to walk away.

"I should get going it's getting late,"

"You say that as if nothing ever happened."

Davey chuckled. Wiping his wet eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I guess I've got a few minutes to spare."

Rain began to spill out of the dark clouds above. Smashing against the pavement.

Jack looked at Davey then at the streets. He grabbed Davey by the arm. And led him down the stairs and off the roof of the building.

As the ran became harder Jack's pace quickened. He hoped Cruthie had made it back to the rooftop alright. Just as he went to turn into an alleyway Jack ran into someone. He looked up, his eyes meeting none other than Oscar Delancy.

"Oh my? If it isn't our favorite little newsboy." He snarled.

Jack took a step back. Regaining his stance. Oscar raised a first. Morris's eyes caught Davey's and had a mutual moment of understanding. Morris grabbed his brothers fist before he could do any harm.

"Let's get going. It's getting late." He said gesturing towards their apartment.

Oscar looked pissed but didn't really have to energy to argue with Morris.

He looked Jack in the eyes one more time and said, "don't think you're getting some special treatment Jack." Before flipping him off and leaving.

Davey mouthed "thank you," to Morris and he nodded back.

The rain began to come down harder. Thunder boomed. Davey and Jack exchanged a look.

"My house is about a mile down." Davey said. "We can split paths now? Or you could come home with me?"

Jack examined the sky. The wind was picking up speed.

"I know a better place."

He pulled Davey about a block down until they were outside the theatre. Jack swung open the back door and Davey followed him inside.

They stood gasping for air, clothed drenched.

"Is that you Jack?" A voice called. As Medda appeared in front of the boys.

"Yeah," Jack greeted her,

She examined the boys and exclaimed "oh my, it is really coming down out there. Here take these."

She threw 2 towels to jack and he took one a wrapped it around his shoulders and the other around Davey's. Medda looked over at Davey's tear-stained face.

"Would you like some water dear?" She asked.

Davey nodded. Medda turned to walk away, Jack stopped her.

"May I get one too?"

"Yes Jack," she called behind her.

When she had left Davey went over to the nearest wall. He leaned and sunk to the ground in a sitting position. Plopping his face into his hands.

Jack sat down next to him. And wrapped an arm around him in comfort.

Davey sank into the embrace and sighed.

"Jack, I am so sorry,"

"Hey," Jack wiped the tears off Davey's face. "We went over this, I ain't mad."

"I- I know but-"

"There's no buts. I'm just happy your alive Dave."

Davey let out a small laugh. And whispered "me too."

Davey fiddled with his hair. Which stuck to the sides of his face. Dripping with rainwater.

Jack noticed and took one of the towels by his side and ruffled it through Davey's hair. Davey burst out laughing. And playfully slapped Jack with the towel beside him. Jack lowered his hands placing the towel on the ground. Davey's hair was now just damp and had started to become frizzy.

Miss Medda returned with the water a few moments later handing them over.

They both thanked her.

"If you boys need anything else, don't hesitate to ask alright?"

"Alright." Jack confirmed.

When she left again Davey leaned his head on Jack shoulder. Jacks face flushed a bright red. He rubbed soothing circles on Daveys back. Both boys sat for what seemed like hours. Before drifting off to sleep.

Medda had come back into the room a little while later to find the boys soundly sleeping on each other's shoulders. She smiled to herself. Those boys really were made for each other.

1,396 words

A/N: If you ever feeling Suicidal please reach out. It's important for you to take care of your mental heath. And I know that times may be hard. And it may seem like it will never get better, but it will. So stay around. And find the thing that makes you want to stay.

I hope you enjoyed that! And I should have another oneshot soon after I edit it! I hope all of you lovely humans have a wonderful day!! （＾∇＾）

- Sky ☁️

#newsies #fanfic #newsies fanfiction #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javey #javid #hurt/comfort #newsieshurt/comfort #angst

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insufferablelust · 4 years ago

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THE ARTIST AND HIS MUSE. (iii)

Hi lovelies! Here it is, the third installment to TAAHM, and this has some kissing and lots of build ups so no smut yet, but we’re getting there! oh and as i mentioned this story will be quite dark— i mean not that dark i will never write about rape etc. But the whole generic theme is based on the reader’s psychological state where she’s basically an HSP where she feels twice as much and she becomes obsessed way too quickly. Some of these things are adaption from my personal background so please if you feel uncomfortable you can read other fanfics thank you and read at your own risk! as always excuse the grammars! Xx, D.

WARNINGS : Dark themed, upcoming Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader, No smut yet (soon), Detailed Mentions of murder and corpse?, upcoming dark kinks (but not all the time, so expect some vanilla stuff too), SSA!Reader, !more upcoming warnings soon!

masterlist here to check out the first and second chapter!

———🍃———

{If perfectionism were inches, he’d go on for miles and miles. But if there are none, then he’s one.}

CHAPTER 3

You’re utterly fucked.

His voice played in your head over and over again as you drove back home from the BAU, you can feel that you are physically inside the car but your mind is stuck to where Spencer goes. It’s like he’s taunting you with every passing second, and the thought drove you crazy. You always had a crush on him, but all those months you thought he never liked you, never made an effort to at least get to know you but why now? you wanted to scream out so bad, nails digging into the steering wheel before pulling over the side of the road and grabbed your phone— contemplating whether you listen to your brain saying that he’s toying with you or your heart and your desire to just... text him.

“Do i make you nervous?”

His stupid voice is the one that made your fingers search for his number. You bit your lip harshly as you weigh your options, you could either text him and wait for a possibly long overdue answer or you could just give him a call, It’s not weird giving your coworker a call right? You tried to make sense of yourself before hitting the call button and curses under your breath “fuck it”

“Hello? Y/n? Are you okay?” you took a sharp breath at the sound of his voice, laced with worry. There’s a part inside of you that yearn to tell him that no, you’re not okay because the game you’ve been playing really start to mess with your emotions, except you answered with a tiny “I’m okay, um are you at rossi’s yet?”

He chuckled, “No, i decided not to go, figured that i’m way too tired” your heart clenched, wanting to take care of his tired self,

“well! you should get some rest right now” you hurriedly mumbled, cursing at the sound of your very shaky voice. “Y/n what’s wrong? you know you can tell me anything right?” I have a crush on your stupid ass— thats whats wrong.

“No- no i was about to ask about this uh um the last case—“

“It’s about the question isn’t it?”

“what?” you let out a choked out mewl, taking a deep breath, making a mental note for yourself to just keep breathing.

“The question, Do i make you nervous? isn’t that why you called me?” Your heart raced that if he’s close enough to the phone, you’re convinced he can hear the thump. “Spence— i uh, yeah.” the voice you let out is barely a whisper, you almost hope that he didn’t caught it, but of course he did.

“Is that yes to the question?” You were about to answer his question before he interrupted “You don’t even have to say it Y/n, I know that i make you nervous.”

