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puredivinity · 3 years

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nsfw alphabet (a-z) | eren jaeger

warnings: nsfw (18+), mentions of unprotected sex, of filming, slight breeding (?), very minor mention of blood in the letter ‘N’, i’m also not sure what else to work you about so i’ll just leave it here. original link.

word count: 2.6k (the same wc as my last post, haha)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

After sex, Eren is usually relaxing and reflecting on what just happened. His hand is always on you, whether it be him holding you to his chest or simply linking pinkies, he’s there. His face is flushed and he’s breathing heavy, but he’s never felt better in his life.

All he can think about is how amazing it was, and he rolls over to press a kiss to your warm skin, mumbling an ‘I love you,’ where his lips connect.

He checks on you, making sure any marks he might’ve left don’t hurt too bad or sting too much, and he’s careful to scoop you up for a bath afterward. He makes sure you don’t have to lift a finger.

Regardless of if he’s mean to you, or if he’s rough with you, he always does this.

B= Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Eren’s favorite parts of his body are probably his arms and shoulders. He’s not very muscular but they’re defined enough to his liking, and he hopes you like them too.

His favorite body part on his partner is probably your thighs or your ass. He likes to squeeze them. He loves settling between your thighs and marking them, or having them sat atop his shoulders when he goes down on you.

He likes squeezing your ass when you ride him, and it’s where his hands rest the majority of the time (He’s not sorry).

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

Eren’s cum is pretty thick, and he does it a lot. He has a lot of things pent up and it comes out during sex, but he tries.

He’s messy, like real messy, but he tries to not get it everywhere. Does it work? Absolutely not. But he tries.

His favorite place to cum depends on what you’re doing. If you’re blowing him, he wants to do it on your tongue/face. He’ll ask you to stick your tongue out (he does it like so much that you do it without him having to at this point) and he does it up there.

Anywhere else, and he tries to cum on your chest or inside of you, because he really likes to watch it seep out. He pushes it back in with his fingers and reprimands you for letting it fall out, opting to plug it with his tongue instead.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t really have a dirty secret; whatever he does is out in the open, including the time he stole your panties to jack off.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

In canon, Eren isn’t experienced. At all.

In modern times, he’s fairly experienced. Before dating you, he’s had a few partners, but they’ve all had significant periods of time between so it’s not a consistent experience.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Doggy — I think this goes a little without saying, but he likes to watch the ass jiggle, and maybe smack it a little. Bonus points because he gets to really see how he’s fucking you, and it motivates him further.

Full Nelson — I said it. He likes it. He only does it when he’s really pent up, and he does it in front of a mirror so you both can see. He whispers the filthiest things to you and hearing your reactions really sets him off. Plus, he can tease you for the way you're dripping wet. He loves that. It also flexes his arms and strength, adding a boost to his ego <3.

Missionary — Eren loves to see your face, and the pleasure he’s giving you. He relishes the fact that he’s the primary source of your pleasure, thoroughly enjoying the way you bite down on your lip and your eyes get glassy, lips swollen from kissing him. He gets a full view of you in all your glory, and it becomes one of his favorites for that reason.

Mutual Masturbation — It’s not necessarily a position, but it’s something he really likes. He likes being able to look in your eyes and feel you come undone underneath his fingers, his touch, while you do the same to him. It’s a level of intimacy that’s unmatched for him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

You two share a good laugh or two, yeah. He’s not intentionally funny—someone just makes a weird noise or if you have a little trouble getting into a position, it’s a little funny.

Also sometimes he gets stuck in his clothes and might accidentally rip a shirt, which makes you laugh and he gets flustered. Poor baby.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Eren isn’t too big on shaving. He more so prefers to leave everything as is down there, minus trimming a bit before it gets too unruly. He doesn’t leave a ton of hair down there bc it gets in the way, hence the trimming.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

It depends on the mood. I don’t think he’d ever be your cheesy type of romantic, with candles and flowers and all that jazz. He’s not great with his words, so he’s lacking a little in that department, but he’s very passionate. Very energetic, very needy and desperate for your touch and to touch you as well, that it makes up for what he lacks in other areas.

He maintains his usual playful persona throughout it, and likes to exchange a few giggles or small laughs here and there, and is generally all smiles whether it’s a needy moment or he decides to tease you just a little bit. He sometimes laughs at you when you whine after he pulls away to edge you, but he makes it up to you. Like he always does.

Sometimes he’s mean, building you up just to let you fall back down, dragging out your release for as long as you’d let him (or for as long as he feels like). He marks you, ensuring to leave something where others can see. You’re his. Remember that.

Other times he’s soft and sweet, praising you as always but without that little taunt in his voice, pressing meaningful kisses to your dampened cheeks; telling you he loves you more than anything, and if you want to cum, he’ll let you. You just have to let go.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Eren only does it when he’s alone and/or you’re absolutely too busy to do it and he doesn’t want to disturb you. He has a high sex drive, so he’s no stranger to doing it and he knows how to get himself there in no time, and he usually doesn’t care much for prolonging it because he’d rather be fucking you. Or have you be the one to stroke him.

You’re the main and only thing on his mind during these times, and he imagines that his hand is yours. If you’ve let him, he uses your panties to do it sometimes.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation — He really likes overstimulating you, and takes great pride and pleasure in watching your legs shake after being brought to your orgasm over and over again. The heightened sense of pleasure makes you release the most delightful sounds he’s ever heard, and he makes sure to give you a kiss and all the praise you deserve after being so good for him.

Orgasm Denial/Edging — For the kinda same reason as above, he takes pride and pleasure in those things. He also doesn’t mind relinquishing control and having you take the reins, denying him his orgasm until you feel he deserves it. Do this and he’ll lose it. In your hand.

Praise Kink — I think we saw this one coming. Eren loves, and I mean loves, to tell you how good you’ve been for him. Tells you how pretty you look, all cute for him. Praises you for taking him well, too. For him, he needs you to tell him how good he’s doing. How well he’s pleasuring you, how well he’s making you feel. He craves it, he needs it.

Filming — Also not sure if this is considered a kink, but he does love this. I headcanon him as a photographer/having interest in photography, and you’re his main model both in fashion photoshoots and nude ones. He has several polaroids of you in little to no clothing (with your permission, of course) and has them for ‘safe keeping’. Code for pervert. There’s something about doing it on camera that thrills him, and he enjoys watching back the footage whenever you’re away or you’re in the mood for home videos. Lovely, right?

Marking/Biting — He uses his mouth a lot during sex, whether it be going down on your or simply biting a kiss into your skin—he does. He leaves marks on you and circles them with his teeth, tracing the imprints they’ve left after sex. He ensures they hurt as little as possible, but are heavy enough to be seen.

Not sure if this would be considered breeding, but he also really likes to fill you.

Threesomes are also in the question for him. He wouldn’t mind sharing you with a trusted friend, like Armin.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Eren prefers to do it on the bed because it’s significantly easier and it’s what he’s used to, but he doesn’t mind getting it on on a countertop or a desktop. Anywhere you’d let him take you is where he’ll have you. Greedily.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Call him what you will, but he absolutely cannot deny being turned on by you snapping at someone. You show the slightest hint of an attitude and Eren’s like “Oh, word?” He’s horny.

Also if you yell a little, it’ll get him riled up.

Likes it when you take his fingers in your mouth, or when he has your fingers in his. Pair that with the right amount of eye contact and he’ll quite literally be jumping out of his clothes. Also lip-biting.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that involves extra bodily fluids (you know what I mean).

Also reluctant to do anything blood related.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Eren prefers to receive, but he doesn’t mind diving in. Absolutely not. He moves faster than you could blink.

He’s not too experienced with it at first, but his determination leads him to figure out what you like and what you don’t in no time, and soon enough he’s got it down. He never disappoints.

He’s real messy when he eats, and will let you taste yourself if you let him.

Also, snowballing. Will absolutely cum in you, eat it out, and swap it with you in a heated kiss. Makes him ready for another round. And if you stick your tongue out and show him before swallowing? He’s gonna bust.

Now, in terms of him getting head, he’s quite awkward the first time. He shoved your head down too hard out of excitement one time (and felt real bad) so he made sure to keep his hands at bay for the most part, and instead let one settle at the back of your neck.

He loves making eye contact with you when you blow him, and if you keep it, he’ll nut within seconds. The visual of you on your knees makes him lose it, and he’ll cum right on your face, usually without warning. He apologizes right after though.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood he’s in.

Sometimes he’s sweet and slow, kissing you and moaning into your mouth, savoring the sweetness of your lips and the feeling of your touch. Your bodies mold together perfectly, and everything feels ethereal; just right.

Other times, he’s teasing. He’s sweet, but it’s almost mocking. Taunting, even. Treats you with a sweet smile and hungrily drinks in the moans you make, the sobs of pleasure that fall from your pretty lips. He moves faster this time, gripping you so hard that the flesh of your hips burn, driving into you repeatedly. He’s needy then, but still teasing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun for him. Eren takes them as a challenge to see just how quickly he can make both you and him cum in a short span of time.

They’re not his preferred, but they’re still fun.

Will happily take you in a closet just far enough from the general crowd, or dip into one of the empty classrooms on campus.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’d be down to experiment with anything! As long as it isn’t hurtful or harmful to anyone involved, he’d be down. If it doesn work out, then it just doesn’t work out.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Eren can last for a fairly long time. He has a lot of stamina and energy from being an athlete, so it’s granted him a boost in the bedroom.

Lasts for maybe two or three rounds, sometimes even four if you’re not knocked out by then. However long you’re up for.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He didn’t really own any toys before getting in a relationship. He uses them primarily on you, but doesn’t mind using them on himself.

Recently purchased a fleshlight vibrator combo that activate whenever the other is used, so you can use them together. It’s great for when either of you leaves.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It’s ridiculous with the amount that he likes to tease. He’ll have you begging for ages, mumbling that you just have to ‘let go’ and trust him and he’ll let you cum. He builds you up with his mouth, bringing you just dangling at the edge before slipping into you, and the cycle repeats. He’s ruthless but pretty, so you let him get away with it.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud. He’s a moaner and a groaner, and fully encourages you to be the same way. He’ll let out the prettiest sounds when he’s close, murmuring curse words under his breath and talking about how good you feel around him.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Did I mention that when he eats you out or removes your panties, he stuffs them in his pocket? He does that. For ‘safe keeping’. He gives you a grin that sends you to heaven, so any complaints you had die out on the tip of your tongue.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

It’s decent down there, he has a dark brown patch of hair, probably freshly trimmed and neat-looking. His dick is a little bit darker than he is, tip flushed with a pretty pink color. It’s a bit above average length, and a bit veiny, standing at seven inches even when erect. He’s shower.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

High. Very high.

He’s down for it all and any time of the day.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep immediately unless he’s really tired (which rarely happens), so it takes a little while for him to pass out. He usually hops in the bath/shower with you to clean up, and then he showers you in love before falling asleep. A gentleman.

tagging: @levilaughlove69, @proseofpandemonium, @starstruckkittensweets, @alrightberries, @redhairedace, @jean-does-not-have-a-horseface, @jaegerbrat, @blondeboyfriend, @thethyri, @gojosweets, @namrekcaivel, @shisoaya, @ghvsts, @levisbrattiestbrat, @imonmylastthreadofsanity, @asterroidd

#eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #aot smut #snk smut #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #nsfr #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager x y/n

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raekahwritings · 3 years

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BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be? “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress, watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart. His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

#shindou you #shindo yo #bnha x reader #bnha smut #gods!au #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #fanfiction #boku no hero fanfic #shindou yo x reader #shindo yo x reader #raekah #bnha fanfiction #fanfic

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

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Too Late: Marianne (commission for miner249er)

Chapter 9 of the commission for @miner249er

Previous Work

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: Marianne wanted to be back in Paris as a shoulder to cry on, as a friend, not a warning.

Marianne stepped out of doors of the train with a hesitation that felt like weights attached to her ankles. Those that saw her probably thought it was because of her age, she wished it was due to her age, but no. Her hesitation stemmed from the reason she was back in Paris at all and because of how much Paris had changed since what Fu was calling, ’the incident.’ What happened was no mere ‘incident’ and to call it that was a horrid understatement, but she supposed she understood why her love referred to it as such. Fu did what he did best, he felt guilty, and it was something she wished she could help shoulder but in the end he never let her. But this was not something he could just shoulder and deal with himself, this was bigger than them, bigger than Paris and she came to warn Fu. She just hoped he listened to her. Wang Fu was a kind man but he was a man haunted by his failures to the point that they are all he saw. He was blind to anything that wasn’t his redemption for the longest time, and it broke her heart.

Hopefully with age and everything that has happened, he was willing to have an open heart and ears. Marianne honestly didn’t know what she would do if he was drowning in his guilt and was too focused on his mistakes to listen to her warning, probably smack him upside the head like she used to do in their youth but still. She loved the man but he was stubborn when it came to self sabotaging himself, she was always the level headed (and best looking) one. As she walked the streets of Paris she couldn’t help but think of the young Ladybug she had become acquainted with the last time she had been in the City of Love. She had been a wonderful, brave, young girl. Yes she made a mistake but she owned up to it and she didn’t let the mistake weigh her down. Yes, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been an astounding Ladybug, which made what she needed to tell Fu all the more worrisome.

Truthfully she was worried what his reaction would be the closer she came to the location they agreed to meet at. When she saw the stone steps that would lead her to the Jardin de la Vallée Suisse she almost hesitated following their path, but she simply took in a deep breath and walked. It was a beautiful park that was no doubt, but whatever joy she would have felt getting to bask in the park and the statue it housed was dampened by the pressure to share the danger she had come across and the prophecy it held. The thought made it easy to pick up speed until she saw Fu standing by the artificial pond that housed carp. The sight of him brought a smile to her face and a pang of worry to her heart.

“Hello dear.” She said softly as she moved to join him beside the pond. She noticed that they were thankfully alone in the park, though that wasn’t all that surprising given it was a bit difficult to find if you didn’t know where you were heading or were not a local.

“Marianne, hello, how was your travels?” Fu greeted with a small smile before giving her two brief kisses, one on each cheek, a gesture she returned happily.

“Well. How are you my dear Fu?”

The man beside her was silent for a while, like he couldn’t quite find the right words but eventually he did answer. “I am doing as well as I can be. It’s hard, I see her everywhere. Marinette...she truly was an extraordinary girl, I only hope she accepts my apologies when we find her.”

“It’s good you haven't lost hope.”

“It was not easy I will admit, but I see kids standing up, being heroes in her name, I see the way she touched everyone she ever met, there was no way I could give up or wallow in sadness. Not when I know I am not the only one hurting.” Fu watched the carp in the pond swim as he spoke. Marianne politely ignored the tears she saw in his eyes.

“She was a remarkable young woman.”

“Yes. I do not doubt she is still being remarkable...wherever she is. Now, what have you come here for my friend?” Fu asked as he looked at Marianne. She ignored the pang in her heart at the ‘friend’ even if she knew she held his heart and affections, she did her best to look unaffected as she looked over the swimming carp.

“Well, with Hawkmoth and Mayura dealt with I no longer have to hide, and as much as I would adore this to be a date and catch up moment, I fear I bring unsettling news to say the least.” She answered honestly, her cheeks a little warm at the admission of the date, no matter how old time told her she was, she was still that young headstrong, lovestruck girl she had been when she and Fu had met. She was sad and hesitant to break the ease of the air around them, but they would have time for pleasantries later she reasoned.

“I figured that was the case. Come, let’s sit my dear Annie.” Fu gestured over to a bench that was almost as hidden as the park itself. It was obscured by surrounding trees, just enough in the shade to be comfortable, but enough in the sun to not be chilled by the shadows. Having heard the old nickname, she happily followed and let him help her sit.

“I think it goes unsaid that even while I had to be hidden, I did not stay still.” She started after a while of them both just sitting there, letting themselves breathe in a moment of peace.

“You never could stay still. Even back then.” Back when he ran and left her behind.

“As my mother used to say, I am as stubborn as a bull, and as my old teachers would say, I can not sit still when there are things I want to be done.” Marianne chuckled fondly at old memories. “When I went into hiding, I must admit I did not want to stray far just in case you ever needed me. I did leave France, as I didn’t know the depth of Hawkmoth’s powers or if he had found ways to grow said powers. I decided to hide in London. It’s a good spot for an old bird like myself to go unnoticed.”

“You are many things Marianne, old is not one of them.”

“Flatterer.” Marianne chuckled even if she felt herself flush at the comment. “That is beside my point and you know it.”

“Perhaps.” Fu mused with a strained smile. “Perhaps I am trying to avoid the conversation we have to have, given your words and body language, it is not something that will bring joy in these trying times.”

Marianne took a moment just to look at the blue of the sky and breathe in the air before she looked at the man beside her. “It is not, but you can’t run from every bad storm that comes on the horizon. It’s better to be prepared and have shelter you know will help against the storm.” She took a hold of Fu’s closest hand in both of hers and gave it a squeeze. She could feel the tremble of his hand, no doubt mirrored by the other.

It took several moments before Fu no longer trembled, it took longer before either was ready to let go of the other’s hand, but there would be time for that later. Hopefully. “You are right.” Fu said once he found his voice.

“I always am.” Marianne quipped softly making Fu chuckle in response before his eyes found hers. She could tell he wasn’t happy, but he was as ready as he could be to hear what drove her out of hiding besides Hawkmoth’s defeat. What drove her back to him other than their romantic feelings. “I am also not one to beat around the bush. While in hiding I had to keep myself busy, as you know I am not one to dawdle. I asked the spirits around me if they needed help or if they knew of anything...sketchy, going on in London.”

“Marianne! That’s incredibly risky of you, especially when you were in hiding. I know you can’t help communicating with the spirits part, but to purposefully seek out trouble…” Fu fretted and admonished all at once. As much as it irritated her, it also impressed Marianne. Ever since she was a young girl she had been able to sense, see, and communicate with spirits, apparently this was something that all women in her family possessed so it was no surprise to her mother when a young Marianne was found to be speaking to what others only saw as air. It was around then that her mother taught her how to hone in her skills and how best to use them, of course her mother also warned her about her gift and what it could bring, but their family never ran from something and they never left someone who needed help. Even if that someone was a spirit. Especially if that someone was a spirit. It was kind of their unspoken job to help spirits out, whether to accomplish any unfinished business or simply help them pass along a message to a loved one. Some instances she even had to pass on messages not for loved ones...those ones were always the most interesting.

Sure, in her quest to help spirits she always did run into the more dangerous ones, but she never backed down. That was not how she was raised, and that was just not her. She saw a problem and she met in head on, and in that way her and Fu would always differ. “I have always been this way Wang Fu, and I always will.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you meant and my response remains the same. Now, to continue, the local spirits of course asked for help passing on messages, finding a missing item, but a couple spoke of something that intrigued me. Something that resulted in their deaths. A group. They never gave this group a name, but they all spoke similarly about it. It consists of a lot of not so nice people, people who do not have good intentions, people who purposefully seek the demise of others. It worried me that such a group was meeting and apparently it wasn’t even known by local authorities, or if it was then it was operating under the blindness of the people and the willfully negligent back of the authorities.” Marianne began as she looked out over the park, she hadn’t noticed them before but she could see wandering souls, spirits who stopped to listen to her, and she could see the spirits of the animals that once lived there going through the motions of their once-lives.

“I was worried, understandably, but the spirits merely wanted me to retrieve their belongings from this group so they could be sent to their families or wherever else they wanted. Of course I agreed,” Marianne paused for a second at Fu’s noise of indignation, “it was the least I could do for the poor souls. They showed me where this group liked to meet up, where they met them and their respective ends. It was an unassuming film studio, very professional looking, not at all the type of place you would expect a basically evil cult to meet. So I did what I did best, acted like an old woman who just found a favorite place to feed some birds. I staked the place out.”

“They...the group didn’t suspect anything?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Marianne answered honestly. “Their meeting place was in the basement, I will admit it was difficult finding a way down there without alerting anyone or being caught on camera. I say finding the hidden room was more difficult, that, that took several days. Thankfully the spirits were more than willing to lend a hand. Once in the room I took my time looking around, I had some of the more...sentient spirits on watch should anyone come down and try and enter the room. To be honest it looked like a fancy conference room more than anything my mind conjured up when I thought of some evil group lurking in the underground of a business.”

The mahogany round conference table and the red cushioned matching chairs that surrounded it while the LED lights shined off it was something imprinted in her mind. The whiteboards on the walls were more of a shock than the altar in the corner, it looked like it was made from the stump of a tree, cut tall for its purpose, the top of it was an oval shaped plate of prophecy stone. On the prophecy stone was a long tapestry that was falling off both of the wider sides, it had pulled Marianne in. The energy, sometimes it felt like it was still pulling at her, even here in Paris when she thought of it too hard. The tapestry was the whole reason she reached out and made the trip to Paris, more accurately what was on the tapestry and what it meant. Of course she took photos on her phone, and she did help the spirits get their personal items back but that was another story. Marianne took her phone out of her purse and pulled up the pictures from the hidden folder on her phone before passing the device to Fu.

At the sharp intake he made, she resumed. “Besides the spirits' belongings I found that tapestry on a pedestal of sorts that was made of prophecy stone. By the name I bet you can gather what exactly this tapestry is supposed to be.”

“A prophecy…” Fu breathed out.

Marianne nodded her head before looking forward, she knew Fu would look at the rest of the pictures as she spoke. “Not just any prophecy. One that speaks of darkness and chaos. Brought upon not only Europe, but the world by one named Jörmungandr. Fu...this group seeks the secrets of what I could translate and make out to be some sort of secret tribe of.”

“Vikings…” Fu cut in with wide eyes.

“We both know the Vikings had many tribes, many hidden and not known to us, many that knew magic, and from what I see on that tapestry there and the documents I managed to take pictures of as well, this specific tribe can summon and control daemons, demons.” Marianne clarified.

“The demons...on the tapestry, that is what the creatures are supposed to be?” Fu asked in a small voice. She could hear the dread.

“Yes.”

“They look an awful lot like...well like dragons…” Fu’s voice was tight, and honestly Marianne couldn’t blame him, when she saw the tapestry she nearly threw up from the shock and the panic. If this prophecy came true, if this secret tribe was found, the world was doomed.

“My thoughts exactly...I...I will be honest, I believe in many things, Wang Fu...but dragons had never been on the list. I have heard of people summoning daemons of many designs, but never dragons. This is...this is bigger than Paris. Bigger than France.”

It was quiet for a long time, how long? Marianne didn’t know, but it felt like an eternity. “This...this will need the help of the Miraculous.” Fu said gravely.

“I agree, which is why I brought it to you...and, well, there is more, the prophecy, this Jörmungandr...She is said to command an army of dragons, one so big it would blacken the sky as they flew. She is too bring the fire rain, the toxic smoke, the thunderous roars loud and shrill enough to crack the earth. Jörmungandr is to devour the very world.” Marianne shakily announced and Fu looked down at the pictures of the tapestry in dawning fear.

“...This will require Ladybug.” He grew paler and paler as the seconds passed. Marianne followed to do the same as she realized he didn’t truly see all that was being shown to him and her heart was squeezed painfully in an iron grip as it dawned on her she would have to point out the heartbreakingly bad news he did not see, or refused to see in his grief. But he did not recognize her guilty panic as he continued to ramble. “I will have to double down on my efforts to find Marinette! She is one of the strongest Ladybug’s in history, we will need her! I will have to study the Grimoire to see if there are any spells that can locate her and work harder with Tikki to do so. And we will create a team! Bigger and better than the past one, this will require every Miraculous I believe, and Marinette has always been such a good judge of character it probably won’t take long to form the team. I’ll have to speak with the Kwami about this as well, as well as Adrien and-”

“Fu.” Marianne didn’t shout but she said his name with such authority and urgency that he stopped his ramble and looked over at her, she wished he hadn’t because she could no longer hold in her guilt ridden tears.

