#last week and i’m more sensitive than usual and i just can’t deal with anything potentially triggering
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ROTTMNT Moths Fly In Packs - Chapter One
A/N: HI I’M FINALLY POSTING THE FIRST CHAPTER. Really excited and super nervous but I’m SO happy I can finally share this with everyone. I’m not doing a drawing for every chapter since that’d be selling my soul to the red dilf down below but this is the first chapter so I figured why not do something special. Also apologies if any of the characters seem ooc, I’m still learning how to write them so it might take a bit (especially the dialogue). Also also, sorry if the formatting seem weird, I just copy pasted a google doc into Tumblr and I haven’t entirely figured out how this app works yet. ANYWHIZZLE despite all that I hope y’all enjoy and I can’t wait to write more ^^
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Disclaimer: chapter involves themes of manipulation, violence, and curse words. If you’re sensitive to that stuff, scroll past and stay safe <3
I looked out the window and sighed. Today could have been a lot worse, sure, but it also could’ve been a whole lot better.
It was one am on a Monday night. Staying up this late this early in the week is gonna guarantee a begrudgingly painful school life till Friday. And yet, here I was, staring at my phone at his texts.
Zane: Hey! You were active on insta. How come you didn’t text back?
Zane: hey it’s been an hour now. I’m starting to worry about you
Zane: Salena are you ignoring me? I already said I was sorry
Zane: fine then. Don’t text me. But at least talk to me tomorrow. I miss you.
Zane: Goodnight.
He was getting clingier by the day. Last month when he asked me out, I was worried rejecting him would break his heart. Somehow, it looks like it had the opposite effect and boosted his ego since he’s only gotten more pushy after that. I mean today he picked a fight with a guy just for talking to me. It’s getting ridiculous.
I groaned and hopped off bed to get a drink of water. I know I should probably forgive him, I’m sure he’s just coping differently maybe. It’ll get better with time. I hope it gets better with time. Otherwise the next four months are gonna be excruciatingly long. Still, I can’t just not be mad after what he did.
As I lamented in my depressive thoughts, I saw four figures out the window, running from rooftop to rooftop. Smiling, I opened the window and let the cool air and the joyous voices flow in. At least one good thing’s coming out from today.
It looked like they were chasing someone, a giant pig man specifically. I would’ve been more freaked out if this was the first human-animal thing I saw.
The very first time I saw one was a giant bull in a bellboy uniform running along the sidewalk, clumsily knocking anything and everything over as he wept. I assumed my sleep deprived brain was probably making things up again but the sheer absurdity of it paired with the fact that my sleep schedule was actually decent that week, I began to question that guess. Then, only ten minutes later, seeing four human-sized turtles walking upright seemingly searching for the bull man sealed the deal that I could not be making this shit up.
But that was two or three years ago. Now, it’s more of a fun surprise seeing the new animal person of the week than a sanity-questioning spiral. Most often, I see the turtles passing by. Sometimes they’re goofing off or skateboarding. Other times, they’re chasing someone like right now. I can only assume the pig man is evil if he’s being chased by them. I know the turtles are good since I suspect they’re the “mysterious heroes” that saved New York from that-which-shall-not-be-named a few months back. I mean, who else could it be?
Even if they’re chasing a potential murderous lunatic, they seem like they’re having fun. They’re all smiling and laughing and whizzing around everywhere, just looking at them gives me an adrenaline rush.
I stared out the window longingly as they zipped by, disappearing into the night. Maybe the late night was getting to my brain, but things just felt worse than usual this time. I’ve been watching these four go by my window at least once a week for so long. They always look so fun to be around. Free-spirited and zany, the exact opposite of everyone in my life. Maybe I really am going insane but for once I just want to know them, to see them up close. And if I’m feeling particularly crazy, I might even say hello.
I found my body edging closer and closer out the window. The fire-escape does lead all the way down, and I’m only on the sixth floor anyway. It’s not exactly a fast distance to the ground but it wouldn’t be too bad if I run…
Before I knew it, I was already out dashing in their direction to catch up. I’ve only ever dreamed of having enough courage to actually attempt this. If my aunt finds out I snuck out my grave will be dug and that’s not an exaggeration.
Yet somehow, that didn’t stop me. My skin felt numb from the cold wind, my hair was going crazy behind me. I felt pain in my cheeks from how much I was smiling. I guess I am feeling particularly crazy tonight.
***
By the time I caught up with them, I was embarrassingly out of breath. They were now all ground level in an alleyway and I was hiding just around the corner, close enough to listen in. A little nervous if they can hear my hideous dying dog pants, not just because it would blow my cover but also for the sake of my prestige. They seem a little too distracted by the pig man to notice me, though.
“Alright, meathead! Give us the poison, or I’m gonna smash your head into the wall and keep smashing till I smash the wall down with my smashy little fists!”
Note to self: the red one likes smashing.
“Oh get stuffed you annoying little rats! Can’t a guy sabotage his rival chef’s excuse of a business in peace?”
“GASP! He’s defaming rats!”
They broke out into a fight over what looked to be a large bag of, assumedly, poison. The pig man’s tentacle arms were whipping all over the place, trying to land a blow on the turtles. Oh and apparently his arms can extend which I would find cool if it weren’t for how gross it looked. It’s all drippy and squishy-looking and weird, not a texture I’d want to be near.
I won’t lie, I was kind of distracted from the danger I put myself in since being this close allowed me to properly see the turtles fight. At first glance it looks like they’re flailing all over the place, but it’s actually in a more cohesive way. The blue turtle teleported around and sliced the tentacles attacking them, the red one went in for a punch with giant fists at any opening. Purple guy had glowing guns in his signature color all shooting at the same time and the orange turtle swung around hitting pig man with any object his fiery chains landed on. My god was I awestruck watching them all in action. I was so busy gawking I barely even registered the magic weapons.
One of the flame chains got a hold of his leg and sent the pig guy flying backwards, losing grip of his poison bag.
“Heads up!” The blue one yelled as the bag soared through the air. All the turtles attempted catching it while the pig man’s tentacle arm followed close behind the bag. It looked like it was about to be body horror Peppa Pig’s win.
So I stepped out and grabbed the bag before he could. All eyes now on me, I made a run for it in the other direction realizing how exposed I was. Behind me I could hear a confused “Who was that?” sounding like it was from the purple guy.
Yeah, sure, maybe this wasn’t the smartest move but if I’m getting myself involved I might as well be useful.
I’d break in and out of thought every time I crashed into a wall or slid on the ground. I was never exactly known for my clearly graceful nature. My body started aching. Still I kept running, only stopping to throw a rock or two at one of the stringy pink arms behind me. Seriously, why does that dude have to be so puke-worthy.
A silver blur sped right past my head. The glowing sword stopped in front of me and a familiar blue turtle appeared out of thin air.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
As much as I pride myself on reflexes, the initial shock didn’t wear off fast enough to prevent me from crashing into him and falling back on the ground. I barely had an impact on him, though, since he was still standing perfectly fine with a hand on his hip and the other gripping his weapon.
“Look pal, I have been heroing all week and as much as I love fighting villains and looking badass, I say we make this fast and you just tell me who sent you.”
“S-sent me?” It took me a while to catch on. Not my best day, I know.
“Oh, no no no! I'm not working for anyone! I was trying to help. See?”
I held out the bag towards him, hoping that would convince him I’m not a threat. To my surprise, instead of taking it, he squinted his eyes and me and crouched down to match my height.
“You know, you look kinda familiar. Have we met before?..”
I was too stunned to respond.