“How—“

“How would i know? Alright, you never called me before, not unless there’s an emergency or a case, that’s why i got worried when you called. Your breathing—“ he paused for a second, taking a deep breath when he hears the tiny whine that escaped out of your lips, before continuing,

“Your breathing is labored, i can hear you hitches every time i said something that you know is true, i can also hear the way your knee bounce and hitting the dashboard each time- it’s a nervous tic and the only time you do it is when i’m near you. and from the way you stayed silent, trying to keep down any noises is the answer i needed to know that i’m right. The right question isn’t do i make you nervous, but why?”

When he finished talking, you hadn’t even realized that your knees were bouncing, immediately stilled your leg and cleared your throat, pushing every bit of bravery you have left to answer him “My apartment, in an hour. I’ll grab chinese on the way, and we can talk?”

“I’ll be there”

“Okay, ill see you—“

“And princess? drive safe”

Just Fucked.

————

Your knees just couldn’t stop shaking with excitement as you set your small dining table with Chinese take outs, you even made sure to have spoon and fork ready for Spencer since he won’t use his chopsticks, smiling at the perfect looking table— you sprinted to your bedroom to check your appearance one last time. Wearing a simple dress and cardigan on top seemed appropriate enough to meet your coworker right? you stare at yourself in the mirror before adjusting the hair that fell down your sides, and taking a deep breath.

Knock, knock

You braced yourself, taking a deep breath before opening the door to see a smiling Spencer still in his work clothes with what looks like bags of candies in his hand— you could’ve sworn you were about to cry because he remembered, he remembered how much you love your candies, reminding you over and over again that the cause of your hyper-ness cant be from candies, “Sugar rush is not a thing (Y/n)” He said once before spewing out more statistics about sugar. But god, don’t you love it.

“Spencer, come in.” You stepped back as you let him in, before closing the door and wait for him to take off his converse and coat. The silence made you nervous, that you don’t even realize that you’re tapping your knuckles on the wooden door until he mentioned it,

“There, you’re nervous.” He dropped the candy bag—practically thrown it on the couch as he cornered you, with his chest pressing against yours and his hand cupping your jaw so delicately that you flutter your eyes shut, engulfing the warmth thats radiating off of him.

“What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours (Y/n)?” He whispered, knuckles brushing over your cheeks ever so slightly, causing the goosebumps to rise at his command, it’s crazy how much control he has over you already like he holds your life in his, but you don’t complained— you want this, you craved it. You have craved the feeling of being obsessed with someone again, it’s been so long since you’ve given up control, and your mind and body just wants a break from all the stress you’ve put yourself through it. And Spencer— Spencer might just be the perfect escape.

“you..” Your voice is thick and scratchy, like something was pressing against your throat, when in reality it was a mixture of lust and desire. “Me? What about me?” His eyes never left yours, as he brush your noses together. He was so close that you can almost taste his skin, you can almost feel the emotions that runs deep within his veins, what is it about Spencer Reid that draws you in so much?

Then he pulled away, with a satisfied grin on his face “I don’t know princess, you tell me” You were about to ask what he meant before the wheels in your head are finally clicking; you were thinking out loud— oh how he loves it when your cheeks are flushed, eyes droop as you endure yet another wave of embarrassment, and something about being this is so raw and exposed- not physically but you can almost sense it, sense how he sees what got you so needy, so powerless against him. It’s almost like he’s seen you naked before; naked below your skin, like he’s seen your insides, every right turns that ignite the fire inside of you, and every right switch that makes you tic and you’d be crazy if you’d say you don’t enjoy every bit of it.

“You know— you know what it is, you just want to taunt me” You gathered enough bravery to speak at last, biting your lower lip right after the words slipped out of your mouth, until his thumb pressed down just below the part that you don’t get to bite and pull. “Y/n, Stop biting your lip, or i’ll bite it for you.” His breathing is shallow, like he’s holding something back, and now is not the time to hold back— you thought. now is the time to just let go.

“Talk is cheap, Dr.Reid” You smiles cheekily— almost borderline bratty, and you know it. But the second those words left your mouth, the look on his face makes you hold out your whine— the look on his face is the look of anger, anger and full of temptation, like when adam bit the forbidden fruit. It was so stern that you almost apologize, wanting nothing more than to please him not disobey him. But before you get the chance, he pressed his lips against yours in a bruising manner.

This is it— the moment you’ve been craving.

The moment his lips touched yours, you surrender all control to him, giving him your all without even asking for anything in return, it’s like you were born to be his— the drunken lust part of your mind doesn’t seem to want to understand the logic behind any of this and how dangerous it is, not when the man you’ve loved for a long time is now sucking on your lower lip and push his tongue in to tangle it with yours. The sounds were filthy, filled with gasps and wet noises, your noses bumps against each other but you couldn’t care less, the oxygen grew thin inside your lungs but none of you seemed to mind, you were savoring each and every passing second of this.

His fingers are warm but the tips are cold suggesting how nervous and excited he was, you tilt your neck backwards as he wrapped them right on your neck, pressing them ever so gently, the pressure is enough to let you gasp out a moan onto the kiss. You both were positively burning from the pleasure, the need, and the lack of oxygen, everything is clouding your senses as much as its clouding his, and before you know it, he has to pull back in order for you both to still go to work tomorrow.

Gasping, you gulped down as much oxygen as possible as your knees buckled, you’re pretty sure you would’ve fell if it weren’t for his tight grip. You both calmed down, before coming back to your senses, everything is blurry and fuzzy inside your mind, yet you smiled— looking up at his disheveled state and smiled, “What does this mean?” is the only question you can get out of your chest.

“I— i may or may not have a crush on you Y/n..” he trailed off, licking his lips as he took a step back, his movements were so calculated and gentle that you’re afraid you had said something wrong that makes his demeanor changed— as if he didn’t know how happy you were to found out that your love for him isn’t one sided.

Gently, you reached for his hand then drag him with you down to sit on the sofa, grabbing the candy bag and picked out a cherry lollipop. Spencer let out a chuckle as he shakes his head— looking at you as you peeled the wrapper.

“What?”

“Nothing..”

“Spencer what?” You pouts as you hold the lollipop between your fingers, waiting for him to answer, “nothing, you just.. that’s your favorite” he smiled “i remembered the first day you joined, you were so nervous that you didn’t even realized you were still sucking on your cherry lollipop, only letting go of them when you saw me and your jaw—“

“Okay, you can stop now!” You paused him, pushing the lollipop through his lips, hiding your face on the crook of your arms, he laughs loudly as you hit his chest twice,

“Hey i’m just saying facts Princess, you were so cute i almost had the mind to bend you over the desk that very moment the lollipop dropped out of you gaping jaw.” He always managed to make every cell in your body feel like they’re being burned but- the good burn. You couldn’t help but to clench your thighs at his ‘facts’. This is the Spencer reid you never knew existed behind all the books and statistics. And you can’t lie and say that you didn’t love both because you love everything about him.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because that’ll not be appropriate would it baby? In a work place after all, or have you thought about that before hm? me bending you over my table when everyone’s watching as you suck on these little lollipops that you love so much?” He pulled the lollipop out of his lips before smearing the sticky top on your lips, before throwing it to the trash can then pressing his lips on yours to kiss you again, this time gentler.

