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x-ladyathena-x · 3 years

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Free

Dean Winchester x Reader

Multi-POV (mostly reader POV with some Dean POV mixed in for clarity and understanding of the situation)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fluffy Smut, Smutty Smut, idiots in love

Word count: 4k - Buckle in, it’s a long one! (that’s what she said?)

Summary: An evening at the bunker planning your next hunt takes a romantic & steamy turn as you and Dean confess your feelings for each other.

You’d just finished a hunt and made it back to the bunker. Tired and exhausted, you see Dean at his computer, probably researching the next job.

“Welcome back, Sunshine!” he yells across the massive room, eyes never leaving his computer screen.

You roll your eyes at the pet name, but laugh at the same time. “Smartass.” You mumble under your breath at him.

“Aww, you’re the sweetest, y/n” Dean smirks at you with his goofy fake cheesy grin.

After a little playful banter back and forth, you unload your gear and slump down into a chair at the table that Dean is sitting at with his laptop.

“whew! I’m beat.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

Dean Drains the last bit of the beer he’d been sipping on and gets up for another. He holds up his empty bottle, “want one?”

“yeah, grab me one too.” You say, thinking about the ice-cold deliciousness awaiting you.

Dean walked back to where you were seated. You’d pulled out your laptop by this point and had started running a map spread.

He walked up, opened your beer for you and presented it to you like a waiter in a fancy restaurant would present a bottle of Champaign. “Your beverage, ma’am.” Dean says with a slight bow.

You laugh and take the beer. While you throw your head back, savoring that first sip, you don’t notice Dean watching you with a little smile on his face from having made you laugh.

You set your beer down. “Ok, come look at this.” You say. You’ve got the map pulled up on your screen.

Dean comes up behind you. He places one arm on the back of your chair, the other balancing his weight on the table. You’re acutely aware of how close he is to you. Your body stills. The world around you slows, moving in slow motion. You can feel him hovering right over your shoulder and it feels like an electric charge coursing through your skin.

You swallow. “Right here.” You say, pointing to the screen. “we’ve got intel on vamp nests; here, here, there, and way over here. I think we should begin with this one.” You say pointing to the blue dot. “But I’m not sure when we should hit the others.”

Dean leans forward. He moves his hand from the back of the chair to your shoulder. His fingers graze the skin of your exposed neck. He points to the screen with the other hand. “Well green would definitely make sense to hit after blue. But, as for red and yellow? Shouldn’t make much of a difference which of those we hit after that.” His hand was still on your shoulder and he gave it a quick squeeze. “See? Easy as pie!”

He stopped, hesitating, and looked down at where his hand was. His eyes suddenly became hungry.

Dean slowly began trailing his fingers along the exposed skin on your neck. You leaned into his touch, his hands – his hands! You could feel the strength and power in them at their touch. Oh, that rough touch. It set every molecule in your body humming. When you let out a small groan of pleasure, you could have sworn you felt deans body waver for a moment.

Gently, he moves a wisp of hair that had fallen down the nape of your neck. Taking his time, he allowed his fingers to brush through your hair, making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You shudder and bring in a short gasp of breath at the light, deliberate touch. Gah… this man could bring you to your knees with one touch. Just melt you into a puddle.

Umm, wake up, y/n! you think to yourself. You’re a badass hunter. Humans and creature alike literally fear your name! And here you are melting at the touch of (of all people) Dean effin Winchester… Ugh, get it together, y/n!

You’d never told anyone but you actually really liked Dean. A lot. He’d been on your mind more than usual lately. Maybe it was all the time you two had been spending together? He was fun and funny. And Charming… Oh yea, charming. So charming he just loved charming his way into the pants of every girl he met. You felt your teeth clench at the thought.

Am I jealous? Is this jealousy? You think to yourself. Jealous… jealous of what? Nothing. Something? You didn’t know why you felt that way. Dean wasn’t yours, after all. You knew he only saw you as a friend. Someone to joke around with, hang out with on your days off. He’s made moves on other girls. If he were interested in you, he’d have tried to make a move already. But he hadn’t. Just a little light hearted flirting, but you knew that was his personality. So that’s that. But- but, this?

What was this? What was happening right now?

Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, resting his forehead against your hair. A deep sigh and the soft flutter of eyelashes tells you that he closed his eyes as he breathes in your scent.

Was this it? Was he making his move? The feel of his face nuzzled in your neck lit a fire burning in your belly. Him. You wanted him. Needed him. And his body language suggested that he wanted you just as bad.

“Dean...” you say breathlessly.

“y/n, I- “

The sound of your name brings you back to your senses somehow.

Making his move. You think to yourself. On you? Who does he think you are?! Some tramp from the bar? How can this man both infuriate and arouse you all at the same time?! This was starting to feel like an emotional roller coaster that you wanted to get off of.

You clear your throat and decide to lay down the law. You needed to let him know that playing around wasn’t your thing. And, of all people, he should know that about you, ugh.

“I’m not one of your conquests. Another one-nighter. So, if that’s what you’re after, you can pump the breaks before you start any of your trusty old sweet talk like honey dripping from your lips.” Mmm… his lips… Snap back to earth, y/n!

He’s smooth, you give him that. And as bad as you’d love to throw him down right here and fuck his brains out, you gather your senses and realize that your self-respect and dignity are more important. But, oh… those lips. The high road sucks.

You take a deep breath, gather yourself, and continue, “I, unlike your long list of hit-em-and-quit-em’s, am a lot of hard work. I require dedication and respect.” You spat the last word out a little more icily than you meant to, but you were seething at the thought of his hands being on anyone else.

Did he just screw some rando less that twelve hours ago? You don’t know. Probably. You clench your fist at the thought.

Dean moves suddenly. Swiftly. Like the predator you know him to be out in the field while hunting. Taking you by surprise, he kneels beside you, grabbing both your hands, turning you sideways in the chair to face him. He looks up at you with deep sadness in his eyes.

“Y/n, I- I haven’t. N-not once. Not since I- I realized…”

-----

Dean couldn’t stand it anymore; he couldn’t bear to hear the heartbreak in y/n’s voice. And he did hear it. Even though she tried to cover it; lacing every word with venom. He could still hear it. And it broke him inside.

What makes him good enough to deserve someone like y/n? She was way better off without a messy relationship with him. A relationship that would inevitably end in heartbreak. Heartbreak for one of them. Because in this life, the life of a hunter, having your heart ripped to shreds by the loss of a loved one was part of the reality. He was so scared to allow himself something good.

Good? Why do I deserve good? He thought. Maybe death and loss are part of everyone’s reality. Maybe, just maybe he was making the pain worse by fighting this… Maybe she, like him, was also scared. Would she even feel the same if he told her? What would he say? That he’d been in love with her for, well, he wasn’t sure when it happened. They’d always playfully flirted with each other. Sometimes she stole his beer, took a few sips, and handed it back. He liked the idea of putting his lips where hers had been. Dean imagined about how she would taste. He- he needed to tell her. Tell her everything.

Why was he making himself so miserable? This had to end, he was being stupid. It was his own fault for not confessing sooner. Dean gathered his courage. In one fluid motion, taking y/n by surprise, he knelt beside her, took her hands in his, and turned her body to face him.

Dean looked up at y/n. There it was. A mixture of torment, sadness, and longing. All weakly camouflaged by an icy look in her eyes.

“Y/n, I-“ Dean froze. I, what? Come on, spit it out, man! You’ve got this. “I haven’t.” Haven’t what?! Words. What are words? “N- not once. Not since I- I realized…” shit. Dean froze again as y/n’s breath quickened. Her eyes wide, listening to him speak. Her nails unknowingly digging into his palms in nervous anticipation of what he was trying to say. Why couldn’t he just spit it out?!

-----

You feel your pulse racing. You’re hanging on to every word pouring from those perfect lips. Every. Word. As your gaze dances across painfully beautiful green eyes, your expression softens.

“Not since I realized I love you.” Dean finishes in a low, rough voice.

Your breath catches in your throat. Is this real? Are you breathing? Did Dean just say what you think you heard him say?

“Y/n, I love you. And I have for a long time now.”

You release a big breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. Gently you lift his rough hands up to your mouth, brushing your lips across his calloused knuckles.

Unable to speak, you keep your hands on his as he reaches up to your cheek to wipe away a single tear. Am I crying?! You think to yourself. Apparently. Yes. The rush of emotion and relief that you’re feeling, knowing that he feels the same way that you feel keeps you tongue tied.

Your reaction to his words was the catalyst Dean needed to keep going. He continued, “I love you. I haven’t been with anyone for a while now. Not since I realized that you were right in front of me the whole time. Exactly what I’ve been searching for.” Dean was on both knees by this point.

As if Dean were searching for the next words he wanted to say, his head dropped down against his hands (which were still holding yours in your lap) and he drew a shuddering breath.

You could feel his soft hair against your leg. Why does he have to be so damn sexy?! As he composes himself, you reach out and run your fingers through his hair. His head jolts up at your touch. You smile at him, “I love you too, Dean. I just never knew you felt the same. Why are you only telling me now? Why hide it for so long?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. Or lose you.” He whispered as he looked up at you through his lashes.

“Hurt me? Uh, didn’t ya think this whole ‘apparent unrequited love’ thing was killing me too?” you say sarcastically with a smirk. But in truth, that wasn’t fair to Dean. Because he didn’t know how you felt either. You’d never told him. Sure, you always flirted with each other and you found him insanely attractive and hot. Especially when he got protective over you during a hunt, or some creep at the bar. How many nights did the two of you stay up laughing at each other’s stupid jokes and throwing back a few beers? You’d always enjoyed each other’s company.

You repeat yourself, but softer this time, with longing in your voice. “Why now, Dean? Please. Tell me.”

“Because I was tired of denying myself the one good thing that ever came into my life.” He said heatedly. “Because I can’t think when I’m around you. You drive me absolutely fucking crazy, y/n. I can’t sleep without thinking of you. I can’t eat, hell, I can’t even put a beer to my lips without wishing it was you that I had at my lips. I want. No. I need you in my life. By my side. I need to - taste you. Breathe you. Y/n, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. I see it in your eyes, I see the way you look at me. And I’m scared shitless of how deep these feelings go. This-“ Dean gestured between the two of you, “Is something that I never even knew it was possible to feel.

Without skipping a beat, Dean put his hand behind your head and pulled you into his lips. It was a tender kiss. Gentle, soft. You could feel the fire growing inside you. He felt so good. Your hands found the stubble on either cheek as you kissed him back. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and found yours.

The kiss became more forceful, and full of need. You didn’t want it to stop. It couldn’t stop. If it did stop, that may be the end of the world as you know it.

Dean stood, pulling you up with him as he wrapped both arms tight around your waist. He began running his hands over every surface of your body he could reach. He pulled you flush with his body, never breaking apart your lips. You could feel the heat radiating off him. You ran your hands down his powerfully muscular back. This. This man. Him. Dean. Dean is what you want.

Dean broke the kiss apart. “I love you, y/n. I love you so damn much it hurts.” He said, his voice breaking.

“I love you too, Dean.” You say, smiling up at his face, tangling your fingers in his hair.

With a small grunt, Dean lifts you up by your ass and you instinctually wrap your legs around his hips. You feel a growing bulge in his jeans. You pull his face back in to yours. You can’t think straight, you want him so bad, you can taste it. Your core is aching with need. The need for him growing more intense. Only he can quench this fire burning you up.

Dean carries you clumsily down the hall to your room. Your arms still entwined around each other, holding each other together, holding the universe together.

Once inside Dean puts you down and you both stand there, staring at each other, breathing heavily. You both suddenly fly towards each other. Grabbing and pulling clothes, pulling each other’s lips down hard on your own. You unbutton Deans blue jeans and he unclasps your bra. Your t shirt and shorts long forgotten somewhere on the floor.

The feeding frenzy of ripping each other’s clothes off slows to a savory pace as you tug and pull off Deans pants, leaving nothing to hold down the massive tent in Dean’s boxers.

He pulls the straps of your bra from your shoulders, slowly. When the cold air hits your nipples, they perk instantly Dean lets out a sharp hiss. “Oh, y/n.” He teases the soft flesh. First with his thumb, then with his mouth. As you feel his tongue against your skin, you let out a sigh of pleasure. His eyes dart up to your face. He lifts his head and softly kisses you on the mouth. “I would love nothing more than to throw you onto this bed and fuck you senseless right now.” Dean said with a growl, but then his expression softened. “But if this is too much, we can stop. You’re in charge… as per usual.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you playfully smack him on the arm, grinning.

“Hey now!” you say laughing, “I’m not always in charge when we do hunts.”

Dean rolls his eyes and says sarcastically, “Yea, ok. Sure…”

You lean in and plant a kiss on his neck, “Well, I guess – since – I’m the one – in charge,” you say playfully between kisses. Trailing them down his chest and belly, stopping at his boxers. His erection obvious. “Then, I’ll accept nothing less than-“, you pull his boxers down revealing his full length. You flash your eyes up to his. He’s hungrily watching you, “-being fucked senseless.” You say as you take him into your mouth.

-----

She was so fucking beautiful. Perfect. The most perfect thing he’d ever seen. As y/n started bringing her kisses down his torso, Dean could feel his erection stiffen even harder. When she stopped to pull down his boxers, he could feel his shaft weeping with anticipation.

He was so worried that he had crossed a line earlier. It totally took him by surprise that y/n wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

“Well, I guess, since I’m the one in charge, I’ll accept nothing less than being fucked senseless.” Y/n said as she looked up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. Damn! She was so hot. Dean had never been this riled up by anyone before. Oh, if that��s what you want, Baby, then that’s what I’m gonna-

Dean wasn’t able to finish his thought stream. Y/n had taken his whole length into her mouth. “Oh FUCK!” Dean screamed out, grabbing y/n by the hair. He slowly began to guide her head at the pace he wanted. Her tongue, her mouth, her! She was about to make him come already. Dean pulled himself out of her mouth. “Bed. Now.” He commanded with a sly smile.

Y/n laughed, “whatever you say, Baby.” As she climbed onto the bed, she did a dramatically slow striptease style crawl that made Dean’s erection throb.

Dean crawled up her body, kissing every inch of her he could reach. Y/n made a little pleasurable whine as dean kissed her thighs while he pulled down her lacy black thong. Her center was absolutely dripping wet. Dean wanted to live between those perfect thighs. Spend years there, never come back to reality. Was time even moving at all? What day is it? What year is it? He didn’t care. None of those things mattered. None of it mattered because he had his y/n. His. Mine.

The only thing that existed was the two of them.

Dean dove his face between y/n’s thighs to her soft center. She tasted like Spring sunshine. Dean took his time, savoring every shudder that ran through her perfect body. Every gasp, scream, and moan that came out of her perfect mouth. She was getting close to coming.

-----

Your whole body is on the brink. Every move dean makes brings you closer to the edge. You need this release and you need Dean to give it to you. You feel yourself climbing, building, then suddenly – the earth shatters around you. You scream “Dean! Oh, DEAN!”

Dean keeps going while you ride out the high, he slowly brings you back down. You sigh, “Dean that- that was- I-“ you have no words. He seems to understand what you’re trying to say because he smiles.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Your heart and core flutter at his words.

He climbs between your thighs, positioning himself at your entrance. You place your hands on his hips and start to guide him in. With one smooth powerful thrust, he slides his whole length inside you, filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. You both gasp. He smiles and kisses your forehead.

His pumps start slow at first, then become more deliberate, more powerful. You love the protectively dominate power he radiates as he’s on top of you. Dean is a MAN. And he feels good. He feels so damn good. You start to feel yourself building again to what you knew would be another earth-shattering orgasm.

Dean found his rhythm and savored every movement, every stroke. He could stay here for ages.

As you feel yourself building, your need for him grows stronger. Dean... He was yours. And you were greedy for more of him. As his rhythm quickened, you dug your nails into his ass pulling his thrusting hips toward you with more force at each thrust. He catches the hint.

Without ever breaking the two of you apart, he flips you over onto all fours and doesn’t hold back. His urgency makes you cry out in pleasure. “Baby, yes! That’s it!”

“You want more? You want me to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before?”

“YES!” you scream, reaching around and slapping his thigh. That does it. He unleashes himself. You hear him roar with pleasure, holding onto you so tightly, pulling you against him so fast and hard. The sound of flesh slapping echoed around the room mixed with both your cries of pleasure.

“Baby, I’m about to come!” you pant.

“Come on. Come for me Baby.” Dean says breathlessly. “I want to know that I’m the one to make you come.”

-----

Dean was talking out of his mind in the throes of ecstasy. The thought of y/n coming… of him coming inside her, was throwing him over the edge. Just as he felt himself going over, he felt y/n tighten around him.

-----

Just as you feel Dean twitching inside you, you feel yourself tighten around him. The sheer power of your shared climax hit you both like a freight train.

When you felt him pull out, you felt empty with his warmth gone. Dean lays back on the pillows and pulls you into his arms. You settle yourself in the warmth and comfort of his body. Dean absent mindedly plays with your hair as you lay your head on his chest and you both breathe heavily while you float back down to reality.

“Dean?” you say softly.

“Mmm?”

“That was amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

Dean chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Glad I could be of service.”

He’s such a smartass, you think to yourself laughing. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more honest with you either.” You say, picking up your conversation from earlier. “I know I’m partly to blame for this dance we’ve been doing around each other for - who knows how long.”

“No, you were right. I should have just nutted up and told you how I felt. It just crushes me to think that I was causing you pain because you thought I was seeing other people.”

You absent mindedly draw circles on his chest with your finger. “I don’t know, I suppose we’re both to blame. I mean, look at this mind-blowing sex we could have been having all this time.”

This coaxes a real laugh out of Dean, and you feel his chest moving up and down from the laughter. But then he stops and you see a seriousness wash over his face. The same pain you saw in his eyes earlier, but maybe – perhaps you are imaging it – less pain, more - hope?

“I meant everything I said earlier.” Dean says in a husky, deep voice. “I am scared shitless to lose you, or to know that I’d be the source of your pain if you ever lost me. I mean, hell we’re hunters, we know how this ends eventually.” Still holding you tight, Dean continues, “I guess, If I’ve got one life to live, even if it’s a short one, I want you by my side. Always. I want you. All of you. The sassy you. The smartass you. The bossy you. The…” he paused to run his thumb across your lips, “The incredibly sexy you that I can’t keep my hands off of.” Dean smiles “I didn’t know that happiness like this, or these – feelings - were even possible to feel. And that’s just it. You made me feel. You pulled me out of a darkness that I didn’t even know I was in. You made me – free.”

#dean winchester #supernatural #SPN #spnfandom #dean winchester SPN #smut #angst #hunters #idiots in love #fluff #sad dean #sexy dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #y/n #dean winchester x reader

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 4 years

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On Illness and Recovery, or: Sickfic, Baby!

You know the drill! Please let me know if you liked it, and check my Twisted Wonderland fanfiction tag if you want other shit I’ve done.

Contains coarse language and emotional whiplash.

~*~*~*~

Some things stay true no matter where you are; the truest, right now? Schools are disgusting fucking petri dishes, as your miserable cold will tell you. Your cough had only been getting worse as the days went on, with it came exhaustion and a chill that wouldn't leave your bones. You should probably be holed up in your dorm instead of going to class, but that had it's own issues that you were struggling to solve.

"Are you done yet? I want to eat." Grimm's nose, and little else, poked out from a pile of blankets on your bed.

"Nowhere close. Shh." You taped the last bit of plastic over the balcony entryway, and swapped the roll of tape for a heavy duty stapler. "Hold that right there."

The skull-faced ghost held a packing blanket over the plastic as you stapled it in place. By the time you were done, you couldn't see much, which at least meant you could no longer see your own breath. Maybe now, you would be able to feel your own fingers.

Ah, they joys of your own rotten, ancient place - you wake up with frost on your bedsheets and your washbasin shattered from the ice within it. There were other rooms in the place, but most had holes in the ceiling or were too big to heat effectively. So now, you were going to live in one room, that you'd yet to figure out how to run electricity to, and only leave for class or the bathroom. Even if you were ill, could anyone blame you for still going to class when your own home had a nasty quirk of being even colder than outside?

Anywho, it was time to do some homework. By the light of an oil lamp. In five layers of clothing. Curled up so close to a tiny fire you might as well be inside of it. While your not-a-cat complained the whole time.

Yaaaaaaay.

~*~*~*~

"You really should be resting."

You scoffed. "You just feel bad because you're the one who got me sick."

"You can't prove that, everyone's had a cold the past few weeks."

"No one else has been exploring my tonsils, dude."

Idia clapped a hand on your mouth, which you did not lick solely because you were wearing a cloth mask. "Quiet! That's secret intel."