Back when I first saw the turtles, after seeing the human bull, I overheard them talking about him and wanting to find him. The blue one especially, he seemed extremely guilty about something. I figured I’d help but I wasn’t brave enough to just go up to them and tell them I saw the bull. I’m too shy to even approach regular humans, these were talking anthropomorphic turtles. So instead I threw a note down and it bounced off blue’s head. He looked at it, read it, then looked up at me. I poked my head out from behind the fire escape and gave an awkward wave, trying to let him know I was on their side. It worked since he directed his team towards where I wrote the bull man went.
I remember later that same night, he knocked on my window. I was a bit freaked out admittedly and hid away by instinct. I wasn’t exactly expecting to see them again.
“Oookay. Well.” I could tell he wasn’t sure how to deal with me. I was regretting hiding but my legs were frozen in place.
“I don’t know if you can hear me since the window’s closed but I wanted to say thanks for the note. We found our guy way faster than we would’ve if we kept having to use Raph’s ideas.” He let out a playful chuckle.
I felt my heart melt a little. I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t really that. I don’t usually hear things like that often.
“So yeah uh, if you can still hear me, thank you.”
My legs started working again as I heard him leap off to leave. I opened the window and rushed out to the fire escape. Luckily, he was on the ground not too far away from me. I called out to him.
“Salena!”
He turned around and saw me. “What?”
I beamed brighter and yelled again.
“My name is Salena!”
“Salena?” His voice brought me back to present day.
“You remember me?”
He let out a cheery laugh. “Of course I remember you! I told you, your note was the only reason we found Bullhop so fast that day.”
“But that was years ago.” I sighed in disbelief as he helped me to my feet.
“And? No face has ever escaped ol’ Neon Leon’s noggon!” He proudly pointed to his brain. I debated telling him the word was noggin.
We heard voices in the distance.
“PUNCHING LIKE A BOSS!!”
“I SWEAR ONE DAY I’LL TURN YOU ALL INTO STEW!”
“GUYS! He wants to turn me into stew!”
“Mikey, that’s not a good thing.”
“Says you! I’d make a delicious stew, thank you very much, Dee!”
“Welp, duty calls! Let’s get you to safety.” With that, he opened a blue portal and pulled me through it to a nearby rooftop. So his swords can teleport and open portals??
“You think you can keep this bag with you?”
I managed to nod.
He gave a smirk and stepped back through his portal to rejoin the battle.
“Leo! Where’s the bag?”
“And the person who stole the bag?” I could still hear red and purple speak.
“Relax, they’re a friend, they’re keeping the bag safe.”
“A new friend?! OMIGOSH!!” Orange seemed excited
The fight picked up fiercer than before. It was hard to keep up with the turtles and the chaos of their weapons. Orange flames, purple lasers, sheathing metal. The ground shook at every red flash. All the while, the air filled with lively laughter and jokes.
Pig man wasn’t going down easy, either. He pounded his giant spiky mallet, probably matching the force of red’s hits. I know they’re experienced fighters and all, but I felt a bit useless sitting around and doing nothing. I looked around for some way I could help.
Luckily, something caught my attention. On the left side of the roof, I could see a pile of bricks laying around. More than perfect for knocking out a mutant. Now the question is how to get them down.
I saw a flash of blue out the corner of my eye.
Bingo.
Screaming at the top of my lungs, hoping my voice wouldn’t be drowned out, I called out to him.
“Blue! Hey, blue up here!”
He followed my voice to where I was, looking a bit confused and worried I was giving myself away.
I pointed to the brick in my hand. “Make a portal on top of him!”
I saw his face light up as he understood my plan. “Great idea!”
As he dashed off, a blue portal opened near me. I rushed around the roof, grunting as I pushed the bricks in. Blue threw a sword in the air, appeared right above the pig, and opened the other side of the portal, letting all the bricks rain down on him. They all looked a bit surprised seeing around 8 or 10 bricks hit him on the head, blue included. Yeah, sure, maybe pushing all of them in was a bit overkill but seeing how crazy powerful this guy was, I didn’t want to risk it.
And boy, was he out cold. The four turtles made their way up the roof, I presume to get the bag of poison.
I glanced back down at the pig “So like…he’s not dead is he?”
“Meatsweats? Nah that guy’s handled way worse.” Blue said strangely casually. “Good thinking with the bricks, btdubs.”
I’d appreciate the compliment more but I was still struggling to figure out what could possibly be worse than bricks to the head.
“Yeah, thanks for your help back there with the poison, too.” red rubbed his neck and gave a sweet smile. For a big guy he seems awfully friend-shaped.
“I’m Raph. These are my brothers Leo, Mikey, and Donnie.” Leo struck a pose, Mikey waved like his life depended on it, and Donnie…well he was just on his phone with his shell turned towards me. It’s a cool shell, at least. I never noticed it wasn’t a real one before.
“I’m Salena. Nice to meet you all.”
People used to tell me I ask too many questions so I got into the habit of just keeping my tongue bit. But I would’ve exploded if I didn’t seize the moment today to find out what the hell was going on. I’m bad at social situations, anyway, might as well be on purpose.
“So if you don’t mind me asking…What are you? How do you exist? Where’d you get your weapons? Did you make your shell yourself? Who was that guy? Can I see what’s in this bag?”
“AHEM! I’m glad you asked!” Donnie turned his attention towards me, dramatically answering my questions. “We, weird human, are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (trademark). And yes, my battle shell is indeed Genius Built technology. Made this baby when I was twelve.”
“We’re mutant turtles!-”
“Literally just said that in the name Micheal”
“Still think Mad Dogz was better.”
“-And we were made in Draxum’s lab to take over the world back when he was going through his ‘bad boy’ phase but we ended up being heroes instead. Pretty cool right?”
“Hey, inquiry for you actually, why’d you help us anyway?”
I awkwardly answered Donnie, telling them about my luck of random mutants frequently passing by my window. Apparently some of them were Yōkai, Raph said there was a whole Hidden City of them and a doorway leading to it near where I lived. I was a little surprised at how happy they all looked listening to me talk. Usually I’d be told to shut up by now so this was a nice change of pace.
“What happened to your arm?” Leo pointed to the wound on my forearm.
“Oh. That explains why it felt so sore. I guess I scraped against a wall or something? It’s fine, though, I’ll patch it up when I get home.”
“No way. You helped us, we help you. Let the professional do his magic.”
Leo took out some supplies from his pouch. I sat on the edge and let him work on my arm while the rest - mostly Donnie - info dumped their stories to me. At first it was a way to distract me from the initial sting of my cuts being cleaned but it wasn’t long until they got carried away with their storytelling. They told me about their mutation at the lab, how they found out, their two dads and other human friends. The oozequitoes, as they called them, were what made them and all the other mutants. It’s crazy to think these guys were made as literal military weapons considering they’re now wacky vigilantes.
“Voilà! Look and be amazed!”
“Woah! You weren’t kidding when you said professional.” I admired Leo’s bandaging on my arm. It was clean and neat, tight enough to be secure but not turning my fingers blue or anything. Much better job than I would’ve done.
The full moon was beautiful tonight. Unfortunately, it reminded me where I should be at this time.
“Well, I’m really enjoying talking to guys but I should probably go home. I don’t even wanna know how late it is”
“What? But can’t you stay a little longer?” Mikey, who was practically vibrating this whole time, suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He looked so dejected it made my heart hurt. Raph attempted to comfort him.
“They probably have school Mike. Maybe we can hang out another time, if you’re up for it?”
“REALLY- I mean, yes, yeah. That sounds lovely!” Stay civil, Salena.
“Hey before you go, you should really try one of these.” Leo opened the poison bag and took out a pizza puff? “They are absolutely delicious.”