“Marianne? What’s wrong? I...I understand this is a daunting thing to learn but we know now and can prepare. It will be okay, everything will be okay as soon as we find Marinette and get started on the preparations.” Fu said as though his words brought the most absolute soothing powers. It made Marianne swallow around the lump in her throat.

“My darling Fu, don’t you see? Jörmungandr is Marinette.” Marianne finally was able to announce. It didn’t make her feel any better, especially as she watched Fu look back down at her phone, up at her, back down, before he zoomed in to the figure on the tapestry and lost any color he had regained from before.

“No. No! No it can’t be her! It can’t! She is too pure to ever...to ever..”

“I think past circumstances show anything can happen, and anyone can break. But not all is lost! This is merely a prophecy! It is not written in stone, it is not written in the stars, this doesn’t have to happen...but I do agree with your earlier idea. We will need to double down, pull out every stop, every resource, and find Ms. Marinette...before what is prophesied comes true. We will need to prevent this from happening, no matter the consequences.”

“Come. I think we have much to plan...and...and I will need help telling Tikki all of this. I do not believe she will take it well if it is me who tells her of Marinette’s...possible fate.”

“I can do that. I’m here to stay, and I’m here to help. Let’s go.”

Marianne politely looked away as Fu wiped the tears off his face, they had been so silent she hadn’t even noticed them before. “Let’s.”

Next Chapter

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winter-turtle · 3 years

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House Of Wolves - Chapter 1 - Winterturtle - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Peter Parker has been raised towards villainy by his parents for all his life. After a mission gone wrong, he is captured by the Avengers.

Tony Stark is a mechanic. He fixes things and now he's determined to fix this teenager that doesn't know any better.

The problem? Tony is a walking disaster when it comes to emotions. Another problem? He has only two weeks to succeed before Peter is taken away by Shield.

@multiverse-irondad-july

Chapter 1: Tipping The Scales

“Okay, how about this one – Elliot? No? Then… Lucas?”

Peter kept his face perfectly blank, the cool mask not giving anything away. He glanced at his hands shackled to the table, then around the dull grey interrogation room. Everything was grey – this room, his cell, even his clothes!

Why grey? It was just shitty black. He missed his black costume.

“Hmm, what about Thomas? You kinda look like you could be Tom.”

The name reading has been going on for days and it was slowly but steadily eating away at Peter’s nerves. When no one was interrogating him for information – which he would never willingly give away anyway – Barton sat down opposite of him and kept reading from various lists in an attempt to figure out his name. Of course, his name’s been already read several times, but as always, he didn’t react.

“Nathaniel?”

Oh God, if he wasn’t chained to that stupid table, he would’ve hit the man with something long time ago just to shut him up! Where the hell were his parents?

“Remember your training.”

That’s what they’d told him as they retreated and flew away to safety when it was clear there was no chance of winning. So Peter remembered his training – say nothing and stall for time until help arrives.

“We’ll come back for you.”

That was two weeks ago.

He was left to fend for himself against the Avengers. Seriously, Peter knew better than to question his parents’ decisions, but what were they thinking, attacking the Compound like that? Neither of his parents bothered to tell him why they were there in the first place.

“Just do as you’re told.”

It didn’t mean that he went down quietly. In the end, it took two super soldiers, two men in armor and one ex-assassin pressing on his pressure points to stop his trashing and hold him down.

“Kama- what the hell is this name? Kamakanaalohamailkalani?“

Peter couldn’t help himself but raise one eyebrow at that, giving the man his best are-you-stupid? look.

“Yeah, that probably is not it either,” the archer sighed. “But come on, boy, work with me here!”

Ah, yes. That’s what he’s been called ever since he got here. “Boy” or “kid” as Stark liked to call him. But what was he supposed to do? Say – yes, my name is Peter Parker, my parents are Richard and Mary Parker and we’re a family of villains. Would you like their phone number and an address where you can find them? Well, not like they had any permanent residence, but still. For all he knew, his parents could be anywhere.

Anywhere but here, busting him out of this place.

“You know, this would be a lot easier for all of us if you just told us your name.”

Peter kept staring. He was told he had very expressive face, hence why he wore full-face mask, so he took pride in managing to remain impassive for so long.

Barton rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, sighing. “I guess we’re not getting anywhere today too, huh?”

“This is the first smart thing you’ve said today.”

“Oh, so now you talk.”

Peter merely shrugged in response.

Don’t take him wrong, he did talk… occasionally. He just talked without saying anything important. Just empty words meant to get some form of reaction out of the group of heroes. And once they snapped… well, Peter could take it. He was trained.

The silence dragged on. It was Barton that broke it once again with another tired sigh. “Fine, let’s wrap this up.”

Besides slight rise of the corner of his lips, Peter didn’t show any other sign of satisfaction. They were getting tired, he knew. But on the other hand, the whole thing was wearing him down too. Even if not by much, there was more freedom back “home”. The thing he missed the most were-

Peter’s sense tingled.

The door opened and in walked Iron Man and Captain America. His entourage for today.

“You know the drill,” Stark said.

Peter knew the drill, he was good at following orders, but there was that look again. That stupid look on Stark’s face he couldn’t decipher even if his life depended on it.

He stood up. Three. Two. One. Stark pressed the button on his watch and the shackles fell from Peter’s wrists, granting him short-lived, though not complete relief. Invisible force pulled his arms behind his back, the ever-present bracelets on his wrists that he hated with his very being clicking together.

Yeah, the thing Peter missed the most were his powers. He’s had them since he could remember, so they were basically his second nature, yet these stupid bracelets somehow dampened them enough to reduce him to normal-powered teenager.

His stickiness was completely gone. His strength and physical abilities were rendered to that of any other regular fourteen-year-old. Well, at least his senses remained unchanged.

“Let’s go,” Rogers jerked his head towards the door. Peter moved and the three men got into the formation around him. Barton in front of him, Stark and Rogers behind him.

He didn’t really understand the necessity of three people escorting him to his cell. If he were to guess, he would say that they were trying to show him who’s in power here, which was pretty useless tactic in his opinion. It’s not like he could do anything with most of his strength gone.

Which was mostly his own fault anyway. He’d gotten impatient on his third day here and now he had to deal with consequences.

They just wrapped up another unsuccessful round of interrogation and were leading him to the cell, Rhodes and Wilson on the duty. Peter, confident in his memory of the place, decided to make a break for it.

He’d let them think that the handcuffs they slapped on him were strong enough to contain him. Peter glanced around, took a note of a position of the two men with him, as well as another two people that were in the room at the end of the long hallway.

It was now or never.

Out of his suit, Rhodes was definitely the weaker one because of his legs, which made him easier to deal with. Peter squashed down the feeling of guilt. He knew the man’s condition wasn’t his fault and honestly, it was impressive that he continued doing the hero work, but the young villain had to do what he had to do.

Explore any weakness. Show no mercy.

Exactly how he was taught.

Neither man had time to react as Peter spun to the left and hit Wilson strong enough to make him hit the wall, snapping the cuffs in the process. Rhodes had split second to react. It still wasn’t enough and Peter, though he would never admit it, hit him just enough to make him fall. Wasting no time, he took off running.

“Friday, sound alarm!” Peter heard Rhodes shout and sure enough, the alarm started to blare two seconds later.

He had to be fast.

The stairs leading to the exit came in view. So did another two people, blocking his path. Rogers and Romanov. It was easy to deduct by the body language that neither side would back down.

The fight was on.

Kicks and punches were traded and with the adrenaline coursing through Peter’s veins, he somehow managed to slip past the two. So close now-

“Out of the way, you two!”

Peter heard something click and the next thing he knew, he was curled on the ground at the base of the stairs, eyes squeezed shut and clutching his head in agony. He felt like he was submerged deep in the water and the only sound that reached him clearly was high-pitched ringing.

Someone was grunting and panting. Then he realized it was him.

Peter was vaguely aware of people approaching towards him as well as someone new running into the hallway. Then there were hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his head. Peter could’ve sworn that the next sound that left his mouth was a whimper. He curled into even tighter ball.

He really hoped he wasn’t crying too.

The hands let him go. “His ears are bleeding.” Even this up close, Peter could just barely make out Captain America’s voice.

There was more indistinguishable conversation around him and the last thing Peter remembered before passing out from pain – a blessing in disguise – was the sensation of cold bracelets clicking shut around his wrists.

And he’s worn those since.

Peter walked through the door of his cell. As much as he hated to admit it, all he could actually do now was to sit on his ass and wait for the rescue. Fighting them in his current state and with the stupid but amazing ceiling computer watching his every move would yield no results. The only time he fought them was when they didn’t respect his personal space and put their hands on his shoulders or back when they escorted him.

Thankfully, they’ve learned not to touch him quite quickly.

Peter stood in the middle of the cell, his back facing the trio of Avengers. His hands fell to his sides as the release button was pressed. Peter still didn’t turn around nor said anything. Two pairs of footsteps began to make the retreat. One stayed in place for five more seconds, then the door closed. That always happened only when Stark was with the group.

Interesting.

His eyes, more out of habit that anything else, roamed over the cell. Besides the cot built into the wall, the room consisted of a “bathroom” that was just a toilet, a shower and a sink hidden by a wall, a table with short bench bolted to the ground and a camera in top left corner.

His dinner, served on a paper plate as always, sat on the table, waiting for him. Peter sighed. There were only so many sandwiches one could eat before going crazy and Peter felt like he was reaching that point.

There was nothing for him to use. Perfect place to contain enhanced villain like him.

So, saving the food for later and with nothing better to do, Peter laid down on the cot, stared at the ceiling above him and waited.

For what?

He had no idea.

The kid – God, he was just a kid – looked at him with curiosity sparking behind those big brown eyes as Tony was making himself as comfortable as he could in the uncomfortable chair.

Time to commerce the plan.

As expected, the kid said nothing. And according to the plan, neither did Tony. Instead, he pulled out his Starkpad and directed all of his attention to the screen.

At least that was what it seemed like.

“Let me go to him next,” Tony had said on that morning. At his teammates’ inquiries about the reason, Tony merely shrugged. “We’ll never know until we try.”

Tony half-heartedly scrolled through various documents and the kid looked around the room every so often before returning his gaze to Tony. It felt like the teen was studying him.

The time he’s spent in the interrogation room hit fifteen-minute mark when Tony noticed the kid slightly shift in his seat. Twenty minutes and the kid shifted again. This was new development. Sure, when Tony’s watched older footage, the kid shifted every so often, but not in such a short span of time.

Twenty-five minutes and the kid released long, soft exhale through his nose. Tony was slowly getting where he wanted. Still, he kept scrolling.

Thirty minutes passed and this time the exhale was a bit louder. The shift was bigger too. Tony glanced up at the kid from underneath his lashes, then he returned his gaze to the device.

Throughout another thirty minutes, the kid grew more and more agitated, shifting in his seat almost every minute. He played with his fingers, soundlessly bounced his right leg, his jaw began to move as if he wanted to speak.

Which he will. Eventually.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Bingo.

One hour and fifteen minutes. Huh. Not great, not terrible. “Why should I? Do you feel talkative? I’ve heard you didn’t say much in the past three weeks,” he said without looking up.

The kid pressed his mouth into thin line, clenched his jaw and scowled.

Baby steps but hey! It was progress.

“This is annoying,” the kid muttered.

“How so?” He knew very well why. Contrary to popular belief, he knew exactly what he was doing. Well… this time, at least.

“Why are you here?”

The pauses between speaking shortened. Tony shrugged. The kid scoffed.

“I can imagine someone like you surely has something more important to do than to sit here with me and waste time.”

“And you are correct,” Tony replied. He looked up, smiling, “but hanging out with you in this lovely room gives me perfect excuse to not do any actual work. So, thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

The kid’s frown grew.

“Oh my God, just get on with it!” the kid shouted, the movement of his shoulders and the clang of the chains indicating that he wanted to throw his arms up in frustration.

Tony ignored him, which fueled the kid’s frustration more. Good. Frustration led to anger, and angry person is more likely to spill something without thinking.

“Why don’t you just get Black Widow down here if you’re not going to ask anything? You clearly have no idea what to do. She will know, she was an assassin after all. Still doesn’t mean her methods will work though.”

Now this got Tony’s attention. “What do you mean?” he asked as he set the Starkpad down on the table.

And there was the kid, scoffing again. He sure did that a lot. It was… actually kinda nice to see that there was a normal teenage attitude underneath that villain layer. “Come on, do you think I don’t know how this works? You’ll keep trying to make me talk, nicely first, but you’ll get tired of it eventually,” the kid leaned forward, his voice lowering with the next words. “And that’s when you go for different approach to get what you want.”

Tony’s brain screeched to halt. There was no time to school his expression back into neutral one fast enough; the kid already noticed, pleased smile spreading across his face. Like he just got it confirmed that he was right.

“What?” Tony managed to somehow say out loud, the task of forcing out the single word around the lump in his throat nearly impossible.

The kid rolled his eyes and leaned back into the chair. “Don’t play dumb.”

“No, seriously, I think I just misheard you.” This time, it was Tony’s turn to lean forward as he tapped his ear. “Because that sounded like an implication that we’re about to torture you for information.”

“And you won’t?” the kid asked, obviously not believing him.

“No! Geez, we’re heroes. We don’t do shit like that!”

“Everyone gets tired of the nice act over time. It’s practically human nature. You might as well get on with it,” he said matter-of-factly, waving his hand as much as the chain would allow. “It won’t work anyway. I’m trained.”

The way the kid seemed to treat it like some everyday annoyance made Tony sick to his stomach. Just what kind of environment did he grew up in? Tony could imagine only one way how one could be taught how to resist physical torture.

“Okay, hold on. Let me get this straight – you’re saying that you’re trained to resist torture.”

“Yes.”

“I assume your parents trained you?”

The boy in front of him smirked. Nobody should look that proud about something like that. “Kid… that’s called abuse,” Tony said carefully.

“Jesus Christ, Tones, what the hell did you hit him with?”

“I- just a sonic blast. I had no idea he would react like this. It was supposed to daze him, not make him bleed.”

Now it all made sense. The kid was clearly in incredible pain from the sonic blast, and yet he barely made a sound. No screaming in agony, just choked grunting and panting.

Tony’s had his fair share of torture. First in Afghanistan, then when he returned and his arc reactor was ripped from his chest and then several times he’s been captured since the beginning of his hero career. That didn’t mean he was used to it. And this kid had it done to him by his own parents.

The thought of Obadiah, someone he trusted, torturing him directly while saying it was for his own good was enough to cause his anxiety rise.

Dread began to seep into his body with a sudden yet simple realization; Tony’s been hurt so much, been through so much, it was a wonder he didn’t turn to villainy. He had the perfect set up. It would have been so simple to choose to do harm with his tech instead of good.

For a moment, he saw himself sitting in the kid’s place.

The two of them were so similar, yet so different.

“Abuse?” The kid snorted. “Yeah, right. Me. Abused.”

Tony sighed. “Kid, I don’t know what kind of life you’ve been living, but hurting their own children is not something normal parents do. At least the loving ones.”

That statement set off an unforeseen reaction. The kid puffed out his chest, anger dusting his cheeks with red. “They care about me,” he hissed, “and they’ll come for me any day now.”

“Same as they came for you in the past three weeks?” Tony snapped without meaning to.

The kid didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he glared down at the table. The sight sent a painful pang into Tony’s heart.

“I believe it’s been enough for today,” he said, the softness in his voice surprising him. “Come on.”

Surprises kept on coming because the kid went without any resistance. Tony half hoped that since he didn’t call anybody to help escort the young villain, but there was none. The kid kept his head down, unreadable expression on his face all the way until they got to the cell. Then he just stood in the middle of the room without doing anything.

Tony turned to leave.

“Peter.”

The word – spoken so silently Tony would have thought he had imagined it – made him stop just before he could fully close the door. “Come again?”

“Peter,” the kid said louder, still not facing him.

“Peter…” Tony repeated, drawling the word in clear way that he was waiting for more. For a moment, he expected the kid to remain silent, that he already said enough, but then-

“Parker.”

Tony smiled softly at the kid’s back. “Nice to meet you, Peter Parker.” This time the kid, Peter, didn’t reply. Tony took it as a cue to leave. “See you later, kid,” he said and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Tony, sprawled across the couch with his hands behind his head, grinned at his shocked teammates. “Yep,” he said, popping the p and doing his best to shove the other horrific revelation to the back of his mind. That can of worms could be opened later. “You heard that correctly. I got the kid’s name.”

“Well?” Sam gestured with his hand for him to spill already.

“His name is Peter.”

“What?!” Clint called out.

Natasha sighed. “Clint—”

“No, don’t take me wrong, but really? Peter?” the archer threw up his arms. “I read that name in five different lists. Five!Nameberry was my best friend for the past three weeks. I already started with lists of names from different countries. So far I went through German names, all Scandinavian names and I was about to move to Slavic—” Clint suddenly cut himself off, sat down and buried his face in his hands. “How did you managed to get a name out of him in only one session?”

The question came out more like a whine.

Tony shrugged. “Maybe I just know how to talk to him better.” And maybe he said nothing at all, but nobody had to know that. “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I think you already cracked him. Like that technique where CIA plays the same song over and over again and then you start skipping the parts, kicking the brain into overdrive.”

“All right, but did you get his last name too?” Steve asked.

“Oh yeah!” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “Parker.”

“I read that one too.”

“Oh, hush.”

Rhodey nodded to himself. “So, Peter Parker, huh?” he hummed to himself.

Bucky stiffened.

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What’s up?”

Bucky remained silent, staring at the wall with wide eyes, but seeing right through it.

Steve leaned closer, gently nudging his friend. “Buck?” he asked softly. “You know something, don’t you?”

“He was supposed to be dead,” Bucky replied as if he was in dream-like state. “All three of them were all supposed to be dead.”

“Okay, Barnes, that’s freaky,” Tony said. “You clearly know him.”

Bucky nodded. He swallowed thickly, then again when the lump in his throat refused to go away.

“Take it easy. Deep breaths,” Steve coaxed.

It took a minute, but eventually the man pulled himself together with one last inhale, his features set in determination. “About ten years ago, Hydra was working on one project. They were trying to recreate supersoldier serum, but with countless failures before, they decided to try something different.”

The room was completely silent, everyone listening to the story in interest.

“Cross-species genetics.”

“What species?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked Steve in the eye. “Spiders.”

“That would explain the powers,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

“Anyway,” Barnes continued, “Parkers, Richard and Mary, they showed up at the base one day to help with the research. But they didn’t come alone.”

The atmosphere in the room thickened.

“They had this little kid with them. A little boy with brown eyes and brown curly hair. He couldn’t be older than three.”

Even if it was expected, it didn’t make the revelation any easier. They all saw how Barnes started to behave when his time as the Winter Soldier came to haunt him.

Clint‘s face twisted into horrified grimace. Sam looked on the floor with somber look. Natasha, though her face betrayed nothing, slightly shifted on her feet. Steve’s chest rose with soundless inhale, his eyes closing.

Tony’s jaw set, anger burning in his chest. Another horror the kid went through.

Bucky let out pained chuckle, shaking his head in almost manic way. “I guess they wanted to start young since the previous test subjects, adults, all failed. They succeeded. And then… Parkers just disappeared a few days later, along with Hydra’s biggest success since me. They sent me after them.”

“I remember all of them.”

Those words spoken in Siberia echoed in Tony’s mind. In the end, the whole situation got resolved with words before anyone could get seriously hurt, but the bunker was completely trashed. To say that Tony had been angry would be an understatement. He’d been downright livid. It’d been a long couple of days, and with Ross breathing down his neck, that damn airport fight, Rhodey… it was a miracle he’d stopped himself before killing either Barnes or Rogers.

The relationship between him and Barnes was still strained though. The same went for his relationship with Steve. Luckily, both of them knew to give Tony space and not to push him.

“No survivors. That were the orders.” Bucky let out humorless laugh. “I tracked them down to this airport and… I brought the plane down. The wreckage wasn’t a pretty sight. Literal chunks of that plane were never found, same with the bodies. Hydra found traces of human blood, their blood, where the wing used to be, so they were satisfied.”

“They didn’t want Peter back alive? As much as I hate to say it, he was what they wanted,” Steve said.

“I agree with Spangles,” Tony nodded. “Seems pretty counterproductive.” Jeez, there was already a lot to unpack, but Tony would rather throw the whole suitcase away at this point.

“Hydra thought that since they were successful with Peter, the process could be easily recreated. Little did they know that the kid’s parents destroyed every single file that had anything to do with the experiment.”

“I can imagine they were pretty pissed.”

Bucky smiled at the memory. “They were furious. Several search parties were sent out in an attempt to find Peter’s body. Obviously, the search proved to be fruitless.”

“The question is,” Rhodey said, “what do we do now?”

Tony was expecting more heavy silence. He didn’t expect Steve to speak.

“Fury called and asked about our progress. He said he will take Peter into Shield’s custody. I think it will be for the best.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony stood up abruptly, “you want to send him away?”

“Tony,” Steve sighed like he was expecting the protest. “He’s a villain.”

“He’s a child!”

“He’s also product of Hydra,” Steve countered.

Clint frowned. “Steve, he’s—"

“Stark—” Sam joined in as well and all of a sudden the whole room was buzzing with words, everyone talking over everyone.

“Do you know what he said to me during our session?” Tony raised his voice and gestured to the vague direction of the kid’s cell. The room fell silent. “He downright admitted to being trained to withstand torture. You can make a pretty good fucking guess on who trainedhim. I told him that it was not okay, but he saw nothing wrong with it!”

Tony chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. “So yeah, he might be a villain and a product of Hydra, but he is also a kid who doesn’t know any better!”

Steve looked at him with genuine pity. “Tony, I still think Fury—”

“Two weeks,” Tony rushed out. “Give me two weeks to try and show the kid how normal is supposed to look like. If he doesn’t show any redeeming quality, then… then Fury can come and take him.”

Tony knew two weeks weren’t nearly enough to make someone have a change of heart, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t try. He was a mechanic. He fixed things. And he will try to fix this kid that probably knew nothing but pain his whole life. There was no space for mess-ups. Not this time.

And… he might be a mess when it came to emotion, but maybe that’s exactly what the situation called for.

“I say let’s give him a chance.”

Despite how softly the words were spoken, they felt almost deafening in the quiet room. Tony was surprised by his unlikely ally, but assumed it made sense.

“Buck?” Steve asked carefully.

“I was a product of Hydra too and I was there way longer that Peter. You gave me a chance. I say he deserves the same,” Bucky said, determined.

“I second this,” Clint stood up. “No kid deserves to live like that.”

“If Barnes and I could change, then so can he,” Natasha said.

“They’re right,” Sam said and soon everyone was on Tony’s side.

Steve’s eyes roamed over the group, each person determined to spark the change in Peter. To help him.

“Fine,” Steve relented. “Two weeks.”

“Thank you,” Tony said gratefully.

“So, do you have anything specific in mind? When do we start?” Rhodey asked.

Tony smiled. “Right now.”

#marvel fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #villain peter #villain peter parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #villainous july 2021 #the avengers #protective tony stark #tony stark has a heart #peter parker needs a hug #tw past abuse

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softyoongiionly · 4 years

Text

caramel

Jungkook has never felt more safe with you.

Right now, safety is more important than ever.

Genre: smut, fluff, slight angst, mystery???, possible series? Indie film vibezzz

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: smut (18+only plz), language, brief mention of family troubles

A/N: hi hi hi hi. Ok hi. I’m back :) I missed you so much. I have no idea what this is but, I really hope you enjoy it. This isn’t the bigger fic I have planned for Jungkook but, I might possibly be turning this into a “indie film” BTS series but we’ll seeeeee. Ok love you bye!

He’s a little needy today.

Well, he’s needy a lot of the time but today is definitely on hard mode.