He took his time on devouring you, savoring every inch of your lips, and the depth of warmth inside your mouth like he was trying to imprint the feeling inside his memory so he could relived it over and over again— well he didn’t have to, you are his.

He pulled back gently as he smiled at you, you searched his eyes to know what he’s worrying about, and you knew exactly what it is. “I- i have had the longest crush on you too.. Spencer” You mumbled, playing with your fingers and reminiscing the taste of his lips on yours as you ran your tongue over them.

“But we can’t...”

“I know you’d say that.”

“How?”

“Lets just say, you were not as good at keeping your secrets as you thought you were, Princess.”

Your heart dropped and for the hundredth time that night, you knew you’re fucked for real this time.

————————

TBC!

Taglist and Long Blurb requests are open, feel free to leave a message if you want in! you can also message me any feedbacks or constructive criticism. And lastly, please like + reblog! thank you!

SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE TAG, TUMBLR DECIDED MY WORK DOESNT DESERVE RECOGNITION AND THE HASTAGS DOESNT WORK SO I HAVE TO DO A REUPLOAD! so sorry!

( @blancastans @spencerwaltergubler @slutforthegubes @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @babybloomer @liaabsurd @midnightsubmissives )

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #TAAHM #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds smut #dom!spencer #spencer reid blurbs #spencer x reader

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Text

Savior

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of COVID.

Words: 2633.

Summary: Nothing goes right in the middle of pandemic while you try to come back home. Luckily, Bucky is there to give you a hand.

P.S. Basically, I typed all the story on my phone, so please forgive me for any mistakes. Hope you'll enjoy!

_________________________

You knew something would go wrong. You had that nagging feeling the whole day right after you woke up and prepared your bags before arriving at the airport. Today you had a flight back to US right in the middle of pandemic. You needed to get back to your sick father as he had no one but you to take care of him, and the urgency made you disregard all the risks related to your travel. You needed to get home at whatever cost.

But nothing was as easy as before, and now you were almost crying, staring at one of Sokovia Airlines officials who blankly stated you simply didn't have enough documents prepared by the Embassy for your travel. Basically, they were implying that instead of taking a transit and flying back home you might stay in Sokovia - of course, you had only a transit visa that didn't give you any right for a long stay. Both company's representative and you knew you only planned to return home, but he simply couldn't let you pass without full set of documents.

"God, honey, how long are you going to stay there?" You heard someone's grumpy voice behind you and turned back to see a huge man with long dark hair advancing towards you.

Who was he? You had never seen him before arriving at the airport. Then you spotted him in the line - his muscular built draw your attention immediately, and your cheeks were flushed when you saw him looking back at you. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes showed you he was smiling at you. But what was he doing now? Did he take you for someone else?

"I'm sorry, who are you?" The representative asked, watching the man suspiciously.

"I'm her fiancee." The stranger barked and took a look at you, his light blue eyes strangely comforting. You weren't sure, but did he just... winked at you for a second?

The man behind the counter didn't look pleased.

"Then why weren't you standing together?"

"Because we had a big fight this morning and were mad at each other when we arrived here." The stranger furrowed. "With all due respect, it's none of your business. Would you tell me what is the issue with her papers, please?"

You gulped, your arms shaking slightly. Although the stranger probably wanted to help you, you weren't sure it would work out - the representative only needed to ask if you knew this man's name to figure everything out. Was he actually travelling to New York as well? Would the officials ban you from entering US at all for your lie? God, anyway, it was too late to confess.

"I'm sorry, dear." You whispered, looking at you shoes and hoping no one would suspect anything.

The stranger let out a sigh tiredly and scratched his head. Instead of answering you, he gave his passport to the official.

"Your fiancee doesn't have the form WS-21, Mr. Barnes. We cannot permit her crossing the boarder of Sokovia without it, unfortunately. Do you have your own form?"

"I'm sure I do." He passed the man behind the counter a pack of his documents and carefully took the papers you held in your arms. Flipping through them, he gripped the phone in his other arm.

"Yes, your forms are alright, but..."

"Just a minute, please."

You watched him dialing some number and shivered at the thought of being trapped in the airport. The only thing you wanted was to come back home, to your father. You prayed to stay healthy and was supposed to take a test right after your arrival. Of course, you knew perfectly you were most likely to stay two weeks at home, but it was way better than staying thousands miles away, nonetheless.

"Hi Steve." The man's voice almost made you jump. "Yes, I'm good, but my sweetheart has an issue with one of the forms... Yeah... Well, you know her, always forgetting one thing or another... The Embassy, of course. Hey, could you?.."

You saw him walking away to the next few counters, keeping his distance from other travellers with their huge bags. His large bulky figure looked scary, his face concealed with a black mask, and you suddenly wondered who this man was. A complete stranger, he was eager to help you. Why? Was he truly a Good Samaritan? If not, what was his motive? Nervously tapping your hip, you felt your eyes watering - your anxiety was getting worse.

The official huffed and puffed, visibly irritated. You saw people passing around you with the boarding passes in their hands, looking for the right direction, and asked yourself why you were not as lucky as all of them. Could that mysterious Mr. Barnes help you? Watching him pacing across the airport hall, you chewed your lip to bits.

'I'm so, so sorry." You whispered to the man behind the counter. "Please, just a few minutes more."

He didn't answer, and you were left to your own dreary thoughts.

However, your frightening savior showed up soon with a smile hidden beneath his mask. Judging by the way he looked, things might be not as bad as you expected them to be.

"Don't worry, honey." He said confidently and gave all your documents to the representative. "Consul will be here in 10 minutes."

You gaped at him, trembling at his words. What? Consul? Consul was coming to save you? This man was able to convince him to drive all the way to the airport just to help you with this goddamn form? You couldn't believe it. It sounded insane.

You realized you were crying only when the man in front of you shushed you gently and rubbed you shoulder with his gloved hand. Thinking it looked odd, you decided you had to say something convincing and mumbled, "I'm sorry for all the things I said in the morning. I was... I was..."

"It's ok, honey." He said softly, his icy blue eyes warming up at the sight of your flushed face. "It doesn't matter now. Everything gonna be alright, let's just relax and wait a little bit."

He was right, of course. Once Consul had showed up and came to speak to the officials, it turned out you didn't even need the form WS-21 because you had the other one to replace it. Bucky - that was your handsome stranger's name - chuckled quietly once he saw the red face of Consul walking to you to offer his sincere apologies. The company's representatives looked like someone just splashed a bucket of cold water over their heads. It didn't matter to you, though, as you got the only thing you wanted from the start - your right to come back to US.

You were the last one to go through customs - your flight was delayed for 15 minutes just to give you time to board after this hussle. Bucky was with you all the time, always keeping the distance. He even gave you one more mask since yours was drenched with tears. It's unsafe to wear a wet one, he said.