Poison or not, pizza puff’s a pizza puff.
“NO!“ Unfortunately, Raph slapped the treat out of my hand before I could plop it in my mouth.
We bid our farewells and Mikey handed me a paper with their numbers on it paired with some cute doodles of them. After telling him where to go, Leo opened a portal to my room. I know you’re not supposed to tell strangers your address and it did feel a little weird but a portal was the fastest way home. No way I’m hoofing it this late in the night. I love New York but not that much.
Sitting on my bed now, I observed the blue turtle as he was getting ready to go back. The red stripes around his eyes made me realize he was a red-eared slider, I read about them back when I was six or seven I think.
“Hey Leo?”
“Yeah?”
I smiled. “It was nice running into you again.”
He gave his signature smirk “Funny how life works, ay?”
He waved and fell back into his portal. I closed my eyes for a bit, then grabbed my sketchbook.
Placing Mikey’s doodles on a blank page, I wrote down their respective eye colors.
Green, brown, yellow, blue.
Next Chapter | Salena Moni
#rise of the tmnt#save rottmnt#unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the turtles#rise leo#rottmnt leo#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#leo hamato#rise donnie#rise michelangelo#rise mikey#rise raph#rottmnt raph#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt fanart#rottmnt fanfiction#oc x canon#rottmnt x oc#teenage mutant ninja turtles#unpause rottmnt#rottmnt season 3#rottmnt s3#rottmnt moths fly in packs
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Beyond the Blood Tie - Chapter Seven.
*Puts on Oprah voice* You get another chapter, and you get another chapter! Lol! Thanks to the few who are showing interest in this, I appreciate you SO much for your continued interacting. Those just offering likes, could I tempt you into commenting or reblogging? Helping me promote this story a little really would mean the world to me!
Previous Chapters - One Two, Part One Part Two Three Four Five Six
Words - 6,109
Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed
Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!
Edie’s POV
"Edie, are you with us? We're getting dessert, you want anything?" Miley asks me, shaking me from the little trance state I’ve slipped into. I think she must have put the question to me more than once.
"Sorry, erm, yeah get me a slice of the flan I saw, thank you.” My reply is absent, Miley nodding as she gets up and heads over to the dessert bar. We're in an all you can eat for twenty-five dollars kind of restaurant, and believe me, we've eaten all we can thus far. Of course, we've saved a little room for dessert, though, that'd just be rude to refuse some lovely sweet treats.
"You've been noticeably quiet today for someone so damned chatty. Is everything okay?" Sasha inquires kindly, before the realisation hits her. "Shit, sorry I asked. I know, your mom." She reaches out with a sad smile, giving the top of my hand a little rub.
This is why I lost my shit couple of days ago when the vampire managed to pick up on a memory of my mother. He can't have gained any knowledge on what she used to do to me, exactly, or he'd have said so, and not constantly questioned me over who she was. True, I always channel a little of the rage I have inside for how she treated me through my profession, but at this time of year I'm extra sensitive. She killed herself, finally doing me the biggest favour she ever could, thirteen years ago this coming Monday. My friends know that, but what they don't know is something I've kept from everyone, something I found next to her body when I found her, something that has never really left me.
I don't speak of it, because I don't want to draw attention to myself, and I don't want to deal with it either. I don't feel sad so much, but I remember what I found, her last words to me. That's why I'm not myself around now. I usually hold it together, but that fucking vampire had to start picking at the scab. I hate that he saw her, and I hate that he's got it firmly in his head that he's going to find out who she is, and why she drives my rage. It's none of his damn business, though. He only wants to know for his own amusement.
"Don't worry, its fine. I'm just tired from work on top of it, so feeling a little down right now. Really, don't stress. You know me, I bounce back ridiculously easily," I reassure her with, Sasha nodding understandingly.
"Well, I know you've got work on Monday, of course, but if you want some company before you head in, I can be available? After all, I do conveniently have next week off work," she offers kindly. Sasha works a job I never could. She's a financial adviser, and oh, how dull to be cooped up all day like a battery hen in a little office behind a desk. Awful.
"Nah, I'm cool, really. I've never needed anyone to hold my hand over the fact my no-good drunk mother died, and I don't intent to start now. Thanks for the offer, though.” My air of finality is read clearly.
"You're welcome." Just then, Miley arrives back, and Sasha and I are treated to an observation from her bizarre brain. Our friend here is famed for them, the fact that she’s... well... a little odd at times. She isn’t stupid by a long shot, but the way her mind works is unique, I’ll give her that.
“This is the flan, isn’t it? I brought this as well, just in case I was wrong.” She places down the correct plate of fruit flan, as well as a crepe. Sasha and I exchange looks.
“That’s a crepe, babe,” she points, Miley taking her seat.
“Oh! I thought because it was flat, it might have been flan. You know, both begin with an f and an l.” More confused looks.
“I’m gonna need a harder drink and another run up to that, honey,” I tell her softly, shaking my head.
“You know! Like a muffin, because it’s big and puffy. Muff, puff.”
Sasha pulls her into a hug. “No, baby. That’s not how it works.”
“Isn’t it? Oh.” I love her so much. She comes out with things that honestly make you wonder about her, but then, see, she can tell you every single one of Shakespeare’s works in chronological order. Sasha and I think it’s because she’s very bright, that something else in her brain overloads from it and she ends up jumbled. Bizarreness aside, I definitely feel like she’s someone who I learn from. She actually listened in school.
She’s the one who actually encouraged me to read in order to educate myself further, using tools such as a very old book store and mini library that just opened up again in recent years after lying dormant and untouched for a hundred years. The squatters who lived in it did a nice job doing it up and applied to take over the business, and since no living heir to the original owner could be documented, they got their wish.
Miley actually works there now, which is nice when I go in and visit, trying to feed my mind a little with what it craves. I used to struggle with a lot and need a dictionary there next to me to look up words I didn't understand, but now I feel my vocabulary is much more advanced, I hardly refer to it any longer. Sometimes, an obvious word will have me stuck and then I'll remember something stupidly long and tricky like surreptitious. That's the word I'd use to describe quite a few things on my mind right now, or rather why I'm being surreptitious about them. My mother is one, and the other, and it pains me to say this, is the vampire.
I really don't know what to make of him, but whatever his intention, he's starting to lure me in a little. I can't let that happen either, whether the times he's complimentary and speaks fairly to me are genuine or not. It isn't part of the job description. Nothing would stop me from knowing him after his release, but that's not going to happen. Like I say, I don't know what to make of him. I don't usually have my emotions stirred by a detainee at all. I'm calm, cold and very professional. If each detainee had me in the kind of mental flap this vampire does, I'd have never lasted the ten years I have.
I don't want to admit it to myself, that I'm attracted to him and interested by him, because I barely know him. Then I remember I'm not attracted to vampires, and it quickly comes to me that he's probably screwing with me anyway. Further to that, I don't like it because I confess (or rather concede) that I do like the way I've caught him look at me on occasion, and then I swiftly remember he's a detainee and none of this should be going through my head.
People warned me not to let him find a way in, and he's beginning to. This is starting to confuse me in a way I do not enjoy, but then again, who actually does enjoy being confused? I know I could sit and talk to my girlfriends here about my woes, but I'm apprehensive over what they might say. Admitting it to someone other than myself would make it more real, these things I'm beginning to feel. He stirs my curiosity so much, all he’s seen, the knowledge he must possess. I mean, that thing about the steel that the chamber was constructed from, for example. Something so small, but I was impressed by it. Most would have no clue that the chambers used to exist as vaults. He did, though.