“Where are you going?” He grumbles into his pillow, his face properly smushed against the linen

With a giggle, you lean over, musing his bedhead with your fingers, “I need coffee...”

The grumbling gets worse and, this time its paired with a frown that barely pronounces itself from beneath his pillow.

“Noooo-” His voice is deeper with the remnants of sleep hanging on as his arm lazily extends in your direction, “we’ll get coffee in a little bit, stay with me.”

It’s a tempting offer.

You don’t really have any good reason to refuse but, part of getting your day started always involves coffee.

You have a feeling that if you crawl back into bed with your boyfriend, you won’t be leaving it for quite some time.

Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing...

“It’s after 10:30.” You point out, still giggling as he interlaces his fingers with yours.

There is a hint of sarcasm in his eyes now and you can see a smirk beginning to peek around the pillow, “I didn’t ask but, thank you.”

You jerk your hand away from his playfully but, his strength outweighs yours significantly and he keeps a firm grip on you.

“I’ll come right back when I’m done, you’ll be fine.” You assure him before attempting, once again, to leave the bed.

He softens his playful grip with a sentiment that freezes you in place.

“Jagi I- “ He hesitates, sitting up in bed and exposing his bare upper half to you, “Please stay with me...”

Your eyes hone in on his expression which shows no trace of humor.

Last night was particularly rough for both of you and, it ended with Jungkook telling you that he didn’t want to go home anymore.

It started off as a fight.

Jungkook was acting strange, brushing you off, replying monotonously and, scrolling through his phone.

You thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you and, instead of waiting for that outcome, you called him out on his behavior.

He had blown up on you.

Well, as much as Jungkook can blow up on anyone.

He doesn’t raise his voice or speak out of turn but, he does get angry.

When he’s angry, he’s all talk.

He acts like nothing matters.

He acts like nothing hurts.

Until, he finally breaks.

Last night, Jungkook told you that the place he used to call home was no longer a safe space.

His parents were always screaming at one another, shady characters continuously pass in and out of his front door and, he was scared.

He cried in your arms for what felt like a few short moments but, the clock had indicated it was much longer.

You promised him that your home was welcome to him and, that he would be safe with you.

He had fallen asleep on your chest, clutching you tighter than he ever has before.

It all made sense in that moment.

He wasn’t as carefree as he seemed.

He wasn’t just a naïve man-child with a heart of gold.

He was a man with many burdens and, he had finally bared some of them to you.

“Ok- “ You smile softly, crawling back in bed with him, settling onto his lap, “I’m here, I’m sorry...”

He immediately wraps his arms around your hips, burying his face into your neck, “It’s ok- I'm sorry too, I just- I just need you right now...”

“I got you, I'm not going anywhere.” You murmur into his hair, kiss the top of his head as he seems to cuddle into you further.

You can feel him sigh in your arms as if he’s whole body is relaxing underneath your touch.

Silence falls over the two of you whilst you begin tracing shapes over the curves of his back.

Invisible hearts, circles, stars, ovals and triangles adorn his tanned skin and, you swear you’ve never felt more at peace.

Jungkook reacts to your touch in the form of goosebumps and nuzzling against your skin.

When your nails tuck into his hair and scratch gently at his scalp, he places the most gentle of kisses on your skin.

They are so light that if you couldn’t hear the puckering of his lips, you might miss them.

Finally, Jungkook peeks up at you from beneath your chin, adoration deep within his gaze.

“Hi...” You smile, thumbing over his cheek which causes him to grin, “Are you feeling better?”

He presses his face into your hand, “Mhm-” He turns to place a kiss against your pinky, “I don’t want you to stop though...if you don’t mind.”

His cheeks turn pink at the end of his sentence and, you have to stifle your true reaction because he’s just so fucking endearing that it hurts.

“I don’t mind, I just want you to feel good.” You assure him with a kiss to his forehead

Needless to say, you’re initially innocent proclamation quickly turned into something else entirely...

“Oh my god.” Jungkook groans into your chest, his hips pumping up into as best as he can.

He’s a little weak right now as the pleasure is so intense, he doesn’t really have the strength to fuck you like he wants to.

“Does that feel good?”

His hands are all over you, sliding up your back and into your hair, gripping onto it for dear life.

“Uh huh....Fu- fuck please don’t stop...please don’t f- fucking stop...” He groans and, you can literally feel him salivating against the side of your neck, covering the skin with sweat and spit.

You don’t stop.

You move harder and with more intention, ensuring that you make him cum hard enough to forget his troubles.

Hard enough to know you love him...

Coaxing his head out from the crook of your neck, you place a haphazard kiss against the dampened skin and, Jungkook immediately responds by whimpering against your chin, his lips eagerly searching for yours.

“Kiss me on the mouth.” He requests shakily, his hands clawing at your sides, his doe eyes widening as you tighten around him, “Please.”

The clashing of teeth is an uncomfortable sensation, but you ignore it.

Your only focus is your boyfriends mouth and how good he tastes.

Jungkook’s tongue finds yours and, honestly the kiss is so hot and so wet at this point that it leaves traces of spit all over your chin.

His fingers reach between the both of you to settle on your clit, your head falling back on your shoulders at his touch.

He moves quickly, leaning in to suck at the newly exposed skin, his hips moving with more fervor.

Your grip tightens once again and, its like a punch in your boyfriends stomach.

“The fuck are you so tight for hm?” He chokes out against your neck as he uses his lips to bruise you, “What are you trying to prove? That I’m weak for you? Is that it? You’re trying to make me cum?”

A rather delirious giggle leaves your lips, as you press your hips against his hand, “I want you to cum first...you never cum first...”

He chuckles breathlessly but, the sound is dark and rich with lust.

“ ‘s cause I’m a gentleman...” He kisses up the side of your neck before reaching your lips, nibbling on the bottom one before chuckling again, “You’re trying so hard aren’t you? Just let go baby...c’mon- get it ready for me...and I’ll cum so hard for you.”

Jungkook asking you to cum so you can be ‘ready’ for his release is enough to make you wet his lap.

And you do.

Before you can even recover, Jungkook is laying you back against the foot of the bed, placing your legs on either side of his hips.

He looks a god above you as he pushes his sweaty hair away from his head, his free hand gripping the base of his dick, “Can you put it back inside for me?” He rubs the head of it against your sensitive center, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your tongue licks over your lips eagerly as you nod with a playful giggle “Are you gonna cum if I do?”

Leaning down, with a prominent smirk on his face, Jungkook braces his hands on either side of your head, “Til it drips out of you...” He whispers, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

You kiss him for good measure before guiding his dick back inside of you.

It only takes a few good strokes for him to bury his face back into your neck, whimpering at the sensations coursing through his body.

“Fuck- fuck I’m gonna cum...ugh fuck- fuck I love you...” He chokes out, the muscles on his back seizing up as he pumps harder and harder into you.

You whisper the same three words into his ear as he paints the inside of you with his release.

He makes good on his promise to cum enough to drip out of you before lowering himself back onto your chest.

The two of you fall asleep after that, the lack of coffee and intense sex doing a number on your energy levels.

Later on that day, you find your boyfriend alone on the balcony, staring out at the city skyline.

You make sure he’s aware of your arrival by tapping on the glass of the sliding glass door.

Of course, he greets you with a boyish grin before gesturing for you to join him.

You don’t do so empty handed.

You come equipped with a throw blanket and a mug of hot chocolate big enough for two.

With the two of you tucked safely beneath the fleece, you offer him a sip.

He smiles before leaning in and, slurping a bit into his mouth.

You kiss the whip cream off.

Jungkook drags out the kiss longer than he needs to but, he’s comforted by your affection.

He wants it all the time.

A few moments of silence past before he pipes up, letting a few of his thoughts slip out.

“I never knew love could feel this way.” He murmurs, absentmindedly locking his fingers with yours, “My father always told me that love was tough. He said it felt like hard labor and, that I shouldn’t expect it to be easy. He always compared it to lemon candy. Bitter and impossible to chew. I think- I think my father may have been wrong...”

You’re beaming now, tilting his chin towards you, “Why is that?”

Jungkook chuckles, brushing his lips against yours, “Because love is so easy with you. I’ve never felt more free in my life. I think- I think love is more like...caramel.”

“Caramel?” You giggle, pecking at his lips, “Why is that?”

“It’s warm and sweet. Just like you.”

#bts jungkook #Jungkook smut #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook one shot #Jungkook fanfics #jungkook fic recs #jungkook cute #Jungkook hot #boyfriend! jungkook #Jungkook x reader #bts #bts one shots #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfics #bts fic recs #Jungkook fanfiction #idk if you guys are still here but I missed u sooooo much

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daddykohli · 4 years

Text

you make me live, you’re my best friend

i’ve been in my feelings about singing in the car with spencer on my morning commutes so I decided to write about it!

warnings: fluff, reid inadvertently outs himself to the team (no angst or upset at all), alcohol, cursing

bi spencer x bi fem reader

2.8k words

mornings are for coffee and contemplation. and sometimes singing.

Despite the peppy attitude he arrived to work with nearly every day, Spencer Reid was not a morning person. He needed a good combination of things to get him to peak performance including at least two strong coffees with a mountain of sugar, his mismatched socks and you. Well, you and the speakers blasting your favorite music on the way to work.

You had an eclectic taste and a loud mouth, frankly, and Spencer didn’t get everything you played for him but he was game to sit in the passenger’s seat with his sunglasses on, watching you belt along with whatever 80′s power ballad, mid 2000′s country hit or latest TikTok trendy song you’d gotten stuck in your head.

Thanks to a combination of his eidetic memory and an embarrassing and constant urge to please you, Spencer pulled up the lyrics on his phone to every song you played for the first time, committing them to memory forever. This was a blessing and a curse; it wasn’t helpful to be on a case and find he’s been looking at bodies, mumbling “I'll take my chances in traffic, she suckin' on dick, no hands with it” absently under his breath, but nothing in the world made his girl happier than him singing along by her side loudly, badly at 7 am.

This also wasn’t an activity Spencer shared with the team. If you asked any one of them at any given time, they’d collectively decided that you two were having sex in the mornings because nothing else could explain why you tumbled in the door together, giggling and ready to take on the world while the rest of them were dragging their feet, squinting in the harsh white lights of the bullpen.

There were certainly more humiliating things for the team to find out about, but Spencer didn’t particularly want to listen to the team hounding them to join karaoke night once they knew Spencer had no real qualms with making a fool out of himself while singing.

As it was, one night when you were out with the girls, 3 cocktails and half pitcher of blue long island ice tea in, you accidentally spilled the beans. It was the damn DJ—if he hadn’t played “Africa” by Toto, none of this would’ve happened. You were leaning on Emily’s shoulder when you heard a familiar beat and shrieked, patting Emily’s arm rather aggressively.

“This is me ‘n Spencer’s song,” you told the group, closing your eyes and smiling, swaying along to the music. The ladies laughed, shaking their heads in disbelief.

“It’s not your song, there’s no way,” JJ protested, rolling her eyes, not bothering to hide her laughter.

You huffed, irritated that they couldn’t read your mind. “Well it’s not our song but it’s our car song!”

Your friends brows furrowed almost in unison, making you giggle.”Car song...?” Garcia asked, chin in her hand. You gasped dramatically, shaking your head in denial.

“NO, nono no, Spence said-we can’t talk about the car songs, I can’t-forget I said ‘nything,” your hands were moving wildly, subconsciously mimicking the way your boyfriend used his hands to express his own emotions. This was the wrong reaction, which sober you would have had the sense to realize beforehand. JJ, Emily and Garcia leaned in, suddenly extremely interested, matching mischievous grins on their faces.

“Explain. Immediately,” Garcia demanded, slapping her hand down on the table in front of you. You mimed zipping your lips closed and throwing the key across the bar, shaking your head.

“Mm-mm,” you mumbled, shrugging. There was no way you were going to lose your morning singing buddy because of your loose lips. Sober you also would have known that Spencer (who lived with you) wouldn’t stop riding to work with you or singing in the car with you over his team finding out, but you tended to be a little one-track-minded when you drank.

The girls finally relented, switching the conversation gears to people-watching, playing a lighthearted profiling game with the other patrons. There was someone in the group, however, who hadn’t forgotten and wouldn’t forget by Monday morning either.

When Monday morning rolled around, Garcia laid in wait for her target to arrive. When he did, she snatched him by the hand and dragged him into her Batcave. Derek made a particularly un-manly noise that Garcia would file away for later, but right now she needed his guidance.

“I’m gonna do a bad thing,” she greeted, plopping down in her chair.

“Woman-” Derek began, still half asleep, heart racing from being kidnapped at 7 o’ clock in the morning.

“No time,” Garcia interrupted, “I have information.”

Derek raised an eyebrows, sitting down in the other chair in the room, indicating that he was interested.

“Our resident baby and pretty boy sing in the car in the mornings,” she stated.

Derek stared, opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it. “Sing?” he finally asked, voice dripping with skepticism. “I mean her, sure, but Spencer? Are you sure?”

Garcia nodded, turning to her computer. “A certain cocktail induced confession. Now here’s where I need you to convince me it’s a bad idea to hack into her dash cam so we can see the show.”

Derek huffed out a laugh and put his head in his hands. “Baby girl, you know I would never miss out on a chance to humiliate Reid, but are you sure this is what’s happening? Because if it is, I’m bringing the rest of the team and providing popcorn,” he warned.

Garcia’s smile grew to luminous proportions. “You know, I only asked you to stop me because I knew you’d be the least likely to do so?” she asked.

Derek just laughed, shaking his head. “You are so bad”.

You and Spencer woke up in rare form on Tuesday morning. You both felt well rested (that didn’t stop you from guzzling two coffees each before you hit the door) and in high spirits. Since you woke early, you had a lazy morning in bed, kissing and whispering and giggling, tangled in the sheets. You showered together instead of apart and had an actual solid breakfast rather than a granola bar split down the middle on your way up the elevator at headquarters.

By the time you made it to the car, (Spencer in a button up and cardigan, dark pants and his converse and you in a dress that complimented your eyes with a blazer as an afterthought, in case you needed to go out into the field unexpectedly today) you were both a little bummed that your good moods were going to be dampened by paperwork shortly, but you still had the commute ahead of you and you knew it’d take no convincing to get Spencer to sing along with you today.

Meanwhile, at headquarters, Garcia, Rossi, JJ, Emily and a very reluctant Hotch were crowded around Garcia’s computer. Suddenly the screen came to life showing a clear, albeit off-color video feed of you and Spencer in the front seats of your car.

Garcia gasped, clapped her hands delightedly, and everyone else stepped closer.

“We’re acknowledging that this is a huge invasion of privacy, right,” JJ asked absently.

“And a gross misuse of government property to do so,” Hotch added gruffly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rossi and Emily dismissed in unison, squinting at the screen. You and Spencer already had big smiles on your faces, chattering on about some movie you’d watched together last night, Spencer talking about the logistics of life on Saturn and you explaining to him that the movie was about lesbians in space and you didn’t care whether it was sustainable to live on another planet.

The team couldn’t help but smile at their two youngest co-workers so obviously, comfortably in love.

“So what’ll it be today?” Spencer asked, after relenting that gays in space was enough of a plot line to hold a film despite its obvious scientific pitfalls.

You fiddled with your phone, deciding on a playlist while waiting for him to buckle up for the drive to work. Finally, you decided one one simply named “drive” that included all the songs in your library that got you excited to be alive.

“I think we’re going high-energy today,” you announced to Spencer, smiling as you felt his warm hand push up the hem of your dress slightly to land in its familiar spot on your bare thigh, fingers curling to rest against the sensitive skin of the inner portion.

Spencer nodded, leaning his head back and running a hand through his hair as music filled the car. He didn’t bother to pull out his phone, this playlist was a frequent choice of yours and he already knew all the songs on it by heart.

“Did you know that listening to the music you love actually causes your brain release more dopamine, a crucial neurotransmitter for humans’ emotional and cognitive functioning? It’s connected to the brain’s reward experience, enjoying a piece of music, deriving pleasure from it, wanting to listen to it again, being willing to spend money for it, strongly depend on the dopamine released in our synapses,” Spencer explained happily, feeling safe in knowing you’d never get tired of listening to him share information.

“That explains a lot!” you replied excitedly, nodding as you put the car in reverse and slowly pulled out of the driveway and onto your quiet street. Well, yours and Spencer’s.

You bit your lip, smiling at your internal correction. Spencer had been your best friend for so long that sometimes you forgot that you were a couple now. Sure, there was a lot more kissing now but he was still just your Spencer and it sent the butterflies in your tummy into a frenzy whenever he touched you in a way that he wouldn’t have allowed himself when you were just friends.

“C’mon now, let’s fuckin’ go,” you cheered, getting your heart racing and ready for the day, not catching Spencer looking at you with so much love written all over his face that it was sickening and a smile that could overshadow the sun.

“They’re disgusting,” Emily said fondly, watching her friends interact onscreen. She was seeing a sillier side of Spencer, a more gentle and carefree side that made her feel warm in her stomach. It made sense that he was happiest when he was with his girl and no responsibility at hand but she wished they could all see him like that more often.

The team all laughed, eyes fixed on the screen when the door opened and the smell of melted butter wafted in. Morgan had a large bowl filled with popcorn and Garcia clapped, laughing and reaching for a handful.

“I told you I’d get snacks for show!” he stated, grinning as he sat in the only empty chair left in the room. “What’d I miss?” he asked, munching on a few pieces of popcorn.

“AND I MEANT EVERY WORD I SAID, WHEN I SAID THAT I LOVE YOU I MEANT THAT I LOVE YOU FOREVER,” you and Spencer were scream-singing “Keep on Loving You” by REO Speedwagon until your throats were sore, giggling in between verses. You had one hand on the wheel (that had been a point of contention between you and Spencer for awhile but it had been some months since he’d stopped spouting accident statistics at you and started to trust you behind the wheel) and one elbow resting on the console and both felt utterly invincible.

When the song ended, it faded into “What I Need” by Hayley Kiyoko and you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically against the seat. “I’m so gay,” you stated, thinking about the girl with blonde hair and dance moves you daydreamed about far too often.

Spencer laughed as he sang along, tapping out the rhythm with his fingers on your inner thigh, sliding on his sunglasses. “Would you leave me for her?” he asked playfully, nodding his head toward the radio.

“In an instant,” you replied, shrugging and tossing your hair before really getting into the song, body rolling and catching glancing at Spencer’s face, reveling in his shameless ogling.

After Hayley’s voice cut, the playlist moved right into “Plum” by Troye Sivan and Spencer groaned in a mock of your groan from earlier. “I would leave you for Troye Sivan,” he told you, nodding as he hummed along with the song.

“I would be insulted if you didn’t, given the opportunity. I would love it if you left me for Troye Sivan, it would be an honor,” you both fell into giggles and when Spencer slid his sunglasses off his face, he accidentally dropped them on the floor at his feet. To make matters worse, in true clumsy Spencer fashion, he bumped his head on the dash when he reached down to pick them up.

You snorted, reached out and patted his cheek. “And they call me the bi disaster,” you teased, shaking her head.

“I’ll admit that sometimes I earn that title,” he replied, face reddening.

There was dead silence in the Batcave, the longest silence that the team had ever participated in, perhaps.

They already knew you were bisexual, tiny flag on your desk and they really did call you the “bi disaster” in the company of those you were out to, clumsy, flirty and loud as you were. But Spencer. This was new information.

Hotch was the first to speak up. “I told you this was a bad idea, I’m calling it off,” he stated, shaking his head, wondering how the hell he was going to advise his team to handle this.

“No, no, wait,” JJ spoke up. Everyone looked toward her, surprised. “Look,” she began, tugging on Hotch’s sleeve to bring him back down into his chair, “we already know. They’re 10 minutes from headquarters now, how much more private information could they possibly reveal?”

She had a point. They’d come this far in what had originally been a harmless plan to embarrass Spencer about his bad singing and make his face turn a delightful red. Hotch sat down slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so.

“Go on,” he told Garcia begrudgingly and she obeyed, cranking the volume again to hear Spencer taking on a solo in “Love Story” by Taylor Swift. It would have been a crime to miss this.

After tackling One Direction and The 1975, you were about 5 minutes from work when it came time for the coveted Last Song of the Drive. It was an important one, it set the mood for the day and sometimes you and Spencer spent half of that time choosing the perfect one. Today, it only took one skip to land on “Truth Hurts” by Lizzo.

You and Spencer looked at one another, grinning and cheered, you bouncing in your seat and him pounding on the dash with his fist.

“WHY ARE MEN GREAT ‘TILL THEY GOTTA BE GREAT,” you both screamed, cracking the windows so everyone within a 5 mile radius could hear your terrible, delighted voices.

You and Spencer were holding hands, just broken apart from a few stolen kisses in the elevator when the doors opened, revealing your entire team, clearly on pins and needles. They’d been waiting for you.

You frowned, reaching for your phone instinctively. “Did we miss a call...?”

Rossi shook his head, coming forward, all fatherly and gentle.

“So what had happened was-”

“I hacked your dash cam so we could hear Spencer singing and accidentally found out you’re bisexual,” Garcia blurted, feeling responsible for the whole debacle. She was ready for any ill will pointed her way, but she wouldn’t let Rossi take the responsibility of confessing on behalf of what was her idea.

You felt Spencer’s hand tense in yours for a moment—his sexuality wasn’t something he hid, but he wasn’t vocal about it like you were. You looked up into his handsome face to see a small, sheepish smile on it.

“It’s not a secret,” he informed his family, shrugging. “Just didn’t think it was necessary to announce it in a newsletter”.

The whole room still felt thick with apprehension and you were ready to fly off the handle if anyone teased your boyfriend about this.

Spencer pulled his hand from yours and moved forward to rest it on his chosen sister’s shoulder. Garcia smiled at the contact. “It’s okay,” he told her gently, sputtering as she swept him into a crushing hug that lifted him off the floor.

The rest of the team crowded around and your heart grew 3 sizes watching your family smother Spencer with love and support, him tall, red faced and pleased right in the middle. Morgan strode over, winked and grabbed you by the hand to pull you into the group hug, making you laugh and you were crushed in alongside the people you love the most.

“So...Spencer, would you say you’re 98% or 99% or maybe...100% That Bitch?” Emily teased, bringing fire to Spencer’s cheeks and laughter to the rest of the team, including yourself.

You’re never happier than moments like these. Among your best friends.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #my fic

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marycecilyy · 3 years

Note

Do you think you could write some EricxCandy smut? 👀

omg omg omg sorry for the time I took to finish this. I’m so proud of the result, tho! I hope you enjoy this! Btw, i didn’t proofread the end, please forgive any mistakes.

This fic is a slight AU. Everything is the same, but candy is single.

Warning: NSFW ahead!

-x-

“Need some help carrying those chairs?”

Candy didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. Who else would show up at the café at closing time to offer help (and maybe a last cup of coffee)? She smiled and looked at the inspector over her shoulder.

It was a cold night and he wore his usual clothes. She’d find strange the fact that he wasn’t freezing with just that coat on, but it was well known that that man was never cold. After all, with the amount of hot coffee he drank everyday…

“I guess I could use some company... If you want to, you can take those inside” She used her chin to point at a pile of chairs nearby. Eric picked them up like they were weightless and pushed the front door with his elbow. Candy followed him in.

They organized the café like they usually did. It felt good having some company, especially his. They had grown close since Nath introduced them, all this time ago. She glanced at him. Eric was stacking the chairs and seemed pretty concentrated in his task until he noticed her eyes upon him. He threw her a kind smile and continued his task. She noticed how he avoided her look after that. Her cheeks grew hot, wondering if he found the attention unpleasant.

Candy tried to break the silence with some small talk.

“So… did you finish moving your stuff to the new apartment? I hope you’re inviting me over someday, you know.” She didn’t think how her last words could be interpreted until they came out of her mouth. The inspector froze, clearing his throat.