It was still hard to believe all this happened to you. Now you were sitting close to Bucky and looking out the window happily. God, you thought you would have a heart attack before this kind man showed up to save you as if he were a prince charming. You were ashamed of yourself for thinking he was frightening. Well, he looked beefy, but Bucky was a former Navy SEAL, and it wasn't surprising he wanted to keep himself in shape. Listening to him trying to make a small talk, you smiled. He was a good man, and you were lucky to meet him.

"Thank you... for taking care of me." You said in a tiny voice. "If you weren't there, I'd never leave this place."

His eyes sparkled with joy at your words, and he laughed a little through his mask.

"I'm glad I was able to help." Smiling at you, he watched the flight attendants coming closer to your row and offering drinks to the people in front of your seats . "I understand how important it is for you to come back."

___________________

The rest of your journey was as stressful as its beginning, but Bucky was always there for you. Still pretending to be your fiancee, he dealt with your new issues so fast as if he had a magic wand, and you couldn't express your gratitude for everything he had done for you. Apparently, meeting someone as good-natured as him was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

In the end, exhausted from your long journey - you spend more than 20 hours travelling - you fell asleep on the way back to New York. Bucky was next to you again, and you finally felt safe. All was good if he was close.

Thinking of the ways to repay him for the kindness he showed you, you closed your eyes and dozed off in a matter of minutes. Everything was going to be okay.

Or so you thought before you woke up in a place you didn't recognize, all you belongings gone. They even changed you clothes! Feeling hazy and tired, you shifted uncomfortably on the bed and looked around a plain room with only a few pieces of furniture. What had happened? Did you fell sick during the flight? But it didn't look like hospital. Why no one had woken you up if anything serious happened? Why didn't you wake up yourself? Surely, it was loud enough when you landed. You weren't even a heavy sleeper!

Still a little groggy, you got your feet on the floor and walked to the door next to the white Ikea drawer. You hoped your were back to US, at least. If you were in Sokovia... God, you didn't even want to think about it.

"Excuse me, is anybody here?" You asked once you entered the corridor, looking for people.

Although you saw no one at all, you heard someone's footsteps and froze, suddenly feeling afraid to move. Why were you so sure it was safe to raise your voice? You didn't know where you were, why you were kept here, and who was the one who brought you to this place. Did you break any laws? Were you confined?

Before you freaked out, you saw Bucky emerging from one of the doors and advancing quickly towards you with a wide smile. He had no mask covering his face, and you saw how handsome he was with his soft chapped lips and a three-day beard. Was he really here with you? You saw his grin and felt relieved. Thank goodness it was Bucky, you thought. If he was here, you two would definitely figure something out.

"Morning, honey." He smiled and stretched his huge hand towards you. "How are you feeling?"

You laughed at his words: he was still playing your little game.

"Hi Bucky. A bit tired, but otherwise I'm pretty good. Um, where are we now, actually?"

He looked at you dumbfounded and helped you walking into the closest room - a nice spacious master bedroom with lots of photos on the walls, a huge king-sized bed, a closet and a table. The room looked a bit unfinished, but better than the one where you woke up.

"We're home, honey." Bucky answered softly when you landed on the comfy bed.

"Wait, your home?"

"What do you mean? Our home, of course."

When you looked at him with wide eyes, he simply gestured to the frames on the wall, and you saw yourself kissing him on the cheek. The other photo was a selfie where you were depicted sleeping on Bucky's shoulder. One more had you two dancing. You couldn't believe your eyes and jumped from the bed to have a better look at the photos, but it was really you there along with him. How could it happen? What did you miss? You could swear you had never seen Bucky before. Was it Photoshop or anything like that? It would be more realistic, really.

"Didn't we... m-meet yesterday at the airport?" You whispered, horrified to the core.

"Honey, we met two years ago." Bucky frowned, coming closer and looking at your face intently. "Listen, I'm going to call the doctor again, ok? I see you didn't recover from your fall yesterday, so let's have you checked one more time."

"What fall?"

"Your bike. Yesterday's evening. You lost consciousness for a few minutes, remember? The doctor said you had nothing serious, but I see he was wrong. Give me just a few seconds to call him, ok?"

You stared blankly at him, unsure of what to do. Was it all true? You felt like you were going mad, watching Bucky walking out the room. Did you really lose your memories because you hit your head? Maybe it sounded quite logical, but you just didn't feel it was right.

When Bucky was talking to the doctor in the corridor, you quickly searched the room but didn't find your cellphone or anything that could confirm your suspicions. On the other hand, you didn't remember anything after you fell asleep during your flight. Anything at all. There was no memories of your father even, although you cared about him more than anyone else in your life. How bad did you have to hit your head? It didn't feel real.

Sighing, you walked to the closet and opened it, finding there just a bit of Bucky's clothes and a few pieces of your own old one. If he didn't know you, how come your clothes was here? Surely, he couldn't bring your unconscious body through the customs, then come to your house, fetch your clothes and bring you here. How was that even possible?

You looked in the mirror, watching you face growing more wet with tears streaming down your cheeks. You needed to calm down. Whatever had happened, Bucky was not your kidnapper, obviously. He only wanted to help, nothing else. Maybe you really hit your head too hard.

Scratching your temple, you looked closely at your face to see if something had changed. As far as you could see, you were the same as before, but you had never been keen on changing your appearance, anyway. Maybe it was all true. Maybe you were now living with Bucky in your new house as a couple.

You sighed again and touched your shoulder with your palm. You were safe. Regardless of what had happened, you were back in US, visibly unharmed - well, almost - and living in a pretty decent house. It was silly to think that Bucky was here to torture you. He was probably no less concerned than you: his honey couldn't even remeber those two years they spent together.

But then you suddenly saw a little blue line on the back of your palm. It was hardly visibly since you tried to rub it off your skin once you accidentally marked yourself with a pen while filling some documents in Sokovia, yet some ink was still there. You looked carefully and saw that it was the very same curved little line. It wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be.

When you heard Bucky's concerned voice somewhere from the corridor, you backed away to the bed, watching the door with horror. It was all a lie. Those pictures on the walls were really photoshopped, and the clothes... if he could make the pictures in such short time, maybe he had someone to take care of your clothes. Maybe he had never been a Navy SEAL in the first place. Was he a hitman? A serial killer? You didn't know for certain, but one thing you knew for sure: Bucky wasn't your savior. He was your captor.

___________

Tags: @hurricanerin @pandulceamor

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #dark bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #yandere #mcu

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forestwater87 · 4 years ago

Note

(first apologies if this is a duplicate; I got a "bad request" notification the first time I tried to send this ask) but anyhow; I saw your tags on my Lucretia post and i am not sure how to reply to tags?? but i want to see your version of that scene! (if you still want to share) I love Lucretia very much and love to see other peoples' takes on her. anyway, I hope you are having a good day!

OH MY GOD YAY!!