"What? No it's not, everyone knows."

"I don't want to advertise. Then I'm a raid boss and you're the rare loot drop."

You elbowed him in his boney ribs. "No one's going to kick your ass out of jealousy. Just because I'm the hottest bitch in this place doesn't mean I've got universal appeal."

"You're still the only girl and people are weird about it." He placed the back of his hand on your forehead and winced. "You're too warm."

"How can you tell? You've got gloves on."

"That's how bad it is. I'll make some tea."

"I'm not drinking anything out of the damned lab equipment."

He frowned. "I've never had anything bad happen, it's cleaned correctly."

"You're smarter than that. One of these days you're going to grow a tail due to residue in the glassware, and I'm going to haul you around in front of god and everyone by it, going 'I told you so' the entire time."

He blanched, knowing that that was not an idle threat, and someone laughed. "I think I should make that happen, just so we can see that."

"Jade, no. No magic mushrooms for my man, or any other concoctionary bullshit either."

Idia looked ready to die, so to take attention off of him you leaned over and poked Silver awake before he fell face first in the potion he was working on. Logically, you know his narcolepsy was debilitating. Right now, you wish you could have borrowed it last night. You don't remember walking up during the night, but you must have, because why else would you be so tired?

He started up, mumbled "thank you" and went back to stirring as if he hadn't been about to drown in dubious magichemicals. God, you wished that was you right now.

"Idia, deal. You help me get through this class, I'll grab some hot food and go home."

He made a show of hemming and hawing before saying, "Grimm needs to let me hold him when I drop you off, and I will."

Ordinarily, you would have just said "Ask him yourself and don't be weird about it," and Grimm would have simply told him no until sufficiently bribed. But Grimm was still in bed at home, saying you kept him up all night, so instead you bumped Idia with your hip and said "What, you can't think to ask for better pussy to fondle?"

Of course, you just had to say something crass at the moment where everyone went quiet. Even Crewel raised his head and both eyebrows at you. The only reason you didn't get a riding crop to the face and a week in horny detention (where, you assumed, they punished you for being a bad girl indeed) was Idia, rapidly going through every stage of confusion and grief, with a few currently unknown to man. You'd intended to tease him, but that sheer amount of confused, horny misery on his face was just too much, and you laughed so hard you bent over.

And coughed. In a short time, there was no laughter left, only miserable coughing from the depths of your chest that left you on the floor with your eyes watering. Someone thumped your back a few times, and when you yanked your mask off to catch a proper, if shallow breath, your mask was full of a red-streaked, pus coloured slime.

A fur coat was draped over your shoulders as everyone made various noises of disgust. "Class dismissed. Let's get you to the nurses."

~*~*~*~

"How in hell are you still mobile."

"Pettiness and a desire to not freeze to death."

Crewel narrowed his eyes at you. "Both lungs."

"That is what double pneumonia means, Professor."

You could see his whip fingers itching. "Yes, well. You can't come to class like that. And... Is it really that bad in Ramshackle?"

Idia raised a hand. "It was really cold the last time I was there."

"Ugh. I told Crowley we should have razed the place for an expansion on my dog run." He looked at you with a curious mix of genuine fondness and even more genuine disgust. "I'm not putting you up until your place gets fixed, you'll leak all over my furniture. Anyone here going to babysit?"

"I've done perfectly fine in my own dorm, I don't need to become the pet of another dorm."

"Those little fairies said that if you don't stay on bedrest and stay warm, you will die. I am not filling out that paperwork." He looked to you classmates. "Speak up or I'm docking a letter grade."

Silver raised a hand. "I think we could do it but I don't think D- Lilia would let me. Malleus would end up trying to play nurse and skip class."

"Oh god, no, we don't tell him I'm sick until I'm safely ensconced somewhere, he would lose his damn mind and I'd try to strangle him after a week of it."

"There are no spare rooms in Octanivelle. However, I could try some experimental medicines I've been-"

"Jade, no."

Idia was quiet, before speaking up. "I... I don't know if Ignihyde has a spare room, or would be good for healing."

He'd not left your side since your collapse, and gone so full of writhing, barely concealed anxiety he'd broke through the other side and simply shut off. You didn't get it, it wasn't actually anything serious. The nurses had pumped you full of medicine, you'd be up and about a week or two at the most, instead of the month's worth of hospital rooms and bad food it would have been.

Crewel sighed. "Time to start checking the files to see where you can be squeezed."

There was a cough, from the fifth student so quiet despite his size. Everyone had honestly forgotten he was there.

When he spoke up, it was to you, and not anyone else. "There's an unoccupied room down the hall from me. I think the weather in the Savannahclaw dorms will be good for your health. You shouldn't have to stay where you won't be wanted, or get sicker. Would that work?"

You looked at him, assessing. You and him hadn't talked overmuch, and he didn't seem to mind. But as severe as he looked? You could see the sincerity in his offer.

"That should work. Jack, right?"

His ears flicked, and his tail twitched. "Yes."

"Thank you, Jack. You're very kind."

~*~*~*~

Easy to see why the room was empty. You suspected it might have been a storage room, or that there had been a monastic order in the dorm at one point. A single bed just fit the far wall, with a chair, a desk, a bureau, and little else. But the far wall had a large window, and the room felt... nice. And a hell of a lot warmer than than your room in Ramshackle.

"It'll make an excellent sickroom." You set your schoolbag and an entire case of tissues on the desk. "Thank you again, Jack. You sure it won't be any trouble?"

"I've already cleared it with our dorm leader, he said he doesn't care as long as you don't rub phlegm on his things." Jack was a solid block of frown and muscle in the corner. "The window does open, you should keep it that way for circulation. There's a bathroom down the hall, there's showers in there. If you need anything or anyone tries to bother you, please let me know."

"Will do." You were already unpacking the few things in your bag, trying to get them arranged before another coughing fit took you.

"I can help get your things, if you need?" For a dude who was very do-that-shit-yourself, he was being very helpful.

"Idia's grabbing Grimm and anything else I'll need. He'll know what I want."

"I see." Silence, and more interesting ear flicks. "So."

"So?"

"You and him are..." He made a guesture with interlaced fingers.

"Yeah. Jealous?"

He snorted. "No. Just curious. He's a bit..." Hand wiggle.

"I'm a bit too. It works. Would have been nice if he'd gotten the hint before I had a ghost turn me inside out in front of him and everyone else."

"You know that's why you're so sick, right?"

You made a noise that was hard to decipher, that he used as cue to continue. "You never smelled quite right after that happened. Even after the healing. You're always a little..." He moved his hands, trying to grasp the right simile. "Like when a flower's starting to drop petals. Overripe."

How in the hell were you supposed to take that. What do you even say to that? Does everyone know you smell? Does -

"Oh god, you all know when I'm on the rag."

A single, curt nod, and you put your head in your hands and groaned.

~*~*~*~

A knock on the door

"Who is it?"

"Your worst enemy."

"Get your ass in here, Vil."

Vil had on... good lord. Mask, gloves, face shield. An absurdly fashionable CDC agent. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, Vil. Means so much coming from you."

He stayed by the door, ready to flee if a spare germ came floating towards him. "Heard you're out of commission. Thank the seven, I'll get some peace in my life."

You flipped him the bird, but smiled as you did. "Don't say that. I'll made a sheet ladder and mix sputum in your cold cream."

"If you do that I will personally burn your clothes and replace them with something decent that you will hate."

"Try. Come to gloat?"

"Just a bit." He set a large cup with a straw at the very edge of the desk, straining at arm's length as he did. "This should unfuck your throat somewhat."

"Such language!" You waited until he retreated to the door before you took the smoothie. It was... very, very purple, and smelled minty. "Trying to poison me, finally?"

He rolled his eyes. "When I decide to poison you, it's not going to be through something that obvious. You will never see it coming, and then I'll sell your corpse to Floyd and everyone will just think he finally decided to go full crazy and Riddle is next."

You snorted. "Honestly? I think he'd shit his pants if I actually returned the affection. One time I saw Riddle give him a genuine smile and he had to go sit down because he started shaking so bad." That might have been because the smile was caused by Floyd cracking his head on a doorway and falling flat on his ass, but the point still stood.

When he stopped laughing, he turned to leave. "Take at least an extra week to get better, for my sanity. And don't give the creature any, it won't agree with him."

"Shh, I just got him down for his nap-"

Grimm made a horrible snort from your feet and say up. "Food?"

You made a look-what-you-did guesture at Vil, but he left instead of helping you deal with your beloved yowling idiot.

~*~*~*~

You woke up coughing in the dark. It took entirely too long for you to figure out where the hell you were, and why, and you took the offered tissue with great-

"JaySUS FUCKING CHRIST" You jumped back so much it was only Malleus's grip on your arm that kept you from going through the open window.

"People are sleeping, please do not yell."

"Don't yell my ass, how long have you been there?"

He shrugged. "Since before sunset. Ortho was here first."

You leaned around Mal, to see Ortho sitting on the desk, scritching the belly of a drowsing Grimm. "Hello, Yuu. Your fever has gone down half of a degree since I took over."

The audacity of these idiots, you swear. "Both of you go home and go to bed."

"No. You need watching." Mal had not blinked once since you'd woken up, and how about that? His eyes glowed in the dark, or he had very strong eyeshine; either way, there was no iris around the blown out pupil. "You are very ill and need taken care of. I can do that, I took care of Silver when he was ill."

"Mal."

"Yes?"

"Do we need another boundaries talk?"

He frowned. "But you are ill."

"Mal, I will call Lilia and tell him what you are doing right now. I will personally write your grandmother and tell her you're neglecting your studies. I will get Leona down here and he will call you a simp until you go outside and fight him on compulsion."

"Those all sound terrible!"

"Ortho, don't kiss up because you're next. Why are you here and not home charging?"

"Idia wouldn't go home to sleep until I said I would let him know if you got worse."

You opened your mouth, and shut it again. Why's he so worried? You had to physically shove him out the door to go to his next class, looking like his heart would break, and he'd still skipped board games to fidget miserably in the chair Mal now sat in, looking ready to burst into tears every time you coughed.

Ortho seemed to read your mind. "He gets worried when people get sick. I got sick once."

Ah. That explained a hell of a lot that you were too polite to ask.

"... Okay, you can stay."

Mal perked up.

"You go home. I'll never go back to sleep if you keep staring all night, and you do need to sleep some."

Mal's face fell.

"You can come back tomorrow, after class."

He perked back up. "Goodnight, Yuu. I will see you tomorrow!" A brief kiss against your sweating temple, and he was out the same window he most likely came in.

"Hey, Ortho?"

"Yes?"

"If you can dim your lights a little, you can come lie down with me."

~*~*~*~

You were rudely poked awake by a giant asshole.

"Why are you in my nap room." Leona hovered over you with obvious displeasure.

You blinked and sorted yourself. Ortho was crammed between you and the window, hopefully dreaming of electric sheep, and Grimm was still dead asleep, the little bastard. "Jack put me up here because my dorm's a block of ice and I can't stay there on doctor's orders." Crewel might have a doctorate, it's not a lie.

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"I did." Jack was behind him, his own link in a chain of hovering displeasure. "You said it was fine as long as she didn't make a mess. I brought yogurt."

"Thank you-" More miserable coughing, with now everyone either rubbing your back or passing you tissues. Except Leona, who simply held back and watched. By the time you were done, he just nodded.

"I'm not moving you, but..."

"What."

"I'm calling in a favour next time Cheka gets pawned off on me. He likes you."

You'd argue that, but you liked the kid. "Aight. Everyone get out, there's too many fucking people in here and I'm discovering new and interesting depths of claustrophobia."

Leona didn't need to be told twice.

"I'll be back after class with your homework. Maybe at lunch with something. Not before then. Stay put."

"Oooo, oo. I'm going with you, big guy." Grimm scampered over. "I'll get bored here all day. You can just nap."

You rolled your eyes "I can just nap. Jack, if he sticks with you, he's going to want to eat everything you do."

"I'll manage."

"Would you like me to stay?" Ortho was finally up, or maybe you hadn't noticed him exiting screensaver mode.

"I'd like you to tell your brother that I'm not going anywhere. Use those exact words."

He nodded, a faint whirr as he did.

"I'll see you guys later, okay? I need more sleep."

~*~*~*~

Someone gently shook you awake, and said someone was leaning in the window.

"Hey, Kalim." Why'd you have to be the center of attention when sick, and therefore couldn't kiss anyone to thank them for said attention.

"Hi! I asked Jamil to make extra lunch for you!" He set a covered dish on your knees.

"Thank you. Was he okay with that?"

"He was when I said it was for you. Everyone's heard that you're laid up!"

"News travels fast. Am I about to get even more popular?"

"You're always popular because you're great. Feel better! Jamil said he'll have extras tomorrow too. See you!" And off he went.

You needed to tell Jamil thank you, but he would probably just tell you to just stop talking about abolishing the monarchy instead. (Not because he didn't support the idea, but because he didn't want to be punished for not keeping the idea from Kalim.) What did he make, anyway?

"Oh, curry. Sweet."

~*~*~*~

The days progressed roughly the same. Drowsing most of the morning, lunch, more drowsing in between laptop stuff, maybe actual sleep. Coughing up far less gunk as the days went on. And entertaining an absurd fucking amount of people. Everyone seemed determined to check on you, even people who you'd never seen before in your life; Ruggie made something like 10k madol charging people to try and see you through the window before you cursed him out. Your Heartslabyul boys dropped in every couple of days to relate shit that they hadn't simply texted you (along with a pile of pastries from Trey and handwritten instructions on recovery from Riddle, the latter far less appreciated than the former). Floyd dropped in once to mostly complain about how you weren't around to eat the mushrooms he picked out of his food, tried to convince you to let him carry you over to the Monstro Lounge himself, and when you refused, kissed the tips of your fingers and left pouting. Jack, true to his word, dropped in at least twice a day to deliver food and homework, and once spent forty-five minutes glowering at anyone approaching the bathrooms while you took a shower that ached on your oversensitive skin.

Some people were far more regular. Every day like clockwork, Malleus perched in your window and was the world's friendliest, most affectionate vulture. Twenty minutes after that, Idia would come in, sit in the chair, and exude such concentrated grief that you were at a loss for what to do beyond asking if he wanted to talk about it, to which he would shake his head and simply resume sitting there, tapping away at his screens until the next panicked flurry of activity every time you made a unhealthy noise.

"You are allowed to go home. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm much better than I was."

He just shook his head.

"I will come get you if something happens," Mal offered.

More head shaking, and a "no" from his tablet, before adding, "Never again."

"I'll call Ortho and make him tag you out."

"I said no. And Ortho is with Lilia."

Lilia, small, beloved pest, has what you like to think of as a compulsive need to parent. He was god knows how old, had raised at least three of your classmates that you know of, and seemed to consider you his newest fledgling. After hearing about what happened, he'd taken it into his own hands to fix Ramshackle to... well, not OSHA compliance, but you wouldn't be cold.

"Does he know how much I appreciate it? Appreciate all of you, really?"

"Of course he does. He loves talking about you. He wears that shirt you made all the time."

"Which one? I've made him seven so far."

"When do I get one?"

"When they make T shirts that'll fit over your horns." Something drooped in the corner of your eye, and you looked over to see Idia shaking himself upright. "Hey, babe. When was the last time you slept?"

He took an embarrassingly long time to lie through his teeth and say "Last night" through his tablet.

"Yeah, no. Get over here." You took a moment to drag Mal's hand down before he could just do a sleeping spell, or something equally well meaning but deeply inappropriate.

"No."

"Please?"

You held your arms out until he couldn't resist, and soon you'd arranged his head on your chest.

"You hear anything more sloshing around in there?"

He shook his head.

"I am on the mend. I... don't really know what happened before. And I sure as hell don't know what you did to get him back. But I'm not going anywhere. So rest."

He gave a faint nod.

"I will wake you, if need be?"

To both yours and Mal's surprise, Idia answered him with a pat on his leg.

"Thank you."

Idia was already asleep.

~*~*~*~

"Mal?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what 'cyanosis' is?" You’d been stroking Idia's head for hours. Or minutes. Time flies, and you could not tell the difference.

"Not immediately, no."

"It's caused by a few different things. Hypoxia, hypothermia, that sort of thing. The blood in you doesn't have enough oxygen. So little that, instead of red, parts of your body turn blue or grey due to the lack of oxygen."

"I see." He looked intently, much as you did, at Idia's greyish nails and blue lips. "That doesn't seem survivable."

"Not if it's severe, no." The flames from Idia's head curled around your fingers, grasping at you even when he's not aware of it. "It's not something you see on someone as... lively as him. It's something I think about a lot. Whether it's to do with his magic, or that curse he won't elaborate on."

"I've heard rumours."

"Oh?"

"The Shroud family curse. Nothing concrete, for an origin. Madness, misfortune, and illness have plagued the family throughout history. Add in a trend of cousin marriage beyond the norm for upper-class families due to people not wanting to subject their loved ones to a cursed bloodline, and the tree is more of an notorious, ingrown shrub."

"That just sounds like shitty genetics and what happens to every family as the years go on, not a curse."

Mal shrugged. "is there a difference? Even in the sleeping curse my grandmother bestowed so easily, much of the power came for the fear of it. A girl grew up without her family because of the fear of it."

"True." You leaned down and kissed the top of Idia's head, feeling an unconscious smile as you did. "There must be a little hereditary something. He gets so anxious about this beautiful hair! He hates people looking at him, and he doesn't even realize it's because he's the most beautiful thing in any room he walks in."

"Thing?" Mal raised an amused eyebrow.

"Even the finest art in a museum doesn't have the benefit of being actually alive."

"Your capacity for love and beauty is enviable. Hunt would be jealous." He reached out and brushed a stray lock away from Idia's face, and you could feel another smile against your chest.

~*~*~*~

"Aight, so we've patched up holes in the walls, insulated the windows - Idia here," Lilia clapped Idia on the small of his back, causing him to make a distressed squeak - "smart boy, found some solar panels and we've got electricity up in your room, the kitchen and the bathroom by your room, not just the front room anymore! The rest we got the ghosts to help seal off to hold the heat in. I got you a space heater for your room, so you don't have to do a fire the whole time, and as long as you don't open the windows back up before spring, you won't freeze."

"Thanks, guys. One question."

"Yeah?"

"What did you do to my room."

Lilia smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a walking prank and can't keep out of there, what did you do."

"Nothing this time! I promise!" He held his hands up. "At least you can stay home for the next few days, Crewel says you gotta be back Monday or he's going to start making funeral prep."

"I'm literally better, but if he does that I get to help. Always wanted to plan my funeral, I have very specific ideas about what flowers to use and preferred corpse disposal."

"Maybe you should go upstairs and not talk about funerals and their associated things."

"Sure thing, dear."

After settling in your room, most everyone cleared out, even Idia. The only person still there was Jack, looking this way and that with a stern look.

"Hey, Jack?"

He grunted in assent.

"So like, why'd you put me up and help take care of me? We've hardly talked before then."

He sighed. "You've been very nice to me."

"You sure? I'd remember you."

"Uh."

"Jack?"

~*~*~*~

It was a beautiful day, if chilly in the wind. The sun was warm, the trees turning, and you just came across one of your best friends.

"Hi buddy! Are you lost today?"

The very large dog shook it's head and pressed into your knees.

"Okay, you wanna walk with me? Come on."

You'd found this enormous white Malamute wandering campus the first time a few months ago, and after checking in with a few other students who kept laughing when you asked if he was their dog, simply decided to enjoy your new friend and run and play. He was very smart, and initially standoffish, but could not resist a friendly face and good ear scritches. Today, you and Buddy here simply ran around like a couple of idiots after a lost soccer ball until it was time to go eat.

"I'll see you later, buddy. Bye!" You held out a hand, and after a firm shake, kissed the point where his snout met the rest of his face. "Stay safe, I love you."

Buddy made a low grumble and rubbed his paws over his face, and you went off to supper.

~*~*~*~

"You couldn't have told me?"

"How do you explain that? 'Hey, I run around as a wolf sometimes and you mistook me for a lost dog so you lovebombed me and I was at a loss and by the second time it was too awkward to say anything'?"

"I've been playing with you for months! I let you run with Crewel's dalmatians!"

"I run with them as a person, too, that's nothing special."

You pinched your nose. "Everyone must think I'm an idiot."

"I'll deal with them. I'm sorry, Yuu."

"I know. You are my good boy, after all."