“Uh… sure.” His answer filled her with regret. Damn, she shouldn’t have said that.

Candy’s feelings for Eric were… complicated. At first, they were friends. She enjoyed his presence and conversation ran smoothly between them. His small ritual of helping her close the café was one of the reasons why she believed the fondness was mutual.

Then, his divorce happened. It was a tough phase for him, before and after. Even though Eric didn’t have the perfect marriage (she hated the way he talked about Melissa and made that very clear to him), the separation shook him. It took him a few weeks to stop talking about it all of the time and she was sure that, deep down, he missed her. That was why she stood there for him, neglecting the constant pain over her chest as she heard him vent about the whole situation.

Candy took a while to comprehend that the reason behind that was that she liked him more than a friend. But how could she tell him that? He was facing an important change, she couldn’t be the reason for more trouble in his life.

So Candy stood by.

“I have to go to the kitchen real quick, I’ll be back in a second.”

Eric nodded and watched as her small frame disappeared behind the door. He let out a sigh. It was getting harder to control his emotions. Every word that came out of her mouth seemed to awake a different reaction from him, from a heartbeat leap to sweaty palms.His rational side didn’t like that, it made him feel like a teenager. On another side, it felt good to revive feelings that were buried inside of him for so long. It made him young, alive.

Suddenly, a thump was heard from the kitchen. Taking quick strides, he burst the doors open, finding Candy sitting on the floor with an upset face. She was gathering sugar packages that had fallen from a box. At least, none of them had been ripped.

Eric promptly helped her clear out the mess and offered himself to return the box to the top shelf. His muscles stretched, balancing the heavy cardboard on one hand and reaching out to put it where it was before. It was a short moment, but Candy watched every tense muscle from his back in awe, wondering if she would ever feel them against her, holding her.

“Thank you.” She tried to ignore her burning cheeks and hoped he wouldn’t notice them as he faced her. “It means a lot, to me, really.” He looked confused, so she explained her train of thought. “Your help, no, your… presence. I enjoy it.”

At this point Candy was avoiding his eyes in fear of him being able to read right through them, as he had done so many times with her. She felt naked around Eric, his trained and precise glare crashing down all of her defenses. When he approached her, she took a step back. It went on until her back hit the closed door. His chest was dangerously close to hers and she could smell his cologne. It was inebriating.

She wanted more.

Her face found his neck, inhaling the citric essence. Perhaps it had been her imagination, but Candy swore she felt him shudder when she kissed the area, licking and biting the area.

Eric leant against the door, pressing their bodies and using one arm to steady himself. His other hand found the small of her back, slipping under her shirt to caress the smooth skin. Finally, Candy withdrew her head and locked eyes with him for the first time since her sudden confession. His gaze was so intense that she felt like she couldn’t hold it for more than five seconds. But she did. Her eyes didn’t leave his when her hands touched his nape, grabbing a fistfull of hair and pulling him even closer. Their mouths were one inch apart.

It was so tempting. Her mouth begged to feel his wet, plump lips, but she couldn’t stop looking at him. It was impossible to decide.

She opened her mouth, thinking of something to say, and Eric took that moment to crash his lips into hers. His grip on her back tightened, the force of the touch eliciting a moan from her. Their tongues met from the first second and rubbed together, the movement of their jaws accommodating the encounter.

Candy couldn’t ignore her deepest urges anymore. She wanted, needed him, in every way possible.

“Ah…” She sighed when he groped her ass harshly, forcing their hips together, making her feel his arousal. Her hands quickly fidgeted with the buttons of his shirt, opening them just enough so she could place her palms flat against his haired chest.

Eric slipped his hands under her short skirt, cupping her and teasingly pressing his middle finger against her soft spot. A low moan escaped. Satisfied with Candy’s reaction, he pushed her legs apart and rubbed against her entrance. When he felt like she was wet enough, his thich digits made their way into her walls. His head was kissing her neck, so he didn’t see her eyes rolling in pleasure.

He pumped roughly, almost like an animal. His hot breath against her neck dampened her even more. She was almost there, just…

When Eric curled his fingers, she was sent over the edge. Her whole body shook and he had to hold her as her legs were giving in. Candy was breathless, sensitive and… surprised. Why didn’t they wait so long to do anything?

“Do you have condoms with you?”

He took his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, searching blindly for the item. When the familiar package was found, he started to undo his belt (with her eager help). In a second, his jeans were hung over his knees and his cock free.

Eric grabbed one of her legs and held it up, pushing her underwear aside and thrusting into her cunt in one movement. Candy gasped in pleasure. He moaned into her ear. Her hand found his butt and guided his movements, the other scratching his back desperately.

“Fuck… Candy, you have n-no idea…. how much… I-I waited…” She clenched around him as the familiar waves of pleasure started hitting her again. Her mouth could only form random words that made no sense to his ears.

Eric started slamming into her even harder as he reached his own orgasm. In one, final thrust he came undone, weakening his grip on her. Their clothes were dampened in sweat, their hair, messy. However, they had never felt so good in ages.

Candy looked at him. His eyes showed no remorse, only utter pleasure and content. Relief washed over her. She was afraid of him regretting what had just happened and wouldn’t be able to go back to what they were before if she asked her so. But he didn’t. Instead, Eric only said:

“Let’s go to my apartment.”

#my candy love #mcl eric #eric #my candy love eric #ericxcandy #mcl #mclll #my candy love love life #mcl love life #smut #writing #my writing #ask

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

I don’t often muse upon PJO, but when I do, its random as hell.

Anyway, tonight’s thought (singular, also: derogatory, as in very possibly a mistake) is about exploring aspects of the Greek gods that are extrapolations of like, what they’d be like in the modern world instead of just in terms of their ancient myths.....and how that might widen the scope of their demigod children and their powers.

Like take Hephaestus for instance. God of the forge and fire, of invention and artifice......now widen the scope on those things through the lens of the modern age.....might he also be considered the god of modern science, not just in terms of things like engineering and technology, but also physics, chemistry? Or would those things fall more under Athena’s purview......unless you separated them into finer divisions. Like, you could consider Athena’s overview of knowledge and wisdom to make her the goddess of science and higher learning or whatever in general........OR you could separate it like.....Hephaestus is the god of natural or physical sciences like physics and chemistry, and Athena is the goddess of not just wisdom and tactics but things like psychology, computer sciences, etc.

Or OR get Dionysus up in there too, and make it like Hephaestus is the god of chemistry, of chemical reactions and the like, Athena is the goddess of physics, of the most full and complete understanding of the physical universe via things like the unified field theory and its comprising forces of electromagnetism, strong and weak nuclear force, etc, and then Dionysus the god of biology, hmmmm.....

Cuz imagine then, demigod children of Hephaestus, where instead of pyrokinesis, some get powers like transmuting elements.......oh man, the things you could do with that??? Not just lead into gold but they’d be terrors in battle because they could transmute the very air someone breathes into chlorine gas, blood into acid, flesh into stone. Or using that power defensively, making them able to keep guns from firing by dampening the chemical reaction that comes from igniting gunpowder, or just knocking someone out or putting them to sleep by just tanking their metabolic reactions. Mingling magic with modern know-how and creating their own version of truth serums by turning the water someone drinks into something akin to sodium pentathol when just brushing their fingers against someone’s glass, or rendering all drugs or toxins that might have been slipped into their drink null and void by transmuting them into harmless H20.

(I know that Luke was mentioned briefly as being good at making potions aka alchemy due to being a son of Hermes, but frankly, transmutation as a mastery of the periodic table makes waaaaay more sense for Hephaestus’ kids, I’m just saying. And plus the Greeks didn’t so much consider Hermes an actual god of alchemy as they more just kinda viewed him as their god of all things miscellaneous and tended to lump anything they didn’t have particularly strong feelings about and/or a grasp of under his umbrella. Hermes was really just the patron god of being random as fuck and oh great gods of Olympus I have no idea what I want to do with my life, give me a sign. Hermes: poofs into existence on their shoulder and says SOUNDS LIKE YOU NEED TO GO BE GAY AND DO CRIME YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST, DIVINE MANDATE, LETS GOOOOOOO).

Give children of Athena more practical applications for being heirs to her wisdom, knowledge and strategic acumen by also giving her dominion in the modern age over humanity’s quest to better understand the universe we live in and all its rules, the ins and outs of the laws that govern reality itself.......thus Annabeth and others’ potential acumen for magic being here not the end result of them stepping on Hecate and her kids’ toes, but rather more a function of making them the embodiment of ‘magic is just sufficiently advanced technology’ as they - via an innate and heightened understanding of the very nature of the physical universe - find holes in the fabric of space and time that let them slip from Point A to Point B as easily as crossing the street, play tricks with gravity and relativity and things that leave others baffled and amazed and them just shrugging and being like its all in the wrist, dude, and also, the fact that our mom just GETS reality in a way that everyone else will still be playing catch-up to a thousand years from now.

Children of Dionysus (yes I know he barely has any shhh we’re not paying attention to the series we’re just musing on demigod powers here) who combine the godhood of grapes and revelry with loud music and laughter......the way music can help with plant growth, because music is essentially just VIBRATIONS and vibrations stimulate activity in plant cells in a variety of ways.....and thus similar to Mr. D’s tricks with controlling vines and rapidly growing plants, AND his ability to affect the psyches of others, which is described as inflicting or curing madness and I’m like ehhhh do we have to describe it thus though.....put all that in a pot, shake it, not stir, and abrakadabra, alakazam, other psychic pokemon random Psyduck shout-out and voila! ALL of that could be afixed to and made the end product of godly and demigodly control and manipulation of vibrations, cuz Dionysus is literally the god of just vibing in all its infinite forms.....and thus its all just about how vibrations affect plant life on a cellular level, how they can affect brain chemistry in a variety of ways, triggering a lot of the more primal centers/functions of the brain, etc. You kids are driving me crazy, he’d yell at his demigod kids, and they’re like umm wow, like ACK CHOO UGHLY, father, welcome to the 21st century, all we’re really doing is directly stimulating the prefrontal cortex of your cerebellum with our banging rock music, and its making you angy, what about it?

And speaking of actually, if we and by we I mean me cuz I am and its wheee, are theorizing about Athena’s brood getting to be all magical wunderkind whizkids with their scientific acumen and divine cheat-sheets for the physical universe, maybe Aphrodite and her kids could snatch up those psychology and psychiatry job titles instead. Love, desire, also things like obsession, hyper-fixation......is Cabin Mighty Aphrodite really just pheromone central or are its campers more like magical dopamine and serotonin factories just pumping out good vibes all around them, being like come hang out, its free brain juice. Like, imagine kids of Aphrodite who just by their mere presence could help the legions of ADHD demigods focus better, concentrate easier, get shit done because the goddess of passion and her children like....have the gift of helping people to more productively pursue their passions in ALL forms, not just the physical desires they hold for others but the passions they hold for arts and crafts and sports and y’know, saving the world on magical coming-of-age quests when their milkshakes bring all the monsters to the yard.

And then Ares not just as a god of war and conflict, but of entropy....the tendency of the universe to trend towards disorder, randomness, uncertainty....the kind of things that so often incite or enflame conflict......but applied at large not just to interpersonal dynamics but to the world itself. With his children possessing demigod abilities that disrupt or weaken bonds, both in the form of emotional ties between allies and commitments towards various ideals or courses of action, but also the ability to PHYSICALLY weaken bonds, resulting in an enemy’s weapon falling apart at a touch, or increasing the instability or volatility of an object so it blows up akin to how Gambit of the X-Men’s powers work and can turn even playing cards into a weapon, etc, etc.

And don’t even get me started on Hermes! No, seriously, don’t. Mostly because I haven’t thought that one through yet and I got nothing. I mean I got some things but they are nebulous and have yet to spring forth fully formed from my head like Athena from the fuckhead of Zeus, that absolute fuckhead of legend and yore. In my defense though, I haven’t like, eaten any primordial goddesses of thought and memory, so.......like, idk, I’m taking the longer route here I guess.

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anxious-logic · 3 years

Text

Chapter 17: Age 12, Part 4

Masterpost | Previous | First

Chapter word count: 2,365 words

Chapter warnings: Self deprecation, child hiding emotional confusion/troubles from parental figures

---

Thomas knew that he couldn’t hide this forever.

He knew he couldn’t avoid the gods who raised him since- since always, practically; they had ways of knowing him, understanding what he was feeling and thinking and-

And, well. Wasn’t that kind of the whole issue?

He smiled humorlessly to himself as he felt tears roll off of his jaw, staining his gray shirt even darker. He was probably letting out enough negativity that Janus, Patton, and Virgil could feel it; probably Logan, and maybe Roman, too. Possibly Remus, but this didn’t really fall into that realm, did it? Probably not. Thomas didn’t really know; for being raised by these six entities, he really didn’t know much about what they could do or what they actually knew.

He frustratedly flopped back in his bed, wiggling his hips so that he could pull the covers over his legs to cover up to his shoulders. He curled up on his side, letting the tears slide down the side of his face and roll off of his nose.

Patton would be coming soon, probably. Either them or Virgil. Thomas had been seeing the looks that they’d both been sending him recently; he’d seen the way Patton had been checking the trustbonds between Thomas and the gods, despite how they were trying to be stealthy. He’d caught Virgil investigating the strength of the walls he’d been trying his best to put up – although the god hadn’t poked into his mind completely to see what he was hiding. Small mercies, Thomas supposed.

Janus might be able to feel something, too. The god of truth had been hanging around him more than usual, he’d noticed; he didn’t know if it was specifically because of what he’d been going through or if it was just a coincidence. The things he was telling himself weren’t lies – were they? Would they be enough to trip Janus’s internal lie detector?

(Thomas had asked, once, how Janus knew whether something was true or not. Janus had given him a rambling response that dodged the subject and didn’t give any more information about the mechanics of the powers; Thomas had never tried to ask again. Obviously, Janus didn’t want him to know. And that was fine.)

Thomas closed his eyes in exhaustion as the thoughts came washing over him, the momentary distraction of thinking about the gods coming back around to the subject of his current issue.

You know there’s no reason for you to be here. They’re all so powerful, and what can you do? Pick flowers?

Thomas stiffened as his thoughts were interrupted by a quiet whoosh that indicated that one or more of his caretakers had appeared in his room.

“Thomas? What’s going on, kid?”

Thomas didn’t roll over to face Virgil. “’m just tired.”

“That’s not true, child.”

Thomas closed his eyes as Janus spoke, partially out of exhaustion and partially out of scolding himself. He hadn’t even tried to spin a half-truth before speaking.

“We’ve noticed that something has been going on for quite some time now, Thomas. We know that you told Remus about some parts of the issue recently, but many of us have been sensing growing unease and discomfort within you since then,” Janus continued.

“The logical conclusion, and the one that we came to, was that speaking to Remus did not alleviate your feelings,” Logan continued. “We want you to feel comfortable with us and able to trust us with whatever you may be going through.”

Thomas felt a hand touch his back through the covers he’d pulled up to his shoulders, moving gently up and down his spine.

“Previously, we were waiting for you to be ready to talk to us and we had no intention of confronting you about this. However, the situation seems to be greatly affecting your thinking and daily life. We believe it is a necessary step to take.”

Thomas sighed and opened his eyes, slowly rolling over and feeling the hand slip away from his back. He was slightly surprised to see all six of the gods standing in his room, with varying expressions of worry and sadness on their faces.

“Hi, sweetie,” Patton whispered as Thomas met their eyes.

“…Hi,” Thomas mumbled back. Patton moved a hand to his forehead and gently brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes.

“Do you feel like telling us what’s going on?” Patton’s eyes were full of gentle worry, the words soft and nonthreatening. Thomas inhaled sharply through his nose, closing his eyes and trying not to start crying again.

(He’d done enough of that lately. That made them feel bad, and then he felt bad, and that wasn’t good for anyone.)

“If you need to cry, that’s okay,” Thomas heard Virgil say. He tried as hard as he could to hold in the tears that welled up in response, but felt droplets escape from each eye, rolling down his face and dampening his pillow.

“Oh, little one.” Logan’s voice came closer to him and he felt a hand land in his hair, the weight comforting and grounding.

Thomas blinked his eyes open slowly. He pushed himself up on his bed so that he was sitting, feeling the hand on his head slip away, and readjusted the pillow so that it was protecting his back from the carved wooden headboard. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them tightly.

“I- please don’t interrupt,” he said quietly. He tried to keep his voice steady. He didn’t really want to talk about this, but everyone was here and they were worried and they obviously wanted to hear it, even though Thomas knew it would make them all upset, so- so he might as well say it.

“Okay,” Roman said. Thomas tucked his head into his arms, avoiding meeting any of the others’ eyes. He took a few breaths, trying to figure out how to start.

“Do you want us to tell you what we know, then you can go from there?” Virgil asked. His voice was soft and gentle like the rest, but with something else behind it that Thomas didn’t know what to call it.

Thomas nodded into his arms.

“We know that there’s something that’s making you feel bad. We know that you think that if you tell us, then we’re going to be upset. Remus says that you told her it’s not something we can easily change.”

Thomas tried to remember the conversation he’d had with Remus. Hadn’t he said that it was something that the gods were doing…?

He tilted his head to the side to try to glance at Remus, asking her silently if she’d told the others about the other part of their conversation. She shook her head minutely.

Oh.

Thomas hesitated, then made a snap decision. “You can tell them,” he blurted out at Remus, then buried his head in his arms.

There was a pause, then Thomas heard a bit of shifting. “...The other thing,” Remus said, “that I didn’t tell you. Is that… it’s something that we’re doing, that’s making him upset. And we do it a lot. And it wouldn’t be easy to change it.”

There was another silence, and Thomas could almost feel the air become more tense.

“Oh, sweetie,” Patton said. Their voice was sorrowful and apologetic. “I can see why it feels so hard to tell us, but you can always tell us. Maybe we can’t change it, but we can do our best, okay?”

Thomas nodded into his arms. “I… yeah.” He took a few slow breaths, trying to count them out to stay calm. “Give me a minute.”

The others stayed quiet at his request, only the quiet sounds of rustling as they adjusted revealing their presence. Thomas’s thoughts were racing - where should he start? What should he say? Was explanation necessary? How much should he reassure them that it wasn’t their fault, it was just him, they couldn’t really do anything to fix it, he just needed to deal with it?

“I don’t like that I can’t do anything.”

He surprised even himself by the words coming out of his mouth. He frowned in confusion, his head still between his knees.

“How so, child?”

Thomas rocked back and forth slightly at Janus’s question. “Um- well.” He licked his lips and set his chin on his knees so that they could hear him better, but closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see their reactions. “You all have- powers. And stuff. Like- you can appear places, and feel each other, all of you can. And Janus can feel truths and lies, and Patton can see the trustbonds, and Remus can make things come to life. And Logan Knows things, and Virgil can feel the strength, and Roman can make stories come true.” He paused, taking a shuddery breath. “And I can’t do anything. Because I’m just a human, and all of you are gods. And that means I can’t do anything.”

One breath went by in silence. Two. Five.

“Thomas,” Logan said eventually, almost achingly gentle, “you can do so much.”

Thomas finally opened his eyes, feeling tears gather as he almost glared at Logan. “Like what?”

“You’ve taught me so much about trust and what it is,” Patton spoke up. “I knew the theory before you, but I never truly had practice. When we started taking care of you, I got to experience trust for myself, and that has made me infinitely better at my responsibilities.” Their face was honest, and when Thomas glanced at Janus the god nodded in affirmation of the words.

“You’ve helped me discover what life truly means,” Remus added. Her eyes were sparkling and her voice was tight from unshed tears. “I had no idea what it really meant for something to be alive until I met you. Life is more than just something growing and breathing; it’s learning, and changing, and being unique. And, little rascal, there’s so much more that you can teach me, I know.” By the end of the speech, she’d started crying, the tears rolling down her cheeks. Thomas swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to stop himself from doing the same.

Virgil took a step forward and knelt down by the side of the bed to look Thomas in the eyes, placing a hand palm-up on the covers. Thomas hesitantly placed his hand over the god’s, the warmth of his hand a comforting sensation. “Your strength has never failed to awe me. In every sense of the word - physical, mental, emotional. Even when you’re so young, you can still endure so much more than I ever could expect. And I hope you never have to,” he added quickly, “but I know that you could. And that has been so incredibly amazing to experience.” He squeezed Thomas’s hand, then rocked back to stand up so he could get out of the way.

“There are uncountable versions of the truth, but you allowed my knowledge of the true number to increase to something much closer to accurate.” Now Janus was speaking, and even though Thomas wasn’t immortal he could feel the heavy truth in every word the god said. “I had never previously experienced the world in black and white. When you came to us, you saw life as something made of truth or lies. Although that is no longer the case for you, seeing your understanding change has been imperative to me being able to truly function as I need to.”

Roman cleared their throat as the feeling of Janus’s words faded from the room. “Your imagination has nearly exceeded my own in many cases. There have been an almost uncountable number of times when I have been blocked in a project, and then I come to you and you aid me in becoming able to continue - whether that is through going under the block, around it, or in some cases destroying it.” A small smile appeared on his face. “You have been invaluable to my work, and I have neglected to tell you this. I am so, so sorry.”

A beat of silence came over the room as Roman finished talking, and Thomas could feel his eyes stinging with yet more held-back tears. Logan cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back.

“I have been able to participate in many of my passions with you,” he said, the words almost too soft to hear. “Science, especially the stars and nature. Being able to teach you about the ways the world works.” He fell silent for a moment, seeming to be considering his words. “And… you have taught me much about my own emotions and reactions to events. I struggled greatly with those in the past, but you have shown me that the feelings I have are normal and deserve to be treated with respect and understanding, as much as any of yours do.” His cheeks were tinted red by the time he was finished, and Thomas felt a few tears slowly rolling down his cheeks.

“And regardless of how much you have helped all of us,” Janus said, taking a step closer to the bed, “You do not have to do anything. You are a child, Thomas. Your only job is to learn, to grow, to enjoy life. You should not have the responsibilities of gods. Even the powers alone are far too much for any child to know how to understand and handle. I promise you, you are doing exactly what you should be. You are perfect the way you are. And we love you.”

Thomas was full-out sobbing by the time Janus finished talking, and held out his arms in a wordless plea for a hug. He felt warm, solid arms wrap around him, cradling him close and comforting him.

He felt a spark of something deep inside him, pulsing with the care he was feeling from the others. As he was passed around so that every god could remind him of how much he was loved, the spark grew into something bigger, a flame that warmed him and forever connected him to the others.

#ts thomas #ts janus #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #ts roman #ts remus #the power of family #i can write sometimes

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

Text

NEVER WAS THERE A TALE OF MORE WOE, THAN THAT OF OUR JEANNE AND FANGDADDIO 😭😭😭

But alas, I will relay what I read back in the day to the best of my abilities! Spoilers for the end of Jeanne’s route under the cut, rated E (for everyone) for maximum uwus (and M for angst bc F U C K):

Okay so basically Jeanne’s route goes a lot like most of the routes, and when MC gets attacked (by the rival vampire turned by Vlad) our eyepatched wonder is not happy about it. He storms over to Comte’s room and demands to have his questions answered. Comte notes how deathly serious he is and breezes past the enmity, telling him to go ahead and ask whatever he needs to. Jeanne threatens to kill Comte if it turns out that he’s lying about anything from this point forward. To which Comte (being a little shit), replies that he literally can’t die so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Jeanne tells him he doesn’t care what it takes; he’ll rend him apart to the tiniest shred over and over and over again--even if it takes them both to the other side to accomplish it. Comte concedes and says “very well; if I lie, you’re welcome to try.” Jeanne finally asks if Comte has made a revival pact with anyone new. Comte is genuinely confused and confesses that he hasn’t--that he has no idea who Jeanne is talking about. “What ‘comrade in arms’???” Jeanne seems to sense that Comte is responding in earnest (but is also confused bc like, then who the fuck else turned the guy??? WHO IS THE THREAT I MUST STAB)

Jeanne admits that MC was attacked and you can feel the change in gravity in milliseconds. Comte starts asking where she is and if she’s okay, and Jeanne explains that she’s still in the mansion and she’s fine. Jeanne then asks if Shakespeare has the ability to turn people like he does, and Comte is bewildered to put it mildly. He’s like ??????? Where is this coming from, of course he doesn’t???? I turned him myself, he’s a lesser vampire--he doesn’t have that ability???? In a moment of sheer livid impatience, Jeanne grabs Comte by the lapels and screams “Then who can!?!?!?!” Comte stares at him and admits that there are only two people that he is aware of who can accomplish such a thing, himself and someone else. They hear a loud crash and they run to the dining room, only to find a window smashed, Mozart wounded, and MC gone. Comte’s furious sprite appears, and he asks Jeanne to look after MC, he has something to take care of. Isaac asks him where on earth he’s going, and he reveals that he’s going to Will’s house before storming out.