I mean, cool, whatever. I guess I could share a little bit of that fic. That’s fine.

(yayayayayayayay eeeeeeeeeee)

Okay, part of me wanted to blast you with the entire chapter, but that’s 25-ish pages so I’m forcing myself to show restraint here and only include the tail end. There’s a little bit of context missing, because it’s the last section of Chapter 10 of a fic that so far has at least 32 chapters, but I think it all makes sense. It’s basically just “here’s what happened in that cycle when everybody else was a statue person” and it was, you know, not a good time. (There’s some implied Magcretia, sorry not sorry.)

Plus it’s really good. I know that sounds arrogant, but I’ve spent the last 4-5 years hating every word I’ve ever written, and I’m going to enjoy this confidence for as long as it chooses to stay.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy!

There are no line breaks on tumblr anymore so this is the part where the actual writing starts:

When the Hunger arrived, it was a relief more than anything.

Lucretia had been in the middle of defending The Starblaster from a group of marauders climbing like ants all over the dented and hastily-repaired sides of the ship, trying to figure out if she could possibly shake them all free without having to resort to the magic she’d deduced made it possible for the court to find her, when the sky turned dark and everything went gray.

And her first thought was, Oh thank Pan. (She wasn’t a religious person at all, but enough time with Merle had made the casual prayers second nature.) This nightmare was almost over. In less than an hour, she’d have her family back.

She was so close to seeing Magnus again.

“Fisher, get back in your tank!” she shouted, abandoning the shield she’d been summoning and sprinting to the helm — she’d spent so much time this year running for her life that she could race from one end of the ship to the other without becoming winded. None of the marauders had made it onto the deck, but she felt the air above her head crackle with a spell that blazed past, and as she reached the controls she heard the now-familiar amplified voice call, “You are under arrest for multiple counts of evading the authority of the co — what the hell’s going on here?”

Oh, great. All her friends were here. Now all she needed was for the boar and crocodile to make an appearance.

As the officer began to interrogate the marauders (his side of the conversation still blaring loud and clear), Lucretia took advantage of the confusion to throw the ship forward. She’d had enough foresight to keep the way in front of The Starblaster clear for just this purpose, and while a few hundred yards of ash-colored grass were flattened, she was able to get the ship into the air.

She pointed it up, away from the Hunger — up into space, into nothingness, into any universe except this one, somewhere she’d stared at and imagined but now was finally going into . . .

If she could get the damaged, shuddering ship up to speed and break through the atmosphere, that was.

If not, everything ended here.

A tentacle of swirling darkness stabbed into the ground inches away from her ship, forcing her to swerve hard and nearly lose her footing. She threw all her weight on the acceleration as more of the Hunger’s tentacles latched onto the planet, the labored roar of the engines nearly drowning out the screams of panic from the people below.

As The Starblaster rocketed over a shining city with strange statues and up into the sky, a whisper made Lucretia look around — before realizing it had come from inside her own head.

We’ve been looking for you.

She frowned, clutching at the helm even tighter. Was this some sort of new thing the Hunger could do, or one last awful trick played by this hostile planet?

Another whisper, louder and lower-pitched: You’ve been evading judgement for some time now.

A massive column of the Hunger collided with the planet directly in front of her. It was so close, she had no choice but to try and blow through it, even though that meant taking the biggest risk she had all year. But The Starblaster’s momentum was impossible to halt, and the mile-wide column was impossible to go around, so she gritted her teeth, hunched over the controls, and slammed on the accelerator.

The second she crossed into the Hunger, everything went silent and black.

Everything, that was, except for the whispers:

Lucretia, you have always let others take action and responsibility while you sit back and watch. You tell yourself this is worthwhile, but you know it is a lie. And yet when it is smartest and safest to proceed with caution, you take the most reckless path, because you refuse to admit you might be wrong. Your past sins are sloth, envy, and pride. How do you plead?

How did she plead? She didn’t plead for much of anything, except to survive long enough to fly them into the next cycle. The Hunger buffeted at the ship, wrapping smaller tentacles around its sleek metal body and trying to keep it from plowing forward; it might kill her — kill them all — but not knowing what else to do, she used Mage Hand to open the nearest window without leaving the helm and cast Fire Shield around the ship. It was weak and flickering compared to the spells of protection Merle could create, but the Hunger fell back with deafening shrieks of pain as flames licked the air around The Starblaster.

The awful whispers weren’t letting up, though, digging cold fingers deep into her mind and sending a chill shudder down through her very soul.

Your present sins are no less grave. You kill without remorse. You have allowed yourself to become vindictive and spiteful. You have not abandoned your past failings, but have added new ones since our initial audit. We see fit to add to your current list of transgressions the crime of wrath. How do you plead?

Suddenly there was a break in the shimmering darkness, a bolt of ash-gray sky widening like a tear in heavy fabric — and then she was through, outside of the Hunger and so far above the doomed planet that she couldn’t see the ground below. She let out a scream of triumph, the noise tearing like sandpaper along her exhausted and dry throat, and angled the ship until it was almost vertical. The Starblaster shot forward as though with one last burst of strength, shuddering as its engines were pushed to the absolute limit . . .

The ship suddenly jolted to a halt, mechanisms whirring like a swarm of angry bees.

Lucretia turned to the still-open window and saw the entire view had been replaced with blackness, oily-iridescent tentacles spilling into the ship as others wrapped around it. She threw all of her weight on the acceleration, but it didn’t move; then, after a single grinding moment, The Starblaster began to fly backward, pulled back toward the core of the Hunger.

She could hear its gnashing teeth.

“NO!” The word exploded out of her, coming from somewhere far below conscious thought. She abandoned the helm just long enough to run to the window, ignoring the tentacles that curled around her ankles as she pointed her wand at the offshoot of the Hunger that had its hold on her, aiming for where the base met the rest of the massive column, and shot off a burst of lightning. There was another hideous wail and the tentacles around the ship shuddered and pulled away, just a slight loosening of their incredible grip.

Her entire body shaking with terror and fury, she pointed her wand at the same spot and cast Finger of Death.

The screaming was like a sonic blast — a thousand million voices filled with rage and pain and fear — knocking her onto her back and sending her skidding across the bridge. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling over her robe and lurching to the helm. The sound of the engines returning to full blast was like the roar of a furious animal loosed from its cage, and the last of the Hunger fell back as the ship threw itself up into space. It felt like the air was shouting with every conceivable emotion.

As the panic subsided and her head cleared, she realized it wasn’t the air screaming; it was those whisperers.

So much rage. So much wrath.

No remorse.

No different than the monster she tries to flee.

They were growing louder with every word, overlapping and running together until she struggled to pick out individual phrases —

She betrays the people she supposedly loves most

She destroys a family — destroys the memory of the family

Robs them of themselves

Who has the right?

No one has the right

The sound was becoming unbearable, deafening. Her ears felt like they were leaking; she lifted her hand to one and her fingers came back covered in blood.