After lunch, we head up to the main shopping area and have a bit of a typical girl's afternoon, which entails a lot of purchasing of clothes and makeup, but by the time I'm all set to kiss my friend's goodbye, I’m sadly no closer to anything that remotely resembles feeling myself, so head home and spend two hours trying to take my mind off things by having a clear out of my closet. Even though the five skirts I bought are my usual brand of teeny tiny (I have a nice figure that I'm proud of, I like to show it off a little) I still need to allocate a little extra room for them. Allocate, that's my word of the day.
"What on earth was I thinking?" I exclaim when I pull out a pair of tie dye baggy cotton pants and laugh. My taste in clothes can be a little dire at times. I'll put those on eBay, I think, see if anyone out there is as foolish as I was in thinking I could make them work. On I go, actually finding a few items in here that I forgot I owned, such as my lovely white gypsy skirt and my jewelled strap cork wedge shoes that I've been hunting high and low for.
"Hahaha, the Liberace jacket!" I then announce with a barrage of giggles as I pull the huge, white faux fur monstrosity from its place right at the back of my closet. Ahmed came up with the name for it, when he stood pointing and laughing on his thirty fifth birthday last year before shouting 'Holy shit, Liberace lives!' at me. He had a theme for the party, which was pimps and hoes, in case you wondered, and I kinda came as a cross between the two. I was aiming for sexy pimp, so brought this jacket from Goodwill for something ridiculous like ten dollars, and then teamed it with a gorgeous silver and heavily jewelled bikini, silver knee high boots and a white top hat I added lots of glitter and white feathers to, and a cane I attacked with rhinestones and a glue gun. That was such a good night, and you should have seen the guy I went home with too. He was damned hot.
It's just as I'm raiding a few boxes of shoes and planning to give Miley first refusal on the pairs I know I'll never wear again that suddenly I stop, beginning to experience flashes of memories. Again, the memories are not mine. They, of course, belong to the vampire who is never far from my mind of late. I can see a girl screaming 'please, please don't hurt me' and then hear the voice of the vampire telling her 'I'm here to protect you, not hurt you' before the vision that is his plays through my head, seeing him surge at a group of the reanimated, tearing them to pieces.
I then see three other vampires with him, all moving humans to safety while attacking anything that isn’t living until they are just corpses on the floor. The memory then changes again, and I see a wide stretch of open road from the vantage point of being aboard a large motorcycle, switching again, to a scene in an abandoned warehouse, where I see a gun pointed out, the person before me being shot straight between the eyes, a few flashes of random, barely dressed women, too, until suddenly everything goes black, like he's shutting his eyes.
When he opens them again, I get a huge shock, as the face smiling back at him is mine, him leaning close and kissing me softly, his hands stroking through my hair. Now, if he truly was just fucking with me, why would he be thinking about that, about showing me affection? Shaking my head, I try and rid myself of these visions, but keep seeing my face, seeing it through his eyes, stroking my cheeks and neck, pulling me against him, his arms folding around me. I resort to physically pounding my head with my fists to make it go away, making frustrated squeaking noise, feeling freaked out and more when I clearly then hear his voice whisper my name. No. Edie does not like this, not one bit.
"No, no, no. No!" I shout with vehemence, flapping my hands as I come hurtling out of my tiny little walk-in closet (it used to be just a cupboard, until Vic converted it for me) and literally run to the kitchen to pull a bottle of Jim Beam from the fridge, hunting for a clean glass. Sigh, I loaded the dishwasher half an hour ago, all of them within being rinsed through. Ahh, fuck it. Upending the bottle, I take a few neat swigs, feeling a little calmer for it, but not by much.
Does he really want me? And if he does, why do I even care? I don't want him; he's a vampire and they do nothing for me. But then if that is truly true, why is my heart pounding at what feels like three hundred miles an hour? Why are my hands shaking so much that it looks like the whiskey in the bottle in my hand is doing a Samba all on its own? And why... why did I just imagine what it'd be like to kiss him?
"Face it, Bailey. You like him, you've gone and let your guard drop and he's got in. You've fucked up here, girl. You really have," I speak to my reflection in the glass fronted cabinet before me. What makes it worse is the fact I have no one I can talk to about this. If I tell my friends, they'll think I'm insane, if I tell my colleagues, they'll give me shit about how we can't develop feelings or attractions to detainees, and if I tell Vic, he'll probably react with a mix of the two. In times like this, I wish I had parents to turn to, people who are non-judgemental and would love me the exact same anyway, while offering some much-needed sage advice. I know Vic has been like a father to me, but he doesn't understand the way vampires are very well. He'd tell me I can resist it, he'd say he taught me better than to be anything less than the strong woman I know I otherwise am. I don't want to disappoint him in that respect.
I have to resist it, this urge, this pull I feel towards the vampire. He just wants to hurt me, and I know it. I'm his only form of entertainment down there, of course he's messing with me for his own enjoyment. He's a highly intelligent being, with a mind that's beginning to stagnate (stagnate, yesterday’s word of the day) with nothing to occupy it. We never get humans in for this long, so they never have to bother trying to cure their boredom in the same way.
Because he's a vampire though, that is what makes him completely different. Sasha told me a long time ago that they have an allure about them that you just cannot put your finger on, and up until now, I never understood it. I understand it way too much for my liking at present. Feeling all out of sorts and pissed off, I head out into my garden where I keep my weights and bench, and after doing a warm up and twenty minutes of skipping (I love my jump rope) I hit the dumbbells.
I can't use the bar weight as I have no one to spot me, with my neighbours' son Leland being out right now. He usually hops over the fence if I call him over his music and comes to train with me, but he must be off out with his friends since their backyard is totally silent. It is a Saturday, after all. I'm usually out with my friends about now too, having a few warm up drinks at a bar before heading onto a few more, and then finishing up at a club, but I told Ahmed I wasn't in the mood when he invited me, the same with Miley and Sasha. They understood, of course.
Working out usually clears my mind, and in some cases, it even helps me think a little more clearly too. And while I am working out, I feel terrific as usual, lifting the 10kg dumbbells with much more ease than usual, hissing and wincing as my biceps positively burn. Alas, as soon as I'm done and lying in the bath, my head feels restless again, that vampire playing on my mind heavily. Cue a very big, pissed off sigh right here.
Four weeks and two days, that's all I have left now until he'll leave and hopefully, I'll never see him again. Even though when Ahmed voiced that to me recently and I didn't like it, I now think it's going to be the best thing, going forward. I don't like how far inside my head he's got, that he feels the anger I've kept within me at what I found with my mother, her last words to me. He's on the verge of discovering it, and I don't want anyone to. That is my burden alone.
When Monday arrives, despite myself and all the feelings of hatred I have for my mother, I do allow myself a little cry. I selfishly cry more for myself than her, pathetic as I am that still, even at twenty-eight years old, I cannot quite get over having a mom who was truly the furthest thing from it. I only have one nice memory of her, just one.
I remember running out into the garden to find her when I was about three years old, and her shouting 'don't look, baby girl, mama has a surprise!' to me, so I stood and put my hands over my eyes and I didn't peek until she came and picked me up to put me down on the new swing she'd made for me out of a bit of old timber and some rope. She sat me on it and then pulled the rope back with her and let me go, watching me sail through the air, pushing me gently as she laughed. She had such a lovely laugh, back when she was happy. 'Weeee! Look at little Edie fly!' I’m there in my mind, with the sunshine on my face, my mom’s laughter behind me, and a sense of all being serene. She started beating me not long after that, her drinking escalating to cope with the state of her marriage.