Poor Shakespeare faces the brunt of Comte’s rage--though I get the feeling, knowing now that Shakespeare is Vlad’s puppet--that the threat was meant more for Vlad than for Shakey boy. Comte goes to Shakey’s place and Shakespeare offers to put on tea or wine, says it’s strange for him to appear so late. Comte tells him not to bother, since he isn’t here to exchange pleasantries. Shakespeare seems p shocked given Comte isn’t usually one to be so direct or terse, and when Comte walks in he backs Shakespeare into the wall step. By step. By step. He asks him if he was involved in the harm done to MC, and Shakespeare’s like “Yeah lol what’s it to you.” And when their shoes are nearly touching, Comte grabs him by the throat and lifts him off the ground. He tells Shakespeare that if this goes on, he won’t show any mercy: "To those that would harm a single member of my house, I will hunt them to the ends of the earth. To the very depths of hell." The narration notes that he lets go of whatever dampens his pureblood aura and nearly suffocates Shakespeare with his raw intensity and power, before putting him down again and saying “That’s all I have to say. I have no more questions for you.” Comte walks right back out, slamming the door while Shakespeare is on the floor coughing.

So, needless to say, things are hella rocky between Comte and Jeanne throughout the better part of the route. But given the odd dichotomy of Comte’s reactions (his complete acceptance of Jeanne’s fury versus his own anger being directed at Vlad), it definitely felt like there was more there. Everything finally comes full circle at the end when Comte gathers everyone inside the dining room to explain precisely what happened (Vlad, etc. I’m assuming) and asks everyone to take proper precautions moving forward: "I'll take steps to make sure this never happens again. But if we are faced with a similar situation, know that I am prepared to protect you all with every fiber of my being." He deems secrecy a moot point given this incident, and just wants everyone to be safe and ask for help should they need it in the future.

MC notes that he doesn’t have his usual placid demeanor; he’s incredibly serious and grave. She’s like “Oh boy some serious shit went down huh...but if anything, I feel like it’s only made us have more faith in his ability to protect us c:” AND HERE IS WHERE THE BIG HURT HAPPENS KIDS GET YOUR TISSUES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Jeanne: "...Alright. I will trust in your words. But can I ask just one thing?” Comte: “Yes, Jeanne?” Jeanne: "You know I always hated you, I truly believed you revived me against my will for a long time." Comte just sorta deflates, but he doesn’t say anything (MY POOR BABIE) Jeanne: "But, is that really the case? Did I want to live on, away from that pyre...?" [There was a long silence.] Comte: “...That day, when I appeared, you screamed desperately 'Why must I die here. Whether it be God or the devil, someone make use of me!'” Important note: Jeanne tells MC that he is able to recall thinking that, but he has no acute recollection of saying it; this is the moment at which he lost consciousness. MC: [;-; No matter how hard he tried to stifle it, it (his deep wish to live) came out all the same...] I wasn’t able to transcribe it, but Comte essentially tells him that he tried to ask Jeanne, but he was already barely hanging on--there was no way he could get a proper answer. (This is highly plausible given we know that Jeanne was incarcerated by the Inquisition, tortured, and starved before he was tied to that pyre--it was a miracle he lasted that long. He didn’t even have the strength to move/struggle from where he was tied). Comte goes on to say that Jeanne was pissed to shit when he woke up and there was little he could do to alleviate that (I mean given he was waiting for the sweet release of death it makes sense but also N O ;-;). For a while Jeanne just stares at him before asking: Jeanne: “...Why? Why didn’t you tell me after all this time?” Comte: "Because I thought it was okay if you berated me a little." Jeanne (vine voice: AMERICA EXPLAIN): ?????????? Comte: "Despite being alive...you looked dead to the world ever since the day we met. No matter how hard I tried or whatever I did, I couldn't seem to change that. But...the only emotion I seemed to be able to draw out of you was hate. If hatred was the only thing that could move you, I figured I'd take on that role. Better to see you express something than to see you lifeless beyond any glimmer of hope or change." Jeanne: "Why....why would you go that far?? Why did you bother? I don't...understand" BECAUSE HE HAS SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE AND HE LOVES YOU I’M SOBBING ALL OVER AGAIN OKAY DEEP BREATHS THE SHOW MUST GO ON MINNIE Comte: "Because I'm the one that revived you...because to me, you're all my precious family." Jeanne: "...............................................................I...I'm sorry" AND JEANNE HANGS HIS HEAD WAAAAAAAAAAAH Comte’s brows rise: “...Jeanne?” Jeanne: "I know an apology doesn't forgive everything I did/said. But I don't know how else to make amends"

It goes on to show them all making amends, and while Jeanne can sometimes be like “ughghhghgh d a d stop nagging I’m fINE” he secretly really loves the guy. In Jeanne’s third bday story he’s literally like [Comte’s a weirdo but I see now that that's just how he cares abt me. He's not just worldly, he's a good guy. c: I just don’t care abt whatever he’s going on abt rn]

So like full disclosure before Jeanne’s route I still loved Comte but I really didn’t know much about him beyond the “eccentric nobleman persona.” Granted we definitely get glimpses into who he really is, but this was a sizeable breakthrough. (And probably a strong allusion to the release of Comte’s MS soon after.) That being said, there were so many things said here that just absolutely shattered my heart.

Because here’s the thing. I have no qualms with Comte’s wish to be a dad--or even to revive the men, for that matter. If it makes him happy and he intends to take care of them reasonably well, then who am I to criticize him? (Fun fact: Leonardo essentially says the same exact thing; he’s more against it than I am because of the whole turning humans, but he doesn’t necessarily vilify Comte because he knows his intentions are good. And if everyone’s happy with it, what can he say?) But the fact that Comte handles their issues with so much patience and maturity...I’m in love???? There is sincerely nothing sexier than this for me. He’s fully aware that Jeanne was treated like absolute shit by the people he tried to protect, that he never really got to live for himself a single day in his life--never knew a moment’s peace, joy, or appreciation. He tries everything he can think of to get Jeanne to maybe not hate being alive as much, but fails at every turn. He still refuses to give up on the guy despite the less than ideal state of things, and decides that if Jeanne needs an enemy to survive--he will be that enemy. He doesn’t care that the guy he’s trying to help would skewer him the second he had his back turned (Jeanne pls this was a new suit couldn’t this wait). He takes full responsibility for deciding to turn him; knows that since he erred on the side of caution, it’s up to him to offer a life that’s worth keeping/staying alive for. He doesn’t belittle Jeanne’s plight for a moment, never deems him stupid or shortsighted. He’s able to understand that in the wake of so much pain and loss, of course Jeanne might not notice the finer points of Comte’s attempts to cheer him up. Even if it pains him to be on negative terms (HE LOVES HIS BOY HE DOESN’T WANT TO FIGHT) he will fully accept it if it brings Jeanne peace, if it helps Jeanne get to a place where he can begin to accept the affection he wants to offer.

And THAT’S what kills me, kids. Four hundred years, and Comte fucking LEARNED something. He is perceptive to uncanny degrees, and never fails to read a room in milliseconds; not only does he pick up on how people feel, he responds with appropriate, gentle measures. What I love so much about Comte is that he knows full well that genius does not come without its price. You could be the smartest person on earth, the most talented, whatever you choose to call it, but it will invite no shortage of hatred from other people, no shortage of misunderstanding and disdain and violence. If people don’t go mad with power, they are destroyed by the very places that birthed them. As such, the last thing he wants to do is put them under more pressure, or force them to do things against their will; he just wants to give them a chance to live beyond such fickle and hostile circumstances. And he takes this seriously, this isn’t remotely a whim for him despite all evidence to the contrary. He gets that healing takes time, and as much as he wants everyone to be happy he’s more than willing to give them space/resources to figure it out. Like. He is the father everybody DREAMS they had (if they didn’t already have a good one) and the fact that I can’t tell him what a wonderful job he’s doing is killing me on all levels INCLUDING physical.

And I just?????? Jeanne’s palpable remorse when he finds out????? And Comte’s surprise???????? Like Comte wasn’t necessarily expecting that level of apology, he knew he was taking a gamble and he was ready to do whatever he had to, he wasn’t intending to hold it against his boy. But Jeanne just has such a tender and well-meaning heart (no matter how much he struggles to express it) that regret was inevitable. There’s just so much love in that moment, in Comte’s capacity to forgive and take on so much of poor Jeanne’s unhappiness, and Jeanne’s fully ability to admit he was misguided, lower his head, and apologize. THEY JUST GET ME BLUBBERING LIKE A THREE YEAR OLD OKAY THEY ARE BOTH SO IMPORTANT TO ME AND I HURT

Tl;dr: JEANNE’S ROUTE SHOT ME FORTY-SEVEN TIMES IN THE CHEST AND LEFT ME PINING FOR COMTE MORE THAN EVER BEFORE OTL

Also a bonus, because it only just occurred to me (spoilers from the end of Comte’s route):

THEY HAVE A LEGIT REVERSAL AT THE END OF COMTE’S ROUTE???? Comte once again gathers everyone to reveal Vlad’s identity and intentions, and he apologizes for keeping it from everyone, lowering his head. He’s more than ready to face everyone’s ire for keeping secrets, but everyone’s just like “dad pls lift your head it’s okay, we’re just glad we can help you now--you don’t have to carry it all on your own.” AND IT IS IN FACT, JEANNE, THAT ALSO SAYS “No need to bow like that Comte, aren't you the one always saying we're family?" AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS IN A PUDDLE OF TEARS?????? I WILL NEVER BE OKAY. POOR COMTE WAS SO MOVED AND MY HEART CAN’T TAKE HAVING THIS KNOWLEDGE WHERE’S MY HANKIE. JEANNE. BEING THE ONE. TO SAY. “Aren’t we family?” WHEN HEARING HOW HARD COMTE WAS WORKING TO PROTECT THEM, BC HE 100% IDENTIFIES WITH THE STRUGGLE OF LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE THAT DON’T KNOW/CARE THAT SOMEBODY ELSE IS THE SACRIFICE FOR THEIR PEACE OF MIND. I--

WHAT IS IT THAT JEANNE AND COMTE SHARE TO THE CORE, SO MUCH THAT JEANNE WOULD NEED NO OTHER EXPLANATION TO CHANGE HIS MIND AFTER YEARS OF BITTER DISDAIN???????? THEIR CAPACITY FOR DEVOTION, THEIR EASY WILLINGNESS TO SACRIFICE ANYTHING TO PROTECT A LIFE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS EPIPHANY IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME

I’m crying rn I just: Comte: !!!!!!! Somebody who gets it!!! :DDD Jeanne: die. Comte: Comte: ;-; understandable have a nice day

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #comte propaganda #ikevamp fangdad #fangdad propaganda #god who would have thought that the one thing jeanne and comte have in common is TAKING RESPONSIBILITY #deadass i was just writing and i was like hold up #but if jeanne doesnt know what he said in this route then why would he do a 180 like that????#and then i remembered that the focal point of comte's rt is learning that EVERYTHING that we knew from the getgo was a charade #he wasnt just turning ppl for funsies this was all a deliberate attempt to protect them from vlad #he was just using the dumbass noble persona to keep everyone from digging too deep (bc vlad would be waiting in the wings)#i still dont know what went wrong with shakespeare but im willing to bet that part of his whole keeping the truth surface level #might have been a direct consequence of that situation being mishandled #and as such everyone's living in a kind of ignorant bliss #the price of their peace is comte's carrying the knowledge of vlad's intentions and protecting them from an unwavering threat #and if there is ANYTHING jeanne can understand #it's wanting to bear the burden of violence or danger for the sake of protecting precious life #how could jeanne possibly remain angry with him? their hearts are undeniably aligned #GOD THIS JUST MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL ITS A GOOD THING I HAVE SOME ROSÉ LEFT #ikevamp really goes above and fuckin beyond huh #how DARE they make me have feelings #**grumble**#i hope this answered your curiosity!!#if you need me ill be swimming in my feels good lordt im not okay

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ninja-hamsterstyle · 4 years

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All We Are, Chapter 1

A/N: Well, this work in progress has been about a year in the making. Kudos go to @queenmismatched who sent me some Barry/Eowells fic recs when I had just gotten into The Flash and was healing from surgery!

Pairings: Barry Allen/Eowells, eventual Barry Allen/reader/Eowells

Warnings: Embarrassment, the reader walking in on a... situation, blow jobs, swearing, I think?

Words: 2,603

Summary: Sometimes, someone comes into your life so unexpectedly, takes your heart by surprise, and changes your life forever. A story in which Eobard Thawne experiences an unforeseen change in his plans… but he doesn’t entirely mind.

The Reader's P.O.V.

"Oh, come on, Y/N!" Cisco said pleadingly. "We haven't been out in forever!"

You laughed, finally setting your laptop down for the first time since work had ended for the night/ Well your metahuman work anyway. Your day job still beckoned.

"Didn't we go to the movies just last week?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well..." He paused for a moment, trying to come up with a good counter argument. "We're not going to the movies this time," was all he could come up with, but he paired it with a puppy-eyed expression.

"Barry does the puppy eyes better," You said, and patted his hand on the table. "I'll come out next time, okay?" You promised.

The puppy eyes faded into a look of disappointment and he nodded. You patted his hand again.

A few minutes later, Caitlin came striding into the Cortex, her coat buttoned up and her purse slung over her shoulder. "You sure you don't want to come with us, Y/N?" She asked. "It's trivia night."

You nodded. "Yeah. This story is due Thursday morning and I'm not getting paid if it's not finished by then."

Caitlin nodded, though she looked a little unsure. You smiled at her, silently trying to reassure her that you were alright. After a minute, she stepped forward and touched his arm to catch his attention.

"Let's go," She said softly once he looked at her. She looked back at you and said a little bit louder, a little more cheerfully, "We'll see you tomorrow!"

You nodded and waved as they walked into the hallway. "Have fun at Jitters!"

As you sat down and pulled your laptop closer, you faintly heard the chime of the elevator being called. Another faint chime sounded not long after, announcing the arrival of the elevator. You smiled to yourself, settling back in your chair.

Time to get to work.

It doesn't take long for you to start where you left off. There were a few false beginnings, but then you remembered where you had been going with the narrative. You immersed yourself in the story, loving that familiar sensation that all creators knew well. Almost an hour passed and you were roughly halfway through.

You were so deep into the story that you hardly reacted when Barry streaked into the cortex, still wearing his work clothes.

"Is Dr. Wells still here?" He asked, brushing dust off of himself.

"Yep." You barely spared him a glance. "He's in his office." Or at least you thought he was; you hadn't heard his wheelchair rolling down the hall outside. But then again, you hadn't heard much of anything, distracted as you were.

Barry took your word for it, though. He said, "Thanks," and then he was off before you thought to say no problem. There was a light, papery sound sliding through the air, but you ignored it. You were familiar enough with the sound of Barry taking off by now.

You thought.

You finally stopped typing ten or maybe fifteen minutes later (you weren't entirely sure; time was always a slippery thing when you became immersed in writing). The story was less than a quarter away from the ending, but your poor fingers were demanding a break. With a satisfied sigh, you set the laptop on the table and leaned back in your chair.

And let loose a string of swear words.

Turns out there was a reason why you associated the papery sound you'd heard earlier with Barry leaving: There was a notebook's worth of papers spread out on the floor. A common result of a certain speedster speeding away.

You swore again and got up, moving to clean the papers up. Barry Allen was lucky he was cute - it made a lot harder to be mad at him when he made a mess like this. There was also the fact that you may have had a tiny crush on him, but you weren't going to think about that right now.

It took almost as long as it did to convince Cisco and Caitlin that you were fine staying here by yourself, but you finally had the papers arranged in (mostly) neat little stacks on the floor. You had picked them up and were attempting to figure out where they used to be when you heard the sound. It was like a faint groan, so quiet your ears almost didn't pick it up. You froze, your eyes darting to the medbay, the treadmill room, the hall outside the Cortex. There was no one there.

Right?

You shook your head, chalking the sound up to being water pipes groaning or - more likely - your imagination. You were still a little absorbed in your own world. But then, a few minutes later, you heard the sound again. And again, and it was louder this time. There was definitely no one nearby… except for…

Dr. Wells.

Your eyes darted the hallway at the same time another groan drifted down. There was no mistaking it this time: the groan belonged to Dr. Wells.

You reached out with your meta-healing sense, but didn't feel anything. That didn't mean something wasn't wrong though. Concerned, you stood and hurried out of the Cortex without putting down the papers in your hand. The door to Dr. Wells's office was slightly ajar and, despite your urgency, you raised your free hand to knock on the door frame (it seemed rude not to) and peered through the gap out of habit. And then you froze.

Dr. Wells was in his office. But he wasn't hurt or injured like you'd thought.

No, he was far from it actually.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. You were frozen with shock… and maybe a little arousal. Dr. Wells was sitting in his wheelchair like usual. What wasn't usual though was the way his hands clenched the armrests of the chair and his eyes closed in pleasure. Nor was the way that Barry - Barry! - knelt in front of him. The bobbing of the speedster's head left little question as to what he was doing.

You wanted to walk away. You should have walked away. But for some reason your legs wouldn't move. All you could do was stare.

Then Dr. Wells groaned again and the beautiful, damning sound broke whatever spell you'd been under. You gasped as time sped back up. The papers in your hand slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor with whispery, shifting sounds. Those sounds, quiet as they were, seemed impossibly loud. You mentally swore and berated yourself, but it was too late.

Barry froze his head bobbing and there was a wet popping as he presumably pulled Dr. Wells's cock from his mouth. Dr. Wells himself opened his eyes and looked directly at you. The expression on his face changed from ecstasy to surprise, but there was something else there as well, something you couldn't quite decipher. Then there was a blur and a flash of yellow lightning and Barry was right in front of you, opening the door further and blocking the other scientist from view.

His mouth opened, but you didn't hear what he said or was about to say. You turned and took off down the hall, with no other thought than you had to get out of there. Now.

Eowell's P.O.V.

Eobard Thawne - the man currently masquerading as Harrison Wells - hated Barry Allen. Hated him with a burning passion. But he loved his mouth and his talented, talented hands.

Eobard had been sitting in his office, tinkering with an invention Cisco had left behind, some kind of meta-human dampening cuff, when the speedster sped in. He wasn't wearing his speed suit, which was a damn shame - he looked quite delectable in it - but he was wearing skinny jeans and an expression that was a cross between gratefulness and something a little dirtier.

"Are you busy?" He'd asked with a glance at the invention in his hands.

Eobard set the gadget down without looking at it and started to move his wheelchair around the desk. "Not anymore. Why?"

"I, uh, I wanted to thank you for earlier." Despite the not-so-innocent grin that played at his lips, Barry blushed. "You saved my ass out there."

The secret speedster matched Barry's grin as he stopped in front of him. "It was my pleasure, Mr. Allen, but if you really want to thank me, I could think of a few ways you might do that..."

And that was how Barry ended up on his knees in front of Eobard, his tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

Eobard groaned and leaned his head back, his eyes screwed shut against the onslaught of pleasure. The boy was gifted with his mouth, even more so than Eobard had imagined when they had first started doing this a few short months ago. Barry sucked him off like a pornstar, bobbing his head up and down his length with a well-set rhythm. One of his hands held his thigh, and while Eobard had to pretend that he couldn't feel it, he certainly didn't pretend that he couldn't feel the hand cupping his balls.

"Fuck," He growled when Barry buzzed his hand around his balls. Smirking around his length, Barry did it again and got the same reaction. Eobard gripped the wheelchair's armrests, forcing himself not to thrust his hips up like he so desperately wanted to.

As he got closer to the edge, his sounds got louder. He was moaning and growling and swearing with abandon. Everyone else had left earlier that evening. Except for Y/N, but he didn't realize that... at least not until he heard a gasp that wasn't his own and a strange papery sound.

His eyes shot open and to the partially open door. Y/N was standing there, a stack of papers fanned out at her feet - the source of the papery sound, no doubt. Shock was written across her features, but also arousal? Eobard wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but he didn't find it unwelcome.

Barry pulled off his mouth and stood up. In the blink of an eye, he was at the door, blocking Eobard's view of Y/N. He started to say something, then stopped and Eobard heard harsh footsteps as Y/N ran away. Barry called her name, but she didn't stop. He glanced over his shoulder and the question in his eyes was clear.

Should I go after her?

Eobard nodded. "Go talk to her," He said and his voice was still a bit rough with his previous desire. He cleared his throat and continued, "Convince her to come back here."

Barry nodded in understanding and took off, leaving a brief trail of lightning in his wake. Eobard watched as the lightning quickly faded and tucked his still-hard self back into his pants.

This was an interesting turn of events.

Very interesting indeed.

The Reader's P.O.V.

You shoved open the heavy metal door leading to the stairwell and dashed down the steps. Your lungs were already burning with exertion. Barry would catch up in literally no time at all, but that didn't stop you from trying to get out. You were regretting not going out with Caitlin and Cisco when they offered.

Staying late was a mistake. A big, no huge mistake.

After three floors and no streaks of lightning, you thought you were home free. Then you reached the fourth landing and saw a familiar figure blocking the path to the next flight of stairs. A gasped curse escaped your lips as you skidded to a stop. "Fuck."

You'd forgotten about the other stairwell in the building.

Barry leaned against the stair railing, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn't say anything; he just watched you as you fought to catch your breath.

"Took you long enough." It was a weak joke and you knew it. It was the only thing that came to mind when you stopped panting for air, though.

Thankfully, Barry ignored it. His searching stare wasn't all that comforting, however. You stared right back at him, trying very hard not to squirm or fidget.

Finally, he said, "I think it'd be naive to assume you didn't see anything."

Your heart beating in your throat, you nodded.

"Yeah." He laughed and, to your surprise, it didn't sound strained or forced. But it didn't help your nerves either.

"I didn't mean to walk in on you," You said. It was true. You didn't think in your concerned urgency that the groans meant something else, that they lacked a pained edge. And you definitely hadn't expected to see Barry on his knees in front of the wheelchair. Nor had you been prepared for your body's reaction.

And from the slow-forming look on Barry's face, you that he knew.

You shifted from foot to foot, wondering if you could lunge past him to the next flight of stairs before he could catch you. Probably not, but it was worth a shot, right?

"We know," He said. "It's not like you knew about us."

You nodded and laughed. It wasn't like Barry's laugh - it sounded strained and on the verge of hysteria to your ears, like a nervous reflex. But Barry smiled like he thought it was cute or something. And that thought made your heart skip a beat.

"Why don't you come back up to Dr. Wells's office with me?" Barry asked. His tone was casual, but his body was tensed, ready to catch you if you tried to take off again.

You hesitated, your hand gripping the railing next to you.

The speedster saw your uncertainty. "Neither of us is mad at you," He said, choosing his words carefully. "We just want to talk." He held out his hand to you. "Do you trust me?"