It didn’t make sense — it wasn’t an external sound — it wasn’t an external force, but something ripping her apart from within.

It was the sound of going mad.

At that point she was barely able to understand anything

leaves him to die in agony in a hell she helped create

takes advantage of the innocent who make the mistake of believing in her

such a sweet boy, and all you do is lie to him

do you think you can make these decisions for the world?

the heartbreak you will cause

the betrayal

pride — such unfathomable pride

the deaths you will cause

the lives you will ruin

the blood that stains your hands

coldhearted — cowardly

wrath — envy — sloth

pride

PRIDE

Our judgement is decided.

You have been found wanting.

Something hardened in her chest, calcifying her lungs and making it impossible to breathe. Lucretia doubled over, her hands scrabbling to keep the ship moving, as her flesh turned hard, brittle, the feeling like casting Stone Skin but somehow it’d gotten inside . . .

She couldn’t move her tongue. She couldn’t breathe. Blackness crowded the edge of her vision — not like she was blacking out, but like her eyes just suddenly weren’t there anymore

everything went wobbly, the universe becoming untethered just for a moment

And when it stabilized, she realized she could move again, see again. She took a deep, tremulous breath and turned back from the helm, sliding to the floor in a heap.

It was less than a second, before the I.P.R.E. crew fully materialized, but she didn’t see it happen. As soon as the surreal, smoky outlines of her friends wavered into being, she dropped her head in her hands, a sob she’d been holding back for months finally escaping her throat.

She did it.

Magnus’s hands closed around her upper arms and he gently tugged her into an embrace. She could feel the cool steel of the bridge under her knees, heard the voices of all her friends speaking all at once. She was dimly aware she was talking, mumbling nonsense to herself as she waited for the world to stop spinning.

The last thing she was aware of before slipping into unconsciousness was Magnus’s breath on her forehead and his warm fingers combing through her hair.

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

7. Leshen Indruck your choice of rating!

Here you go! I went with SFW

It’s old wisdom that humans fear that which they do not understand.

Indrid really hoped he would never learn the truth of that wisdom the hard way, but here he is. One misplaced attempt at aiding someone using his foresight and he’s been caught, blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of the vast Monongahela Forest.

He just wanted to help.

His foresight renders him less fearful than he’d otherwise be; he’ll be able to see threats coming and locate the resources he needs. If he takes his time, he might be able to use his visions to locate the nearest (friendly) village. And, like anyone who grew up near the woods, he knows how to hunt, fish, and forage. For someone who’s been left to die, he’s rather confident.

Still, it sting a little.

After a few moments of rightfully-earned self-pity, he buttons up his coat and starts the slow, halting journey towards safety.

Two days later, he’s pushing his way through branches and miserably pointing out to himself again and again that a town where everyone grew up with basic forest survival skills would exile one of their own somewhere that required high-level survival skills.

The topography and scenery is so disorienting that he may have better luck if he covered his eyes, spun around ten times, and chose his path from there. It’s a dense landscape of deep greens and browns with splashes of bright color that he’d no doubt enjoy were he not constantly snagging on branches or catching his toes on roots.

Worse, he’s had no luck catching food, and cannot for the life of him locate water. The fact it rained last night is the only reason he’s not dangerously dehydrated.

A sharp, high chirp draws his eye to the foot of a tree. Flapping sparsely feathered wings, a baby bird hops through the mud, her nest visible but unreachable. A meager meal, but a meal nonetheless.

Indrid scoops her into his palms, clambers into the lowest crook of the tree, and sets her back among her siblings.

His stomach chastises him the rest of the day, though the rest of his body rejoices when he finds a hollow in the base of a tree large enough for him to shelter within. From within the trunk, he spies vine sprawling across the ground, berries glinting in the light rain. Deep purple, meaning they’re Brambleberries.

The handful he shoves into his mouth brings tears to his eyes, even though they’re not the ripest. How else do you explain the bitterness chasing the sweetness down his throat.

Wait. Brambleberries don’t go purple until mid-summer. This is early spring. Which means those were-

“Chokeberries.” He curses himself, darting outside the tree once more, finger down his throat until his meal comes back up. Maybe he was fast enough.

His throat tightens in a prelude to closing. Sinking to his knees, gasping for air, he swears the ground vibrates with heavy steps. His eyes flutter close as he falls forward. As darkness slips over his eyes, he thinks it’s taking him a long time to hit the ground.

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

Bitter metal on his tongue.

“Nnnnf” Eyes still shut, he pushes at whatever is holding the spoon and it’s vile contents in his mouth.

“None of that. You’re gonna need two more doses of this before that Chokeberry is outta your system, and they were hard enough to get into you when you were passed out. Swallow.”

He swallows.

A large hand pats his head, “There we go. I know, shit’s gross, but if you were fool enough to eat those berries, might stun some sense into you.”

Indrid sits up, rubbing his eyes, “I was delirious with hunger, forgive me for not remembering the exact seasons of fruits. Did you heal me only to insult me or-” his visions flicker back full force, revealing his host before he opens his eyes. He scrambles back, but instead of a wall or an edge he just finds a vast expanse of bed.

Watching him with an amused set to his lips is a man three heads taller and much bulkier than Indrid, dark hair streaked with grey-green moss, eyes the dark green of pine needles, and nails like treebark. He crosses arms tattooed with green, gold, and bronze swirls, waiting for Indrid to collect himself.

“A Leshen.”

“Yep.”

“Are...are you going to eat me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna fuckin eat you. I don’t know which of my kind chowed down on humans but if I ever find out I’m gonna give ‘im a piece of my mind. Ain’t great to have people thinkin I’m a man-eater when the worst I done is throw a tree at someone.”

“That is still very alarming.”

The Leshen shrugs “I’m a forest guardian; I’m gonna guard.”

Indrid studies him, wary, drawing the covers up his chest without noticing.

“Look” the Leshen sighs, “I ain’t tryin to scare you. Hell, made myself the smallest I can so I could be all comfortin. Noticed you in the woods earlier today and kept an eye on you, since humans-”

“Don’t often come here, yes, I am aware. I was extremely, forcibly exiled into your part of the woods.”

Green eyes blink, “Huh. Well, point is it didn’t seem right to leave you there to die, so I brought you here. Chokeberry is real easy to undo, assumin you got the right herbs.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. His foresight tells him the Leshens promise of no harm is true, but there are so many timelines for what he could say and how his host could respond that he freezes.

“You’re welcome. You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“You oughta rest up more, Indrid. I’ll be back with the next dose in a bit.” His host steps out to the hall.

“Wait, do I, ah, get to know your name?”

“Duck.”

He snickers, replies to the raised eyebrow with, “Apologies, I expected something tree-related.”

Duck smiles, “It’s a nickname.”

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

“What’s your plan?” Duck asks from across the breakfast table. The morning found Indrid well enough to walk and to eat without feeling ill, so he’s been perching awkwardly on a chair that’s too big for him as the Leshen makes plates of toast and eggs that don't come from any bird Indrid is familiar with.