His tail started wagging in spite of itself, and you laughed.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #jack howl #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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swimfuel · 3 years

Text

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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cherrybracelets · 4 years

Text

dance in the dark (one)

words: 4.5k | warnings: 18+ content. smut, drugs and alcohol mentions. mentions of blood, weapons, serial killers, cults, etc. DO NOT interact with this fic if you are under 18

masterlist | requests

pairing: professor!spencer reid x student!reader

an: this is part one of a continuing prof reid fic, i have no update schedule for this so please bare with me lmk what you would like to see also send more prof reid requests i wanna do little non plot side blurbs to this fic with your ideas!!!!

What do you think the crowd at a sleazy downtown bar on a Wednesday night looks like? Here’s a hint- it’s pretty pathetic. If you’re at this place on a week day, really any night at all, you’re probably not in the best place. And that was true, for you. Although from the outside it appeared you had everything completely together, the truth you tried so desperately to lock inside was clawing it’s way out- and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold yourself together.

Tomorrow was the start of your last year in grad school, something that should be a major accomplishment. But you were transferring here, after some unfortunate events that happened last semester. You’re not talking about that, though, remember? It’s a new year, a new city; you had the chance to move on from your past. But the only way you could do that is if you... kept it locked inside.

But you’d been doing that all summer, pretending to be someone you’re not, even using a fake name with strangers. You could completely reinvent yourself, and no one would ever know. And as you downed another jack and coke, you stared in curiosity at the lonely man on the other end of the bar, flipping through pages of what seemed like an exceptionally boring book.

He caught you looking at him, to which you quickly glanced away to pretend you weren’t, but you caught a slight smile out of the corner of your eye. You stared at the rows of alcohol behind you, avoiding looking in any direction, especially his. But you felt yourself smiling, a handsome man who had no idea who you were. Who didn’t know your name. That was something you couldn’t say before you were here.

“That guy down there bought this for ya,” the bartender huffed, his deep and raspy voice perfect matching his large and intimidating exterior. You smiled down at the glass, a perfectly mixed Jack & Coke with a lime. You raised the glass up to him and shook it, letting the ice clang against the glass.

“Thanks for the drink,” you said, raising your voice so he could here you.

“I’m not... super great at the ‘walking up to a pretty girl and saying hi, thing’. So I figured that was my best bet.” He smiled, taking a slow sip of his own drink, which looked like scotch.

“Can I come sit with you?” You asked, looking at the empty seat next to him.

“Of course,” he grinned, clearing his papers and readjusting himself in the seat. “I’m, uh, Spencer, by the way.”

(Y/N),” you responded, playing with the straw in your drink.

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?” He asked, a serious tone to his voice.

“Of course,” you replied, hesitantly.

“Are you having an exceptionally bad day?”

“Hmm,” you thought, your eyes locked on the handsome man in front of you. “I think I’m having an exceptionally bad year, maybe years plural.”

He laughed quietly, a deep chuckle, a relatable response. He knew more than anyone how miserable life could be. But this week, and most specifically today, has been exhausting for him. And he saw you, he saw the perfect way to relieve some stress.

It didn’t take much longer until you were back at his place, making out on the overly expensive leather couch in the living room. His hands climbing up your body, nails digging into your flesh each time he grinded himself into you. Your hands were tangled in his hair, the smell of fresh strawberries and a hint of coconut from his shampoo.

By the time you were both completely naked, he already had his mouth exploring your clit, his tongue playing games with you. He bit down on your inner thighs, sucking and nibbling at your lips. He added two fingers into you slowly, curling them perfectly to hit the right spot every time.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, your body writhing with pleasure, his mouth and fingers still taking care of you. He quickly stopped at your words, sitting up and pulling his fingers out of you. He licked his hand, tasting you, a devilish grin on his face.

“You can cum when I tell you to cum. Turn over.” He commanded, grabbing your hips and flipping you over to him. He pushed on the center of your back and you arched, pushing your ass up for him. You could feel him position himself at your entrance, and slowly sliding himself in. You were surprised by his length, a slow whimper escaping your lips.

“Am I too big for you, baby? Can you handle it?” He sounded concerned, but an underlying tone of sarcasm and gloat in his voice.

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, determined to take him. You felt the palm of his hand on your ass, rubbing the cheek slowly. It quickly lifted off, and came back down hard, a loud slap as his hand hit your bare cheek. You whines loudly, a mix of pain and pleasure overcoming you as he started to fuck you faster and deeper.

You felt him deep inside of you. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and with ever pump into you he seemed to climb deeper. The feeling of being under him, his length fully overcoming your body- you felt so submissive, you belonged to him. His hands gripped tightly into your hips, pulling you back into him as he pounded in and out.

“Can you handle this baby girl?” He yelled out, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back towards him. You yelped as he did that, the feeling of your hair being pulled sending shivers down your spine.

“I fucking love it,” you responded, feeling the need to praise the man who was in charge of your body right now.

“I want you to cum,” he instructed, his voice stern. You worried about what he’d do if you didn’t follow his instructions. You let yourself succumb to him, giving him full control of your pleasure. You started to feel a warmth spreading through you, preparing your body for a high of pleasure. After a few more seconds, you finally reached your peak, loudly announcing it to Spencer and whoever else could hear.

The sound of the pleasure he brought you, Spencer came quickly after that, pulling himself out of you at the last minute and cumming on your back. He pushed you down flat afterwards, and you laid there with him for a moment. He stared at you, covered in him, his property. In that moment, you belonged to him.

After you cleaned yourself off, you threw your clothes back on and got yourself together.

“I gotta go, I’m starting class tomorrow,” you explained, trying to sneak out without being awkward.

“I’ll see you again soon. Our story isn’t over,” he muttered, pointing towards the door and winking. You laughed initially, but realized how weird the comment actually was as you were walking out.

Luckily, your Uber only took a few minutes, and didn’t force you to talk. You scrolled mindlessly through instagram, thinking about classes, the thought of Spencer still stuck in your mind. As weird as it was to say, you truly didn’t think it would be the last time you saw it. You had a weird feeling deep inside that he was a very important person.

But, it didn’t matter, because you lived in a city with 700,000 people, and the chances of seeing him were slim to none. You didn’t even have a last name to find him on socials. You didn’t know his job, if he was even from here. In fact, you were quite surprised to realize you had just let a man you barely know fuck you like that. But damn, you did not regret it.

You crashed as soon as you got back to your apartment, setting your alarm for class tomorrow and passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. You had your usual string of nightmares, waking up every few hours, covered in sweat, your heart beating through your chest. You took a few sips of water and fell back asleep, only for the whole cycle to repeat a mere hour later. When your alarm finally woke you up, you were groggy and nauseous, another night of no sleep taking effect on you. You dragged yourself out of bed, silently hopped in the shower and let the hot water cleanse the night away from you.

You brewed a weak cup of coffee, poured it into a travel mug and headed out the door. You were terrified of today, a heavy pit sitting in your stomach. You kept your headphones in the entire commute to the school, drowning out the conversations of others around you. There was no possible way they could know you here, but you still always felt that the whispers were about you. You avoided as much eye contact and interaction as you could, walking through the campus.

Luckily the building where your class was wasn’t too far, and you got there relatively quickly. Your first class was called Mass Atrocity: Early Warning and Prevention, technically and elective course, but something you were extremely interested in. Your program was called Conflict Analysis and Resolution. You wanted to be badass, take down cults and serial killers, talking them off a ledge. You wanted to go back in time and prevent Waco. You knew you could do all of these things, you knew you could be the best, because your brother was a killer.

It was why you moved from your hometown. After he was found out, it was unbearable to be around people who knew you. You couldn’t escape the hate, the public humiliation. You hated him just as much as anyone, but that didn’t matter. People were convinced you two were killers together, especially since everyone knew what you wanted to do with your life and knew you to be a huge true crime junky.

You had to get away from there, escape your past identity. You could’ve stopped him, if you knew what was happening. But the truth was, you had no idea. And you hated that, you shamed yourself every day for not catching on to him. You, of all people, should have known. But now, you will spend the rest of your life stopping anyone you can. You had too, you couldn’t let them hurt their families the way your brother hurt yours.

So here you were, in a brand new city, a new last name, a new life. You had a chance to start over, be a new person. You could learn from some of the best professors, at one of the best schools in the country, only a few miles from DC. Homeland security, the FBI, CIA… everything you had ever wanted, right here. Sitting in this classroom, people filling in around you, you had your whole life ahead of you. Your future was unfolding itself right in front of you.

And then he walked in. A brown leather briefcase to match a blue suit, his hair sloppily pulled behind his ears, a tie loosely around his neck as if he got ready in a hurry this morning. He probably overslept, since he was out late at a bar and brought a girl home. You stared at him, your stomach flipping as he took his laptop out of his bag and began to set up for his lecture. You tried to get up and leave, turn around and pretend you never saw him, but you were trapped on either side, unable to escape. You slouched in your chair, hiding behind your laptop.

“Good morning everyone,” he said, his voice raspy and low, a clear sign of exhaustion. “I am Dr. Reid, although I would prefer Spencer. I teach a lot of the courses for Conflict Analysis, so you better get used to seeing a lot of me.” Spencer laughed lightly, his eyes scanning the crowd to see his new students. He looked approving, nodding over the people, and then his eyes caught you.

He stopped in his tracks, locked on your face, your eyes moving quickly in random directions to avoid his gaze. You finally caught him, and he furrowed his brows at you, a look of disappointment. He looked away quickly and scanned the rest of the crowd, still looking discontent as he tried to shake the confusion away and begin his lecture.

He didn’t look at you once through the entire class. You were smart and took your notes silently, not asking questions or making a sound. He was an extremely captivating person, his stories and the way he taught so encapsulating. He was brilliant, by far the smartest person you ever had the pleasure of meeting. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know the answer too, and you had so much you wanted to ask. You knew he could answer so many questions for you, specifically about your brother. But you vowed to never speak of him again, especially to a professor that you not only admire, but recklessly fucked just the night before.

Spencer wrapped up class, giving everyone a few final notes and instructions before saying his goodbyes. Before everyone was out of their seat, he interrupted the shuffle to say one final thing.

“Miss. Isaacs, could you speak to me for a moment regarding your registration?” He looked up at you for the first time in ninety minutes, and looked desperate. Your fake last name still rang odd in your ears, and it took you a moment to realize that he was asking for you. You nodded to him submissively, walking out the aisle and down the stairs to meet him at the podium.

“Do you mind if we go to my office?” He asked loudly, making sure the other students heard him speaking normally to you.

“Sure,” you whispered, following him out the door and down a hallway of offices. He stopped at his, fumbled with the keys, and opened the door to a very tidy office. You closed the door behind you and sat on one of the two chairs that were for visitors. He walked behind the desk and sat in his chair, a frustrated groan as he sat back.

“We need to talk about this.” He snapped, knowing that you knew exactly what he was talking about. “I can’t have slept with… a student.”

“Listen, I promise I won’t say a word, okay? I can transfer out of your class too, make it not an issue…”

“You have to take my classes to graduate. I’m…” he softened, leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath. “I’m not gonna ask you to do that. You’re extremely bright… I remember getting your application. You deserve a spot here… I just don’t want you to lose that because of this…” He rubbed his hand over his chin, trying not to raise his voice too loud.

“Thank you for saying that. You were brilliant out there today… I was completely enamored by you. Why did you leave the BAU to teach?” You asked abruptly, only realizing how inappropriate it was to ask that after it had already come out of your mouth.

“You know, that’s probably pretty personal, you don't have to answer that.” You covered your face awkwardly, wishing now you could just leave and not make this interaction any worse.

“No… it’s okay. There was just… so much pain all the time. And most people take that as ‘I couldn’t handle that pain anymore,’ but truthfully, I had become so numb to it, it scared me. I needed to get out so I could learn to feel again.” Spencer looked at you, his heart feeling a thousand times lighter after speaking his truth. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not quite sure why I told you.”

“I… I’m really sorry. Sometimes it is really easier to pretend things don’t affect you than deal with your true feelings. I can really relate to that,” you laughed, remembering all the pain you were currently trying to escape.

“You are very, very beautiful,” Spencer interjected, his eyes exploring you, his mouth slightly open in concentration as he focused on your almost perfect facial features.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, feeling a creeping heat on your face as your cheeks began to blush.

“I’d appreciate it if you called me Spencer.” He moved his eyes from your body to your own eyes, staring right through you. You felt completely unlocked in that moment, like he could see right into your brain and read your thoughts and secrets like a book. You knew you could close yourself up, hide away from him, but a part of you didn’t want to. The exhaustion of holding a heavy secret around ate away at you, and it would be more than nice to have someone who could carry that weight with you.

But not him, he was your Professor, and this was your future. You broke your gaze with him and sat up straight, looking away. You scanned through pictures on his wall, the same group of people in multiple photos. He had many books on the wall, some in languages you didn’t even recognize. There were piles of magazines and papers on the floors, a layer of dust on the frame of the floor, and a fireplace that was littered with ash. The air held a musty stench, with a hint of air freshener trying desperately, and failing, to make the room smell good.

At first glance, this office seemed tidy, that of a person with their life together. But the details were where that theory fell apart. He was holding on to his exterior, pretending he was okay, but inside this man was a mess. He was exhausted, overworked, and due to the multiple empty scotch glasses lying around, heavily drinking.

“You alright?” Spencer asked, his voice breaking you out of your own thoughts.

“‘Sorry. Zoned out for a second…” you muttered, still looking around the room, trying to notice any other displacements. “I should probably get going.” You stood up quickly, grabbing your jacket and bag and heading for the door.

“You’re in another one of my classes tomorrow. I checked your schedule,” he hesitated, looking at his computer for confirmation. “Will I see you?”

“I guess I don’t have a choice, right?” You raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for another comment, but he had none. You left after a few seconds, closing the door behind you as you left. You leaned up against the wall outside of the office, trying to ground yourself. You took a few deep breaths and checked the time, realizing you needed to get to your next class soon. You quickly walked to the stairs and headed towards your next class, your head still buzzing from Spencer that you weren’t even sure if you’d be able to comprehend anything. You took a seat in the next room, putting your head down in embarrassment as you waited for class to begin.

The next day you got to sleep in a bit more, but it didn’t make much of a difference. You still spent most of the night dealing with nightmares of your brother, but you had a new dream that scared you more than any of the others. You were sitting in one of Spencer’s classes, taking notes casually as he lectured. As he continued his powerpoint, the lights went dark and the slide changed to a picture of your brother. Everyone started pointing at you, calling you a killer, screaming profane things about your family. A light shined on Spencer, who was pointing and laughing with the rest of the crowd, walking towards you and pointing a gun to your head. Right before he pulled the trigger, he whispered “No one will ever love a killer.” His finger pressed down, igniting the gun, and…

Bam. You woke up. You felt sick, your heart racing and the contents of your stomach lurching around. You ran to the bathroom, vomiting as soon as you reached the toilet. You sat back against the cool tub, the cold feeling amazing against your hot flesh. You checked the time- 2:43 AM. You walked back to your bed and grabbed your phone, scrolling through instagram and twitter, trying to calm your mind. You had made brand new accounts with your new persona, paying bots to follow you so it looked legit. You didn’t want to post anything anyways, but you did love looking at baby animal pictures on the internet.

You were still feeling kind of out of it, and you reached onto your nightstand to grab your bowl. You smoked a little bit, trying to calm your body down enough to fall back asleep. Sometimes the marijuana and sleeping pills are the only things that calm you down. But you were feeling a little loopy tonight, and as you stared at your phone and tried to shove your anxiety deep down, you made a fatal mistake.

New email:

To: Dr. Spencer Reid, PhD

Subject: Empty

What do you do make the pain go away?

Sent from my iPhone.

You locked your phone and placed it down on the nightstand, curling up in your bed and falling asleep. You surprisingly slept through the rest of the night without issue, waking up from a deep sleep as your alarm went off a few hours later. You had effectively forgotten about the email, and didn’t have any reminder of it since Spencer had yet to respond. You casually made yourself breakfast, preparing mentally to see Spencer in class again this morning.

You left promptly after cleaning up, making sure you wouldn’t miss your bus to campus. You rode the commute with your headphones in, still ignoring the conversations of the strangers around you. You felt better today, at least knowing you’d be more prepared to see Spencer today than yesterday. All of that confidence immediately drained from your body as your phone vibrated, alerting you to a new text. Who the hell could be texting you? Almost no one knew this number.

Maybe: Spencer Reid

In regards to your email- you can never get rid of the pain. I wish I had a better answer.

You stared in awe at your screen, rereading the message a thousand times. At first you were confused, what email? But then you remembered, the fuzzy letters on the screen as you emailed him last night. Fuck. This wasn’t good. You opened the message, but didn’t respond, hoping he would see that if you read it and didn’t respond he would get the hint. There was no way you could go walk in class right now and go see him. But your bus stopped, right where you needed to get off, and although you desperately tried not to, your body got up and walked off the bus.

You continued to walk all the way to your classroom, sitting suspiciously close to the front. A part of you wanted him, the part of you that craved destruction and drama, the part of you that you saw your brother in. It scared you, because each and every day you felt that part of you come to the surface a little more.

Spencer walked in shyly, immediately scanning the crowd to find you. When your eyes locked, his face read a bit of relief, as if he was worried you wouldn’t come. He, too, wanted to see you. In all honesty, he couldn’t stop thinking about you since that night you spent together. He didn’t look at you long, realizing he had to start class at some point. He went through a similar introduction as yesterday, changing up a few things to meet this course’s curriculum.

When he started teaching his content, you became just as lost in his words as you did yesterday. You listened intently to every word, felt the emotion as he did, even found yourself on the verge of tears as he wrapped up his lecture. You were stuck in awe, unable to move from your seat as he finished up class. He didn’t ask to speak to you this time, he just walked out the door without another glance in your direction.

You needed to speak to him, at least to explain the late night email. You left the room and headed in the direction to his office, hoping you could catch him before a mob of other students. You could imagine you weren’t the only one who was engulfed by him. He was hot, and there were plenty of other girls in your class who would have their eyes on him. You started wondering how many students he’d fucked before you and felt sick, a wave of green envy washing over you. It was weird, how hurt you’d been at the thought of him with someone else, considering you aren’t even together.

You made it to his office, and luckily there wasn’t anyone else around. You knocked lightly on the door and heard a muffled “Come in.” You opened the door to Spencer writing on some paper, his demeanor slightly surprised as you came through the door.

“Mind if I close this?” You asked, motioning to the door. He nodded and put down his pen, sitting back in his chair.

“What can I do for you?”

“The email… and the text…” You looked down at the ground, now feeling embarrassed in his presence.

“Sorry to have texted you out of the blue… I got your number from the student directory. All the, uh, staff emails are monitored, and I figured it would be best if we kept our conversation… private.” He bit his lip submissively, playing with his nails.

“Why does it need to be private? It was nothing bad…” you enticed, watching the small smile on his face as you spoke.

“I’m afraid that it might end up there.” He dragged his eyes up to yours, meeting your gaze, seemingly digging into your soul once again. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Tell me.” You waited for his response, trying yourself to now see through him, read what he was thinking.

“I don’t think I can stay away from you. Something is drawing me to you and I can’t pull away anymore.”

You stood up from your chair, walking slowly behind his desk and standing in front of him. He uncrossed his legs and looked up at you, your head tilted down as you looked at the man in front of you. You bent down on your knees between his legs, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. He kissed you slowly at first, surprise lingering in his lips, before embracing you, moving with much more aggression as he pulled you into him.

You broke away from the kiss, leaving him confused as you stood up and walked to the other side of the desk. You sat back in your chair and stared at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Of course. 8PM work?”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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chemicalpink · 4 years

Text

대취타 | EMPEROR!YOONGI X READER | PART THREE

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi x Assassin!Reader

Words: 2.3k

Genre: Emperor AU, Historical AU (kinda), smut but its kinda soft.

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, you know the drill)

A/N: I hope you like this as much as I did! this part is the sole reason as to why I started this lil au tbh. Let me know what you think! As always, thank you for reading!

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“Great. I was hoping you were still awake” Yoongi said, making you jump from the seat you had claimed in the large library, watching carefully the emperor’s figure as he made his way towards you. He seemed exhausted, his hair the most disheveled you had ever seen it.

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it right after, denying the thought with a movement of your head.

“What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight and you’ve got an event tomorrow”

As time went by and the bickering took a pleasant back and forth, you had also become more involved in the political aspects of the palace; truth be told, you had been avoiding him ever since that time in his office as rumours started going around, making more than just a few of consorts jealous enough to mess with you, in attempt to make your life as barely tolerable as possible, you had to remind yourself a thousand times that you were most definitely no missing Min Yoongi, although you had to admit that his presence offered some relief in a sense from the hectic life you led inside the palace.

“You’ve come from classic literature to history?” Yoongi stole a glance at the books that were lying on top of the small table, arching an eyebrow

“I read what pleases me”

The silence that followed wasn’t quite comfortable as he dropped into a chair just next to yours; his leg brushing yours.