You stared at his hand for a moment, then at his face. He was still wearing that kind smile.

"I do," You said and took his proffered hand.

Barry's face lit up and his smile grew wider, making you smile right back at him. That classic happy puppy face of his never failed to make you melt.

"Hold on." He squeezed your fingers and before you knew it, there was a blur of yellow lightning and the two of you were back on the floor you had originally started on.

It was the first time Barry had run you anywhere and you were unprepared for the sudden stop. "Whoa..." You stumbled a few steps.

"Easy there." Barry let go of your hand and gripped your shoulder instead, helping you steady yourself. He flashed (hehe) another one of his puppy smiles. "Maybe we should walk the rest of the way?"

"That sounds like a good idea," You agreed, but as the two of you started down the corridor, you regretted it. The nerves that had prompted you to flee fired up again. They grew with each step, so that by the time you and Barry approached the office door, it felt as if a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in your stomach. You were suddenly glad that the scarlet speedster wasn't holding your hand anymore, because your palms were now slick with sweat.

What am I doing? You thought as Barry pushed the door open. He had reassured you that he and Dr. Wells weren't mad, so why did they want to talk to you? Maybe...

Nope. You stopped that thought before it could fully form. They didn't want you to join them.

Did they?

All Tags: @ivonstiel @meganwinchester1999 @mythrealfan @fear0fdeathkeepsusalive @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @starlightdobriks

The Flash: @stilloutofmyvulcanmind

#lemons #barry allen/eowells #barry allen x eowells #barry allen/reader #barry allen x reader #eowells/reader #eowells x reader #barry allen/reader/eowells #the flash #a ninja writes

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

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Good Tidings We Bring || Morgan & Nell

TIMING: The day after the solstice

PARTIES: @nelllraiser & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Are we out of the woods yet?

CONTAINS: soft witches, mention of sibling death

Morgan poured her energy into walking steady and holding her package without crinkling the paper or dropping it. She hadn’t been to this house in so long, all she remembered was that first time, coming to dinner and being so petrified that she would be accepted by the Vurals. That they would believe she had something to offer, that she was more than the awful things destined to follow her. Rejection, she was old friends with. The way it cut her was almost soothing. So she never would have dreamed walking up to the house unannounced, asking to be let back in. But Yule was the time of light in the dark, and the miracle of the world turning back to light. There was never going to be a ‘good’ time to try, so it might as well be now.

Morgan knocked, swallowing what little was left of her pride. When the door opened, the speech she prepared dissolved into one clumsy outburst, “I want us to be good again, can we please be friends?” She stuck out the present with both hands. “These are for you. A-and a few extra for your sisters, but mostly you. I mean, you’ll be able to tell, uhh…” It was all very undignified, but after everything Morgan had done, she didn’t figure dignity was something she was going to come by soon anyway.

Hard choices such as the attempted exorcism in lieu of torturing Constance were something of a familiarity to Nell at the time she’d made the decision to go against Morgan’s wishes. By then she’d learned well enough that sometimes the greater good came at the cost of your personal good, but that didn’t mean it had been easy to knowingly destroy the bond of her and the witch turned zombie. She’d been the villain in someone’s story before— willing to take on the burden of severed ties and judgmental words if it meant that there’d be less pain for others in the end. It never got easier, especially when the severance in question was someone like Morgan. So as she opened the door to a familiar face that had been long absent from the daily rotation of her life, she did her best to squish down the flare of hope that bubbled up, quickly replaced with worrisome apprehension. Thankfully that too was fleeting, and her initial faith was restored, eyes cautiously bright with the renewal of her initial reaction “You want to be...friends?” she asked tentatively, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Morgan’s jumbled words, feeling as if there was another shoe about to drop. Without thinking she reached out to accept the box that Morgan had brought, staring at it a touch too long. Was she meant to open it now? Or wait? Her momentary silence was less than intentional. Apparently where Morgan was struck with an inability to stop her words, Nell didn’t know where to begin her own. “I don’t understand- aren’t you upset?”

Morgan had replayed this conversation a lot in her head, most of them involving Nell interrogating her, or saying I told you so or asking for proof about her being really, really sorry and really understanding all the ways she might have been mistaken. She hadn’t thought that Nell’s question was about how she felt. Morgan looked at her, stunned and grasping at air now that she no longer had the present to cling to. “U-uh, well...I was. And, okay, I don’t think it was fair to lie to me. Doing what you think is right is one thing, but pretending to help is something different, but that’s just...not important right now. Or it’s not more important than you. And…” Morgan shrugged haplessly. “What I wanted didn’t even work out anyway. It was bad. I got all this stuff and I hated almost every part of it and yes, in retrospect, only having informed support from my evil friends should have been a tip off, but I just couldn’t. And Constance poltered anyway and people died because of that, which is also because of me and so, no, I don’t know exactly how I’m going to trust you like I did before knowing you can just casually do that, but I don’t want be so stuck in my pain that I destroy everything that’s important to me. So if you can...I don’t know,” Morgan shrugged. “If you feel like it’s not destroyed yet, I’d like to be the kind of friend that does more than just send you sad birthday presents. I’d like to try. And I’d…” For some reason this was the most difficult part of all. Morgan tried. I’d like to be a witch again. A witch without magic. A mundane witch, who burns too much incense and works her will with glorified mind tricks and normal people stuff. The kind I used to smirk at and feel sorry for. In the end, she couldn’t. “The rest doesn’t matter right now,” she said. Holding herself up with all the strength she had, she looked at Nell with hope. “But what do you say, Nell?”

Quick on the heels of Nell’s hopeful question was the memory of the sourness the conversation between herself and Morgan that had followed the failed exorcism held, the bitterness of it still lingering in her mouth despite the sweetness that was trying to cut through the ugly sensation. Following behind that was the anger that had filled her when the news of the Common had broken— the knowledge that Constance had killed again and that this time it had been seven lives taken, and that Blanche had been caught in the crossfire as well. How could Morgan have let it come to that? You don’t know me at all, do you, Nell? It had been written to the younger witch after their initial fallout, and for a moment Nell wondered whether the words were truer than she’d thought at the time. How could she be surprised about the deaths and injury that had come to pass and still claim to know the woman that stood before her? Stars, Nell, you are the closest thing I have to family right now besides Deirdre. Family didn’t always know every inch of one another, and that was a lesson she’d learned well when Bea had died, a lesson all her sisters had learned. And then Nell had learned it again when she’d been kicked from the coven, her family ripped out from beneath her feet. But Morgan had been there. Morgan Beck, the woman who was saved from the choice of whether or not she’d follow the coven’s decree by the grace of literal death and her subsequent separation from the witches. She was family that Nell couldn’t afford to lose after having the rest of it already taken. Morgan Beck who Nell was certain wouldn’t have followed the demands of the coven and their banishment of the Vural daughters even if she hadn’t been the victim of a family curse. The same curse that had brought them to this exact moment in time that had Nell fiddling with the paper of Morgan’s gift that was still held between Nell’s uncertain hands.

“I don’t think it’s destroyed,” Nell answered in a tone that was surprisingly quiet in lieu of the jumble of emotions that were avalanching through her chest. She swallowed hard a single time, trying to make sense of the words floating in her head, all of them demanding to be spoken at once, but struggling to pluck them from the churning sea of what she wanted to say, what she should have said, and what she was going to say now. “I just- I’m not a fixer, Morgan. Not when it comes to people,” she finally managed to settle on, voice trembling with the effort to try and contain the dull tones of her sadness, the heat of her former anger, and frustration of being unable to find the medium between them. “I’m really fucking shitty at it. I never know what to say, or how to talk about things without getting upset again.” Even now she could feel the beginnings of her temper being dampened by the knowledge that whatever she was feeling about the situation, Morgan was most likely experiencing it ten-fold— the love she still held for the zombie making the witch unwilling and unwilling to dole out any more pain onto her. “I...I want to try, though.”

“...You...you dont?” Morgan repeated Nell’s words slowly in case she’d misheard. The young witch was so uncharacteristically quiet, she couldn’t be sure. She stayed clenched, feeling her impending disappointment hanging over her like a pendulum in a horror show. She’d done shitty things, and the earth didn’t judge or get angry, but people did and had every right to. Nell especially. But then she spoke again.

“You can be upset with me,” Morgan said softly. “I uh...I did a lot to be upset about. And you don’t have to... I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a ‘fixer’, you know? It’s not a box you get sorted into or not. You just learn and you try and maybe it happens faster for some people than others and--” She reached out her hand, fingers contracting and flexing as she tried to gauge whether she could, should, touch her. “We can just take it a little bit at a time and uh…” She sniffled and smiled bravely. “Can I hug you? Real question. N-no is super understandable. But--” It would be great if she could. It would feel like forgiveness even if she wasn’t yet. “Can I? Is that weird?”

“No...no, I don’t,” Nell affirmed, thinking of all the times she’d lost friends and counted them long gone, not at all accustomed to getting a second chance, but willing to take it and hold it tight nonetheless. “And you can be upset with me,” she quickly echoed, knowing things wouldn’t instantly be right. The witch’s shoulders relaxed, sagging in the slightest as Morgan did what she always did— somehow always having the perfect and right words for the situation and Nell’s self-consciousness. “Well then...I guess we can try, right?” She watched as Morgan’s hand opened and closed like a door in front of her, offering Nell a way in should she want to take it. Uncertainly she reached for the offered touch, using it as a way to pull Morgan into the hug she’d asked for. Her arms were softer around the zombie’s shoulders as she embraced her, still tired and sore from her less than comforting ventures at Neveah’s demon mansion the night before but holding on despite it. “I don’t think it’s weird,” she mumbled. Perhaps it was a little stiffer than their hugs had been in the past, but if this was the form the peace offering was taking, Nell wouldn’t be the one to shove it away. “Did you wanna come in? I actually have a present for you, too.”

Morgan clung to Nell as tight as she dared. They fit so easily against each other, head to head and hand to hand. The movement wasn’t fluid or effortless, but Morgan could almost feel the energy that still existed between them, flowing in and around, back and forth until it could reach some kind of equilibrium. Nell still wanted her in her family. She might be the only Vural to think so, but she was the only one that mattered.

“Come in?” She repeated, lifting her head from Nell’s shoulder. “Are you sure? I mean, that it would be okay--?” She tried to peer into the house, waiting for Bea or Luce or some spectre of guilt to pop out and declare that she wasn’t allowed to come inside at all, ever, and furthermore, she had no business asking forgiveness from Nell or anyone else. But no one came out to spoil the moment, and Morgan didn’t have enough fear or sense to turn away from Nell’s offer. “But I do. Want to. You didn’t have to get me anything though.” She pulled away, sniffling as she smiled. “But thank you, Nell. Really, really. Thank you.”

Nell bit down her lip as Morgan squeezed, trying to swallow the pang of pain that surfaced as Morgan’s arms unintentionally found the bruises and cuts she hadn’t healed from her and Adam’s continued infiltration of Ma’al’s demon cult. Those in visible places were always safely healed away, but the ones beneath her clothes and long sleeves were kept in secret. After all, Nell had to save every ounce of strength she had for what happened within the mansion’s hellish walls. But she also needed to keep unwanted questions at bay, unwilling to have her friends tangled in the mess she’d thrown herself into. Brushing away the darker thoughts of her current affairs, she pulled back to focus on Morgan, letting the brightness of the zombie’s face and their renewed friendship brush those shadows away. “Of course I’m sure,” she insisted, confidence re-entering her voice. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered. And I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” Nell gave Morgan’s hand a last squeeze before moving to tug the other woman over the threshold of the home, leading her to the living room where she’d kept the gifts she was planning on giving. “It’s this one,” she began as she handed Morgan a carefully wrapped package, her nerves returned for this moment as she hoped she’d gotten this right.

Morgan took a moment to look at the gift. If it wasn’t so wildly inappropriate, she would get out her phone and take a picture of it, so she could always remember the care that her friend had shown her, the love she didn’t deserve made visible in a carefully tied ribbon and a full package. She wanted to remember that care like this still existed. That even after doing some of the worst things she’d ever attempted, someone like Nell still wanted to give to her. But she would have to settle for her memory and hope that a hundred years or more down the line, she would be able to see Nell and this gift just like this. “Should we open them at the same time?” She asked, taking the package from Nell. “That’s how we did it at home when I was a kid. I’ll be careful with the ribbon. at least. It’s all so pretty…” She smiled sheepishly, moved and almost embarrassed by how much this meant to her. She nodded to Nell to indicate go and tore into the wrappings.

The first thing she saw were the Yule smudge sticks, so potent that she caught a whiff of cinnamon and pine. It was like the Yules from her childhood all over again, when they hung freshly cut firs and holly from every door and entryway. When the tapers ran down the sides in gothic, runny clumps, and the candlelights flickered and their shadows leapt along the wall like pixies in flight. It was everything. Underneath: vials of bath salts, colored in cleansing tones and filled with herbs that symbolized renewal, a fresh start to wash away the hurt that still stuck to her. And beneath that-- “Oh, Nell,” Morgan gasped. “How did you know? About any of this? I haven’t told anybody…” Her eyes filled up again. “After everything happened I went to Strawford Cemetery and tried to do a chord removal. I know it’s all like, jedi mind tricks, but I swear I felt lighter and I felt...something. Not a live energy something, but a connection to something. And I know you’ve been trying to tell me this all along, but I actually feel it now…” She clutched the package to her chest, gripping with all her might. “I want to be as much of a witch as I can be. I want to belong here, and put out things that...help, even a little. And that’s vague and dopey and I haven’t figured out anything more specific yet, but I just want you to know why this means so much. Thank you.”

Nell unwrapped her own gift with much less delicacy than Morgan opened her’s, the still present nervous energy making her a little overeager as she tore into the pretty packaging. She almost forgot to look at her own gift as she heard Morgan’s reaction to the present she’d been gifted, but her attention was easily re-captured by the crafting tools inside the box, instantly recognizing them for what they were. The hoops, twine, and other assorted supplies tugged at some place between her heart and gut, nostalgia gripping her as she counted a set of three. One for her and each of her sisters. “For wreaths and Yule!” Morgan had to have known this would be the girls first season without their family and coven, and given them something to do together in response, no doubt truly understanding the gravity of the girls’ situation and the way it seemed to stifle the usual traditions of the holiday. The cocoa supplies and taki bags beneath it all were obviously meant solely for the youngest witch, and Nell touched the gifts with a thoughtful hand, still in slight disbelief that Morgan was even here in the first place. “Thank you, Morgan. I- well, I love all this.” But what she loved most of all was that Morgan had wanted to give her a gift in the first place.

“I didn’t necessarily know,” Nell continued, still unable to shake the last of the nerves that had settled around her and Morgan. That would be normal though, right? They’d said they wouldn’t turn back into place at the drop of a hat. “I know it’s not anything remotely the same as you, but after the stuff that I went through well- I could only begin to imagine what you might have felt, and even though I didn’t lose my magic, I know that I would have still wanted my family after it. And everything I grew up with and stuff. Even if I...hated it at first.” That’s why Nell had grouped the witchy books under the bath salts and Yule sticks wanting to return them to Morgan long after the witch had lied and said she’d handed them over to Nisa and the coven. “It’s not vague and dopey,” Nell instantly rebutted. “We- we need it too, you know. Need another witch here.” Their mother’s coven was long gone out of their lives, but perhaps they could make a little one of their own. Looking down at her present, Nell waited a moment before making another offer. “You know- you could always make them with us. I could call Bea and Luce and see if they can come right now.”

“Yeah! I figured, something all of you can do together might, you know…Nothing’s going to make things like they were before, but they can still be good. And maybe this new turn of the wheel will be better too.” Morgan said, gushing with relief now that her gesture had been accepted. “But I didn’t want you to have to share your whole gift, that’s lame, right? So hopefully you can use them to enjoy the rest of your day, or any other traditions you get to do, or just, you know, cozy time to yourself. You do still get time like that, right? Anyway, I’m glad you like it…” She trailed off, uncertain how to proceed.

At Nell’s insistence that she consider herself another witch around, that she should stay with them for the day, Morgan’s eyes watered again. “O-oh, I don’t… I meant these for you and your sisters, and you should have your special time together, and I don't want to be the reason anyone…” Doesn’t come. Leaves you alone during yuletide. Morgan shrank back, out of the doorway, her bright smile only a little weighted by sadness. “But I do, want to be around. Maybe after the regular new year? I’m just gonna be traveling, for my birthday, as it turns out. But still-- I’d like to. Just, you know, not at the risk of making things weirder or harder after everything I’ve done…” Her resolve gave way for a second and she dove back to Nell for another swift press of a hug before ducking out the doorway again. Maybe for Imbolc we’ll have a big cleaning party together, huh?”

Nell nodded with a half-sad smile, unable to pretend as if the loss of her coven didn’t sting at the mere mention or thought of it. Still— Morgan’s comforting words were more than welcome, and brought back a trickle of warmth to drive out some of the cold and drafty winds of the hole left where her family had been. “Thank you, Morgan. I know you’re right.” Unfortunately, the knowledge that new and good things would come didn’t always help to lessen the wounds of the past. That would take time if such wounds could ever be truly healed. “And yeah- of course I’ve always got time for hot chocolate.” The brief answer was an easy enough way to brush away the real answer of her having been far too busy with the twisted rituals and gatherings of the cult amongst the other day to day problems of White Crest that claimed her attention.

Morgan’s reluctance to join in the festivities wasn’t all that surprising, and Nell didn’t feel the need to push it at a moment like this. It was probably for the best if they wanted room to breath and return to normal or create whatever their new ‘normal’ would look like. “Oh shit, well- I hope you have a good trip. You’ll have to tell me about it when you get back, obviously.” There was a flare of jealousy in Nell as she offered Morgan the well wishes, remembering her own travels around the world before she’d returned to White Crest. She doubted she’d ever experience something like that again, not when there were so many things and people tying her to White Crest now. “We’ll figure it out, though. With all of us. And then we can do that big cleaning party with some midnight margaritas, and maybe even make some Brigid crosses.” As she headed with Morgan back towards the front door of the home, Nell held the zombie’s present to her chest, the anger that had gripped her earlier finding a temporary solace that let her enjoy the bond that had been restored on this day. No doubt it’d return when they had to speak of things less pleasant than travel and parties and gifts. But for now, she could simply enjoy the hopefulness buzzing within as she leaned against the doorframe, giving her farewell. Finally, she would relax in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be their final one. “I’ll see you later, Morgan.”

#good tidings we bring #wr nell #wr chatzy #wr nell chatzy #sibling death tw #wickedswriting

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twomanyideas · 4 years

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The Search for the Supreme Scent - Chapter 4 (Final)

Fanart used with permission from @x-thekid. Once again, please take a moment to let her know how much you liked it. You can see her post here!

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 with @x-thekid

This chapter is the one that touches on what is happening in the art. We had a lot of fun writing it. We hope you enjoy it!

AO3 | Ch 1 | Prev: Ch 3

Chapter 4

The first thing Natsu registered when he came to was the heavy perfume of the flowers, immediately followed by a sharp pain in his chest as he inhaled it. He hissed, rolling over carefully so he could look around. He found himself in a green, grassy field, sheltered from the sun by the shade of a large tree, and surrounded by the very flowers they’d come to collect.

Gray sat next to him, leaning against the tree trunk with his arms crossed over his chest. His shirt was nowhere to be found, as usual.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he cocked his brow at Natsu.

“What do you mean?” Natsu answered, his voice sounding a bit shaky, “I took them out, didn’t I?”

He wasn’t sure what else to say. That whole thing had been unexpected. Just as it had the previous day with Juvia, he’d felt his control wavering, as if some deeper instinct had surged forward and taken over.

“Yeah, but that was overboard even for you,” Gray pointed out, his eyes never leaving Natsu’s face, “You turned those golems into gravel. Was that Dragon Force? I didn’t think you could do that on command yet.”

“I can’t. I saw you were in danger and-,” Natsu shrugged helplessly, embarrassed by his admission.

“Did you forget Porlyusica lives nearby?” Gray reminded Natsu, making him feel idiotic for overreacting the way he had.

Natsu looked away, not knowing how to respond. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but one thing he felt sure of, it wouldn’t have made any difference. Even if he had consciously thought about the healer’s proximity, that rage he’d experienced wouldn’t have been satisfied by any other course of action.

“I was trying to protect you, you dimwit. You’re the one who's hurt,” Gray continued, pressing his lips in a slight frown. “Not that that’s ever stopped you from doing something stupid,” he added with an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, well, we managed to stumble onto the one creature that’s immune to ice, I had to do something.”

“Since we’re here, we should have Porlyusica take a look at you,” Gray suggested, clasping his hands over his head as he took in Natsu’s strained breathing. “you’ve probably made your injuries worse.”

“Hell no!” Natsu immediately protested, sitting up to show he was fine, even though he felt like throwing up just from that. Getting home was going to be a bitch.

Gray’s eyes narrowed as he examined him, “You gotta give me more than that, Pyro. Why would you want to walk home like that when there’s a healer nearby?”

“You mean you weren’t going to carry me?” Natsu feigned a pout.

Gray snorted, “Not likely, maybe if you passed out and looked all pathetic again.”

“You ungrateful bastard,” Natsu tightened his hands into fists in mock anger, “I should have let them turn you into mush.”

“Natsu,” Gray startled him by using his name, “I know things have been weird between us since you got back, but despite what I might have said at Avatar, I’m still your friend. I know when something is bothering you. And sure, we can sit here and trade insults all day, but wouldn’t you rather tell me what’s wrong?”

He’d rather not, but he could tell by the way Gray was looking at him and the serious tone of his voice that he refused to be kept in the dark any longer. The combination was enough for Natsu to cave. He didn’t like keeping secrets from Gray, and if he was honest with himself, he did want to talk about what happened, despite dreading the reaction he was sure to get.

“Wendy needs to be the one who heals me,” he explained, quickly adding, “and I'm not just saying that because I don’t want to see the old hag. After what happened yesterday, well…let’s just say it will help give her closure.”

“Closure?” Gray puzzled, “What are you talking about?”

“If I tell you this, you have to promise not to freak out, or go crying to Erza,” Natsu insisted.

“Yeah yeah, do you need me to do the needle in my eye thing?” Gray rolled his eyes at him, “We’re not kids anymore. I can keep a secret.”

Natsu closed his eyes, preparing himself mentally to go back to that plaza. When he opened them, he could see Gray studying him closely. Feeling his cheeks heating up, he quickly looked away.

“We did a job at Worth Woodsea yesterday, and when we were done training, we stopped to pick some rare mushrooms. Sting had liked them and wanted to take some back to Sabertooth for Minerva.”

“Wendy asked to stop by the Cait Shelter guild building to pay her respects, and we agreed. Everything was quiet, and we just hung around waiting for her, but then a giant monster pack appeared out of nowhere.

“We fought them off easily enough at first, even though we were already tired from training but more and more kept coming. We think it was the mushrooms that attracted them. Anyway, we’d soon run out of potions to help keep us going.” Natsu tried to swallow back the lump that was forming in his throat as the images flashed through his mind once again. “Sting was hit bad, and uhm...well, Rogue died.”

“HE WHAT?!” Gray’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, his skin paling from shock.

“He’s at the hospital now, he's going to be okay,” Natsu assured him, “but it was close.”

“He’s going to be okay?!” Gray challenged, “How the hell do you go from dead to okay?”

“Do you remember that book Porlyusica gave Wendy before the Games?”

“Sure, it had spells her dragon left for her, right?”

“Yeah, well, this was one of them. Wendy had learned it, but she’d never used it before. She was determined to give it a try if it could save Rogue, but she was terrified.”

“She’d been fighting alongside us and providing support all afternoon, and that spell- it used up all of her remaining magic,” Natsu turned away, not wanting to see Gray’s disapproval. They were protective of all their teammates, but none more so than Wendy, who was still young.