I think she resented me because I wasn't the child of the man she'd married, and when he realised that for himself, he began to beat her, the vicious cycle that led to her thus taking it all out on me. She should have taken it out on herself for going against her marriage vows and not forsaking all others as she'd promised. When I was three, I must've started really looking like the guy who was my father, because I don't remember being hit before then. That is what must've sparked it. My earliest memories are the juxtapose of my mother pushing me on that little makeshift swing she'd made, and then of her pushing me into a closet where she locked me away for five hours because I was annoying her, apparently. Deciding not to spend a minute longer feeling sorry for myself, I think of how much worse it could have been.
I could have been one of these poor kids who were sexually defiled by their parents, I could have been an orphan, or I could have been born a hundred years ago when the disaster broke and lost my entire family and even my own life to the lethal D11X virus that claimed the lives of so many. As it stands, I have a good job that pays well, lovely friends and a home of my own. Things could be so much worse. I must be thankful for what I have, the life I made for myself rather than wishing the one I left behind could have been different. Even though I refuse to feel sorry for myself, the significance of the date still continues to linger in my mind for the rest of the day, and thus is still with me when I walk into my chamber at 9pm to begin work.
"What's wrong, Sugar Ray?" the vampire asks quietly, literally as soon as I enter. I don't reply. "Who's upset you? C'mon, tell me, I can feel it in waves." Sugar Ray; he's been calling me that since last Wednesday, when I beat the shit out of the guy who had a taste for misogyny.
"No one," I mutter blankly before taking the lump hammer and deciding to smack the shit out of him with it.
"I hate to sound like a broken record, but I know you're lying. Whoever it is, I hope you gave them hell for it. The woman with the red hair, per chance?" He groans in pain when the silver hammer in my hand connects with his stomach.
"Again, I ask. Why do you even care?" Walking around to his back, I aim a welt right between the shoulder blades. He actually huffs a long sigh before he answers.
"Alright, I might as well be straight with you. Trying to mentally fuck with you doesn't work any longer, much to my annoyance, and I don't really want to either, because I've come to realise something. I actually respect you, and that's the honest truth. Also, my strength is getting weaker by the day. I don’t have it in me to be a bastard, even if I wanted to," he admits, looking at me in perhaps the sincerest way he ever has since he's been here. I just snort and smack him straight in the face with the hammer, hearing him roar in pain as his jaw breaks.
"Sorry, but I don't believe you," I state, watching him as he shuts his eyes tightly, the noises he makes fading out into more of an annoyed growl in the back of his throat. He then looks back at me, but when he does, there's no hatred in his eyes.
"It's true. I hate you when you hurt me, that much is true and perfectly understandable, but otherwise, I respect your tenacity and somehow, you've begun to grow on me a little, despite all that. I don't think I'm alone in thinking that either. I think I've grown on you as well, not that you want to admit it," he puts to me, after about ten minutes of silence while his jaw heals up again.
"You're deluded and blood weak," I reply, beating him right across one of the well-defined hips that I once complimented.
"I was fed half an hour before you arrived. Yes, I am blood weak, but much less so right now.”
"So, say I believed you, what'd be the point in that?" I ask, hardly believing I've got myself so tied up with him thus far, with a detainee. I should know better.
"Nothing, I just want you to know. Now, be true with me and tell me what I can feel. I have an effect on you just as much as you do on me." Rolling my eyes, my response is to simply whack him with the hammer again. It’s about to become a very long night.
Angel's POV
"I don't see why I should dignify you with an answer to that," Edie murmurs, after I've asked her to just come out and admit it. I'm too fucking tired for mind games, and I don't have the inkling to play them any longer. I mean it with tremendous honesty when I say I respect her, because I do. 'Exceptional humans are worthy of our attentions and interest more so than the rest' I remember Ursula once telling me. Edie is pretty exceptional, I must admit. Even though I freely admit that I tend to favour feisty women, everything about Edie is nothing I've ever been interested in before in a woman. I've never been invested in human women as a vampire beyond just sex either, and even though I'm still not one hundred percent swayed, there's something there about Edie that goes beyond that. It's like it calls to me.
I think the reason I can't be fully swayed is because I can't make her submit to me, and I hate that about as much as I like it. She isn't a pushover, which is something that appeals greatly to vampires as much as it annoys us. We're hardened and strong because we're dead, and if we associate with humans at all, then they're not weak. We cannot stand the weak. Except for a good fear feeding, that’s kinda fun. I can feel a tiny shard of weakness within her, but I don’t find off putting, merely curious as to know why it’s there. I've been concentrating hard on her emotions of late, and I realise that it's the anger and hatred she holds within that encapsulates that weak spot.
"Because you’re hiding from it, and you shouldn’t. I know you like to cut yourself off from things you don't want to discuss. I did the same when I was a human, I blocked things out that I really should have dealt with. I can tell you're doing the same now, and you do the same every day over the woman with the red hair. In concentrating like I have been, I've seen her face again. She was really angry at you, wasn't she?” I receive a painful blow to the opposite hip for my words.
“It’s moot; there's nothing to deal with," she mutters in reply absently, trying her best to ignore me. The anger though, it's bubbling up in a way it never has before.
"Yes, there is. I think you'll feel better for admitting it, as well as the fact I interest you, that I have an effect on you. Just say it, Edie," I prompt, knowing I'm wearing her down. I just want to hear her say it. I know I said I'm through with mind games, but this isn't one. This is me being eaten alive by my own curiosity over what makes her how she is.
"Okay, you interest me. Not sexually, even though yeah, you are attractive. I wouldn't go there, though. Are you happy now?" she exclaims, practically biting each word as it leaves her mouth.
"No. Tell me about the woman with the red hair. Why does she make you so pissed off?" I ask, for what feels like the hundredth time. I'll ask her another hundred times, too, until I know the answer. I want to know what fuels such rage, and after she asks me again why it's so important, and I give her the same answer, it feels like we're going around in circles. I wouldn't usually entertain this, but curiosity has got the better of me. She still doesn't answer me when I ask again, and after I've recovered from a silver sprayed throat, I decide a wild guess is in order, to see how she reacts.
"Is she your mom?" Immediately, her eyes meet mine only to look away quickly. She gave herself away there completely, even if I hadn't heard her heart suddenly jump in her chest and felt a slight panicked wave go through her, I'd still know the red-haired woman is her mother.
"Was," she whispers, moving around behind me before spraying the entire surface of my back with the liquid silver. Imagine someone just set fire to your skin. That's what it feels like.
"She's dead?" I ask, spitting a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. My back hurts so much, I just bit both fangs into my lip to prevent myself from screaming.
"Yep.” This is all she answers me with, before coming round and giving the front half of me the same treatment as my back, rendering me unable to talk any longer, I'm in such agony. I feel relieved when I hear the voice of the woman called Aileen crackling from the walkie-talkie on Edie's belt.
“Buba, we've had time called up here, leave him be for an hour before continuing. Stay down there though, to watch how he heals.”
"Copy that, Aileen." Edie replies a little redundantly into the device, before affixing it to her belt as she walks back to her table. She sits on it in her usual cross-legged fashion, taking a cigarette from the pocket of the little grey denim waistcoat she has on and lighting up.
So, I now know who the woman with the red hair is, but what I don't know why she makes Edie so angry. I know the anger and the weak spot over her she holds within are not sadness over her death, I feel no mourning within her. What I do feel, though, concentrating hard on her emotions rather than healing, is her desperation to keep something hidden. Whatever that something is, it festers away inside of her without ever letting up. In fact, I'd go so far as to say whatever it is, it poisons her.
"What did she do that made you hate her so much before she died?" I question, in more of a croaky rasp than anything. My throat hasn't fully healed yet, of course.