You cleared your throat, mind hazy as you didn’t give it a second thought before the words were leaving your lips “I don’t think it is wise of you to be here with me”

A frown crossed his attractive face.

“And why is that?” he replied.

At that time you were extremely conscious about how close his leg was to you, but you made no attempt to move away.

“Aren’t you worried about what people may talk around the palace? It tends to get quite toxic around here”

Yoongi leaned towards you and looked you in the eye. You found yourself clearing your throat for the second time that night

“I’m not worried about myself if that’s what you’re thinking,” you said abruptly, pulling away from him a little. It wasn't entirely true, so far you’d had a taste as to how far a jealous consort could go, very much into physical damage. “I’m just saying that it might damage your public image. For you to be meeting with a servant like me, late at night behind closed doors”

“And may I know ever since when have you been concerned about my public image?”

“Ever since apparently I became the one in charge not only to handle your dirty business but your public appearances too. Perhaps you should focus more on keeping track of the political matters rather than playing around with your toys in the harem”

“Any other requirements?” asked Yoongi, who was still close enough for his lips to brush yours if he dared to do such a thing.

“I’ll let you know if any comes to mind”

Your eyes met and you gave him a slight smile.

What type of man was the one right in front you supposed to be? It wasn’t exactly that you had gone soft for him, but you had to admit that from time to time it felt nice to have someone around in such a grand space, even if the only to be close enough was none other than the Emperor himself.

You removed from your thoughts the feeling of longing in your chest. There was no way after what you both had done with each other to suddenly grow soft.

“Why is your hair so dishevelled? Has Yanli been playing with you so hard?”

“Yanli? Not in the past few months, fortunately. But I had the most depressing day ever! The puppies are ordinary and-” he brought his hands to his head

“Puppies?”

“One of my dogs has given birth to a litter of crossbreeds. They were too young to tell before, but now- Anyway, I expected pedigree animals”

“Are we talking about dogs or–?”

“What would you prefer?” Yoongi smirked

“Oh shut up” you muttered, making him laugh.

“Care to explain why is it that you look so dishevelled” the emperor's laugh was cut off, “Hoseok told me you two attended some official event, I hope it wasn’t one of the stuck up ones”

“Not at all. I haven’t been able to sleep well, that’s all”

“Neither have I” he recognised and stretched in his place “Would you mind playing the kayagum for me?”

You dropped your foot to the ground and wondered how the subject could have changed so easily. A completely different air taking over the room. One that was the reason for your insomnia ever since the sexual encounters between the two of you had shifted to longing glances across the room, subtle brushes of hands and minds running on images that were no doubt anything but a product of very creative imagination.

“Of course not”

“But you played wonderfully last night”

“If I had known someone was spying on me, I would not have played”

“Why is playing something so personal for you?” Yoongi asked leaning back in the chair and you felt yourself slipping into dangerous and uncharted territory.

“I can't listen to or play music without– whatever.”

“No, say what you were about to say”

“It’s nothing interesting” you replied while stacking the books that were on the table.

“Does it bring back memories?”

You looked at him for some sign of ridicule, finding in his eyes a feeling of sweetness and compassion instead.

“Sometimes”

“Memories of your parents?” Yoongi reached out to help you stack the remaining books.

You stood abruptly.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Yoongi”

“I'm sorry I meddled”

You did not answer. The question, mixed with the environment in which you were with Yoongi, had opened a crack in the mental door that you always had closed, and now you were trying to close it at all costs. Seeing Yoongi's face and seeing him so close to you ... The door had to be most definitely locked.

“It’s just– It’s just that I know nothing about you.”

“I’m an assassin” you replied, trying to ground yourself “There’s no need for you to know more about me”

“I know” Yoongi said with a sigh “But why is it so bad for me to want to know more? Like, how did you become one? Or how was your life before that?”

“Trust me, it’s not interesting”

“Well I wouldn’t find it boring”

Once again, you didn’t answer.

“Please. Just one question and I promise it won’t be anything delicate” Yoongi had suddenly made a go for your hand to intertwine with his, his thumb making small circles on the back of it ever so lightly.

You twisted your mouth, your eyes fixed on the surface where both your hands seemed to melt together in something you weren’t able to pinpoint.

“No”

Yoongi smiled “You have beautiful eyes, you know?”

“If you’re trying to court me with sweet talk, I’m afraid it won’t work”

Looking right back into his brown eyes, something came alive only for it to die down just as fast as Yoongi stopped caressing your hand and tugged at your wrist to have you sit down on his lap.

Yoongi’s fingers are cold against your skin, the tips tracing delicately along the exposed skin of your thigh as his hand had made its way under the sleeping hanbok you wore. Your teeth hurt your bottom lip, a gasp escaping from them as his slow teasing movements make their way to your clothed core in the gentlest way possible.

He grazes your clit with his thumb and you find yourself uncomfortably arching your back against him “Now you can't resist responding to everything I say, right, kitten?” his teeth gently grazing the soft spot where your ear meets your neck and you writhe beneath him, unable to fulfil the growing need that pools between your legs.

“Now tell me, love, why is it that you love music?”

You let out a strangled moan as he kept the slowest pace possible on your clit

“You–you said it wouldn’t be anything delicate” you whispered and attempted to turn to scowl at him

Yoongi’s fingers manoeuvred their way to pull your panties apart, skilled fingers now caressing your wet folds “Just answer the question”

A large sigh left your lips at his touch “I love music” you said slowly, trying to keep a steady mind “because when I hear it I- I get lost in it a-and I feel like I pour myself out and fill myself with it at the same time. When I play I’m not- agh I’m not destroying, but creating” you bit your lip once again as his index finger teased your entrance “I used to dream of being a doctor, you know? I’ve never told anyone about that” you felt yourself clench at the way Yoongi was entering his fingers inside you stuffing you full, he laughed lowly and stopped his movements, removing his hand completely, making you able to see him smile “Don’t laugh at me”

The emperor denied your claim with his head and the smile left his lips

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m just not used to-”

“People pouring their heart out to you?”

“Well, yeah, especially not while I have my hand down their pants”

You smiled a somewhat wicked smile at him.

“Well then, I think It is my turn now” you were quickly to find his already hard member inside your hand, pumping it to life,leaving wet kissed along his exposed neck as he reclined himself “Is there any limitation?”

“Not at all” Yoongi placed his hands on the back of his head “I’m not even half as reserved as you are”

A grin appeared on your face as you thought about the question, opting to play him a little bit further before asking.

Your tongue finds his already leaking length and you bask yourself in the sweetest noise he makes, his hand coming forward to stop you from taking him in your mouth.

You both pause, eyes meeting, reading each other. He smirks at you, a smugness in it when he makes his way to you on the floor, the chair screeching the floor, forcefully taking you down with him as he slams his lips on yours, hands fidgeting with each others’ clothes in an overwhelming rush to take them completely off.

Once the body heat envelops you both, contrasting the cold floor, partially covered by a carpet you currently found yourselves in, he rushes to cover your body in chaste kisses at the same time as a new heatwave hits you from him entering you.

“Yoongi” you whine, making him look straight into your eyes “I’ve got my question”

“Go ahead, kitten,” he said, diving in to place a kiss on your lips, his right hand keeping him up while he thrusted deliciously into you, skin slapping and lewd noises filling the otherwise silent room, his left hand finding yours as a way to ground himself to the moment.

“Why aren’t you married yet?” you felt him stop dead in his tracks for a second too long, his dick almost losing contact with your pussy only for him to thrust it back in with a little more force than necessary

“Ask me another question”

His slow pace but forceful thrust were hitting a certain spot of yours that he had become way too familiar with over your time in the palace, knowing perfectly that he was purposedly doing it for you to drop the topic, you pressed once again “I wanna hear your answer– If you resist so vehemently it must be interesting”

You heard him groan as he found his face nuzzled into your neck “I’m not married” he said in a low voice, untangling his left hand from yours to caress your face “because I can’t stand the idea of marrying a woman that is inferior to me in mind and spirit” he trailed kisses along your throat up to your jaw, making sure to mark it “ That would mean the death of my soul”

“Marriage is a legal contract, it is not something sacred. Being the emperor, you should have given up those crazy ideas. What if you have to get married for an alliance? Would you really declare war because of your romantic ideals?”

“Things–” he grunts and pulls back slowly “are not–”and pushes his way back in, groaning “that way”

You could tell something had snapped inside him, and you were sure to have your fun with it “Huh? Then you wouldn’t marry a princess to strengthen your empire?”

“I’ve already got an army to take care of that”

A mewl makes its way out of your mouth as his shaft slides in and out of your body “You can always love another woman aside. Marriage for you doesn’t mean you can’t love other people”

Yoongi’s eyes burned holes into yours.

“One must marry the person they love and none other” he said as he struggled once more to keep his pace and you laughed “You’re making fun of me! You’re laughing in my face!”

“You deserve to be laughed at for having such stupid ideas! I spoke to you from the heart; you only speak from selfishness”

“You are incredibly judgmental, Y/N” you were still smiling up at him as he dived down to capture your lips, moans constantly escaping both of you as you quietly and gracefully approached your own highs together, him spilling his seed inside you.

Forehead resting against your own as you found yourselves panting, him sliding out as your spasming cunt dripped with both of your releases onto the floor, placing one more soft kiss on your lips with his eyes closed “Marry me”

#bts imagines #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi imagines #emperor!yoongi #suga smut #suga imagines #bts one shot #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi oneshot #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts royal au

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s-c-r-i-p-s-i · 4 years

Text

Desperate Measures

[Dead by Baelight’s Kinktober // Day 1: Ritual]

🖤 🖤 🖤 Seeking privacy, you stray a little too far from the campfire to perform your... daily ritual. Ghostface has been watching and decides it’s time for a little audience participation.

🖤 🖤 🖤 Pairing: Ghostface (Danny Johnson) x Gender-Neutral AMAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

CW: non-consensual voyeurism, choking, spanking, canon-typical violence, smut

Word Count: 3,219

When you first started this ritual, you weren't planning on making it a habit.

Here, every minute of your life was survival mode. Nonessential functions closed until further notice. You were a heart, some nerves, and sometimes, sometimes a brain.

You didn’t get bored; hah, that was rich - there was always something that needed to be done, even in Limbo. You were perpetually exhausted, yeah, but sleep was an impossibility. For the most part, you didn’t get hungry; you didn’t have to eat anymore - although sometimes you were struck with the overwhelming desire to eat one of the offerings meant for the Entity, just to taste something other than blood for once.

And for fuck’s sake, you thought you didn’t get… You know.

Horny.

See; for all intents and purposes your appetite for anything like that was dead. For the longest time. It wasn’t even something you thought about, so… not on your radar, that you didn’t even mourn it. There were other things to worry about.

And then one day Ghostface came around, and it’s like he slammed a live AED on your libido.

Maybe this place was getting to you. You knew you shouldn’t have found a serial killer so goddamn hot… but when death was just a setback, it kind of fucked with your sense of morality. At least, that’s how you tried to rationalize it.

So, how did it happen? You’re still asking yourself that. Assholes weren’t exactly your type. At least… you didn’t think so. Not back on Earth.

But he had your attention immediately. Mostly because you’d never heard a killer speak before. That is, not to you. And in your own language no less.

And boy, did he speak. (And speak, and speak…)

The first time you faced him, you’d been working on a generator and felt a chill rock your body just as it finally hummed to life. That random little bite at the back of your neck that prickled down your spine. Except here, it was rarely random. Here, it always spelled danger.

“Nice work,” He’d cooed, stepping out of fucking nowhere. You’d later learn that he… tended to do that. “Haven’t seen that in awhile. Must be getting slow.”

It was obvious what he was - the mask was a dead giveaway. Killer. But you didn’t move. You were too stunned that he was actually talking to you. “Thanks,” you’d kind of snorted, “I try.” You were still asking yourself ’what the fuck was that’ to this day.

“Oh...” He breathed. “You talk back. I like that.”

And he sounded so genuinely - if maliciously - interested that you had to assume that didn’t happen often; survivors talking to him. That your shitty little, what, comeback? if you could even call it that - pleased him.

“I hope you run, too.” He’d cocked his head - a not so subtle hint to get this show on the road.

“...Is that what-” He wanted, you were about to ask, although you weren’t sure why. Looking back, you think you were just stalling for time, not for any tactical reasons, but just because this was such a novelty to you.

The thought that maybe, just maybe you already wanted to please him was simply too annoying to entertain.

But he interrupted you.

“Yes.”

And this strange mix of almost playful and ruthlessly efficient would be a running theme in your trials against him. He didn’t waste a whole lot of time - even though he very well could have, with how adept he was. No one was ever spared. You never got the impression he was taking it easy on you, or drawing out a chase, or anything like that. Ninety percent of the words you ever exchanged were while you were looping him, or dangling from his shoulder as he strode towards a hook.

And yet, you still found yourself oh so fucking fascinatined by him. It was definitely conceivable that you were just attention starved. That there wasn’t anything else to it. Even among the survivors, there weren’t many you could count as real friends. And yet...

It was to the point where getting caught almost felt like a reward, because it always carried the positive reinforcement of you being able to banter with him for a minute. Which - you like to think you’d gotten a little better at. Always through bouts of struggling, of course; you tried not to be completely useless. For your own sake, if not your team’s. Getting hooked hurt.

Anyway, it was during one of those struggles, one day, wriggling around in his grip and beating his back and being a general nuisance, that it happened. You’d been bitching about -... you didn’t even remember.

And then he decided, “You know; you’ve become awful mouthy.”

And you were immediately riled up, because if anything, it was him that liked to talk just to hear the sound of his own voice - not that you could blame him, because what a sound it was. But you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get anything out beyond an offended, “You-!” his other hand came down on your ass with a resounding slap.

You’d jolted straight, heat flooding your body at an alarming rate as you suddenly forgot how to string syllables together. Don’t worry. You made several embarrassing, aborted attempts.

“Well.” He mused, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he grabbed your hips to string you up. “Now I know how to shut you up.”

You screamed as the hook pierced through your chest, but he shushed you, breath stuttering with chuckles as he raised a finger to his mask, “Shh, shh, shh, shh, shhh. Don’t ruin it, now.”

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you ended up in the middle of the fucking woods with your hand down your pants after every other goddamn trial.

It started, as all addictions do, with the simple rationalization ‘It’ll just be this one time. Just to get it out of my system.’ How many times have you told yourself that? Only to end up exactly where you were now - breath quivering like a goddamn junkie as you threw your back against a tree and shoved your shaking hand down your drawers.

Your fingers finally wrapping around yourself was both sweet, sweet relief, and at the same time not. Goddamn. Enough.

It’s just, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Him. It. Did it really matter? God you wished he’d done more than spanked you. Done more than promptly tossed you on the hook afterwards. That’s how goddamn bad you had it. He hadn’t even done anything else, but for you, it was the sexual awakening of a century.

You hastily stuffed your shirt in your mouth to grant yourself access to your chest, eyes rolling back as you gripped yourself and began to pump, other hand quickly trailing up your chest to tease your nipple between your index and middle fingers.

Always a frantic means to an end. Mechanical abuse. No time to really even fantasize. Which was fine, because that’s all you seemed to fucking do in between these little affairs.

Infuriatingly, though, this constant throttling of your bits meant you were starting to build up a tolerance to your own rough treatment. Still, you tried to get yourself off as quickly as possible. You knew you’d be missed, and -

You felt a bite at your neck, a chill down your spine. The kind that spelled danger.

“Slowly, slowly, it’s too nice a job to rush.” Ghostfaced chuckled, emerging from behind a tree. You saw the mask first, a shock of white in the darkness that nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

With all the frenzied, nonsensical urgency of someone who’d just seen a bug crawling on them, you flailed in your rushed attempts to make yourself decent, yanking your hand from your pants, spitting the shirt out of your mouth and trying to frantically smooth everything down. It didn’t even occur to you at first, in your lizard brained panic, that he’d already seen everything. Or that no matter how you fixed your clothes, you still looked thoroughly debauched; panting, blushing all the way down to your chest, and your hair all mussed from the tree you were leaning up against. Oh yeah, and the fucking erection you were still sporting.

Your mouth was still bone-dry from the shirt you’d just had stuffed in your mouth all but two seconds ago. “What’re you-?!”

You had about a million questions on your mind. For one - How was he even here? You thought this kind of pocket realm - the one with the bonfire, the holding cell for survivors in between matches - was a sanctuary. The only place you were safe from these fucks.

“We all come here when it’s our time to play,” He explained smoothly, “We burn our offerings in the same flames as you. You just don’t see us. But we see you.” Ghostface sung, stalking closer.

“Besides. I’ve been here a long time. Long enough to know how to traverse the fog. Useful,” he sighed the word as if conceding something, even though you hadn’t said a word, “when one doesn’t have a home.” He stopped right in front of you. “...Useful for watching what naughty little survivors do when they stray far enough away from the flock.” Even with his face hidden behind that mask, you could feel the accusation in the way he cocked his head and crossed his arms expectantly.

“I-” You choked the word out, a second wave of mortified heat rising.

“But you, you were such a good little lamb until just recently. I wonder what changed.”

“Please just…” Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, you mentally pleaded. You wanted to die. You’d rather melt into the ground than hear another minute of him taunting you. You were far too embarrassed, and far too wound up to suffer through whatever the hell he was monologuing on about. Any other time you might have appreciated the opportunity to talk to him without all the pretense of trials. But not. Right. Now.

“You’re having trouble with that today!” He observed gleefully - about your inability to put together a complete sentence, you assumed. “And usually you’re so vocal. That’s alright. Here. I’ll make it easier on ya.” Reaching for the damp, wrinkled up hem of your shirt, he pulled it up, and two gloved fingers stuffed it back into your mouth, feeding it to you until your mouth was full of cotton and he was satisfied.

You just stood there, stupefied.

“What, do you prefer my other method?” And he- he fucking reared his hand back and mimed a spank in the air. Oh my god. You hated him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here,” he chuckled.

Placing his hands on his hips, Ghostface hummed, long and deliberate. “Come to think of it, you’ve been acting awfully strange for the past, oh, say the past few weeks or so. Ever since I…”

Oh. Oh no.

Your glare morphed into a look of sheer horror. That bastard. He knew? Or was he just a goddamn narcissist and automatically assumed it was about him, and just happened to be right on the money? It’s not like you’d been screaming out his name while you did it. Maybe you just weren’t half as subtle as you thought.

“So - here’s how it’s going to go. It’s been fun, just watching you. Really. But I’ve seen this show enough times that I think I deserve some front row seats, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, he just takes you by the chin, forcing you to nod for him. ”Great!” He throws up a hand, “Then we’re all in agreement. Keep going.”

Ghostface crossed his arms over his chest expectantly, settling in.

He wanted you to…? You push at the shirt with your tongue, intending to speak, but he stops you.

“Nope. Nah. Keep that in.”

O...kay. This was probably the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done, but you were still so stunned that it wasn’t... wasn’t quite sinking in yet. In the back of your mind, you were lowkey convinced this was a prank. A joke. That any second he was going to bust out laughing, tell you ’psyche! Oh my god you actually almost did it.’

But that moment never came.

Slowly, and with no small amount of hesitance, you began dipping your hand back in your pants. You half expected him to complain about how long you were taking, but he didn’t say a word. You guess he did tell you to go slow. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking under the mask, his posture impassive. But you eventually reached your sex and gave it a slow, experimental tug, inhaling sharply at how much more sensitive it felt just knowing that his eyes were on you.

You looked back up for any sign of approval, some sign that this is what he wanted but he hadn’t moved an inch. So you kept going, touching yourself, just a lot more slowly and mindfully than before. The thought of going full monkey brain on yourself in front of him was… not appealing. Plus, it didn’t even seem necessary anymore, with the way your stomach was now fluttering at the lightest touch.

“That’s much better,” He said eventually, and the way he cooed it like he was praising you went straight to your core, hips twitching forward. “If you keep going at that thing like a can of spray paint, you’re liable to rip it clean off. And then what’ll be left for me?”

That imagery wasn’t sexy at all, your nose wrinkling as you cringed at him, but then he said that and all you could focus on was the notion that maybe he was planning on doing more than just watching.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked, clearly sensing your hope.

“MmfHmfh.” Your sorry sound of agreement was muffled by the shirt in your mouth, so you paired it with a pathetic head nod, eyes pleading.

“Shit,” He laughed, “I was just going to bait and switch you, but if you’re going to be so damn cute… I guess I could be generous. Why don’t you show daddy what he’s working with?”

Maybe you were paranoid, but you felt like that was opening yourself up to get stabbed in the junk. Was it really wise to be so vulnerable around him? You weren’t sure if you trusted him, but Mr. Knife hadn’t made an appearance thus far, and you felt so desperate and full and achy that you just didn’t care.