“She managed to save him, but the monsters wouldn’t let up, and we got pretty beat up in the process. She couldn’t heal us, and you know how she is,” Natsu lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug, “If anyone else does it, it will reinforce what she feels is her failure.”

Natsu attempted what he thought was a reassuring smile, “It’s not so bad. If she could go through all that, I can certainly bear this for a bit longer.”

“You’re full of it, but I get what you’re saying.”

Gray remained silent for a few minutes, eyes blinking slowly until he suddenly peered at Natsu, his brows furrowed in thought, “Wait a minute, how exactly does a pack of monsters manage to get the drop on five dragon slayers?”

Natsu gazed up through the tree branches, trying to catch a glimpse of the sky as he worked himself through what had happened, putting together the situations that individually wouldn’t have been such a huge deal, but together proved to be lethal.

“It was the rain,” he muttered, “it dampened our sense of smell, and it screwed with my magic. Probably made their movements quieter too.”

“What are you talking about?” Gray frowned. “It didn’t rain yesterday.”

“It did in Worth Woodsea,” Natsu countered, “started right as we got to Cait Shelter.”

Gray’s expression once again became thoughtful as he considered Natsu’s words, his hands suddenly balling into fists for no reason Natsu could see.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Gray roared, “I thought we were done with that nonsense!”

“What are you going on about?” Natsu wondered, unable to make any sense of Gray’s outburst.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not important,” Gray dismissed his question, but Natsu could tell he was still angry.

Gray drew in a long breath, looking away for a moment before focusing his attention back to Natsu.

“I get that whatever happened yesterday was some kind of a freak occurrence,” he remarked, “but it’s not the first time you’ve come back all beat up from one of these things.”

“Look, I know you want to get stronger, I do too,” Gray’s eyes bored into Natsu with a concern that shook him, “ but the fact is, I don’t trust these guys to have your back.”

Natsu was about to argue the point when Gray followed up with something he hadn’t been expecting.

“That’s something you and I have always done, even back when we were fighting all the time,” Gray reminded him, his mouth twitching into a crooked smile.

And as much as it was in his nature to disagree with most things that came out of Gray’s mouth, Natsu had to admit this time he was right. Even though they bickered and fought often, there had never been a job or brawl where Natsu hadn’t been watching the stripper’s back, and he’d always taken it for granted that Gray did the same.

Regardless, Natsu didn’t think it was fair for Gray to compare their dynamic to the one he shared with the other slayers. The two of them had been training together for years, moving like a well-oiled machine and fighting together flawlessly. In comparison, he’d only known the other slayers for a short time. They were still learning how to work together as a team.

“Gray-”

“Do you remember when we fought at Avatar, and you told me you’d been waiting for me?” Gray interrupted his objection, not saying anything else until Natsu nodded in acknowledgment.

“Well, I couldn’t say it at the time, but I’d been waiting for you too. That whole year you were gone,” Gray confessed, “So much had happened, and I couldn’t really talk about it with anyone else.”

Natsu scanned the field they were sitting in, too nervous to meet Gray's eyes when he continued.

“You’ve always understood me better than anyone, and I had hoped that when you got back well... nevermind that now. The point is there’s no one I trust more. And I know there’s been a few times when I went too far or pushed too hard, but that’s because you’re important to me.”

Natsu's heart was racing. Was Gray going to say what he thought he was going to say? He'd been ready to make the first move himself, gathering up his courage and his thoughts, and trying to form them into sentences that hopefully wouldn't sound completely ridiculous, but now it seemed like Gray was going to beat him to it.

Natsu forced himself to look at Gray, feeling the weight of his gaze, but not able to hold it for long, too flustered by the earnestness that had replaced his friend’s usual scowl. He considered Wendy's advice once again as he looked at the flowers growing around them.

“We make a great team, and that’s why I want to ask you something important.”

For the first time since he’d started talking, Gray sounded unsure, and Natsu looked up to see his friend had curled his fingers around his sword pendant, fidgeting with it as he worked himself up to ask his question.

It only served to feed Natsu’s anticipation and excitement. He looked for the prettiest flower he could find and picked it, determined to give it to Gray as a token of his love. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening!

“Would you be my partner for the S-class exam?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Natsu answered excitedly, the hand that was holding the flower thrusting out like a piston before Gray’s words had even had a chance to sink in.

“Wait, what did you just ask me?”

Natsu felt the blood rush to his face, and the temperature around him rise as his magic responded to his emotions. He was humiliated, but that was nothing compared to the disappointment he felt at having reached the wrong conclusion.

He should never have listened to the other slayers. Their well-meaning optimism had made him believe that Gray would ask him out or, at the very least, admit to some sort of feelings for him. What a joke that turned out to be.

Natsu realized with growing horror that his arm was still outstretched, offering that stupid flower, which of course, his magic had now set on fire, the tiny flames working away at the once perfect petals.

What had been a beautiful offering now looked utterly wretched, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was his fire. So he hid his face in his scarf as best he could, looking straight ahead and desperately hoping that if he ignored it, Gray would somehow not notice.

“I asked if you wanted to be my partner for the S-Class exam,” Gray repeated, taking in the spectacle that was Natsu with barely a raised eyebrow. “Since we don’t have to compete against each other this time around. I thought we could do it together.”

Gray calmly coated the flower in his ice, putting out the flames and dousing the rest of Natsu’s hopes along with it.

Natsu did his best to act enthused, “Yeah! If we teamed up, there’s no way we could fail!”

He thought he’d done a good job until he noticed Gray studying him intently.

“What did you think I was going to ask?”

“Nothing!” Natsu answered a little too quickly, leaving Gray to frown at him in disbelief. However, in a remarkable turn of events, the stubborn stripper seemed content not to question him any further. “Speaking of teaming up,” Gray changed the subject, “I want in on the slayers’ team. If you thought you could just run off and get stronger without me, you were seriously mistaken.”

“I’d have to bring it up to the others,” Natsu answered honestly, not having any idea how the other slayers would react to having Gray be a part of what they were doing. “It’s not up for discussion,” Gray replied, his jaw set in an arrogant scowl that Natsu was all too familiar with, “It shouldn’t be a problem. In case you’ve already forgotten, I’m a slayer too.”

He gestured towards Natsu’s ribs, “That wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there. Besides, lately, you’re with them all the time. At least this way, we can still get some training in. Not to mention, someone needs to watch out for Wendy.”

Natsu sighed in defeat, wondering how a love confession had turned into this. He watched as Gray got up and began to pick some flowers to fulfill their request and decided to do the same.

“Don’t bother,” Gray called out, much to Natsu’s relief as the little movement he’d managed had been incredibly painful.

That was until the ice mage snickered, “I wouldn’t want to risk another flower upsetting you.”

“That was an accident!” Natsu whined, growing ever more irritated as Gray only laughed harder at his protests.

“It was hilarious,” Gray snorted, his laughs finally ebbing into fond chuckles, “I really did miss you, Flame Brain, it just wasn’t the same without you.”

“I, uh, missed you too,” Natsu replied honestly, watching Gray collect the flowers for Ichiya as he lay back down on the grass to rest for the long walk home. 0-0

Gray wasn’t at all surprised to find he’d been right. Natsu had put too much stress on his healing injuries during the fight, making them even worse. It was easy to tell by the way his breathing turned more shallow with every step he took, and the sweat he’d worked up just from walking. It didn’t take long before Gray decided he couldn’t stand to watch the stubborn idiot suffer any longer, and despite Natsu’s loud protests, he’d picked him up and kept walking.

Natsu fell asleep soon after, leaving Gray to consider everything he’d seen and heard- Natsu going into Dragon Force against the golems, Rogue’s “death”, Wendy’s spell- but he soon decided these were all things he could tackle at a later time.

For right now, he just wanted to savor the feeling of Natsu’s warm body pressed against his back, the weight of the arms draped over his shoulders, the strength of the legs wrapped around his sides, and the sound of ragged breaths in his ear. All of which helped to reassure him that Natsu was alive, injured but ready to fight another day.

His features worked themselves into a scowl as his mind drifted back to Natsu’s insistence that the rain had weakened the slayers’ senses and hindered their efforts. All the rage he’d tried to contain resurfaced, and he could feel the inky tendrils of his devil slayer magic trying to grab purchase, just as they had earlier. His flaring emotions making it harder for him to control this new magic his father had bequeathed him.

Natsu’s fire magic was powerful. There was no way a little rain would give him any trouble, which meant it must have been a storm. One that somehow managed to miss Magnolia completely despite its proximity to Worth Woodsea. Only one person he knew of was capable of such localized weather, especially when she let her emotions take control.

His eyes narrowed as he remembered the flyer he’d been holding when Juvia had approached him the previous morning. It had been a monster request in the Great Plains, an area located closer to Worth Woodsea than Magnolia. And Gray was very familiar with Juvia’s tendency to follow him on jobs.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Juvia had probably gone to the Great Plains looking for him, determined to get him to agree to be her partner for the S-Class exam, or talk about his outburst that morning. Either way, the result had been the same. She must have overreacted when she couldn’t find him and set off a storm around the Great Plains and Worth Woodsea. And while Gray knew that she would never purposefully put their friends in danger, it did nothing to change what had almost happened.

He would just have to make Juvia understand his feelings once and for all. He’d meant to talk to her ever since they’d returned to Magnolia but kept putting it off, knowing it would be uncomfortable and would only lead to conversations he’d rather avoid. That had been a mistake, one that had nearly cost him his friends.

He spent the rest of the walk coming up with what he would say to her, trying to determine the best approach, even though he knew all would be received poorly. By the time they arrived at Natsu’s cottage, Gray’s back was screaming in agony, and he was grateful for the distraction. Finding the door unlocked, he managed to get them inside without incident.

Happy was nowhere to be found, and Gray figured the Exceed must’ve gotten bored and headed for the guild. As Natsu was still fast asleep, he carried him into the bedroom, carefully lowering him onto the bed, thinking that he should get as much rest as he could before seeing Wendy. He’d take care of delivering the flowers and reporting back to Erza himself. Not knowing what else to do, Gray got ready to leave, and that’s when Natsu grinned, his eyes still closed, “I knew you were going to carry me, Ice Princess.” “Pfft! Well, that’s because you did look pathetic,” Gray retorted with a smile, amused to learn that the protests he’d received were all faked. He thought back to how excited Natsu had been right before he’d asked him to be his partner for the exam and wondered if maybe, just maybe, Natsu offering him that flower was supposed to have been a confession of some sort.

But that didn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t have burned it to a crisp and almost set off a forest fire if it was, right? No, Gray was sure it was just wishful thinking on his part. Still… Natsu had gone into Dragon Force to protect him from those golems, that had to mean something. Didn’t it? He quietly molded his ice into a perfect replica of the flower, creating a vase to put it in and placing both on the bedside table. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be brave enough to express his feelings with words. But maybe, if he let his magic speak for him, he could get his feelings across just as well. Gray quickly let himself out of the house, knowing he might chicken out if he stayed any longer.

He wondered what Natsu would think of his flower once he woke up and hoped he’d understand what it meant. You never knew with the Flame Brain.

But even if he didn’t, Gray was heartened by the knowledge that they’d be spending a lot more time together soon. And with that single thought in his mind, he headed off to the guild, in a great mood for the first time in weeks.

A/N: While this is the end of this particular story, it is not the end of their story in this world. We are currently working on a story for Sting and Rogue where it goes into more detail into what happened in Worth Woodsea and how it affects them, so if you like this world keep an eye out for that one as well, as other stories that are currently in the planning stages.

Thanks for reading and letting us know you liked it!

Maria and Burrito

#fairy tail #gratsu #ft game au #ftlgbtales #update #fics #Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2020

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

I Found -Chapter 19

Warnings: smut

Tagging: @alievans007 @hemmyworthy @beheworthy @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

His hands still. Gaze never wavering. Heart thundering in his chest, throat contracting and releasing, brain trying to register the words that had just tumbled from her mouth. She looks...scared. As if there's real threat to be found in what she just said and the new reality that was now surrounding them. In her mind, the threat that occurred outside of the home was less terrifying than his reaction. Or the immediate lack thereof. Silence hangs over the room. Tense. Uncomfortable. A dense blanket thrown over them; suffocating and heavy. Two weeks ago, the announcement would have been met with excitement. His desire to have another baby so quickly after their first fulfilled even sooner than either of them expected. Now the words just linger the air, yet pack enough power to nearly knock him on his ass.

She's watching. Waiting. Anticipating. Tears of worry filling her eyes. Top teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Tyler...” her voice is barely above a whisper, and when she reaches down to place a hand over his, he snaps out of it.

Knocking her hand away, he returns to the task at hand; his touch rougher than before. Once surprisingly tender fingers now applying unneeded pressure to the cuts and gashes that adorn her legs. Mouth set in a grim line, breathing rapid, methodically applying the peroxide and then pressing it into the skin, placing bandages on the deeper wounds.

“Tyler...” she tries again, attempting to lay a hand on the side of his face, alone to have him use his elbow to push her away once more. “Please say something. Anything.”

“Some of these are pretty deep,” his voice is low and steady. Rumbling deep within his chest. And she winces when he presses just a little too hard on a particularly sensitive spot. “Hopefully we've done enough to avoid infection, yeah? Last thing we need is a trip to the doctor. Let me see your hands...”

She obliges, laying them on her thighs, palms up.

“What a stupid fucking mess,” he grumbles, and he's unsure if he means the injuries she's sporting, her hair brained idea to get out of the house alone, or the bomb she'd just dropped on him.

“I didn't think it possible so soon,” she says, as he tends to the abrasions on her hands. “She's only two months old. I've never heard of anyone having kids that close together. But it makes sense if you think about it. We haven't exactly been one hundred percent careful.”

He sighs. Dumps a little too much peroxide onto her hand and then mutters profanities as it drips onto her shorts and the carpet below.

“I have been sick a lot,” she continues, nervously rambling. “I didn't think much of it because this time I'm sick throughout the entire day. Not just in the mornings. And I have had headaches and trouble sleeping and I get dizzy from time to time, but I thought it was just all the stress from the past couple of weeks. And I know that my cycle has been screwed up and thrown off, but I've never actually skipped an entire one. This one is an entire week and a half late.”

“Turn your hands over,” he instructs, and she does as told. Running a dampened cotton ball along each finer and their respective knuckles. “You were lucky,” he says. “Things could have been a lot worse.”

“Could you please say something?” she pleads.

“Am I not talking?” he retorts, the harshness in his voice surprising even him.

“Not about this. I know how you feel about this. You think I was a dumb ass. That I was irresponsible. Careless. Foolish. You're pissed off that I put Ovi and Amelia in danger.”

He nods in agreement.

“But I need you to say something about the other...thing.”

“I don't know what you want me to say,” he admits, and reaches for the bottle of peroxide, applying and tightening the cap.

“Anything at this point in time. Or even some kind of reaction, at least. I need to know what you're thinking. What you're feeling. Because I don't like this. This silence. The way you get when you hear something you don't like.”

“It's not that I don't like it. And under different circumstances I'd be over the fucking moon. But right now...” he inhales sharply, then lets the breath release slowly as he finally composes himself. Is he shocked? Angry? Disappointed? Worried? Maybe a mix of all of those emotions? “...this is definitely not a good time for this.”

Was it ever as far as they were concerned? What was with the habit of introducing life altering decisions at the wrong possible times? It was as if bullshit was profoundly attracted to them. Reminding them just how fucked the start of their lives together actually was. Fate deciding that nothing could ever just be simple.

***

“You were the one that wanted another baby this soon,” she reminds him. “A week and a half ago you were talking about wanting them really close together. What's changed?”

“Everything. Everything's changed. Look where we are,” he can't control the anger that seeps from his voice. The frustration. “We can't even go home. We don't even have a home anymore. We have no idea where are going after this. All we have is our passports and whatever clothes we packed. We have nothing.”

“We have each other. We have our daughter. And now Ovi.”

“Where the hell are we going to go? We don't even have anything set up. So we just get on a plane and see where we end up? Hope we like it? Just say 'fuck it' and hope for the best?”

“I already told you that I was fine with Colorado.”

“And until we find a place there? We live in shitty hotels, eating shitty food. I have to go out and find a job. Somewhere that doesn't expect a resume. How do you think that would look on paper? Hired killer in the prior experience section? Or is that more a life skill?”

“That isn't the only thing you do,” she reminds him “It never was.”

“It's a big part of it. I kill people. Sometimes in the worst ways possible. And sometimes I do good. Sometimes I rescue people. That should find me a lot of jobs, yeah? When people see mercenary under previous employment?”

“There's so many things you can do,” she reasons. “So many things you'd be good at. You said it yourself that you could try construction. You could get into factory work even. Or roofing. Masonry. You've always been really good with your hands.”

“Sure. When I'm beating the hell out of someone or strangling the shit out of them. Not the experience most people are looking for, love.”

“There will be something,” she assures him. “You're smart. Crazy strong. Healthy for the most part. There's a lot you can do. And as far as shitty motels and shitty food, at least we'll have a roof over our head and food in our stomachs.”

“That's not the life I want for the daughter we already have, not to mention another kid. This is a bad time. Probably the worst possible time. With this job and the bullshit that comes with it and not knowing where the hell we are going to end up. And now have Ovi we're taking along and...”

“Ovi is the least of our worries. He's a teenager that can take care of himself. Please tell me you're not upset,” her voice trembling, tears threatening once again. “Please tell me that you're just shocked and you're not legitimately upset.”

“Shocked is one word for it, I suppose.”

“Because if it is true, if I am, it's not like you'd want to do anything about it right? Like you wouldn't want to get rid of it or...”

“What?” he asks incredulously “No. Never. I'd never think anything like that. You should know me better than by now. I'm surprised. I never thought it could happen this soon. And for the time it's happening at,” he shakes head, runs the palms of his hands along his thighs, knees popping and cracking as he stands up. “It's not the thought of having another baby that I'm upset about. And I'm not even upset. I'm...” he chooses his words carefully, wishing to avoid any further conflict between them. “...worried. I'm worried about having a baby in the midst all of this shit. About not even knowing where the hell we're going after this. With a teenager and another baby in tow. Without even so as much as proper medical care. If we don't have a proper place to live...”

“We'll manage,” she says. “We always do. Even when all the cards are stacked against us, we always manage to pull it together and make things work,” she takes his hands in hers, turning the palms up towards her; eyes never looking away from his own, fingertips gliding along each of his digits, over callouses on his palms, and down onto the insides of his wrists. “We always get through things. Always.”

Nodding in agreement, he attempts a reassuring smile. If there was one thing that they were exceptionally good at...aside from sex...it was their ability to work together and overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. Events that would make most couples and relationships crack under tremendous pressure. Instead of running when things got tough, they banded together. Worked even harder to make things work.

“I'm sorry,” her voice bears a hint of remorse. Maybe even some guilt. “I know this isn't the way you thought your life would turn out. The way you thought things would go for you. If someone had have told you a year ago that you'd be a husband and a father...”

“Esme...love...listen to me...” he is on his knees once again, ignoring that stabbing, burning pain that accompanies getting into such a simple position. “...listen to me...” he takes one of her hands in both of his, raising it to lips and pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist. “...a year ago, I was thinking of saying 'fuck it' and putting a gun in my mouth. I was so sick and tired of all the bullshit. All the pain I was in, all the crap going on inside my head. And then you showed up completely out of blue at my place and changed everything. I don't regret what happened. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been easier if they hadn't have happened the way they did. I mean, how did G not mention that his wife had an insanely hot, single cousin?”

She gives a little snort.

“I so would have hooked up with at their wedding. That's all I'm saying. You wouldn't even have had to get me that drunk.”

A laugh this time. Short. But it's there at least.

“You came into my life when I needed someone the most. And I didn't even realize that I did. Just one day you were there and everything changed. For some reason it became easier to breathe again. You know, you say all the time that I came along and rescued you, but it was really you that rescued me.”

She gives a small, sharp intake of breath, taking back by the honesty in his confession. Tyler Rake was a man of very few words, but often the ones he did say came with an overwhelming impact. She takes his face in her hands, his beard scratching her palms as she leans forward to kiss him.

He can taste the salt of her tears on his lips, and when he pulls away they are flowing freely down her face; marking clear paths through the mud and grime that tarnishes her skin. Eyes closing as her hands slip around to the back of his head, nails lightly digging into his scalp as she presses a kiss to the bridge of tip of his nose, then the bridge, followed by under each eye and then his brow. A gesture so pure and tender that his own tears threaten and a lump of emotion lodges square in his throat. Head falling forward when her palms move to his face once more. Enjoying the way her nails scrape through his beard and the the pads of her fingers as they trail over his lips.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he inquires, and he can feel her smile against his lips as she kisses him.

“I don't know. Is it working?”

“Yeah...it's working...” he confirms with a chuckle, opening his eyes and turning his face into her hand, pressing his lips against the bruised palm. “....we should get you cleaned up,” he suggests. “Feeling better?”

She nods. “I'm sorry. For sneaking out like that. And for taking Amelia and Ovi with me.”

“You scared the shit out of me. When you walked in and all I saw was blood...it scared the ever loving shit right out of me. This isn't like you. Doing things like that. You of all people know better. You're usually smarter than this.”

“Maybe it's the hormones,” she suggests, dragging her fingertips along the sides of his throat.

“We don't know for sure that there's a baby in there. It could have just been you being doing something stupid.”

“You must be rubbing off on me. You've been suggesting a lot of stupid shit lately.”

“How do you know it's not you rubbing off on me?”

“Because...” she tugs playfully at his earlobes. “...everyone knows I'm the brains and you're the muscle.”

“More like Beauty and the Beast. I'll let you decide which one of us is the pretty one.”

“You actually happen to very pretty. Well maybe not pretty. Pretty isn't the right for someone like you. With all that swagger and broodiness. And the beard and the tattoos? Pretty doesn't accurately describe you. More like, devastatingly handsome. Sexy as fuck. Those fit better. I remember walking into your place and thinking damn, he's fine as hell.”

“I asked Nik if she'd brought you there because the two of you wanted a threesome,” he admits, and she swats him across the chest. “You were cute as hell with your ponytail and your little shorts and those freckles across your nose. Until you downed two glasses of scotch and went from cute to hot as fuck in the blink of an eye. I almost wanted to marry you right there and then.”

“I don't know what world you're living in, but marrying someone and wanting to bend them over the kitchen table and have your way with them are not the same thing,” she teases, and it's turn to kiss her before struggling to get into a stand. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” he confirms, not knowing where to turn his attention first: knee or shoulder. “Come on,” he says, and offers a hand. “Let's go.”

“Where?” she asks, her fingers curling around his.

“Clean you up. Maybe I'll even wash your back for you.”

“And other places too?” she inquires hopefully.

“Only if you ask nicely.”

She grins.

Who says romance is dead?

****

“I can't believe you actually talked me into this,” Tyler remarks ten minutes later, when he finds himself immersed in a bubble bath. The tub is unusually wide and long; large and deep enough to comfortably fit his six foot three frame. The water is as hot as the human body can possibly stand, and it brings almost instant relief to his throbbing muscles and joints. “I'm going to smell like fucking flowers for a week.”

“Well, to be specific, you're going to smell like lavender for a week,” his wife says, as she lounges between his splayed thighs, back pressed against his chest. “Lavender is supposed to be very good for relaxation and sleep,” she continues, as she scoops up a handful of suds and blows them the length of the tub. “You know...” she nestles her head back against shoulder “...I realize I said I'd be perfectly content living with you in that old shack of yours, but I could get used to having a tub like this.”

“A tiny thing like you would probably do laps in it,” he chides, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck and chuckling when she elbows him in the gut. “You realize you're freakishly short, don't you?”

“Excuse you! How do you know it's not you that's freakishly tall?” she counters, giggling when he gently bites down on her shoulder.