"You say you respect me, and yet you're still picking away at something you know I obviously don't want to talk about. That isn't respectful, is it? That's trying to keep yourself amused at something that's very painful for me to deal with," she puts to me, exhaling smoke through her nose as she looks down at the floor and away from my gaze. She's beginning to cave, I can feel it.
"What did she do to you, Edie? What did she do to cause you the kind of pain you’re hiding from everyone, a painful secret you've never told anyone, and something you use to fuel your anger toward every single detainee who walks through the door of this chamber? It festers away within you, and it makes you unhappy. It'd be better if you got it off your chest, you know," I tell her, watching her frowning at me.
"It's none of your damn business! Keep your nose out of my fucking life, Angel!" she fumes in reply, her voice actually quivering a little.
"It is if I can help you, and I think I can. Just tell me, you know you'll feel better for it. If you don't, then I'll just get it out of you by some other means.”
I’m eyed with incredulity for that. "You're unbelievable, I mean seriously, you're absolutely unbelievable. Fucking relentless.”
"You really want to trust me, don't you? You can, you know. I don't fuck with or fuck over people I respect. You've never let yourself fully trust because of her, haven't you? Whatever she did, it's stuck in your head that trusting people only ends up in you getting hurt. Just because she fucked you over, and I guess that she did, well it doesn't mean everyone else is going to. That's no way to live, Edie.” I can feel it, that wall she has inside starting to fall down slowly, brick by brick. I then tune my senses in on her blood, and concentrate hard. Her facade is slipping, the big mental block she's put up as I said is crumbling, and without her wanting me to, I see the flashes of anger within her, and I witness it. I really see. Using every last bit of my strength, I focus, and see the memories Edie doesn't want me to.
I see a vision of a staircase, like I'm seeing the memory through Edie's eyes as she's dragged up it by her wrist, crying and screaming before she’s hurled to the floor and kicked over and over in her stomach by her mother at the top, before being thrown into a closet and locked there. I then see her mother sitting swigging from a bottle of something alcoholic, that bottle then leaving her hand and shattering above Edie's head while she screams 'get the fuck out of here, you little shit, before I beat your ass black and blue again!'
I see nothing more after that, opening my eyes again to look at Edie and see her concentrating hard, trying to make her mind go blank. This may surprise you, but I actually feel sympathy towards her. No child deserves to be beaten and locked up by the one person who is supposed to love and protect them always. I had a fucking wonderful mother, who was gentle and kind with my brother and I, who loved and nurtured us. I have another now in Ursula, too, who loves me just as much as my birth mom did.
"She was more interested in the drink than you, wasn't she? Don't be sad over her, Edie. Don't let an alcoholic, abusive joke of a mother who's now dead cause you pain. It was her problem she was an alcoholic, not yours," I tell her, watching her looking at me curiously as her emotions within continue to churn. This is why she's so strong, because she's had to be in order to get over what her mother inflicted upon her. She's no little weakling of a human who let this get the better of her, but yet still I know that I haven’t uncovered the full story. There's something else there.
"I'm not sad over that. She did what she did because she was just that, an abusive, alcoholic joke. I came to terms with that a long time ago," she states, her forehead creasing with a frown.
"There's something about what happened to you that you haven't come to terms with though, that thing that's festering away inside of you, that you need to tell someone, but don't want to. Why don't you want to? Are you afraid people will think you're weak? Are you afraid of burdening them? What?" I press, determined to get an answer.
"Again, if you truly respected me, you'd leave this alone. This, this is a big wound to me, one I let heal over a long time ago. I don't pick the scab, but you're doing just that. Please, just leave it. If you really do respect me, you will," she implores, while I feel waves of sadness washing through her.
"It healed without you getting the poison out, though. And now that poison runs through you, whatever it is extra to what I now know over what your piece of shit mother did to you, whatever extra sadness she made you feel.” She hears me, but doesn't reply, and I find myself speaking to nothing but stony silence after a while, but on I continue with my interrogation. Well, I do until Edie pulls her walkie-talkie from her belt.
"Aileen, I need someone to cover watching the vampire. I don't feel well, I have to step out for a little bit," she says into the device.
"I'll send Max down, hon. He's here with me right now having a coffee." I hear the control room manager reply.
"Are you okay?" I ask, once she's reattached the walkie-talkie to her belt.
"Thanks to you, no I'm not. There you go, there's me admitting some weakness to you. Just what you were fucking after," she spits at me with a frown.
"That's not what I was after at all, don't think that. All I want to know is what it is inside of you that makes you so strong, and what you try so hard to hide." I reply. She just shakes her head before walking to the door. I hear her leave, the one named Max asking if she’s alright before she moves away and he comes in, walking over to the table, staring at me intently when he arrives to lean against it. While he does that and Edie goes up to the roof (I can feel that's where she's heading) I switch myself off and rest. I'll need it, because I have another four hours tonight in her company and in that time, I’m determined to find out her secret.
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Energy Update: November 2022
November is an “8” universal month [11 (November) +6 (2022) = 17 = 1+7=8] in a “6” universal year. The numerology of 8 can be found within its shape – if you turn an 8 onto its side, it becomes an ouroboros or infinity sign. 8 months inevitably represent the highest highs and the lowest lows, sometimes one day right after another. On the 8 path, all experiences are combined into a strange mystical soup – 8 demands strength, perseverance, and a great deal of discernment and pathfinding.
The numerological energy of the number 8 is in alignment with the astrological outlook for November which implies drastic changes, intense planetary weather, and a moodiness to the air that may feel extreme even for Scorpio season. If you are “in it” during the month of November, you are right on time.
The Set Up
November begins on a bit of a rough note. We will be midway through an eclipse season that is activating our waning square between Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus. The Sun, Mercury, and Venus will be closely packed in Scorpio, Mars recently retrograded in Mars, Jupiter has just moved back into Pisces, Saturn and Uranus were mentioned above, Neptune is in Pisces, and Pluto is in Capricorn. By month’s end, the Sun Mercury and Venus will have moved on into Sagittarius and Jupiter will have stationed direct in the last degrees of Pisces. Don’t expect to exit the month as the same person that entered it – it is just that kind of a month.
The Nitty Gritty
All eyes are on retrograde Mars as we enter November and move deeper into Scorpio season (a sign that is co-ruled by Mars). When Mars is retrograde, it may feel like there are a million things that need doing but no energy to propel forward motion. This is going to be further accentuated by Mars in Gemini’s propensity to just hang out and talk about it (rather than making a decision, getting to work, or really much of anything constructive). Depending on your personal chart (most likely especially your own Mars placement by sign, house, and aspect AND your personal relationship with Mars energy) you may find this incredibly infuriating or more of business as usual.
This is echoed by the fact that the planets don’t make a single significant aspect that does not involve fast-moving Luna until 11/05. This is a week to schedule less and expect to miss deadlines. It may feel like the entire world is out of spoons or out of gas. There will be no escaping this energy – you just need to live with it. This is going to make some people angry (I’m looking at you, Aries). Expect some destruction and temper tantrums for the people who can’t sit still until we start to acclimate to Mar’s retrograde. When a planet stations (changes directions) it slows in speed dramatically. When that planet dictates the speed at which the world moves, we feel it that much deeper.
What do you do when the energy itself feels uncomfortable? Mars is a personal planet which means that anybody who is perceptive or sensitive to planetary energy will notice its effect on our lives. Expect and plan for domestic disputes – whatever that means for you. Mars is most mollified by our planet of beauty and grace, Venus, his counterpart – but she’s not having an easy time of it either. People may be extra testy about a roommate neglecting the dishes, or – since Mars is retrograde in Gemini, people may get really bent out of shape about what an/other is saying.