Hesitantly, you pulled down your pants and drawers down to your thighs, just enough for your cock to spring free, bobbing lightly, crown swollen and shiny and absolutely flushed with arousal.

“Adorable. Now,” He removed the shirt from your mouth, only to press two fingers at your teeth so the end of the finger seams were between them. “Bite.” You did, carefully, and he used the leverage to slip his hand from the glove. Rather than just leave it hanging there, he pushed it back into your mouth like he had the shirt, the disgusting tang of leather and you didn’t want to even think of what else rusting on your tongue.

But it was all worth the sweet relief of his bare fingers finally wrapping around your cock. Your eyes fluttered back almost immediately, moaning around his glove as your head fell back against the tree behind you. Oh, this was wrong, wrong, wrong, but it felt so much better than touching yourself and you’d fantasized about this for so long. It was like honey for your body, the best kind of sweetness building up in your core, every pass of his fingers pushing you closer to overflow.

And it didn’t take long at all, with how long it had been since you’d been touched by another person, with how wound up you already were. You neared the edge fast, your dick twitching in his grip as your hips began to weakly rock, chasing that saccharine end.

And then he stopped.

Motherfucker.

You growled in frustration as your budding climax waned, hips instinctually slanting forward in search of something, anything, and finding nothing. Your gaze flicked up to him, silently asking ’What gives?’

“I said I’d touch you, I didn’t say anything about cumming.”

You nearly spat the glove out and gave him a piece of your mind, but his hand did eventually return, placating you for the time being. Even if his touch was far too light and understimulating at first, waiting until you’d been sufficiently backed down from that edge before building you back up. In due time your head was falling back against the bark, gasping as that feeling in your core started to balloon.

And then he did it again.

This time you really did spit the glove out, catching it in your hand. “I have places to be, Fuckface!”

“Riiiiight.” He drawled skeptically, amusement coloring his tone. “And, it’s Ghostface, actually.”

“Okay, GrossFace, if you don’t fucking finish me off-”

In seconds, his gloved hand was around your throat, leather creaking as he squeezed lightly. “You’ll what? Careful what you ask for, baby, you just might get it,” He warned, pressure slowly increasing. “But you might not like the way I decide to finish you off if you don’t play nice.” His hand eased off your throat, and you were relieved as you were disappointed - because shit, you were actually kind of into it.

“So, let’s go with Danny. Do you think you can manage that, sweetheart?”

Was that… his name? You felt oddly touched that he’d give you that. You hardly knew any of the killers' real names. Not trusting yourself to speak, you nodded, and your reward was his hand coming back to gently wrap his fingers back around you, stroking you slowly.

“Maybe third time’s the charm, huh?”

You weren’t so sure, but you were so backed up it hurt so you let him steer you back to the brink, your sounds growing desperate and so much more audible without anything to muffle them. “Danny, please,” you begged; you could feel yourself nearing that apex again, and if he stopped now you might actually cry.

He hummed, low and thoughtful, but the sound didn’t betray an inkling of emotion.

But he didn’t stop. And soon your climax was crashing over you so hard your knees nearly buckled, the tree at your back the only thing keeping you up as your whole body lurched, dick jumping as it choked up it’s release all over his hand and the forest floor.

Panting, your legs shook as you just stood there a moment, head tipped up to the sky, just trying to recover. You were dimly aware of him snatching his glove back as you felt him yank it from your hand but it barely registered. One by one, questions started to pile up but you were still too whelmed to speak.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Danny spoke first.

“So… Same time tomorrow?”

“I-” You broke, half laughing, half scoffing at the outright absurdity. “Sure.”

You guessed you could start a new ritual.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Thank you for reading!!! 🖤 🖤 🖤 Notes: AHHHHH, I did it, I wrote my first real one-shot. I've been roleplaying for nearly 20 years and it's kind of ruined my motivation for writing by myself but I wanted to break the habit. Thank you to Pugge and Libby for beta'ing this for me, ily both. This piece was written for Day 1 of the 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 Discord server's Kinktober. ((I'm just posting it early because I have 0 self-control)) Anyone over 18 is welcome to join here.

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd ghostface #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen #my writing #oneshot #scripsi

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tora-the-cat · 4 years

Text

Phantom Troupe Members in order of who I'd be least to most upset to see die

No one asked for it but I just want to be clear on my opinions on the phantom troupe and no one’s been able to stop me yet <3

Disclaimers:

a. if you like these characters then yes I think thats objectively funny but like. it doesn't make you a bad person, cringe culture dead, like what you like, I'm just someone on the internet, etc etc. go ahead and leave angry rants/dissmissive insults/'umm actually's/etc etc for me to not read anyway tho <3

b. I refuse to look up anything about them, including their names, because I don't care enough. And also because I'm going to spell their names from memory and then laugh when people correct me. So, like, know that I'm not messing up any of the names on purpose, and might not mess them up at all, but I'm not doing a joke or anything with the spelling I just really care that little

c. Also!! Mild manga spoilers?? idk why you would care because it's literally just about the phantom troupe but if that bothers u for some reason then goodbye have a nice day <3 this WILL spoil deaths that I'm pretty sure happened. Maybe. No I haven't read the manga I have ADHD and haven't properly hyperfixated on HxH since I was 13 and didn't know what Manga was.

d. I lied through my teeth! I'm a Gemini bitch, if someone somehow actually cares enough about my correct opinions about the goddamned phantom troupe to leave a mean comment I'm absolutely going to read it.e. also if u actually somehow want to talk about the phantom troupe in a civil way (excluding H*soka) PLEASE hit me up. I don't know if reasonable Phantom Troupe stans exisit but I assume they do and I promise I'm funny and nice and surprisingly conflict avoidant and I'd honestly luv 2 study u. I'm not mean the worst I'll do is ghost u I'm an Aquarius mars I swear <3

Hisoka. I hate this clown man so fucking much. Like he has funny moments I guess but it doesn't make up for how uncomfortable I am every time I see him. The rest of this list will be funnier because the rest of them are funny and obviously shiny plot devices and not much else, but the fact that this clown man is alive makes me so angry. Also there'd be no entertainment value left here after the emotional exhaustion I'd have complaining about Illumi and also I forgot he joined until just now, so I'm grouping these bitches together and moving on.

Chrolo Lucifer: this man is so funny purely on a fandom level. Like he has half the personality of a stale potato chip, but he's hot and does atrocities and pretends to have thoughts so he lives in everyone's head rent free any way. Not me tho because I'm sexy and cool. Anyway I want him dead purely because the reactions would be hilarious (on BOTH sides to be clear, because people celebrating his death would be almost as funny as people mourning it), it's what Kurapika and the Kurta's deserve, and there's literally no reason for him to exist other then to eventually die.

sphinx: he's just. really annoying. I can't back this up because I don't remember anything he does I just remember thinking he was annoying.

nobabunga: He was mean to the boys!!!!! It's a death sentence those are just the facts. He cried and I gave a nice good chuckle. I want him 2 die then never get mentioned again until Illumi offhandedly mentions that he's Kikyo's brother or cousin or somehting so Kalluto can inherit his swords. Not because they should use them just because I think Kalluto deserves swords and also it would inspire a wave of people caring about Nobaunga WAY too much (one group hating him on principal for being a member of the Zoldyk family, one group deciding he's a Big Brother Icon and reimagining him having a cute and hillariously out of character relationship with Illumi/Kalluto/Killua/Gon, and a mix of the two pumping out psycology breakdowns with entirely too much time and effort put into them, none of which I will watch but each of which will add a week onto my lifetime out of the pure amused euphoria of knowing they exist).

Franklin: Boring. He's in the phantom troupe he can do better then overplayed-frankenstein-aesthetic and bullet fingers. uninspired. At least everyone else sucks in an interesting way.

Uvo: I can't lie his fight scenes were actually pretty dope, and I HAVE to admit that it is HILARIOUS just how much work Togashi put into overpowering/hyping up Uvo, specifically so he could have an established baseline for exactly how incomprehensibly and overwhelmingly excessive Kurapika's will and hatred is. Also that demi lavato AMV of his and Kurapika's fight is just free dopamine. Glad he's dead but he was funny while it lasted and I can appriciate what he gave to the story.

boxing gloves. I know nothing about them (including their name). They might already be dead in the manga but I don't think so.

Pakunda. I don't know how to elaborate on her bc I don't care about her all that much but some part of me can't help but kind of like her a little? I dunno. her loyalty would almost be commendable if it wasn't to Chr*llo.

Pheiten. his character concept and design is literally 'what if we combined Levi and Aizawa and then made him super fucked up' which is impressive because he was made like two decades before either of them. can't justify putting him this far up the list either because he's honestly kinda boring and overplayed but he looks cool and he's funny in a 'what the fuck is wrong with you??' way so here he is.

Kortopi. No I won't elaborate. Yes I know they're dead and I have no significant emotions about this besides >:I

Shizuku. She's cute and she has ADHD and plinky(?) the vaccum is one my favorite nen-things in the show. I'd love to study her and I honestly like her a bit more then I want to.

Machi. I love her specifically because she hates Hisoka. That's all she needs to get a pass in my book. doesn't hurt that she has pink hair and the closest thing to resembling common sense in the group. If Hisoka kills her I'll riot because she doesn't deserve that but if anyone else does it that's fine.

shalnark should be the leader of the Spiders, there, I said it. he embodies them and their narritive purpose and their nonexistant philosophy and arbitrary but unshakable rules and their faux 'emotional depth and complexity' that so many people buy into. He's so funny I love him so much. Like cholo is out here trying to double major in philosophy and theology and fooling thousands into thinking theres a single thought in his head meanwhile Shalnark's only personality trait is being a buisness major with no empathy, and if he was in charge the phantom troupe would loose all of the ambiguity people somehow beleive they have. Like Shalnark is played so straight that I can't help but lowkey love him. Kurta theory is fun in a fucked up way like tfw u become emblamatic of the group you helped kill your clan and you didn't even know because you live in meteor city. Yes I know he's dead and yes it's the closest I've ever come to caring about the troupe and yes it took me three whole days to get over it. Not my best moment I'll admit.

For the record if Kalluto dies I'm going to have at least one mental breakdown. Fuck you.

#hxh #phantom troupe #hisoka tw #hisoka #illumi zoldyck #chrollo lucilfer #phinks #shalnark #nobunaga hxh #franklin hxh #uvogin #pakunoda #kortopi #shizuku hxh #machi #kalluto zoldyck #luv u bby

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currentfandomkick · 5 years

Text

Miraculous Team and the Batboys

Longer update, wrote the ao3 version first this time. if you want to find me there, crazyjc.

Thankfully there weren’t any akuma attacks that day or that night. Marinette was glad to get some sleep for once. Her body, confused and used to a few hours a night, got her up early.

Marinette decided to help with the morning rush—quick to handle the register and make adjustments to some people’s orders (no extra charge for the exhausted high school and college students) when she managed to find someone as dead as she was after an akuma messed up her commission schedule and sleep was skipped for a week.

“Wow, you’re getting the ‘Please Don’t Let Me Die Again Yet’ special.” Marinette turned before the zombie could speak. “Maman, watch the register, someone looks worse than midterms and commissions me.”

Once Maman took the register again, Marinette worked on her disaster drink that only a few particular customers knew of from her personal menu--mainly the dead college and high school students insane enough to pull a weeks worth of all nighters like her. And baby parents that liked her parents bakery.

Gurarana beans instead for the extra caffeine with her special blend of licorice root, peppermint and green tea poured in--double the caffeine with less effort, glucose for the brain fuel, sweet and mint for wakeup and focus, and green tea for lasting energy boost.

“Here, this should keep you up and a bit more functional than usual.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, what got Finals Angel up this early?” One of the regulars almost yelled, staring at her with a look that screamed the universe was going to collapse in on itself, and they were now anticipating this outcome until they got their morning fix.

Marinette shrugged, moving to the next customer as the dead man took a seat and pulled out his laptop. She continued to help until it was getting close to class.

“Maman, the rest of that brew is under the cabinet for the laptop zombie, I’m taking my morning delivery now.”

Maman took over while Marinette made her way to school, passing out the usual deliveries as she moved about.

“Adrien, your insult to caffeinated monstrosities everywhere.”

“Thanks Marinette!” The blond held his (essentially) hot chocolate with one pump expresso, and five three shots of caramel on top of whip cream.

“Chloe, why you have me grab something this sweet this early is only further proof of your crimes against humanity.”

“You’re welcome Dupain-Cheng.” The girl nabbed her (in Marinette's opinion) low caffeine sugar water--licorice root with half a bottle of honey, and lots of ice with whip cream and honesy drizzled on top. She would never understand that order, but was too afraid to ask at this point. She might be taking the Bee thing too far.

“Alya, thank you for being a sane coffee person, Nino, we are having a talk about your scheduling.”

“Thanks gurl." Because close or not, Alya was an addict with a simple and reasonable coffee that restored Marinette's sanity while making it.

Nino groaned as he took his pastries and three cream, one expresso. “Not again, I still haven’t recovered from the last time.”

Marinette shrugged. “Your mistake, not mine.”

“Oh, did you get my cookies?” Sabrina asked.

Marinette rolled her eyes with a fond smile. She likes Sabrina when she isn't in full cling mode, and giving her boxes of pre-paid cookies put together on Marinette's whims? Very calming after dealing with Adrien and Chloe's offending orders. “Yes. You paid for a different set everyday.”

“Thanks!” Sabina examined her current mix, more obscure cookies since Marinette got them before the morning rush.

“Markov, please tell me Max got some sleep last night?” Marinette asked as she handed another of her special “Max needs a nap but is to stubborn to” order--which is essentially an energy drink blend with a few slow-release teas mixed in.

“Affirmative. He got the requested minimum of three hours. I will ensure he gets more once school is out.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” He was less prone to akumatazation with more sleep, and Hawkmoth does like using Max. Marinette likes knowing she can have her teammate in the field without wondering if he'll pass out.

Marinette took her seat by Alya. They weren’t as close anymore, but it did mean Lila was alone in the back and didn’t see the group document.

“Class, we have a new student today!”

Marinette frowned. She wasn’t informed of any newcomers. She looked over at Chloe who huffed. She didn’t know either then.

“Class, this is Damian Grayson from America. His father is here on business and will be joining us for the semester!”

Chloe and her shared a look. With Chloe as the current president and Marinette as the head of the welcome committee, this was very last minute for them not to be informed. Especially as Bustier had the time to since both were here early.

Alya shot her a look.

Marinette shook her head. She really didn’t know, and it bugged her.

Alya narrowed her eyes as the new boy came in. Black hair, stood too straight and Middle Eastern. She wondered what his first language was briefly--someone in school was bound to be fairly fluent. If it was related to Arabic, Rose would be a good translator. Her and Adrien both have Mandarin now, and her English was passable to Americans--not so much for the UK. Alya has Spanish while Nino has Portuguese covered. Chloe was good for UK English and so was Adrien, but those two weren't good for new kids... especially from the America. Mylene, Ivan, Nathaniel and Juleka were bad at talking most of the time, so they were no-gos...

And she still had to finish Ali's commission… This would be a headache if they were an old Chloe-type.

“Damian, why don’t you tell us about yourself.”

“No need to. I do not plan on making friends.”

And he was worse than an Old Chloe-type. There went her free period for commissions.

The entire class shared a look, and Marinette wanted to groan. This boy would be in for a rude awakening—there was no escaping friendship in Bustier’s class. And anyone difficult? They would sent Marinette as envoy--hopefully Alya didn't make easy.

“I presume my seat is in the back?”

“Actually,” Alya stood up with a grin, “I was going to sit back with Lila to help her catch up in our next class.”

Marinette froze as she realized what Alya was doing. Keeping the new kid from Lila was good, but she also needed to keep Alya from falling for Lila’s lies again. And she has no clue on his preferred languages and uh!

“Alya,” she hissed.

“Don’t worry, I got this.” Alya moved to the back with ease before the boy could say a word.

Marinette hit her head. Why was her friend like this?

“I guess that means you’ll sit next to Marinette. Marinette, can you show Damian around during your free period?”

Marinette knew that tone. There was no refusing without a lecture on being a good role model and another reprimand for stepping down from class representative and student government when she got more commissions and needed more time.

“Of course Miss Buster.”

Damian took his seat without saying a word.

Marinette decided it was better to stay silent with this one--he didn't want friends, and would only be here briefly. She could respect that, even if she could feel the others scheming otherwise.

“What do you mean you know—“

“Oops,” Lila grinned. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

And that was what Marinette was hoping to avoid.

Damian twitched next to her. Marinette sighed, “One sec, I need to remind someone to check her sources before getting ahead of themselves… again.”

Nino shot Marinette a sympathetic look while Marinette linked three redacted articles that starred Lila as her main source.

“And done.”

Damian raised an eye brow at her. “You aren’t going to pester me, correct?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. Honestly? “You made your stance clear. I’m here as the actual head of the welcoming committee, and during free period I’ll just need to know your interests so we can avoid the parts of the school that aren’t relevant for you, and to make sure you have an idea how to handle akuma attacks since I’m going to guess they didn’t tell you about that before you applied.”

“tt,” Damian leveled her with a scowl. “Of course I know about them.”

Marinette didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “So you know where to go for shelter, the drills, the apps and news sources that are good for tracking, which hospitals are contactable during attacks and which ones go into lock down, oh and what actions are allowable and not as civilian aides to the miraculous team?”

The boy froze before her. He didn't then.

Her face slid into a more neutral one--keeping her gloating to herself.“That’s what I thought. I have a few flow charts in the committee room to grab since its an info dump and no one processes those well, and your learning style may benefit from it for all I know.” Marinette made sure not add ‘since some people can’t be bothered to tell me.’ The new boy clearly wasn’t interested in friendship, and despite what the class thinks, she is not friendship-nip.

“I…”

“Class, turn to page 67 of your textbook. Marinette, make sure to share with Damian.”

“Yes Miss Bustier,” Marinette moved the book between the two of them, ignoring Damian besides checking where his eyes were on the page before turning as they followed along.

Once their free period began, Adrien had a Chloe guarding him against the Lila octopus, with Sabrina flanking his other arm as backup.

“I take it those three are together?” Damian asked once they left.

“No, Chloe doesn’t share her friends well,” Marinette explained as they moved through the halls. “And it keeps away his fans, so no one stops it anymore.” Not unless they wanted the Mayor’s ire at least. It was very effective against Lila.

“I see…” He was watching her. She wasn’t sure if it was an American thing or just a tic of his. Possibly both.

“That’s where the teacher’s offices are for before and after school,” Marinette gestured to one wing. “All the doors are labeled, so its easy enough to find who you’re looking for as long as you have a name. You’ll find most of the school services there as well, minus the nurse who’s room is closer to the quad.”

Marinette smiled when they got to welcoming committee room. None of the other members were there at the moment, but the file cabinet was. She grabbed one of the ready-made packets and grabbed a spare Bustier Class packet too.

“Here’s the information for being new in Paris, everything from common places to eat, the good hole-in-the-wall places itemized by what you’re looking for, everything relating to akumas is on the red papers, and the yellow is the school’s map and procedures.” Marinette handed him the blue folder, then the orange. “This one is the Bustier-class specific one approved by Miss Bustier. It lists everything from class rules, what caused various akumatazations with the victim’s consent to disclose it, so not all are listed, and it has your schedule and the class outing dates plus who’s interested in what on the pink pages for possible friends, but you said you weren’t interested so we can skip that.”

Marinette watched him look over the papers for a moment, waiting until his attention was back to her. “Now, anything you have a vague interest in that you might have some random inclination to do at Dupont during your free periods, before or after school?”

Damian raised an eyebrow at her.

“Its you let me tailor the tour for you, or you have to go all over the school and talk to me the entire time, when we both know you’re really not interested.”

“Tt.”

Marinette shrugged. “Have it your way, now, on with the tour!”

Damian gawked at the core ciruculum including what he knew was more college level than high school level. Then there was the fact these students had access to multiple state of the art facilities tailored to current students interests on campus, with little issue getting them apparently.

“How does your school get all of this?”

The pigtail girl almost laughed at his question. “I guess they just sent you here since we have the most flexible curriculum routines then.” The girl shifted how she stood. “Dupont is an experimental school, everyone is given high expectations on entry but as long as you keep up with grades the school gets whatever any student requests—a few years ago we had one kid that was allowed to do rocket science as part of his program, he went to some German facility with a translator every other day. Alix has a blanket permit to do street art and installations on public property, as long as she gets her design approved and can give them her schedule as long as she helps other student with history classes. I get full access to any designing materials as part of my deal with the school in exchange for doing any school event costumes and tailoring jobs that I get a two week notice on.”