He combs his hand through her damp hair; fingers pushing through the knots. Slowly moving from her forehead all the way down through those thick, dark tresses, then pushing them over her shoulder and placing a kiss on her ear. Hands finding hers under the water, their fingers entwining.

He closes his eyes, resting his head back against the cool marble tiles, allowing the hot water and the scent lingering in the air to calm him. Filled with a sense of peace and relaxation that he hasn't felt in a long time, the pain going from a throbbing, burning sensation to a dull, manageable ache. And he is stuck in that hazy place between sleep and consciousness when he feels her move against him. Arching an eyebrow she releases one of his hands in favour of wrapping her fingers around his cock.

He grins. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of how I can help you,” she confesses, that delicate hand expertly stroking him. Long and slow upwards movements that have him hard in no time. Lips pressed against her ear when he issues a low growl.

“You are so good at that,” he praises, as his eyes close and his head falls back once more. His hips jerking forward when her thumb brushes against the engorged head. She is good. Way too good, in fact. The best pair of hands he's ever had on him. Always able to bring him close to the edge in record time.

Sliding his hand between her legs, he presses his palm against her shaven mound and slips his middle finger inside of her. It's her turn to sigh; back of her head falling against his chest as her eyes flutter shut. His free hand moves to her left breast,cupping it gently, those callouses scraping against the hardened nipple before taking it between his thumb and forefinger and pinching lightly. Her noises are louder now; whimpering and moaning as his finger moves inside of her, his palm coming in direct contact with her clit.

Her hand tightens around his cock and the strokes become harder. More forceful. Hand moving from head to base, until his hips are moving on their own accord, a mixture of guttural moans and profanities tumbling from his lips. He adds a second finger; pushing the two as deep as they can go, using them to fuck her at a steady pace until her entire body tenses and she cries out.

Even in her orgasmic haze her hand continues to pleasure him. Rapid, sloppy jerks that have him coming as well; her name flowing from his mouth like a well rehearsed and favourite prayer.

They settle against one another. Their breathing ragged, their bodies still trembling as their hands relax and slip out of their respective places.

“Better?” she asks. “Relaxed yet?”

He grins. “I'm getting there.”

****

Their bodies are still damp as they make love in the middle of the ornate king sized bed. His hands planted on the mattress on either side of her head, supporting his weight on his outstretched arms as he moves inside of her. Long, smooth strokes that have her wrapping her legs around his waist and her feet digging into the small of his back. Her hands roam his body. Fingers exploring his muscular arms; over the veins in his wide forearms, and along his bulging biceps and strong, powerful triceps. Up to his shoulders and then down his back. Loving the way the muscles move under her hands. He is all smooth skin and powerful physique, and her nails skim down his spine and grab at his ass, attempting to pull him deeper.

He groans. Head falling forward, hair tumbling across his brow. She lifts her head to kiss him as her fingers scrap along his rib cage and her teeth lightly clamp down on his tongue.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, and a hand leaves the mattress in favour of sliding an arm behind her back, flipping them over.

His hands settling on her hips as she rides him. Slow and steady at first, allowing him to slip completely out before she sinks back down again. Repeating the movement several times as his fingers bite into her hips and he watches her; the flushed cheeks and closed eyes, the sheen of sweat on her body and her breasts bouncing with each movement. And with one hand still on her hip encouraging to move faster and harder, his other hand comes up to fondle her breasts. Twisting and pulling at the nipples until he feels those powerful inner walls beginning to tremble and contract around him. And he presses a finger to her clit, rubbing it in smooth, firm circles until she's crying out in ecstasy.

As she comes down from her high, she collapses forward onto his chest, and he seizes both hips and thrusts up into her until she comes a second time. More powerful than before, causing him to reach up to clamp a hand against her mouth to muffle the scream that escapes her. He grits his teeth and keeps his pace; until his stomach starts to flutter and he feels the pressure building in his balls and the small of his back. And as he comes he buries his face in her shoulder. Inaudible noises and words and slipping from his mouth.

He wraps his arms around her slender body. Holding her close as she buries her face in the hollow of his neck.

He's asleep in minutes.

****

She hasn't had the nightmare in months. For weeks after the job in Dhaka and Tyler's near death on the bridge, she'd been badgered by vivid recollections of the event. Scared to close her eyes and actually succumb to sleep in fear of the reliving the horror. They were shockingly vivid, as if she had been transported to the very moment...the very second...that it happened. As he gunned down the last of those standing in the way of a safe crossing and struggled to make his way towards them. Bleeding profusely from bullet wounds and grazes and embedded shards of glass. The right knee shattered; the ligaments and tendons torn and muscles strained and severed, having to drag his leg behind him over the last fifty meters. It had been so close yet so far, and she, Nik, and Ovi had been filled with a sense of hope. In awe of the comeback he had made. Hoping and praying, counting down those last feet that he had to go.

And then that single gunshot; the bullet puncturing the jugular vein and bringing him to stand still. Shock registering on his face, revolver dropping from his right hand, his left coming up in a vain effort to stem the stem the flow of blood.

It is always in slow motion; the last thirty seconds in which he collapses to the ground and drags himself across the cement and onto the sidewalk. Nik valiantly attempting to refrain Ovi from running to Tyler's aid and ordering Esme to stay where she was. It wasn't safe; the kid who'd shot Tyler had gotten away despite her last ditch efforts, and there was no telling where he was hiding. And then her and Ovi were running together, rushing to comfort the man that lay dying in a pool of his own blood on that littered and cracked sidewalk. Feeling the blood that seeps through her clothing as she kneels down beside him; tasting her own tears as on her lips as she holds his face in her hands and begs him not to give up. To hang on just a little while longer. Help was on the way; he just needed to hang on. She tells him that she loves him. That she tried to stop feeling the things she did, but it had been impossible. That he had made her promises and they talked about plans for their future; of getting to know one another better, of seeing where things would take them.

She's never reached the end of the dream. She has no idea of it ends the same as real life or if his death plays out. She is always awake by that point; crying out and bolting up right in bed, sweat coating her limbs and her stomach churning. Her brain struggling to orientate herself with her surroundings, heart hammering wildly in her chest. And when the fear settles and she realizes just where she was, she would sob: a mixture of terror and relief. For what she had seen and an ending that could have been much, much worse.

Tonight is different; she can hear Tyler's voice and feel the strong, warm body beside her. His hands on her shoulders; gripping tightly and shaking her out of her near hysteria. Her first instinct is to fight; brain convincing her that there's a threat right beside her. And she grabs at his hair and directs punches to his chest and uses her knees in an attempt to push him away. But his size and strength are his advantage and he uses them, wrapping both arms around her torso to secure her arms to her sides and then effortlessly flipping her onto her stomach, Pinning her into the mattress.

“It's okay...” his voice is low, soothing. As is the heat of his body against hers. His arms loosen their grip and a hand comes up to rest on her head, lips against her ear as he strokes her hair. “...calm down...it's over...it was just a dream...” and he repeats that mantra until he finally feels her body relaxing under the weight of his own. Muscles releasing and heart rate settling. “...it was just a bad dream...” he says. “I'm here. I'm right here. Just listen to my voice.”

It takes several minutes for her to fully come down from the adrenaline high that had surged through her body. And he continues to hold her, assuring her that everything is fine. That he's here with her and not going anywhere. That he's alive and well and he loves her. More than he could possibly ever tell her.

Eventually he rolls over onto his side, a hand tangled in her hair as she turns to face him.

“You haven't had one of those in a long time,” he says, voice heavy with worry and sleep. “The bridge?”

She nods, lower lip trembling.

“Come here...” he pulls her into him; a hand on the back of her head as she settles her face in the hollow of his throat. Fingernails digging into his shoulders as she clings to them. “It's okay now. It was just a dream, love. Just a bad dream.”

“It's almost been a year,” she whimpers, her entire body shivering despite both his body heat and the humidity that hangs heavily in the air. “Two more days.”

“I know. It's probably why you had one. You're too busy thinking about it.”

“It's hard not to,” she reasons. “Don't you think about it? You're the one who went through it. How do you not think about it?”

“I try not to. You know I don't remember much after the kid shot me. You know how hazy things are. How I'm not sure if I am actually remembering things or if my brain is making them up and convincing me they're real.”

It is both a blessing and a curse. He can remember seeing her beside him. Feeling her hands; one covering his own that clutched at the wound in his neck, the other on the back of his head. He knows that she was begging him not to give up. Assuring him that help was on the way. That all he had to do was just hang on a little while longer. And that she loved him. That she didn't regret falling in love with him that soon.

After that...nothing. The next memory is of waking up in hospital room and being filled with immediate panic; ripping at the IV in his arm and attempting to tear out the breathing tube shoved down his throat. And she was by his side then as well, fighting to keep his hands from causing even more damage, attempting to calm him down in that soft, soothing voice.

He'd been relieved that that was the first voice he heard. The first face he'd laid eyes on. He had expected her to be gone. The nightmare of what happened and the need to get away from it driving her away from him. That hadn’t known each other that long, and maybe the bond that they’d formed and the intimacy they had shared -both during sex and in those quiet, reflective times afterwards- wasn’t as strong as he’d thought it was.

But she’d been there. Right by his side. Strong and stoic. Far braver than he could ever hope to be.

“I'm starting to think you're the lucky one,” she says. “That it’s better that you don't remember.”

“Did I say it back?”

“What?”

“You told me that you loved me. On the bridge. I remember hearing you say that. Did I say it back?”

“You couldn't say anything back. You were choking on your own blood.”

“But did you feel it?” he has no idea why he needs to know. But it feels important. That maybe being reminded of that moment will help clear up the clutter and the confusion in his brain.

“You looked at me. When I said it. You looked right at me and you tried to smile. And you squeezed my hand as hard as you could. I thought maybe that was a sign. That you were trying to say it back.”

He screws his eyes shut and tries to remember; straining his mind to come up with even the smallest of details. He knows what he felt leading up to the moment he was shot. That he had counted the steps as he made his way towards her. Determined to live up to all the promises he made. Fulfill his half of the plans that they’d come up with as they lay together in that rumbled bed in that dirty Dhaka hotel room. After that, everything comes in bits and pieces. Shattered fragments that are out of order and never fall into place no matter how hard he tries to force them.

“I felt it,” he says. “I know I did. I felt it when I sent you off with Ovi and Saju. When you looked at me. You looked so scared and lost and I remember thinking that I was going to do whatever I had to get to that bridge. To get to you.”

She smiles against him, pressing a kiss to his throat.

“I didn't want to send you away with them. But I had too. I didn't have a choice.”

“I know. I hated you at that moment. I was so angry. That you were making me leave. And I was worried that was the last time I was ever going to see you. I didn't want that to be my last memory of you. That I was angry.”

He remembers kissing her. A hand on the side of her face as his lips lightly brushed hers. And thinking that he could gladly go the rest of his life being able to kiss her every day.

“I wouldn't leave you unless I had to.”

Those had been his exact words. The final thing he had said to her before sending her off.

She sniffles and yawns against him. Her body nestling even tighter against his. Listening to his heart beating in his chest, feeling his smooth skin and hard body against his. The way his hand strokes her hair and the weight of his chin rests on the top of her head. Those strong, powerful arms wrapped tightly around her.

And he holds her like that until she succumbs to sleep once more.

Safe. Secure. Protected.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #chris hemsworth #i found #extraction

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jenomark · 5 years

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Would you be willing to do an NCT 127 reaction to like almost accidentally falling into bed with their friend but like goin hard for only a sec before their emotions overwhelm them and how they transition to romantic sex or even just like passion vs hookup like it began?

Taeil: “Can you help me put the sheets on my bed?” Taeil asked. You stood in the doorway to his bedroom. Taeil held up his midnight blue sheets and looked at you with a helpless look on his face. Without saying anything, you grabbed two corners and started towards his bed. Both of you couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous of a request it was. You tucked one end of the sheet under a corner, and Taeil did the same. “I always hated making my bed.” you said, making small talk. “Me too.” Taeil said. He went to tuck the other corner, but your tucked end loosened itself and flew across the mattress. “Oh.” was all Taeil could say. You reached for the end and tucked it again, but this time, his corner flew towards yours. Feeling frustrated, Taeil jumped on his bed and held the corner down with his knees. Laughing, you did the same. Both of you reached for the last corner at the same time, your hands touching each other. Taeil reeled back and looked at you. There was an apology on his lips, but he couldn’t get it out. Feeling the flush rise to his cheeks, he moved to tuck the very last corner himself. When he did, all corners untucked and rolled towards the middle. Exasperated, he fell back onto his bed and you followed him, looking up at the ceiling together. Without another word, Taeil rolled over and kissed you. You knew it was coming, so you kissed him back. You touched the front of his pants, palming his cock over his jeans. “Do you want me to help you with something else?” you asked. Taeil nodded, kissing you with a lot of passion. It was meant to be just sex, but there were feelings lingering underneath the surface. Taeil stopped trying to remove your clothes and looked at you. He stroked the side of your face and smiled. “I think you’re beautiful.” he said.

Johnny: Fucking Johnny as friends had it’s pros and cons. The pros: he ate you out until he was satisfied with your reaction, he always kept things respectful, and gave you the best dick of your life. There were cons, but you weren’t sure they were actually bad. You had feelings, and you thought you saw the same happy-in-love grin on his face that you wore whenever you were through with each other for the night. Being with him was always a fun time. You knew you could come to Johnny at any hour and he would receive you well. There was a connection there that transcended your usual sexual encounters. You enjoyed being in his company, hearing him laugh, and watching him get ready in the morning. Falling for him was never in the arrangement, and it put a dampener on a lot of things. “Hey.” he said, taking your jacket as soon as you entered the door. He could read the stress on your face, could see how you carried it in your shoulders. “Hi.” you answered back. Johnny brought you into a warm embrace. You felt like you could melt completely into his body and die happily. When he pulled a part, you kissed him and felt the softness of his belly underneath his shirt. It was your signal for him, and it let him know that you wanted him now. But the time felt different, and he could feel it, too. Normally, you would grab at each other like you couldn’t breathe unless one of you were naked. This time, he moved slow, his hands seeming to pulsate over your body. You felt overwhelmed, like you could cry. “Love me.” was all you could say. Johnny sank his head into your breasts and kissed the skin. When you felt his mouth move south, you grabbed a hand full of his hair and vowed to have a talk with him later.

Taeyong: He had never had a female friend. That is how your relationship began: your obsession with making sure he had someone to confide in, and his need for your companionship. You would lay in bed together, your head on his chest, his hand low on your back. Your mutual friends would ask if you were dating, and although you told them no, you were never sure yourself. Taeyong called you his friend, sometimes his best friend. You texted every day, you came running when he needed help, and he was the only man in your life that made you feel appreciated. There was a line that shouldn’t be crossed, but that line was fading fast. “What are you thinking about?” Taeyong asked. You were in his bed, watching the way his face changed whenever he watched a Youtube video with animals in it. He made your heart ache. “Everything.” you said. Taeyong put his phone down and turned toward you, his face just inches from yours. You had kissed once, but it was so quick that both of you pretended like it never happened. “Thinking of me? I am everything.” he said, smiling. You turned your head away. You wanted to kiss him, and you could sense that he wanted to kiss you, too. Taeyong’s hand touched yours. He pulled your arm and draped it over his body. The kiss came soon after. You rolled over on top of him, feeling his body underneath yours. He was hard, his cock sitting just below your pelvis. There was a moment where you stared at each other, questioning if things should go further. Taeyong made the first move, going deeper into a kiss, his hands on your ass. You touched each other like you were starving, your bodies wanting to fulfill a hunger. “Slow.” he said as you went for the button on his jeans. “I want to feel your everything.”

Yuta: You thought you wanted him because you were sad. You told yourself it was the reason you went back to him. After all, it had been that way with every guy before him. There was something about Yuta that your heart was addicted to, and that is how he differed. You would fuck him and fuck him, your bodies coming together like it should mean nothing, but it meant everything. He was a good man. He let you have him, even when you both knew you should not have been together without talking about what you were. Every time you promised each other you would stop hooking up, you always came back to close the gap. Most days, it was you who broke the promise. You were on your hands and knees too many times, his cock slamming into you, his fingernails digging into the extra weight you carried around your waist. It was hard to look him in the eyes sometimes. When he slowed, you looked back at him. He hadn’t come inside of you yet, hadn’t flopped onto the bed, sweat dripping down his abdomen. “Are you okay?” you asked. Yuta pulled out and flipped you onto your back so that you were staring up at him. He leaned down so he was dangerously close to your face, your eyes struggling to look at him. You had never fucked this close before, and the intimacy made your legs feel like jelly. Yuta entered you, his grunts stifled by a kiss to your lips. You didn’t know what to do, where to look, or what to touch. “Are you okay?” he asked, echoing your question from earlier. You nodded frantically, a rush of feelings chaining you to his heart.

Doyoung: It was a game. One of you gets blindfolded and has to pick someone from the circle. You take them into a bedroom and do whatever you want to them for a half hour. It was Doyoung’s turn to be blindfolded. You sat in your chair and watched him go around, licking his lips because of his nerves. You knew he wanted to pick the girl he had a crush on. He would be drawn to her, like a bee to a pretty flower. Doyoung buzzed around the circle and stopped in front of you, only he didn’t know it was you. He held out his hand for you to take, his fingers trembling slightly. When you placed your hand in his, the crowd of players cheered. You looked over at his crush and tried to apologize to her with your eyes. Doyoung was only your friend, nothing more. Still, you kept a grip on his hand and dragged him behind you, finding a bedroom for the both of you to go into. When you shut the door, it felt like there was no going back. “Who are you?” he asked. You looked at him, a face you’ve always known, but somehow, looked like a stranger before you. You kissed his lips softly, your fingertips holding his chin. You could read his facial expressions well. Doyoung knew it wasn’t his crush. There was a brief moment where he looked like he would turn away and leave, but he moved forward and pushed you back onto the bed. He pinned your arms to the mattress and nipped at your neck. You could feel his cock growing in his pants. You were aroused for him too, your body opening up for his. The way he kissed you was needy. There was a certain freedom with him not knowing who you were, but you wanted to know what he would think if he knew. You removed his blindfold, slipping it from his eyes like a secret. It took a while for his eyes adjust, to fully grasp that it was you underneath him. When he did, he smiled. He kissed you a little softer, and let his hands sweep down your sides. “I’m glad it’s you.” he said.

Jaehyun: You danced the pain away. Your date stood you up, so you let the music carry you away until you felt nothing. Your friends watched you sway in the middle of the club floor by yourself. Most of them wanted to let you be, but Jaehyun couldn’t do that. He grabbed your hand to let you know he was near, but he kept his distance on the floor. “You don’t have to do this.” you shouted. Even through the dark, you could see Jaehyun’s face light up with a smile. “I want to. Friends don’t let friends cry alone to EDM music.” he said. Afterwards, he walked you home. You wanted to open up to him about how you felt, but you didn’t want to bother him. Jaehyun kept your mind off of things by talking about nonsense, which made you feel better. When you arrived at your door, the sadness crept back in. “I don’t want to be alone.” you said, unable to look him in the eyes. Jaehyun followed you inside. “Let’s watch a movie.” he suggested. You turned around and kissed him. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, or why you had done it. You weren’t aware of any feelings you had for him, but when you kissed him, everything felt serious. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” you said, touching your lips. Jaehyun rushed at you, kissing you back. The way you came together felt natural, your hands clinging to the sad parts of each other. “We shouldn’t.” you whispered. “Says who?” Jaehyun said. The way you affected each other felt desperate, until you fell into bed and everything began to slow down. “You deserve better,” he said. “Let me show you.”

WinWin: It might have been a lapse in judgement, but at the moment, neither of you cared. WinWin was yanking off your skinny jeans and underwear with all of his strength. When your legs were free, he went straight for you, his tongue parting your pussy. It was weird having your friend eating you out, but it felt so good that you could hardly object. You were on the verge of coming when he stopped. You used your arms to bring yourself backwards onto the bed. He took off his shirt fast, moving at you with alarming speed. His lips were on yours, his hands pushing up your shirt and bra to get at your breasts. His other hand roamed downwards, spreading your legs so he could finger you. “Let me please you.” you moaned, not really wanting him to stop. “No.” WinWin said. His mouth was on you again. Feeling useless, you slowly removed your shirt and bra until you were naked on his bed. “Fuck.” you whispered. Everything felt so good, and you wondered how you had gotten so lucky. “Fuck me.” you said. Abruptly, WinWin stopped and came up to meet your lips. When you made eye contact with him, time felt like it was slowing down. You saw him as he was: your friend, the boy who always made you feel seen. He smiled from ear-to-ear, probably feeling the same emotions that were wrecking you. “Fuck you?” he asked. You nodded, a laugh bubbling to your lips. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him you never imagined anything like this happening between you, but WinWin’s mouth was back to worshiping your body, and his cock was waiting to do as you asked.

Jungwoo: “You sleep on my bed. I will sleep on the floor.” Jungwoo said. You began to protest, but he told you his decision was final. You knew why he was doing it, but you didn’t agree with it. Jungwoo set up a makeshift bed on his floor and laid down, pulling the blankets up to his chin. You had never slept in his bed before and never normally would have, but the storm outside was too brutal to drive home in. You slid into his sheets and rested your head on his pillow. Everything smelled just like him, and felt as warm as he did. You leaned over and turned off the lamp, the only light coming from the neon sign belonging to the bar across the street. “Are you comfortable?” Jungwoo asked. You leaned over his bed and peered down at him, “I would be more comfortable if you slept next to me. This bed is big enough for the both of us.” He didn’t answer, so you laid back down. A few seconds later, you felt the opposite end of the bed dip down. You couldn’t make out much of his face, but you could feel him next to you. The sexual tension was too thick to ignore. You rolled over onto your side and faced him. He did the same. The space between you both felt alive. Without giving much warning, Jungwoo leaned over a little. You met him halfway and collided your lips with his. You held each other, touching one another like you both had never felt someone in your lives. “Wait.” Jungwoo said, pushing you away. He was emotional, and your eyes adjusted enough to see the panic on his face. You thought he would get up and end the thing you should have always started, but instead, Jungwoo looked down and said, “I don’t want to rush. I want to remember everything. Let’s slow down. We have all night.”

Mark: Drunk Mark looks like sober Mark, but he doesn’t feel like him. Drunk Mark is cold, his body hard and foreign. He says stupid things and doesn’t mean them, makes stupid moves and regrets them. The Mark you know well is the embodiment of warmth, his smile trapping a thousand suns. You are too drunk to realize he is holding your hand. When you realize, it feels too late to take the feeling back that is blooming in your chest. “We should..” Mark starts to say. “We should what?” you ask. Mark lets go of your hand and grabs your face to pull you in for a kiss. He was only supposed to walk you home, two drunkards lost in the darkness. He finds your lips and you kiss him back. Feelings spread throughout your body. You need him, need to have his hands all over you. Mark pushes you inside your apartment and feels your stomach underneath your shirt. Everything moves fast: your pants on the floor and Mark’s morals lying at his feet. You fall into bed like strangers, and not friends. He kisses your neck, his hands roaming everywhere. You want him badly. He looks into your eyes and you tell him to fuck you. It’s the alcohol talking, and the lust. Mark’s fingers are on you and in you, the feelings making the room spin like a merry-go-round. When you feel his cock, the room stills. He fucks you like he can fuck all of his feelings away if he just moves faster, and deeper. “Mark.” you say. His name slows him down. He holds onto your thighs and looks down at you. You tell him to get off and lay on his back, so that you can get on top. You straddled him and let his cock fill you up. You move slowly, your body controlling the way you feel, much better than your heart can.

#Anonymous #nct #nct 127 #nct reactions #nct smut reactions #nct 127 smut reactions #nct smut #mark #jungwoo #winwin #jaehyun #doyoung #yuta #taeyong #taeil #johnny #hope you don't mind my creative liberty #sorry it took so long!#nct 127 smut

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