Gemini speaks out of turn. It is their way. One could say that it is the price of entry for having a Gemini in your life. Maybe the words need to be said. Maybe somebody has been holding back a truth. Or, again, sometimes people are just assholes. This is where the need for discernment in an 8-month comes in – that is, if it makes a difference as to why somebody said something.
Or can you just not handle anybody who says something that you disagree with?
Maybe it’s your trigger and not anything that they said wrong at all. We are in the depths of eclipse season, after all. The half moon on 10/01 will play in conjunct with testy Saturn in Aquarius and activate a fixed t-square between Saturn, Uranus in Taurus, and the Sun, Mercury, and Venus in Scorpio – an energy that will carry through until our Taurus lunar eclipse on 10/08.
Something has got to give but the fixed signs are notorious for assuming that everybody else around them needs to change, but, never them. Saturn needs to hold on to what was, Uranus is willing to throw it all away to make something new, and our personal planets are going to (you guessed it) make it personal. You might notice that (in many ways) Mercury and Venus can be considered stressed all month through varying challenging aspects with our difficult/painful planets and asteroids (Saturn, Uranus, Pluto, and Chiron). This will be outwardly reflected in life at large in some way but it will also show up in our personal lives.
One of the deep truths that people like to avoid is that when there is conflict in life, everybody has a part to play. We’d rather invoke the blame game and always make it about what Others have done to Us. Sure, this can absolve us of some responsibility but the deep and very real question that we need to ask ourselves in the first week of November is: should we? Maybe you weren’t the aggressor. Maybe you did everything right in your own mind. But you still had a part to play – we all do. With all of our personal planets stressed (the sun and the moon through the eclipse cycle, Mercury and Venus through this tough t-square, and Mars by retrograde), we are all going to be in the wrong in some way.
This isn’t about a guilt trip, this is about awareness and accountability – very strong fixed sign ideals. The big flex during this time is showing up and leading by example by owning your own culpability in your own life. If you are being honest about your own flaws, you are giving your Others a choice: watch how they respond and act accordingly. If they throw it all on you, you have your answer. It may not be the answer you want, but it will be the truth. This energy peaks during our Taurus full moon on 11/08 but won’t dissipate all that much as the Sun opposes Uranus in Taurus on 11/09, and then Mercury and the Sun square off with Saturn on 11/10 and 11/11.
There is an air of accountability about this all. You have to meet this energy where you are but if you can’t take accountability for your own life, this is the time to explore why and if this is something that you can work on changing.
The Sun, Mercury, and Venus are very close to each other in the sky which means that we are getting a lot of immediate repeating aspects all month long as they first oppose Uranus, then square off with Saturn, then trine Neptune, then sextile Pluto, and finally trine retrograde Jupiter. That means that three of our personal planets are making aspect with all of our transpersonal planets, so you know that something big is afoot. What is happening in November is profound and it is worth holding space for it and actually taking the time and energy to observe and live in it. Checking out during this time will be a huge detriment to your self-development.
Venus is the first of our personal planets to enter Sagittarius on 11/15 which will start to lighten the tone of the month some. Mercury follows on 11/17 and the two meet up in conjunction on 11/21. When we move from Scorpio into Sagittarius there is always an air of giving up some level of control for personal freedom – this may rise close to the surface as the second half of November progresses. Scorpio holds on too tight, Sag sometimes doesn’t hold on tight enough – there is a balance to be found here. Love people enough to stay, but give them the space to grow. You can see that this is a pain point (Mercury and Venus will make trines to Chiron in Aries on 11/24 and 11/25) – Aries chronically chooses freedom over connection – that is a way, but is it the right way?
Retrograde Mars in Gemini wants to try all of the ways, maybe thrice over, and make a decision about it later (see also: never). You may just have to let things be what they are until a later date when things become clearer. It isn’t the easy way, and those that are stuck in the fixed sign black and white always/never thinking will certainly flounder here. Where can you just make space this month? Where can you just sit with where you are and experience it?
The Sun enters Sagittarius on 11/22 and we have a new moon on 11/23 which is a beautiful chance to get and stay curious about our own lives. Sagittarius wants to learn and explore, like its astrological opposite Gemini, but Sag often has a purpose. With the new moon, the eclipse energy will begin to wane and we may finally get a chance to understand what this cycle has brought up for us. The big flex will be to explore and honor what has come with nonjudgmentally of yourself and your others. Again, the more fixed you are in your thinking, the harder time you will likely have with this.
Remember: everybody is on their own journey. If you are controlling an/other to keep yourself comfortable, this is your divine reminder to stop and tend your own garden. As we head further into freedom-loving Sag season, those people are likely to slip their collars anyway, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.
At month’s end, we’ll get the first big crunch of our Mars retrograde cycle as Mercury opposes retrograde Mars. Know that in early December, Venus and the Sun will follow. Expect some untruths (if not outright lies) to rise to the surface during this time and respect the process. 2022 is going to end with a fourth Mercury retrograde, so in truth, these lies are right on time. Whether you are the liar or the lied to, again, be honest about how you contributed to this situation. And then make the changes needed accordingly.
You can view the transits by date by visiting my blog (linked at the top of this).
Do you like my work? You can support me at Kofi.
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Why I can’t hate pandemic?
In my experience, pandemic was the best and worst thing that has happened to me.
Pandemic may have tortured me emotionally and tormented my mental health but I wouldn’t trade it off anything especially now that I realized that there’s this new relationship I have created with my mom during the lockdown. Our relationship has evolved in a way that I never expected it to be.
A little back story, I have been physically away from my family for years. I would only take breaks and go home during the holidays. Vacation for me would usually last only for 3 days to a week and then I’ll be back to my regular programming which is work (or in the earlier days, school). I was comfortably living alone by myself for years. Being independent at an early age is such a liberating feeling. Teenage was fun for me, I guess. For years that I was too comfortable in my own space, the pandemic brought me back home.
Pandemic has also made me realize that:
“Ah yes, I forgot how to co-exist with my mom anymore.”
That is why we would constantly clash. What else should I expect? I would honestly say that it has taken a toll on both of us, especially her. I was such a pain in the ass. I am always rational and logical even if the situation never asks for it. I could’ve been more sensitive to her feelings.
On a different note, regardless of the countless times we argued and fight especially in 2021, I think it has only made us closer to each other. We learned more about each other everyday (we still are). I also accepted the fact that the person she was in 2012 has flourished to a better person that she is now. And I’m slowly letting her see though me as well.
Having said that, I’d like to believe that for the entire duration of lockdown I was able to respectfully tear her guards down. I was mindful of her feelings and emotions. I looked out for her. I made sure that I won’t trigger her in any way. In such a circumstance, I have created a safe space for her so she can finally open up about the tragic event in the past. There is so much joy in my heart when she finally trusted me enough to share “her story” word-for-word.
I am so proud of her as my mom and as a person especially now that she started to speak up. She has gone through so much in her life. She lost both of her parents, husband, older sister and her loving mother-in-law, who practically adopted her when she lost her parents. She basically lost all of the people close to her heart. I understand why she just chose to kind of shut up/shut people down and disconnect.
In my childhood days, I would catch her crying at the most randomest times. I knew the reason. She never knew that I knew. She protected us against it. I have the slightest idea of what had happened in the past but I never forced her to share the stuff that she’s dealing with. I would just try my best to comfort her and give a glass of water but I could only do so much as a kid. We never talked about it, I just wish she did. She would brush it off every time and then move on with her day. I trusted her pace. I would wait for so long for her to open up, but the moment never came. It definitely remained as the elephant in the room for sure. It was honestly hard to grow up with a functional depressive mother. As an offspring of a parent who’s dealing with PTSD, that shit fucks me up too.