Damian nodded along, processing this new information. Suddenly, the high amount of akumas from graduates and current students of Dupont made sense. They were specialists, extremely skilled at their crafts and more likely to be knowledgeable than the general population on a variety of topics.

Marinette was glad for their hour-long lunch. “I’d ask if you wanted someone to eat with you, but you look like you need some time to process. I’ll check in before school ends.”

She ran home, noting that the man from that morning was still there but looked much less like he would keel over sometime soon. She knew that brew would help. She grabbed a croissant and ran upstairs to finish Prince Ali’s latest commission—a variant on his usual princely attire that was more maneuverable but still formal enough that no one would notice when he wore that one instead of the traditional one.

She had a feeling he was going to use it to sneak away from his guards.

She set an alarm and got to work.

She was quick to leave once the alarm sounded—she gave herself an extra five minutes this time.

“Hey, you’re the coffee angel, right?”

Marinette turned to see the man from that morning, now much more alive.

“I guess.” Marinette knew not to give out names to customers unless her parents deemed them not-stalker-y.

“Thanks, that thing actually worked. What’s in it?”

Marinette smiled at that. “Sorry, that’s a secret not even Maman and Papa get to know.”

“Huh,” the man processed her words. “Guess I’ll have to keep coming when I’m low then.”

Marinette nodded. “Guess so, good to see you’re no longer a zombie monsieur!”

She ran off at that, not sure what to think of them yet, other than if they needed that drink regularly, they might be worse than her. And she has heroing as an excuse. He doesn’t.

Holy shit was not expecting this response.

Thank you all so much, was not expecting this much positive response and i think my brain broke a bit, in the good way.

So, we have a new fan to Marinette's secret menu, and a Damian slowly realizing why the school is targetted who is also going with the 'I don't do friends' thing, again.

leaving this one as a poll: Damian calls out Lila by the end of the day for how Marinette and him end up as friends, or he puts together Marinette is doing a lot for the class by the end of the day and wants to figure out why, especially after reading the Ladyblog during lunch, or any other ideas.

Any ideas on how Marinette meets Dick and Jason for when she meets the next round of Batboys?

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @littleredrobinhoodlum @northernbluetongue @kceedraws @pirats-pizzacanninibles @theatreandcomicfreak @daminett4life @catthhay @weird-pale-blonde-person @amayakans @chocolatecatstheron

#maribat #daminette idea au #miraculous team and batboys #my writing

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themarvellouswriter · 4 years

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MOB!SEBASTIAN x TALL!READER

PART ONE OF THE MASTERPIECE SERIES

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of to be honest

Word Count: 1.8k

Genres: Mob!AU (Is this a genre?), mild fluff, slight slow-burn, some angst (or maybe a lot of angst)

Notes: Its my first official fic on Tumblr you guys, wish me luck! And happy reading! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“But Y/N, you promised!” “I’m sure you must have hallucinated my response. Why would I willingly promise to wear five inch heels to your bachelorette party?!” “Cause you’ve got killer legs and you always look good in heels,” pouted your best friend, Sofia, from where she was lounging on the sofa of your apartment. “I am perfectly fine wearing my very comfortable two inch ones.” “You always wear them! For me? Your only best friend, who’s getting married in a week?” You looked at Sofia’s puppy eyes and sighed. “Fine, I’ll wear them. But no dancing. I’m already a foot taller than everyone else, no need to add my ridiculous and non existent dancing skills to the mix.” “Deal!” She pressed an excited kiss to your cheek as she stood up and held up a brand new shoe box. “For my bestest and loyalest friend in the whole wide world!” Taking it from her you opened it slowly to reveal said pair of five inch heels. You had to admit, they were gorgeous. Delicate red laced straps and closed toes, just like how you liked them. You hid a smile. Sofia grinned. “I know you love them,” came her sing song voice from next to you. “Fine. Yes. Yes, I do love them.” “Lovely. Try them on!” You tried them on and stood up. Sofia squealed. “You look amazing!” You looked down at your feet and then met Sofia’s glowing smile with one of your own. “Yes, I do!” She pulled you into a tight hug, her head now barely reaching your shoulders.

Suddenly an alarm went off. “Oh, we’ll be late!” “No, you’ll be late. To your own party.” “Which you organized!” “Touché.” Sofia practically skipped into your bathroom to change her clothes. A few minutes later she stepped out wearing a sparkly champagne coloured dress with her six inch golden pumps. “Ta-da,” she said striking a pose. “Very nice. Very Charlie’s Angels of you,” you complimented her, slowly clapping. She took a deep bow. “Thank you, thank you.” You went inside the bathroom and changed out of your clothes into a similar shimmery knee length red dress. You didn’t really like short dresses because the shorter the dress the more uncomfortable you felt. You looked at yourself in the mirror and gave a slight twirl. ‘Nice’. You walked to find the rest of the party crowding your apartment. All seven of members of your party had dressed to the nines in glitter and were wearing the colors of the rainbow. Sofia liked to keep things fairly small but wild. And for her you would do anything. When everyone finished putting the final touches to their outfits, you called your hired limo for the night and set off for the craziest night of your life.

After spending the entire evening trying to keep the girls mostly sober but slightly tipsy and having fun, you were tired. As much as you were used to wearing heels and towering over people, wearing five inch ones and keeping six giggly girls on their feet was not so much fun. You felt like mother trying to keep her screaming children from screaming louder. At the last stop for the party, you headed to a quiet and mostly empty pub so that they could sober up and not have hangovers the next day. There was another small and quiet party in the corner who appeared to having a meeting of some sort. Not paying much attention to them, you left the girls in a booth in the corner, then headed to the counter to order some light snacks and water bottles. As you waited, you idly stared at the clock behind the bar. 23:47.

Most of the girls were half asleep and the others, mainly Sofia, were playing with the napkins on their table. You felt someone approach you from behind. You stiffened. “Hey,” came a low, slightly gruff voice. You turned around to meet a pair of blue grey eyes. “May I help you?” You asked politely. “Yeah, I’m Sebastian and my friends over there forced me to ask you for your number.” “And?” “And I think you’re really pretty and I would really like your number.” At that moment your order arrived. You gave the man a quick once over. He was dressed extremely well in an expensive looking navy coloured suit and his hair were kind of long and slicked back. He had a soft smile on his face which gave him a sort of puppy look and his eyes were really nice. He had day old stubble which made him look older and very nice looking, not to mention kissable, lips. Your mouth twitched. “If I see you again, then I will. Because right now, my girls need me.” You tilted your head in Sofia’s direction and stood up and you were so much taller than him. He, Sebastian, wasn’t short by any means but right now you practically towered over him. ‘Darn it’. You walked away, face flush with embarrassment, towards your table. You kept your head down the entire meal and when the limo came to drop everyone off at their place, you were the first one in.

You liked being tall. Being tall was nice. Nothing was ever too much out of reach and although you never could have fun on the monkey bars, you liked it. But sometimes being so tall made you want to scream. Why was it that you were so much taller than everyone you were interested in? And not to mention the constant jabs from everyone who looked at you funny for wearing heels. Its not like you needed them, but you wanted them instead. You liked being tall but you often wished that you were small enough to be cuddled with and picked up and swung around in a lover’s arms. And ever so often you’d feel the need for being treated like a small and fragile human instead of a tall and imposing one.

You stayed mostly quiet the entire way under the guise of being exhausted when they girls looked at you questioningly. You smiled and reassured them that you were fine. But your mind kept going back to the ridiculously good looking guy who’d asked for your number and you’d turned him down. On retrospection, maybe he was more good looking now that you were miles away. You shrugged off thoughts about him as you finally got down and helped Sofia out. You paid and thanked the driver for his services and led her in. Sofia immediately collapsed on you bed. “That was the best bachelorette party ever. I had so much fun and by the looks of your night, you had fun too!” You laughed. “It was nothing. I’m glad you had fun.” “What about tall and cute and handsome at the pub? He seemed into you.” “Oh Sofia. You know me. I have extremely high standards. Most people don’t even come close to them,” you deflected easily, knowing that Sofia would never let it go if you told her that you had chosen her over some hot guy.

You changed into your pyjamas and then coerced Sofia into hers. She was staying with you for the night since it was nearly one in the morning. After what seemed like hours of her pouting and making faces and cries of ‘I’m too hyped to sleep! I’m getting married’, you finally managed to get her in bed. After tucking her in, you lounged in your balcony, propping your feet up on the railing and gazing up at the sky. You must’ve dozed off for a while because the next thing you know there were a couple of thuds coming in from the alleyway between the buildings opposite to yours. Several flashes of light followed by a short scream which was abruptly cut off. Your curiosity got the better of you and you jumped to your feet, grabbed your phone and headed out to investigate.

Using the torch on your phone, you slowly walked towards it. Quietly you made your way inside. Two people were beating up your nice neighbour Veronica Martin, who always gave you a cupcake from her little bakery around the corner. Furious, you stepped into the light and let out an indignant yell, “Will you two jerks stop hitting her?! She’s done nothing wrong.” They gave you the once over and snorted. “This is none of your business, girlie. Run along now.” “Excuse me? If you don’t stop right this second, I’m going to call the police.” The shorter of the two stepped towards you threateningly. “Don’t make us do something you won’t like.” Veronica coughed from her place on the floor. “Leave me, its okay Y/N. I deserve this.”

You clenched your phone tighter and said, “Nobody deserves to get beaten up in the middle of the night.” “Get lost, punk. Or you’re next.” “Try me, egghead. I ain’t playing around.” “Alright, you asked for it.” The shorter one pulled out a blade and moved towards you. “Two years of college mixed martial arts, don’t fail me now,” you muttered to yourself as you ducked just as he swung his knife at you. Taking a step back, you kicked him the stomach and as he keeled over in pain, you snatched the knife from his limp fingers. “You wanna try this again, ugly?” You taunted the other one. You moved closer to Veronica’s prone form and held the blade threateningly. The other held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, we’ll go now.” He made his way slowly to where his partner was groaning in pain. “Wait, before you go.” “Huh, wha-” And you punched him the face. “That was for hurting Veronica. Now scram.” The taller looked at you, his expression a mixture of offence and surprise as he gingerly touched his cheek. After making sure that they weren’t gonna come out and surprise you, you bent over Veronica and examined her. “Oh, V, you’re hurt so bad.” Her eyes fluttered as she looked up at you. “I’m calling the hospital.” As soon as they picked up, you gave instructions on where you both were. You cradled Veronica’s head and spoke soothingly. Her eyes widened suddenly, “Y/N watch out-” Something heavy hits you on the back of your head and the next thing you know is there is a dull throbbing at the base of your skull and then darkness.

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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years

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i love your precious heart

(chapter seven of we’re the fortunate ones) ♥️

season seven: i love your precious heart

For the longest time, there was a part of Jake Peralta that genuinely didn’t believe he was deserving of any special kind of love or affection. Years of rejection; from the revolving doors made up of fathers, step-fathers and short-lived relationships, had led to the once quiet inner voices growing louder - reminding him every chance they could that any state of legitimate happiness simply was not meant for him.

(Dr. Marcia, the therapist he’s been seeing once a fortnight for a close to a year now, has helped him to understand this.)

This New Year’s Eve, standing here on the fire escape that runs along the outside of the apartment he shares with his wife, is not one of those moments.

Their plans for the evening had skewed slightly from their original schedule, partially because Jake had heard the sighs of dejection Amy made when she’d returned yet another ill-fitting dress back into their wardrobe. Her body is changing in a lot of ways this year - some of them rapidly, others sneaking up on her so slowly it drove her insane - and when he remembered that Amy hadn’t really had the chance to go shopping for a decent range of maternity clothes yet, Jake had moved quickly to devise an alternative plan that seemed both spontaneous and not-at-all-related to a lack of party outfit options.

Pouring them each a glass of sparkling apple cider (if Amy can’t drink, then Jake can’t drink - and he’s not interested in hearing arguments that suggest otherwise), he had googled events that were happening nearby, found one with fireworks, and with his brilliant detective skills had deduced that their fire escape will face exactly the right direction to watch the show without ever having to leave their house. And maybe Amy had already been hoping that he would come to the same conclusion, or maybe she was just a really big fan of fire escape parties (he suspects, though, that it is the former) but either way, her dress had been swapped for sweatpants within minutes of Jake’s suggestion, and the relaxation on her face simply made her all the more beautiful.

They’d spent the entire evening rotating between the living room and the tiny space outside that Jake had stocked up with blankets and snacks, talking and laughing as they reminisced the year that was. There had even been a sweet little slow dance, to a song playing on Jake’s phone as it stayed nestled in his pocket - and it would have been totally romantic, if it hadn’t been interrupted by some dude yarfing onto the street below. Still, the feeling of holding his wife in his arms, while their baby stayed nestled in-between them, was something that Jake will hold onto forever.

The breeze has grown colder now, the wind rustling through Jake’s hair as he waits for Amy to return from her seventeenth trip to the bathroom (sadly, not an exaggeration), and as he reaches into the storage box for another blanket for his wife, Jake finds himself looking back on the last few months with a smile. Even now, there’s a tiny piece of his mind that is still incredulous that she is pregnant - that the two of them are having a baby. In just four short months, there will be a tiny human that is part Amy, part Jake and wholly them, and he’s never ever been more excited for the future.

He can still recall the moment it had all changed for the better - when Amy had turned to him with the brightest smile he had ever seen, and nodded her head. He’d sat beside her on the floor of their bathroom for longer than he’d realised, staring at the plastic stick with it’s stamped lettering and two thin red lines that told him that Amy was pregnant. His eyes had kept darting from left to right, his brain frantically trying to reassure himself that he was, in fact, reading it all correctly. That the love of his life was carrying his child, and the world as he knew it was never going to be the same again. It just … hadn’t made any sense, how easily it had all changed. Every part of his life involved filling out some sort of paperwork or prior approval or whatever - it was a reality that he merely tolerated, but Amy adored. But, in the blink of an eye (and a round of admittedly great sex), Jake Peralta was going to be a father.

Deciding to start trying had been one of the most uncomplicated decisions of his life, and one that he hasn’t reconsidered for a second (it had surprised him at first, how easily it came to him - but that’s the thing about finally being in a secure relationship. Even the things that terrified him the most, suddenly didn’t seem so bad when he knew Amy would be by his side). But it had stunned him, how in just one moment, seeing the word pregnant on a little piece of plastic had made him fall in love with something (or someone, really) that he hadn’t even met.

He had known, in approximately 0.0003 seconds after seeing their daughter for the very first time on the ultrasound screen, that he wouldn’t ever do anything that could hurt her. That he will fight for her safety and security, with every fibre of his being, until the very last day of his life. This tiny little shadow on the screen, with it’s echoing heartbeat and what thankfully looked to be Amy’s nose, was now the single-most greatest thing that Jake had ever done: and nothing was ever going to change that. These past few months have made Jake understand his father even less, and appreciate Amy all the more, if for nothing else than the fact that she’d given Jake a second chance to show just how capable - and deserving - of love he can be.

Hearing a soft grunt to his left, Jake turns his head in time to see Amy wriggling through the window frame, the swell of her belly turning what used to be an easy move into something that requires a little more finesse. There’s a soft metallic thud that reverberates towards the empty streets below as both of her slipper covered feet hit the gridded surface, and she grins in triumph before making her way over to Jake.

“Starting to get over this whole ‘needing to pee every half hour’ thing that I’ve got going on.”

Grinning, Jake leans against the balustrade of their makeshift balcony, ignoring the gentle dig of the metal against his skin. “I mean, you know my feelings about water, hun.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amy shakes her head in response. “Hate to tell you this, but all I’ve been drinking today is orange soda - and we both know that’s your genes at play here, Peralta.” Amy winks at Jake’s responsive wince, cupping his chin in her hand as she pulls him closer for a quick kiss. “It’s a good thing that I love you, huh?”

“Oh, it’s a very good thing, Ames.” The best thing ever, actually, that she loves him. She tells him a lot - even more so since falling pregnant, a side effect that has been hated by absolutely no-one - and every time feels better than the last.

A car passes them below, the loud music pumping from the speakers and filtering it’s way up to the two of them, and Amy looks down at her sweats, turning to give Jake an apprehensive look. “What a wild New Year’s Eve we’ve ended up having. Maybe we should have gone to Terry’s party after all? I mean, it is the last child free one we’re going to have for a long time.”

Slinging an arm around Amy’s shoulders, Jake pulls her closer to him, smiling as her hand wraps around his waist in a move that is absolutely second nature. “No way, Ames. I’ve got my two best girls here with me, and in five minutes I’m going to have the greatest seats in New York as that building over there lets off fireworks from their roof. Terry’s party can suck it.”

Right now, a bunch of fugitives could climb out from the sewer clutching diamonds from the biggest jeweller in town, and he wouldn’t move. Bruce Willis himself could knock on the door, and Jake would tell him that he needed to come back tomorrow (please, please, please - come back tomorrow).

This was his home - he’d built a world between these four walls, with the love of his life - the only one to run a hand over his scars, both physical and mental, and still call him beautiful. His partner, in every way imaginable, and easily the greatest person he’s ever known. And just when he didn’t think she could be any more magic, she’d begun carrying their child, and now he is absolutely certain that Amy is completely made of stardust.

Even when her hormones are out of control, and she’s yelling at him for not mixing enough pickles into her ice cream.

There was nowhere he’d rather be, and nobody he’d rather be with. Literally everything he needed, for the rest of his life, was right here in his arms.

(Okay yes, technically he would eventually need orange soda and gummy worms and maybe some water if Amy insisted. But there was a healthy stock of all that in their kitchen, and by ‘right here’ he obviously means their apartment.)

Amy hums - this sweet little hmmming sound that Jake knows to mean contentment ever since he heard it on their first night together, a sound that he’s heard a million times since then and just never, ever fails to transcend him - and she leans a little more of her body weight against him, blinking slowly as fatigue begins to set in. There were countless books and testimonials that told them to get as much sleep as they could, because once the baby came sleep would become a long-lost memory, and Jake could tell that Amy was secretly dying to curl up into bed. Baby-growing, it would seem, was a highly exhaustive task - and in all honesty the idea of curling up underneath the blanket with her for the rest of the evening sounded kind of amazing.

Jake’s just about to suggest a retreat to their bedroom when he hears the first whoosh of a firework streaking through the sky, the subsequent explosion of light piercing his eyes as tiny blue stars litter their previously dark canvas. Either the revellers had decided to celebrate early, or his watch was slow (entirely possible, he’d bought it for three whole dollars at their local bodega) - whatever the reason, Jake cannot help the smile that stretches across his face as more colours begin to light the sky.

Now completely awake, Amy moves closer still to Jake, standing in front of him and gripping his forearms in her hands when they wrap around her clavicle. From behind Jake can hear her tiny gasps as each bang and pop takes place, and after a minute he cries out in surprise, moving quickly to place his hands on either side of Amy’s pregnant belly in a protective stance.

Shifting her head to the side, Amy looks at Jake in confusion, pointing downwards. “What’s with the sudden coverage, babe?”

Eyes wide and earnest, Jake nods in the direction of his hands, explaining - “I’ve got to protect the baby’s ears, Ames! These fireworks are loud - and what if she’s asleep right now? She’s part Peralta, and you and I both know Peraltas are NOT a fan of being woken up.”

Amy laughs, her nose crinkling up in that completely adorable way that Jake absolutely loves, shaking her head as her fingers link with his on either side of her bump. “Our baby is totally fine in there, Jake. But I love you so much for thinking of her right now.” There’s a slight shift underneath Jake’s hands, and he can’t be sure if it’s a kick of just a general nudge from their daughter, but either way he takes it as a sign that their little one agrees with Amy’s statement. Nodding; he smiles at Amy, suddenly feeling a little foolish - but perhaps, he’s just foolishly in love. Above them, the fireworks continue to explode, only now they don’t seem so loud.

Moving one hand away from his, Amy cups the back of Jake’s neck, gently pulling him downwards for a soft kiss. “Only five months in, and you’re already the greatest dad ever,” she whispers against his lips, pressing against them with her own once more. He’s blushing by the time she pulls away, he can feel it in the sudden tingle of his cheeks, but all he can think about is the title greatest dad ever, and how much he can’t wait until those very words are emblazoned on a mug or some other kind of gift their child decides to buy him. He wants it on hats, and shirts, on socks and a keyring and everywhere in between - because when it came to Jake and fatherhood, there was not a chance in hell that history was going to end up repeating.

“Hey,” came Amy’s soft voice, pulling Jake out of his thoughts as her fingers return to the back of his neck and toy with the curls that live along the bottom of his hairline. Briefly, he remembers that he meant to get his hair cut two weeks ago. “You okay, babe?”