“I, ah, I don’t really have one other than ‘avoid going home’.”

“You were just gonna wander around until you found a village? I hate to tell you this, but there ain’t one for at least fifty miles, and I’m guessin that’s the one you came from. They must’ve used and enter to navigate here, because this part of the woods is hostile to travel by design.”

“Yours?” Indrid sips his tea, face to hide his distaste for its bitterness.

“Yep.” Duck slides a jar over to him, it’s copper lid revealing sugar cubes within, “Don’t much feel like runnin into humans every damn day, and it means that even as y’all sprawl out more and more, there are parts of this wood that stay wild.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it does little to improve my situation. Unless…” he bites his lip.

“Unless?”

“Unless I could stay here. I’m not bad company, and I have some skills which could-”

“No” Duck shakes his head, “savin you is one thing, takin you on as a roommate is all whole other kettle of fish.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.” He sips his tea, reflection crestfallen. Maybe he’ll just finish this and then go back to sleep.

Duck sighs, expression one of someone who already regrets the offer he’s about to make, “You can stay here for a month. After that, I’ll get you as close to a safe village as I can, and you’re on your own. Deal?”

Indrid grins, appetite returning in full, “Deal.”

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

Duck has a good guess as to what’s making all the scratching and clanging in his kitchen, but it’s still a surprise to see Indrid moving from counters to chairs doubling as stools to tend a pot that he can barely peer into.

The human’s gotten nimble over the last week and a half, thanks to his routine attempts to help Duck around the house. Everything is scaled to Duck’s smallest possible form, but that still leaves Indrid at a disadvantage.

He’d be more inclined to help him if it wasn’t so obvious that his help is a ploy to convince Duck to let him stay. Look, he feels bad for the guy, but humans don’t have a great track record with his kind and he generally likes his peace and quiet out in the woods. He also notices that, left to his own devices, Indrid is messy. The area around the couch he uses as a bed is strewn drawings and unfolded clothes that Duck conjured up. Which means this is about Ducks favor, not a commitment to household cleanliness.

That’s not to say having Indrid around has been unpleasant; the human is good company but also understands Ducks' need for space. He’s odd, and even though the foresight was the given reason, Duck suspects his fellow villagers would have found reason to exile him regardless. Indrid even said that living with Duck was the happiest he’d felt in some time. That wasn’t a ploy; Indrid is prone to saying unnerving statements without registering them. Thorns pricked Duck’s heart when he heard it and, that night, when Indrid fell asleep on the bed during their conversation about deer, he didn’t move him. Just brushed the white hair from his eyes and laid down a respectful distance away.

“Oh! We’re in the timeline when you’re early.” Indrid waves distractedly as he wrestles open a jar, “I checked on you during the day through my visions and it looked as though you got drenched, so I thought something warm was in order.”

He’s smiling, and Duck’s gaze lingers long enough to see there’s no trickery in it. Yeah, being a forest spirit means storms are refreshing more than freezing, but the one today was so relentless he felt like it was eroding him away.

“Thanks, Indrid. I’ll join you in a sec.”

The next morning, before he leaves he forms some nearby stumps into a proper step-stool, and transmogrifies the minerals of the earth into a solid set of human sized pots and pans.

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

“I know you’re there, Duck. I may not have eyes in the trees, but I do have visions that tell me when someone is dithering about coming to speak with me.” Indrid smiles, checking the fishing pole he’s dug into the shore. He feels rather than hears Duck approach; in spite of his size, the Leshen moves through the woods more softly than a butterfly.

“Guess those visions do make you harder to spy on than the average human.”

“A not at all creepy statement.” Indrid teases, then tips over when Duck playfully shoves him.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright” he brushes off his arm, “the sand is nice and warm.” He picks up his sketchbook (stray pieces of paper sewn together) and pens (Duck turned flowers, fruit, leaves, and wood into them until Indrid had every color) and continues drawing. Half the reason he likes fishing is that he can draw futures (and for his own pleasure) while he does it. The other half is that he doesn’t want Duck to view him as a parasite in his home. Yes, for the first week, he did everything he could to demonstrate that he would make an excellent addition to the house made of twisting trunks and mossy floors.

Now, though, he just wants to enjoy his time with Duck, even if that means not tidying constantly or cooking every meal. He hopes Duck enjoys it too, regardless of whether he lets Indrid stay. The Leshen is lonely, even if it only comes through on those days when his voice is like the wind through a weather-beaten log. Indrid wishes he knew how to assuage it, but a month is not long enough to learn such things.

He’s slept in Duck’s bed these last three nights. It’s not purposeful, Duck is just so interesting to talk with and Indrid will lose sight of the time, will slump sideways and mumble that he ought to turn in, and then wake up in the early hours atop his host. It didn’t occur to him until this morning that Duck does that to keep Indrid from being uncomfortably squashed by his larger bedmate. And that Duck chooses to do that rather than carry Indrid to his own bed.

“Hey, uh, ‘Drid?” Duck’s voice brings him back to the riverside, “would you, uh, wanna come with me on my rounds sometimes? Might be some nice things to draw, and that foresight of yours could be real helpful with some of the stuff I need to keep an eye on.”

His host looks nervous until Indrid nods, “I would be honored.”

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

Never has the folding of clothes made him so miserable. Yet still he tucks the garments into the large-but-manageable rucksack Duck gave him, placing his sketchpad safely between the layers of fabric.

“Weather oughta be good tomorrow.” His visions show Duck behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s going to miss that voice, the way leaves rustle underneath the drawl.

“That’s good.” He pulls the ties on his rucksack, sets at the end of the couch but doesn’t turn around.

“I’d, uh, say you’re welcome to visit but, uh, well, you know how fuckin hard this place is to find.”

“Mmmm.” Indrid wants him to go, wants him to be brusque or happy, not awkwardly fond in a way that gives false hope of shared affection.

“‘Drid there’s, there’s somethin I wanna, that is I’m thinkin...aw, fuck it.”

Indrid yelps as arms nearly as big around as he is scoop him up. Duck’s lifted him to examine flowers or see over trees, but the hugging is new.

“Duck?” Carefully, he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t want to.” Duck always smells faintly of pine needles and green wood, and Indrid buries his face in his neck, inhaling in hopes of remembering it forever.

“Then stay. I changed my mind, ‘Drid, life is so much better with you around.”

“Okay” Indrid can’t get his voice above a whisper; this wasn’t in the timelines, which means Duck changed his mind at the literal last moment.

“Really? You wanna stay?” Duck shifts him back, Indrid functionally sitting on his forearm with his legs half wrapped around his chest.

The seer summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so closes his eyes before going in for a kiss. His lips find Duck’s cheek until a firm hand cups the back of his head, guiding their mouths together. At this size, their mouths are compatible even as Indrid remains pleasantly dwarfed. Duck breaks the kiss first but Indrid, hell-bent on making up for lost time, continues kissing his face until they’re both laughing.