Taking a deep breath, Jake smiles and nods, waiting until Amy has turned to face him completely before tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “Happy New Year, Ames. I know I’ve said this before, but this year is going to be totally amazing.”

Amy nods back, giggling as Jake swoops in for a kiss. “I’m going to remember this moment when we’re elbow deep in dirty diapers and our eyelids are being held up by toothpicks.”

Joining in on Amy’s laughter, Jake shrugs his shoulders in defeat. “This is probably going to sound insane, and I’m definitely going to deny I ever said this when we’re in that situation; but even that sounds a little bit awesome, because it’ll mean that she’s here and we can hold her and talk to her and just love her for reals.”

“Totally insane, and I completely agree.”

It’s less than an hour later that both Jake and Amy are tucked into bed, the sound of Amy’s gentle snores lulling Jake to sleep as 2020 begins to stretch her limbs. Their apartment is quiet, but filled to the brim with love - right down to the printed sonogram, sharing the space of a heart-shaped magnet with a photo of a young couple falling for each other - and there is a small room adjacent to the kitchen that is almost ready for it’s tiny occupant to arrive.

As his eyelids grow heavy, Jake thinks back to all the years he and Amy had spent together, and how many times they’ve had to push back against all the things that have tried to keep them apart. He knows now that it was worth it - all of it was worth it - because truly, the best was yet to come.

#myfic #so pumped we have the option to write pregnancy/baby related fics now!#the options!#mine #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fanfiction #jake x amy fic #b99 fanfiction #b99 2020 vision challenge

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haiyuta · 5 years

Text

Thieve | | Minho

summary: stealing the wrong jewel soon learning that the prince isn’t as bad as he appears.

word count: 4.1k || prince!minho, lots of soft moments, soft smut, like superr soft, kissing, grinding, touching, soft prince minho, teasing

a/n: here's something no one asked for but I have writer's block and wanted to do something royal related so here it is

Running as fast as your legs could take you, you maneuvered through the forest dodging trees while avoiding the knots on the forest floor. Your heart pumped fast while your mind was abuzz with what you've done. In a small stack in your right hand, a beautiful jewel lied in it. A large ruby you've stolen. This stone was enough to let you live comfortably maybe start a restaurant or a farm.

The sound of yelling and horses made you push yourself as you speed up. You felt exhausted tracking down the rich male and taking the jewel while they were in mid sleep and now running. Your mind was racing you knew a perfect way out the river disconnecting the two sides of the land.

Seeing the cliff your eyes widen in shock a few more mins and you would be across the river and be in the clear. The horses kept up with you already closing in. If you could just reach the river, you'll be in the clear.

Closing in on the cliff you stopped in your tracks seeing the river flowing lightly in the morning light. Ready to jump you hesitated to look at the distance of the jump. This jump could kill you calculated. The horse's thuds were inclosing on you already.

The hesitation would be the end of you before you could jump you felt the weighted net surround you. Your hand with the sack tumbled out your hand and over the edge.

"Halt thieve," you heard the man yell. Gazing at him he looked like a guard as he got off his horse.

You were caught.

"Where is the jewel thieve," the large guard grunted out.

Glancing at him you shot him a smirk "hope you can swim cause it's in the river," you hissed.

Sighing the guard looked at you "tie her up we have to notify the prince his jewel is gone." You felt the net lift off one of the men grabbing your wrist as they tie it behind your back as they added another rope to make sure they could handle you from a distance. Leaping on their horse they pulled you along.

The feeling of dread filled you as you walked toward the area you stole the jewel from. A small camping area between two towns. The shame of not being able to just jump filled your mind as you held your head low. Coming to the camp you were at just a few minutes ago you stopped to see the fire was out at this point. Seeing a slim male stand up seeing his guards.

You should be ecstatic at being in the presence of a prince. The ultimate women's fantasy the prince of some random kingdom and talking to him. The overall dread of being punished for your crime was stirring.

"Sir this is the thieve that took your jewel," the guards said as they jumped off the horses. Pushing you forward making you fall to your knees. You sent a glare at the guard.

Looking up the prince he sighed tilting his head at you. "So, you're the filthy thief who stole the jewel," he said slowly. The look on his face was a mix of amusement and anger. He was a prince you thought to yourself. He was the stereotype gentle clear face, small features, slim the whole prince package. You couldn't place his region at all. How far have you've gone from home you didn't even know where you were?

"I did," you admitted sending him a glare. Your eyes lingered to the sword that was on his hip.

He laughed for a split second as it slipped to a serious look in a second "did I ask you to speak," he tilted his head "Where is the jewel," he spoke slowly, "if you have it I'll let you go I don't feel like killing a lady today."

He stopped eyeing you up and down "barely a lady," he corrected himself. You scoffed at his insult. Really insulting your femininity, it made you roll your eyes. You were a thieve the last thing you thought of buying were things to make you look more like a ladylike unless it was for seducing men you had to do one or two times.

"Your jewel is in the river," you explained a slight smile raised on your lips staring at him.

The male frown his eyebrows at you with a slight shake of his head. He sighed putting his hand across his eyes as he felt his temple. "Aren't you a joy throwing my jewel in a river," he hissed. Looking from you to the guards he glared "and my wonderful trained guards couldn't save it," he passive-aggressively spoke about them.

The prince folded his arms "that jewel was for my dear mother," he said moving closer toward you. The morning light reaching both of you slowly making you finally see his expensive clothing.

The aura around him was one of authority and privilege. "And you took it and thrown it away," he spat the words out at you. In your mind, you tried to figure out how to get out of this situation, but nothing came to you. Your arms tied behind your back you on your knees in front of him. The mercy of death soon looming over you.

Before you knew it his sword was out as it laid under your chin. "What shall I do with you," he hummed a small smirk on his lips.

Your body shook as he forced your chin to look up at him. The blade was sharp and expensive as it touched your chin. "Sell you," he hummed "you wouldn't even be a fraction of what that jewel was worth," the prince gritted out. The ultimate distaste of being sold out bubbled within you.

"Kill me then," you challenged pushing the sword closer to your throat. One simple twist of his wrist you're dead. Accepting death at this point was what you decided. You would rather die than to be sold off. "I'm not worth anything."

"Kill you that sounds nice," his thin eyes stared at you. The blade touching your neck it was cold making you flinch away from it.

"Since you want death, I will not grant it," the prince smirked at you. "We'll decide your true fate at the castle." Turning around he put his sword back on his hip. "Morning is upon us men we are only 3 more towns away from the castle," he hummed.

"Prince," you spoke looking up at him "May I ask what's your name," you said.

A small smirk lit his handsome face "Prince Minho 3rd in line for the throne," he with a matter of fact tone.

"What is your name little thieve," he asked.

Blinking you mumbled "Y/n my name is Y/n," you said not wanting to claim your old title as a noble.

It's been months since you stole from the prince. You were lucky you got away with your life from stealing from a high royalty like him.

The kingdom he was from was a lovely kingdom. The town was bustling with trade perfect for merchants from the fishing district and texture to trade in. A middle ground of sorts. Winding from the town were noble homes they were lovely and clean as the main castle of his home was at the end well-guarded of course.

Coming here he explained to you to work off the jewel that equals about 10 years of your life. Or die. With that, you decided to become a servant rather than die.

Wanting to escape was a common thought but the work here was too good. Getting a small allowance for the work you did, a room in the lower parts of the castle and did have two square meals a day. Getting the servant clothing which was low quality but still a nice set of clothing.

This was better than the life of stealing for money risking your life as a traveler while stealing. While living with the royal family wasn't awful, they seemed as long as you worked, they didn't mind the servants.

You learned Prince Minho was 3th of this kingdom. You learned the prince had 8 brothers. The one first in line was Prince Chan was handsome the next in line and rather serious in front of people. He was friendly to you and the servants always boosting the moral of whoever was near him.

Being a servant to Minho it was just back and forth with the prince. Whatever you said he had a comeback. What he needed he made you get it in spite of having other servants. Whenever he was bored, he would request you to do something interesting.

Breaking you out of your thoughts you heard Minho speak. "Arrow," he said in a lazy manner. With a sigh, you pulled out the next arrow from the holder handing it to him. You've been watching Minho shoot arrow after arrow in practice. He was expertly trained you noted.

Eyeing him you got a good look at his calm face as he closed one eye as he focused on the target. His hair was slightly tousled and sweaty from being in the heat.

Pulling back the arrow it shots out with an intense force. The arrow landed in the blue area showing it was a good shot but could have been better. "Wow prince that was a very good shot," you said sarcastically clapping.

Minho scoffed "Can you do better than me."

Raising an eyebrow at him you grinned "I've never had proper training, but I could do about the same as you," you challenged back.

Quirking an eyebrow, he grinned "pick up a bow then," he accepted the challenge smoothly.

The bubble of a challenge filled your chest. "Will do," you spoke back smoothly. Placing the arrow bag down you picked up one of the bows. It was a heavy expensive bow when you picked it up.

Glancing at him he watched you as you picked up the bow angling it.

"Here I'll help," he shifted a small laugh. Reaching over he grabbed your hand helping you aim. Your mind buzzed with how close the prince was. "Keep steady," he whispered. Glancing at him you tried to focus on the bow and not Minho next to you.

Closing one eye you directed it at the target and releasing the bow. It hit a little in the red showing you did better than Minho on that one.

Grinning you smiled "Maybe you need more practice prince," you teased out sticking your tongue out at him.

Minho stuck his tongue in his cheek and grinned "that's real cute but that was pure luck," he tilted his head. The look on his face struck a chord in your chest making you roll your eyes at the feeling. The cord making you slightly scared of the feeling. Who can blame you he was a handsome young man that called what you did cute.

Trying to avoid eye contact you put the bow back picking up the arrow bag.

"Get back to shooting it's hot out here," you moaned in fake annoyance at Minho. Trying to cover how shy you were with being so close with Minho.

He gave you a small smile without words you handed him another arrow as he finished up his sets.

Being in the prince’s present was getting easier. The back and forth was getting lighter and easy. He was a busy prince his days packed full of training, meetings and such but always found time for himself in between. You even explained to him why you stole the jewel for his mother. Explain you were once a noble but soon your parents were requesting of you to marry an older man. Rejecting the claim, you ran away from your village never looking back.

Minho was sympathetic and sensitive about your past claiming he understands slightly. Every year his parents would host a courting party as women from across the land would come and look for marriage. Minho said he couldn't marry anyone, yet he was too young and it was too quick for him.

Right now, you and Minho were in the garden looking at the precious animals he loved so much.

"This is my kitty all the way from faraway lands," he showed you one of his cats. They were very pretty you thought kind of like Minho. You blinked at the thought of the prince trying to push those feelings away.

Looking back at the cat you noted how fluffy they were with their large blue eyes as it cuddled in Minho arms.

"Oh, I've seen these but they're still rare," you commented looking at the small creature. His eyes sparkled looking at the cat as it cuddled in his arms.

"May I," you asked wanting to hold the small creature. He eyed you for a second and nodded passing the small creature gently. Picking up the cat you smiled at how warm and fluffy it was.

"This kitten is adorable," you commented looking at it sit in your lap.

Minho let out a tiny grin as he gazed at the cat and you. His eyes flickering as you let the cat grab at your finger.

"You're adorable," he blurted out suddenly.

You straighten your back at the comment looking at him curiously. Your stomach twisted at the words "prince you shouldn't say those things," you commented at the fact. The tension rose the more he didn’t answer you.

He didn't respond but with a kiss. You were stunned at the kiss not moving to feel his lips attached to yours. Eyes widen to see Minho delicately press his lips on you.

Your eyes fluttered closed at the kiss as you smoothly kissed back. It was soft and needy but as fast as it came it left. Pulling away your eyes widen to look at the prince his eyes were staring at the ground in reflection.

"I should go," you spoke taking the kitten and handed it to Minho he mumbled a light thank you. Quickly as ever, you left the garden running back inside the castle.

Ever since the kiss you and Minho, there was a distance between the two of you. Only formally addressing one another and keeping the small talk at a minimum. You did miss him dearly, but you didn’t want to push the prince into anything he was going to get in trouble for. And kissing a servant was something he would get in trouble for.

Right now, you were running around for Chan. He was the main prince and it seemed nothing for him was done recently.

You had to clean his clothing, go out and buy him more ink and paper for his stuff all while still juggling Minho needs like his practice and meetings. It's been so much you haven't seen much of Minho. He didn't really come looking for you either.

With a sigh, you walked into Chan's office with arms full of paper. "Here's the paper you asked for," you said putting it down on the side table.

He thanked you for your handwork. "Please sit I know it’s a walk from the ground floor to here," he grinned gesturing toward the leather couch in the room.

"I really shouldn't," you mumbled looking at the attractive place to sit.

"No please I would feel bad if you didn't," he said.

But before you could sit you felt someone enclose your wrist. "Chan stealing my servant again I see," Minho smooth voice told you.

Chan leaned back on his chair "just a little she's so efficient," he said.

Minho rolled his eyes "yeah I know that's why she’s mine," he said smoothly. His words of ‘mine’ filled your mind. Pulling you out the room you felt Minho go towards his room.

"What are you doing," you asked stopped in the hallway. It was always quiet in the prince’s area.

"So, you're spending your time with Chan now," Minho accused.

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at his hold on your wrist firm but still gentle. "I was helping him like he requested," you explained. This was the first time since you've been so direct with Minho in a week or so.

"He's not your prince I am," he said weakly his small eyes widen and his handsome face slightly defeated. "You're," he paused looking at you.

"I'm your what servant Minho," you spoke fiercely back wanting to just argue with him. Wanting to have that causal back and forth once again.

Without words, you both came after each other for a final kiss. You just disregarded the rules and just kissed him. He pressed your back against the wall as he kissed you. It was a slow needy kiss you didn't know how much you've missed him until you didn't have him.

Kissing him felt amazing it was filled with so much need. Pulling away from you softly breathed noting how amazing the prince felt against you. "You're," he paused "mine," he breathed.

Processing the words, you stopped looking down reminding yourself what you were "We really can’t," you whispered with a serious tone.

"Why we know we feel this," he bites back. You couldn't even argue that after being near Minho for almost a year at this point you've grown close. From the annoying way, he would always argue back to his love of animals to the way he was passionate about his royal manners. Long days and nights with him caused the feeling to grow deep.

“You haven’t been my servant for the last month you’ve been my companion,” he said with passion. You felt your body fill with joy and your body buzz with happiness at the word. Companion. You couldn’t deny you were at this point. The talking, the teasing the playful looks.

Without words, he leaned in to steal a kiss from you. You gladly accepted the kiss.

Kissing him slowly back you enjoyed it wanting him so bad after all this time. Pulling away you gazed up at him “We shouldn't do this out here," you mumbled shyly knowing you were out in the open. He agreed pulling you toward his room.

The moment you guys were in the privacy of his room he quickly locked the door making sure no one could barge in. The familiar room of his was large and spacious. The colors of deep brown wood and clean reds. Minho pushed you gently against the wall again as his hands roamed your body.

"I've wanted you for so long," he said in a husky manner as his lips went to your neck to kiss it and mark it.

“I’ve wanted you to prince,” you moaned back at the feeling of his teeth attacking your neck.

Deep inside you knew this was wrong but you didn’t care at this point. The prince wanted you and you wanted him.

Feeling him grab your hand he led you to his spacious bed. He looked magnificent. His dark hair clean yet messy he looks so alluring with his legs spread out his hands behind him. "Come," he mumbled patting his lap.

"With pleasure," you grinned placing yourself nicely into his lap. The moments like these were priceless you thought. Coming from stealing his stuff to kissing him what time does to the heart. Kissing him, sitting on his bed being his equal for a moment in time.

His eyes were so full of love and want as he gazed at you. "I want you so bad," he mumbled knowing he wanted to have you but couldn't.

"We can't,” you said reaching for his hair running your fingers through it. Like you thought it was course yet still soft. Minho let out a hum from the feeling of your nails in his hair.

"I agree," he mumbled knowing that you both couldn't yet give each other fully yet. The probability of getting pregnant was too high at the moment.

“But we can do other things,” you hummed brushed his shirt wanting it off already.

Before you knew it, he shifted you more directly on his lap your legs folding under you so you could sit comfortably. "Take this off," he lightly mumbled at the dress you were wearing. "I can't wait to get you out of these servant clothes," he said. "I can dress you in golds and silks." The double meaning of his words causes your heart to race with want.

Raising your arms above your head you let him slip the thin dress over your head. He was gentle and needy as he touched across your body. His attentive touches driving you wild.

“Can I,” you asked wanting his shirt to be off as well. Giving you a short cute nod, you helped him take off his silk shirt revealing his chest. He was chiseled and strong.

You moved your hands against his chest enjoying his strong chest.

Moving your hips against his in want. He let out a small moan from your movement. Capturing you in another kiss you grabbed your face to steady yourself as his hands laid across your thighs and ass.

“You like,” he chuckled at how you were touching him.

You could already feel him growing under you from just kissing him. "You're so excited," you commented at how aroused he was already.

"Mmh, of course, you're amazing," he praised you.

Grinning at the words at how amazing it felt to be praised. "My prince praising a servant," you teased out staring at his deep eyes.

Rolling his neck, he sighed "you know you're more than that," he said in a teasing tone "you're my equal the best equal I’ve met," with that he gave you another open mouth kiss. The heat of his mouth driving you insane.

Moving your hips against his you felt his erection moving against your center. "ah," you moaned in the kiss feeling his body against yours. His erection hitting your clothed center ever so nicely. You felt so close to him in this position all you wanted was him.

Releasing the kiss, you let out a moan in pleasure. "You feel so good against me," he let out a throaty moan.

The more you moved the more pleasure built up in your body. Your skin was so warm as you clung to Minho neck to steady yourself. His erection even through clothing was causing you so much pleasure.

Shifting a moan, you heard Minho gentle lust filled voice say, "please come for me." "Come on I want to see that angelic face filled with pleasure," his words egging you on.

With those words a few moments later, you came on his lap. The moment shaking your body to the core. Gripping Minho tighter you whimpered feeling him rut against you for another moment. His erection so warm and needy against you.

“Come on join me my prince,” you whispered to him. He let out a moan his handsome face twisting in pleasure as he came.

Holding on to one another you blushed at the realization of what you just did.

Feeling Minho shift you off his lap and into his bed lightly. Putting your hands over your face in embarrassment seeing Minho sweaty and still needy.

“Aw, that’s adorable,” he commented. Laying on the bed he sighed wrapping his arm around you. In the comfort of his large bed, you fell asleep.

Waking up you realized it was already morning time in the kingdom. The sun already rising in the horizon ready to fill the room. Soon the servants will come in to check on the prince. Unwrapping his arm from around you with shame you got up.

"Y/n where are you going," he hummed realizing you were getting up.

"Um it's almost morning I should be going," you responded looking at your barely clothed body. Shyly you tried to get up, but his strong arm still captured you. You knew he wasn’t supposed to do this he was breaking so many rules, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was you.

"No, stay with me," he hummed pulling you close to him. Sighing in defeat you let your eyes wander to his soft face. He had a calm look as he slowly went back to sleep.

"I know I'm handsome but watching me is a little much," he mumbled smirking.

"Oh, don't get cocky Mr. Y/n you're so pretty," you mimicked what he said last night.

Rolling over on his stomach peaked out at you "I wasn't lying," he grinned once again. You didn't know what was to come from kissing the prince. You blushed remembering the other stuff you did together. All you knew was the prince didn't regret it and you didn't either.

#skz scenarios #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios

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addy-venture · 5 years

Text

A Bio

I’m working on an actual bio page that will be a little more succinct and not as long, but in the mean time, this is the headcanons:

The Childhood:

The dichotomy of her endless energy being endearing and irritating began the minute she learned to crawl and would chase after her older brother, Sam, until he started crying. It only got worse as she grew up and chasing after her brother evolved into wrestling with their dogs or climbing on top of the roof or sneaking into her neighbor’s ranch to tie bows on their goats’ horns. It didn’t matter if her brother insisted that it was a horrible idea; if it sounded fun, she would do it.

It became a joke early on that the only way to get Adelaide to do anything was to tell her she couldn’t do it, for better or worse. Her mother used this to get her to clean her room (“I’m sure you couldn’t pick up your clothes faster than your brother”) or to help out around the house (“It’ll be impossible to wash and put away all of these dishes before you father comes home”). As a child, this worked like a charm as the bouncing dark haired girl rushed to rise to the challenge placed before her. She eventually came to see the manipulation behind it, but she could never quite shake the urge to prove someone wrong whenever someone tried telling her not to do anything.

She grew up on the outskirts of a small town in Wyoming and, before being enrolled in school, only saw other kids at church every Sunday. Her only companion was her brother. Only one year older than her, he tended to be quiet around people and kept to himself or by his mother’s side. With Adelaide, though, he couldn’t help but come out of his shell as he made up incredible adventures for them to go on. He would admit to her that he wanted to be a writer or an actor when he grew up and Addy made it her mission to make sure he achieved his dream. She would be his partner in any scene he wanted to act out and would always encourage him to make new tales and stories for her. For the first few years of her life, nothing made her happier than getting her big brother to smile with her.

Always aware of her rambunctious personality, her parents were more willing than most to let her do whatever she wanted, whether that be wearing pants or playing sports only the boys would play. Her father specifically tended let go of what the town deemed to be “masculine” qualities since he viewed her as the son he had always wanted, just in the wrong body. While they were forgiving of this, there was the unsaid agreement between the two parents that eventually Addy would grow out of this phase and became a proper young lady once she was older. It was a shame that no one had told Addy that until it was too late.

The Transition:

School was something of a mixed bag for Addy once she started going. On the one hand, she couldn’t handle keeping still for so long and was often hit for it. While on the other, she was able to properly blossom into a social butterfly. She found that she liked people and all of the weird things they did. She knew some of the kids from church, but the ones that were from other neighboring towns or went to different churches were the ones she was interested in. Some of the children called her weird for always trying to talk to people, even the ones who always sat by themselves, but Addy paid them no mind. If Sam taught her anything, it was that some people weren’t good at talking and Addy was more than willing to help them out.

She learned quickly that her boyish interests and energetic personality were not accepted by everyone, and the children at school would tell her so. They spat teases and ridicule at her any chance they could. Most ended with her shoving them to the ground and fighting until an adult got involved, but just as many resulted in her rushing to the girls’ bathroom to cry in peace. After her father found her with wet eyes behind their house one night, he told her his secret for getting by: you laugh with them. With time and practice, she was able to fight them off with a chuckle and started to build thicker skin to bare their torment. The words still hurt but she could shrug them off easier until eventually she was able to convince herself that they didn’t even matter at all. And laughter soon became her answer to any situation she felt angry, scared or uncomfortable in. It helped her cope and it let others see her as stronger and unfalliable.

Addy had already built up her own resistance to ridicule when she caught some boys picking on her brother. Before she could think, she rushed to his aid and shoved away the bullies, proclaiming that if they wanted to hurt him, they would have to deal with her. The boys eventually left, but then Sam blew up at her, knowing that he would only get more shit for having to be protected by his little sister. He demanded that she stay away from him and mind her own business. It was the first time he had ever been truly angry with her and even her apology didn’t heal the rift that began to form between them.

Fourteen was the age when her parents started to be more strict with her, forcing her to be more ladylike and stop running around the yard. Her less than ideal grades made it clear to them that she wouldn’t have much of a career and thus started to push her to pick up more housework and learn to cook. It didn’t work out the way that they intended. Addy did try, but it was such dull work that she couldn’t help but find ways to make it fun for her. Unfortunately, that tended to make an even bigger mess. To avoid her parents’ disappointment and pressures, she started to stay away from home by spending time with friends and joining her school’s basketball team. It didn’t stop them from pestering her to be serious about her future, but it was easier to ignore when they were already too tired to lecture her. She was a little concerned about what she would do after graduating high school, but, like with most problems, she shrugged it off and bounded toward her next adventure. Her future would be tomorrow’s problem and there’s no use worrying about that when today still had so much to offer.

Despite everything, Addy never did picture her leaving her small town. After finding out that women weren’t allowed to actually fight in the military, she figured she would try to make a life for herself there as a waitress or something of that sort.

The day Sam ran away from home to go to Los Angeles changed everything for her. The anger on her father's face as he tried to explain how his son planned on throwing everything away to become an actor and the worry emanating from her mother is what pushed Addy to follow him. They weren’t the same as they used to be. He avoided her whenever he could it seemed and she tried her best to let him be. But she knew her brother and the idea of him being alone in a city was enough to inform her parents that she would be there to protect him and to not turn her bedroom into another sewing room while she was gone. When she appeared on the doorstep of the cramped apartment he shared with several other people, he hugged her so tightly, she knew she had made the right call this time.

She worked at a small diner to help with rent while Sam took on any job he could get his hands on in between auditions. She would go home exhausted but still find the time to help Sam go over his lines for his next audition. There was one they he kept going on about, a role to be the leader of a team of heroes. Addy thought it sounded kind of fun and she helped him get into character by reading the part of a gun toting badass. When it came time for his audition, she decided to tag along because fuck it why not? She had the day off. And when they asked what role she intended to audition for, why not just give the name of the role she had been reading with her brother for the past few days. It didn’t matter anyway since there was no way she’d get the part.

When she got the callback but Sam didn’t, she could see him break a little. And as she continued to get callbacks and auditions, his jealousy surfaced. The night she was told she got the role was when he let it all boil over: his envy at how father always preferred her over him, how easily she could just talk to people, and she was going to get her big break before him. If it was anyone else she might have fought back, but she let it all happen, unwilling to hurt her brother further. Come morning, all of her things were packed and she was on her way toward the Bureau.

It was her attitude that earned her the role. The way she stepped into the room without a single fear or care in the world and the way she carried herself. This woman would stand tall no matter what was thrown at her.

The Exemplars:

Addy went into the Exemplars half expecting to hate it. She wasn’t an actress; she only did so well with the audition because she didn’t think they would actually pick her. But as they handed her a gun and told her to fire, she figured it wouldn’t be so bad. When they tossed her in their first mission, she could feel her heart pumping against her chest and the rush of adrenaline took over, giving her a high that only the finest drugs could match. That’s when this went from a job to the best time of her life.

They called her fearless early on. The way she threw herself into danger and took on what she clearly couldn't handle. Only the incredibly reckless and insanely fearless could manage. They didn’t get that she was scared, sometimes even terrified. But she dealt with those situations the same way she dealt with her anger and hurt as a child: with a laughing smile and the ability to convince herself that everything was fine. In time, that smile turned more genuine. What’s there to be scared of when they’ve fought the terrors of the world and survived? And if they’re going to win anyway, why not have a little fun with it. There was little that Addy wasn’t willing to do, ready and eager to jump at anything tossed her way.

She considered the term “headache” to be a term of endearment when thrown at her, especially when it came to the Bureau. Addy had lost track of all the times they threatened to write her out or replace her with someone who would actually follow orders and not cost them hundred of thousands of dollars in property damage. Though the swearing seemed to upset them almost as much as the tossing herself into danger without a second thought. “Parents don’t buy toys for their kids if that toy swears,” they would tell her. For a week she tried to censor herself in the way that television does for movies such as saying “muffler hugger” instead of “mother fucker”. And while she did have fun trying to find the most outlandish ways to connect a normal word to a swear word, she did eventually fall off that wagon and went back to her normally programed curse fest.

She definitely said “yipee ki yay motherfuckers” as one of her catchphrases (though she tried to omit the last part when she remembered) and gave a little “whoop” when she heard the phrase used in Die Hard.

Absolutely named each of her guns after famous cowboys and pioneers. Her favorite one was her rifle that she called Oakley, after Annie Oakley. Also her pair of pistols were named Butch and Sundance. Any grenade she threw were called “buffalos”.

The team was her family, the place where she felt she truly belonged. Despite the trouble that she caused, they seemed to accept her, maybe even love her for it. They were a sense of home she hasn’t felt since she was a child. She’d never really say that she loved them though. No, she showed her love and affection by making sure they weren’t hurt.

She always knew she was made of tougher skin than most. She would take punches and get right back into the fight as if it was nothing. So she had no qualms when it came to tossing herself into harm’s way. She could take it. People like Druid or her brother couldn’t handle that kind of pain or strain to their bodies and if it meant she could keep them from that, she would happily step in the way.

The only time she ever truly felt guilty for going against orders was when someone else was hurt because of her actions. She tried to minimize casualties when she could, but there was only so much she could do. And when the Bureau tried to tell her to do something reckless on purpose that would result in someone getting her, that’s where she drew her line.

Life outside of the Bureau was difficult for her, especially with all of the cameras and the invasive questions. Why was everyone always so curious about who she was dating anyway? She was never rude to the people who came up to her to ask for a picture or an autograph but when it came to the interviews, Addy couldn’t put together the right words the way that Babydoll did. However, if she did want to go for anonymity, she found that the easiest way to do so was to wear a dress. For some reason, no one seemed to make the connection.

There was always the assumption that the Exemplars wouldn’t last forever, especially by the end of it. There was the hope that maybe they could have a revival of some sort, but even Addy could read the writing on the wall. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to think of what her life might be after. A small part of her assumed that she probably wouldn’t even make it that far anyway. There were still monsters to take out, after all, and who knows what could happen. What’s the point of planning for something that probably will never come to pass.

It was supposed to be her. Addy had always assumed she would be the one to die if a teammate were to fall. She was the one who threw herself into danger, who took the hits the others couldn’t. She /should/ have died countless times already. Pendulum’s loss hit her hard and it left her feeling more lost than she’s ever been. And if that wasn’t enough, she also lost her team--her family--as the Exemplars were disbanded and they disappeared into the wind. Addy didn’t know what to do with herself. She was never supposed to get this far.

The Consequences:

What’s a gun toter supposed to do when there’s nothing left to shoot? She did the only thing she could think of; she went home. After all the years of fighting, adventure, and near death experiences, Wyoming seemed to be more or less the same. Her childhood home was the same as it had always been, down to the creaky floor and mild smell of manure. It was all incredibly boring. Her mother had her help with her sewing, but what else was there to do? It was so quiet, annoyingly so and she couldn’t find the contentment there that she once did. She didn’t stay there long, but long enough to get it in her head that maybe normal wasn’t for her.

She talked to Sam only briefly during her time with the Exemplars, enough to know that she has a niece and two nephews running around Los Angeles. But after leaving Wyoming, she decided to pay him a visit and it almost felt like old times. He told her stories of his life now and she couldn’t help but be happy for him. He didn’t get the career that he wanted, but he found a wife that made him happy and loved his life. It was the first time Addy found herself envious of her brother. Regardless, she decided to move to Santa Barbara to be closer to them.

She did a lot of random jobs after that from dog training to a gun safety teacher to a sky diving instructor. She knew she didn’t have to work, but it was better than being home and bored all the time. Eventually, she found her place at a boxing gym where she spent a lot of her time sparring and teaching younger kids.

Her body did not appreciate all the strain she had placed on it in her youth and it finally started to get back at her. She had tinnitus which gave her a permanent ringing in her ear, on top of general loss of hearing. She had to get her knee replaced and realized that she would have a permanent limp on her left side. Not to mention, the numerous scars that littered her body or how frequent her headaches seem to be nowadays. She did her best to ignore it--to pretend that everything was fine--but she wasn’t fooling anyone, even herself.

The only long term relationship Addy was able to keep in that time was with her dogs. Sure, she got married to a handsome man at her boxing gym, but just as quickly as they fell in love, it broke apart. She did have a good relationship with a woman for a while, but once word got out about that and word started to spread, the woman broke it off to avoid any backlash. Beyond that, she had mindless flings and friends to spend the night with.

She chased after the excitement and adrenaline she once felt with the Exemplars. In those moments, that was the only time she felt truly like herself again. It reached the point where, when the portals started coming, she felt excited. This was it. This was her chance to get back to what she was truly good at. She would finally feel alive again. When the call came, she already had her bag packed.

Misc:

She took piano lessons when she was little and was actually okay with it, when she could settle down enough to actually focus. She still does read music and can play a little, though not nearly as well as she used to.

Her mother taught her how to sew after she kept coming home with holes in her pants. Her mother was a seamstress in the town and hoped that maybe Addy would be able to take over for her once she got too old to do it. While Addy could sew fairly well (the only household chore that she took to), she could never imagine herself cooped up in a room and sewing all day.

Addy was awful in school, except in math. It was the one subject she was able to understand fairly well and it just clicked in her head. If she cared more about her studies, she might have even found some joy in it. That never did happen, but she is still good at doing mental math in her head.

She is quite the early bird as she used to get up to help her father around the ranch when she was growing up. Now, she usually uses it to go for a run in the morning or go to the gym before it gets too crowded.

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

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Kurtbastian one-shot “Coming of Age” (Rated PG13)

Summary: An unfortunate accident while teaching his son to ride a skateboard does more than knock the wind out of Sebastian's sails. (1741 words)

Part 53 of Daddies

Read on AO3.

“Exercise bike … dragon fruit cuttings … barbells … another exercise bike … golf clubs … ooo, questionable Japanese print of three naked guys doing it. That’s definitely going in the save pile …”

Kurt peeks out the kitchen door into the living room when he hears his husband mumbling, finally awake after his three hour, painkiller-induced coma on the sofa. Kurt looks his exhausted husband over – the mess of hair on his head, his five o’clock shadow, his wrinkled white t-shirt. With cell phone in hand, peering at the screen through squinty eyes, he looks less like Sebastian Smythe and more like a stereotypical, rough-around-the-edges love interest from some cheesy rom-com.

And it makes Kurt smile.

It’s been a long time since he’s seen his husband so adorably rumpled. It makes him want to cuddle up next to him with a mug of apple cider and waste a whole day doing nothing but being quiet in one another’s company.

With everything going on in their lives, it’s been so long since they’ve been able to find the time.

Well, we have the time now, Kurt thinks as his eyes fall on the cast on Sebastian’s right arm – a souvenir from a recent attempt to teach their son to ride a skateboard.

Thomas took to it like a fish to water. But Sebastian - more like a fish trying to make a three tier Belgian chocolate cake with sour cream frosting.

To be fair, Sebastian used to be an incredible skateboarder back in the day. It was one of the things that attracted the hell out of Kurt when they first tried their hands at being friends. Watching him grind on the railings all over campus made up for a good third of the crap Sebastian had said to him in high school.

But working full time, traveling, getting married, and adopting a kid – especially a kid with special needs - left little time for Sebastian to sharpen his skills. He did fine going forward and stopping. He even popped a decent Ollie. But his attempt to do a kick flip ended with his feet twisted underneath him. He flew head over heels, then landed on his back with his arm twisted beneath him.

Kurt stayed by his side the entire trip to the hospital. He tried to joke with him, take his mind off it the same way Sebastian did with Kurt when he accidentally mixed Ambien and Dayquil with a booze filled donut and had to get his stomach pumped.

Sebastian cracked a smile, but that’s all Kurt could get out of him.

He didn’t make a single sarcastic comment the entire time they sat in the exam room, didn’t make a single off-colored joke when the nurse came to take his temperature. In fact, he was a model patient, which is odd for Sebastian.

And ever since, he’s been uncharacteristically quiet.

The more Kurt watches his husband sulk on the sofa, the more he suspects it’s not the painkillers keeping him sedated.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Scrolling through Facebook marketplace.”

Kurt makes a face. “Why in the hell would you do that?”

Sebastian shrugs, making an I don’t know noise.

“Did you find anything interesting?”

“A-ha.” Sebastian turns his phone so Kurt can see. “Look at all these used CPR dummies! And just $40? That’s a steal!” Sebastian shakes his head, returning to the screen. “Why are the kid ones anatomically correct? That’s just nasty!”

“Uh … I feel there’s a story behind this,” Kurt says, sitting beside his husband. “And after our Elf on a Shelf battle, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“Wes has an irrational fear of CPR dummies.”

“But … he’s a doctor.”

“Yup. It made for an interesting four years during his Red Cross internship.”

“You’re not going to buy those CPR dummies, are you?”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no need to have half a dozen used CPR dummies in the house.”

“They’re not going to be in our house.” Sebastian chuckles. “I’m gonna send them to Wes.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because pulling pranks on your loved ones can be fun.”

“Or mean.”

“You should talk.”

“Bas …” Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s knee, hoping to pull his focus, but Sebastian doesn’t look away from his phone “… what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been a stick in the mud ever since you broke your arm.”

“Probably because I broke my arm.”

“Yeah, but the old Sebastian Smythe wouldn’t have let that keep him down. He would have seen the silver lining.”

“What silver lining?”

“For one thing, he would have jumped at the chance at getting a five hour bj whilest high on powerful, hallucinogenic painkillers. But you haven’t propositioned me. Not even once.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not the old Sebastian Smythe,” he grumbles. “I’m just an old Sebastian Smythe.”

“Ah ...” Kurt nudges his way underneath his husband’s left arm, wedging himself between Sebastian and his phone, but Sebastian raises his arm higher to see over his head. “I think I see what’s going on. Sebastian, falling off a skateboard once does not make you old.”

“It doesn’t make me young,” Sebastian counters, swiping vindictively at his cell phone screen with his thumb.

“You haven’t stepped on a skateboard in over a decade. You can’t expect to just get on it and go. It’s not a bicycle.”

“Nothing says I wouldn’t have fallen off a bicycle, either.”

“I thought you were the one who didn’t care about growing old.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s because, stupidly, I didn��t think it was going to happen to me.”

Kurt is about to remind him that growing old happens to everyone, but he knows what his husband means. Even as a realist, knowing that old age happens to everyone, it scared the hell out of Kurt when it happened to his dad.

And when it started happening to him - his first grey hair heralding the beginning of the end as far as he was concerned.

But sitting beside his husband, curling into his side and laying his head on his chest, he recognizes that he also never believed Sebastian would grow old. Being a responsible adult human isn’t how he sees his husband, even though he’s been that for a while now. Sebastian has a certain boyish charm that seems to withstand the test of time. Nothing fazes him, he takes nothing seriously, and even at his most infuriating, he always finds a way to make life fun.

Listening to Sebastian talk about growing old is like watching Peter Pan hang up his pixie dust and his pointy hat to become a lawyer. It’s inconceivable.

“Breaking your arm doesn’t mean you’re old. It just means you’re not that good on a skateboard anymore.”

“Harsh.”

“But that’s not a bad thing. I know that we want to teach our children, be everything for them. I know you want to be Thomas’s hero, but you already are, and you didn’t need to get on a skateboard to do that. The most important thing is that you’re willing to try and willing to do. And willing to fail.”

Sebastian sighs, dropping his hand with the phone in it to his side and his head back on the couch.

“But I shouldn’t have failed. That’s the thing. I should have been able to get right back on that skateboard and ride it as if a day hadn’t gone by since the last time. And for a good few seconds, it felt exactly like that. I was riding again, and nothing had changed. But then I tried to do that flip, and I felt … heavier than I remember. Clumsier. My brain was telling my feet what to do, and my feet said Sorry! New phone, who dis? And then I hit the ground, and the whole world stopped. Thomas was so worried about me and you were calling 9-1-1 because I couldn’t get my ass up and do it myself. It was just so … humiliating.”

“I get that,” Kurt says, wrapping his arms around his husband’s torso and giving him a hug. “But I think you’re being a little too hard on yourself.”

“That comment is begging for a NC17 rated comeback, but I just can’t come up with one right now.” Sebastian sighs. “See? I told you. I’m old. I’m losing my touch.”

“I don’t see how you can honestly believe that. You’re in excellent shape! You exercise constantly - you run, you play handball, basketball, tennis. So, you couldn’t land one kick flip. To be honest, with the amount of stuff you can do, I would say you were due for one tiny failure. And aside from that …” Kurt snuggles closer, letting his hands roam, careful to avoid certain bruised areas in search for the ones that turn Sebastian on with the mere suggestion of a touch “… do you really think an old man would be having the amount of sex that you do? And not just regular, boring, vanilla sex … inventive sex.”

“Inventive, huh?”

“Yup. And you call me flexible.”

Sebastian grins and Kurt knows he’s got him. “Yeah, well, if there ever comes a day when I can’t fuck, please do the humane thing and shoot me.”

“It’s a deal. And look, if you want to take up skateboarding again, it’s not too late. Tony Hawk is 51 and he still boards. You’re nowhere near that old. With a little time and effort, you can get your old mojo back.” Kurt bites his lower lip in an attempt not to laugh. “I’m sure Thomas would love to teach you.”

“Ha-ha.” Sebastian glares at Kurt, but his grin doesn’t only stay, it grows. “I guess you’re right. I’ll take stock of how many more limbs I’m willing to fracture and get back to you guys.” He raises his left arm and goes back to fiddling with his phone. It makes a cheerful dinging noise and Kurt sighs.

“You just bought those CPR dummies, didn’t you?”

“Maybe …” Sebastian giggles. “Can’t help it. Facebook makes it too easy.”

“Sebastian, I love you, but you are a man with way too much money and way way too much time on your hands.”

Sebastian scrolls back to the questionable Japanese print, his thumb hovering dangerously close to the ‘checkout’ button. “You’re not wrong.”

#Kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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