Duck kisses his forehead, “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #monster march #reader requests #leshen

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stefciastark · 4 years ago

Text

Hallucinations ~ Webpril Day 19

A/N: WARNING (briefly mentioned graphic violence, but nothing extreme, just putting a warning in case). After a hallucinogenic gas explodes in Peter's face during a mission, he is plagued by nightmares and flashbacks. Tony steps in to help. Apologies for any inconsistencies or general bad flow on this one, I had to write in a bit of a hurry before an early A.M class tomorrow and I haven't had a chance to give it a once-over. Hope you guys enjoy this one :) x

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Kid, kid! Stop!” Tony grasped Peter’s wrists as they flew once more towards his face, and he staggered forwards with an ungraceful jerk, almost falling onto the bed. How the hell was the kid this strong?

“Get off me!” Peter thrashed on the bed wildly, eyes open but looking feral and petrified. Peter’s response was purely instinctual, and nature had chosen ‘fight’ as his defense mechanism. It was too bad Tony wasn’t in his suit to help contain it.

After an incident a few days prior involving a gaseous compound that caused vivid hallucinations, Peter hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep since. Neither had Tony. The kid had been caught right in the face with the gas during the few seconds that his mask was down, whilst Tony was lucky enough to have his built in air filtration system save him from the hell that ensued.

Peter didn’t talk about what he experienced. At least not to Tony, but Tony couldn’t quite think of anybody else that Peter would go to. Tony really wished the kid would open up to someone.

The dim light from the ensuite bathroom cast light on Tony’s forearms. They were covered in bruises that looked like scattered wine stains with the varying shades of deep red and purple.

Peter’s struggles dissolved in intensity, and his eyes slid shut again. The poor kid was exhausted, and each - almost - sleepless night was taking its toll.

Once Tony was sure Peter was asleep once more, judging by the now even breathing, he slid to the carpet below, back leaning against the side of the bed. Feeling powerless to help the young Avenger, he stared blankly into the wall, suddenly transported back to a time when he suffered much like Peter was.

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

“Good morning, Peter. It is currently 9:30 A.M. Today it will be slightly overcast with a high of 73.4 degrees. You have no upcoming events. Enjoy your morning.”

With a groan, Peter rolled over and covered his head with an adjacent pillow. This was the first time in a long time that F.R.I.D.A.Y had woken him up. Closing his eyes once more, he prepared to re-enter the world of sleep.

That plan immediately was foiled as “Thunderstruck” blared over his room’s speakers.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y…” Peter whined, sounding more like a spoiled toddler than he cared to admit.

“I apologise, but this is part of Mr Stark’s ‘Couch Potato’ protocol. If you do not leave the bed in the next thirty seconds, I will have to initiative Phase 2, which involves-”

“Okay, okay!” Throwing the sheets to the side, he swung his legs off the side of the mattress. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the music stopped, and he sighed in relief. At any other time he would have loved the sound of classic rock, but he felt overstimulated and irritated by almost every sound, sight, and whatever else assaulted any of his senses.

The rational part of his brain told him that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was a probable culprit. Maybe it was spending so much time around Tony “I’m Fine” Stark, but Peter didn’t particularly want to address the issue. He was strong, he could brute force his way through it, no problem. As far as he was concerned, none of the other Avengers were getting psychological help - although in all fairness they needed it - and he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want it to seem like he couldn’t handle the mental duress that went with being an Avenger.

Half-conscious, he went through the automatic routine of having a shower, brushing his teeth, and throwing on a basic outfit. Today’s choice consisted of jeans and a Hawkeye T-Shirt that Clint had unironically bought him last Christmas. Blearily shuffling into the kitchen, Peter considered taking up drinking coffee in the mornings; it seemed to be universally known as the almighty bean juice that provided a form of liquid Carpe Diem.

He half expected the whole Avengers team to be in the common kitchen area. They usually were in the mornings, but today it was dead quiet. Dead quiet except for Tony, who was flicking through the latest issue of Wired magazine. In his left hand was a mug that said “World’s Okayest CEO”. Peter had to guess that that mug was courtesy of Pepper. If it were up to Tony, ‘okayest’ would have been swapped with ‘best’.

“You know, these photos don’t really do me justice. I’m much sexier in person. I mean look at this,” Tony flipped the magazine around, showing Peter an article that summarised Tony’s latest successes and blunders. The photo Tony’s finger was tapping on was of Tony at the Stark Expo a few months ago. His smile blatantly looked like he would have rather been anywhere else.

Peter opened his mouth to send a smart remark in response, but instead he froze in place, air stuck in his lungs, his throat jumping as he struggled to get words out. The sound of percolation coming from the coffee pot dredged up the memory he was trying to forget: the dripping of blood - Tony’s blood - creating a macabre mosaic on the pavement as he hung suspended by cables and wires. Steve’s hand had been wrapped around Peter’s ankle in a silent beg for release from life, a large shard of glass having punctured through his chest. The worst of all of them was Aunt May, eyes staring open and lifeless, neck bent at an unnatural and gruesome angle that was burned into Peter’s retinas for the rest of time. On all sides, marching towards him, had been an army consisting of Doombots, Chitauri, and the remaining Avengers. Those he had come to trust had come to betray him.

“Whoa, whoa, you’re alright, c’mon.” Tony’s brow was furrowed, and although his voice sounded distant and miles away, it was gentle and full of understanding. Peter shook his head, shaking the visions away with it.

“Grab your phone and wallet, kid, I’ve made you an appointment.” Tony swept up his sunglasses - this time tinted orange with a silver frame - off of the coffee table and tucked his phone into the inside of his jacket pocket.

“An-an appointment? For what?” Peter was taken by surprise, fully expecting - and hoping - to vegetate on the couch that day. The TV turned his mind off, the white noise drowning out the visions that replayed in his mind over and over again.

Placing a comforting hand between Peter’s shoulders once Peter had returned from a quick phone and wallet retrieval mission, Tony guided him towards the elevator. Pressing the ‘down’ button, he turned towards Peter. “Taking you to a psych. I don’t know how to-” Tony gestured vaguely, lost for the right words he wanted to say. He sighed, and started again. “I didn’t exactly deal with my stuff the right way. Didn’t think I ever needed a shrink, but let me tell you, one conversation with Bruce and it changed my mind completely.”

“Isn’t he not that type of doctor?”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m trying to have a heartfelt father-son moment with you here and break the whole cycle of shame about…” Tony trailed off again, seething internally at his inability to string a semi-coherent sentence together. “My dad didn’t really believe in that kind of stuff,” Tony continued, eyes darting to the elevator display and then returning back to Peter. “Anyways, you’ve been having nightmares. You can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because you can’t sleep, and,” Tony winced, “I don’t think the whole counselling shtick is my forte.”

As the elevator doors chimed open, Peter stepped forward and promptly wrapped his arms around Tony in a heartfelt hug. Clenching his eyes shut against tears that threatened to overflow, he murmured, “thanks, Mr Stark” into the fabric of Tony’s jacket.

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