Last night, I FINALLY got the heart-to-heart talk with my mom. I waited for my entire life for this to happen.
Although it took her more than 30 years long to open up about the past events in her life... at least I know now that she’s healing. Obviously, she had a meltdown again last night as she tried explain it to me in vivid details as best as she could. Tears came running down her face. She was having flashbacks for sure. Traumatizing it was. I cannot even begin to comprehend it. It’s just genuinely hard for me to wrap my mind around it. As an emphatic, I was crying with her as well.
I love her so much. The respect I have for her goes beyond not just as a mom, but as a woman and as a person. I couldn’t even make sense of how she’s still able to exude calm and peacefulness around the house even if she has a troubled mind.
Now I understand why she would sometimes get random brain fog. She’d forget our names and be a completely different person. Sometimes it would last 30mins to an hour. I read that trauma causes it. It’s a trauma response. No one knew about this, only us her kids, our dad, and her new life partner.
Strong is an understatement and for lack of a better word, I think she’s a superhero.
I love this woman so much!
Interesting fact: Today is the Death Anniversary of both of mom’s parents (my grandparents)
Mom, I wish I have your patience of a saint. You are, if not always, most of the time, calm and composed. You are kind. You are super down to earth that it would sometimes annoy me because you’d let other people step on you. You are humble and I love you for that. It taught me to ALWAYS ground myself as well. I love you. I don’t want you to grow old and see your hair turn grey. Please please stay youthful.
Love,
Bebs (your middle child)
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for writing prompt 18,21,23 with Johnny :)
Johnny + “you need to use your words, love.” + “show me just how much you missed me.” + “show me exactly where you want me.”
You were the one that left Johnny, the one that called quits on this arrangement you had with him. You came to him for sex, he gave you gifts. Really, you'd been getting more out of the arrangement than he had been, but you weren't sure he ever saw it that way.
You were the one that got dicked down regularly, gifted multiple orgasms on a spectacular dick, as well as gifted jewelry and clothes and expensive dinners.
Johnny spoiled you, but you were the one that walked away from it all because you caught feelings and that's the one thing that Johnny had made clear from the start that he wouldn't give you. He wouldn't tell you he loved you, just give you sex and presents, and at first that had seemed like a good deal until suddenly you realized the sour taste in your mouth when you had to leave him.
So you'd left, but after a month away, here you were crawling back to him.
Johnny didn't even look surprised when he opened the door to his apartment and found you standing outside. You felt so small under his gaze, so desperate for him to accept you back. Your heart almost split from the relief when Johnny stepped aside and welcomed you in.
He got a drink for you, a drink for him, and you sat down across from each other in his small living room. And then you looked at each other in silence, sipping your drinks, neither of you saying a word until Johnny eventually got tired of the silence.
"You need to use your words, love. Why are you here?" He sits his glass down heavily on the side table.
You stare down into your glass. Do you tell him the truth? That you left him because you loved him, that you're back because you love him too much to be able to stay away? Does all of this just make you a masochist?
"Baby?" Johnny's voice is soft, prompting you to look up at him again.
When he looks at you as he is right now, as if you're the only person in the world to him, the words fly from your mouth without much more thought.
"I missed you, Johnny. I shouldn't have left, I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Why?" He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "The important thing is that you came back, right? Because you missed me. Do you want to show me just how much you missed me?"
This is how it always goes with him. Maybe a little brief conversation, maybe a drink or two or ten, but soon the situation turns toward sex. That is why this all started out, so you can't be surprised, and even now after a month away, you find yourself drawn into this usual pattern.
Your mouth fills with the hunger to have him.
"Come on, love." Johnny leans back in his seat, spreading his legs temptingly. "Show me just how much you missed me."
One moment you're sitting on the seat across from him, still holding your drink, and in the next you're on your knees in between his legs. Your glass is somewhere behind you long-forgotten, your hands too busy now with unfastening Johnny's pants, getting at his cock that you've missed so much over the last few weeks.
Your moans are all that you hear as you take Johnny's length into your mouth. You've missed having him fill your mouth, weighing down your tongue, gagging you as you push yourself to take him all the way in.
Soon Johnny's hand falls to the back of your head, stroking your hair as you bob on his cock, blowing him to your heart's content. You used to spend ages sucking on his cock, sitting dumbly between his legs with his cock in your mouth while he played games or worked on something on his computer.
Being back here makes you feel like no time has passed, that you've lost nothing with him.
"You're so good for me, love." Johnny tells you, his voice catching low, not letting out a moan, but letting you know that if he would let himself make such a noise in front of you, then he would have. Johnny was never one to let out sweet sounds of pleasure for you; he used his words instead, no matter how many times you'd told him that you wanted to hear him moan. "Missed your pretty lips around my cock."
His thumb traces around your lips as you pull your head up until only his tip rests between your lips.
"So pretty." Johnny's compliments have always gone straight to your head, but after being away from them for a month, this one nearly makes you lightheaded.
You sit back, letting your hand take over from your mouth, and you pout up at him. "I missed you, daddy. I couldn't stay away any longer."
"Yeah? Shouldn't have left me in the first place. No explanation or anything, just gone one morning when I woke up." He pushes his fingers into your hair, tipping your head back so you're looking him right in the eye. "You didn't answer my texts or my calls. And now here you are, back again as if nothing changed, telling me you want me."
You suck your bottom lip into your mouth.
Johnny tuts at you. "Is this all I am to you, baby? Just a cock for you to suck on until you get bored?"
But isn't that basically all you are to him too? Just a pussy to cum in with no strings attached?
You shake your head. He's more to you. Johnny is so much more than just his cock. You love him, and sitting here on your knees before him with his hand tangled in your hair and his cock in your hand, you know that more than ever. You want to be close to him. As close as can be because you want him.
"Johnny, I'm sorry."
He tugs lightly on your hair before releasing his hold. "You just want me. Well, go on, show me exactly where you want me."
It's extremely rare that Johnny lets you do what you want without you begging him endlessly for it, so for him to offer it up to you like this, it takes you a moment to kick into motion.
Johnny watches you with his cool gaze as you stand up smoothly. He watches as you strip out of your clothes, and it's only the slightest bob of his throat that tells you that the sight of you standing entirely nude in front of him is affecting him.
He drops his head back against the back of his seat when you step closer, swinging a leg over his lap to seat yourself there. His hands sit now on either armrest, unmoving even as you start kissing his throat, lightly dragging your wet pussy over his cock.
When this goes on for another minute of him acting entirely unaffected by you, a fear sparks to life in your heart, and you wonder if you're doing something wrong.
The moment you lift your head from his throat, you catch sight of Johnny's eyes closed, his lips parted, his face smooth with quiet pleasure. Then you spot one of his hands clenching the arm of his chair. Maybe he's not so unaffected.
He stays just like that even as you reach down between your body and his to angle his cock for you to sit down on him. The only change is his lips snapping shut, his throat bobbing once more. You like watching him like this, seeing these subtle details that you're sure he doesn't even realize.
Johnny lets you caress his face, only opening his eyes to watch you as you lift yourself up only to drop back down on his cock, your body moving in slow undulations. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you can't hold back anymore.
You've missed kissing Johnny.
His lips part against yours, and the moment that his tongue touches yours, it's like a switch is flipped. His hands leave the arms of the chair to plant themselves on your hips. He takes control, and you give it over willingly, circling your arms around his neck, drowning in his kiss.
Johnny directs your hips, keeping your hips rolling, bouncing you on his cock. You've missed him so much that the need to cum rises quickly; you've been so horny without him to satisfy you when you needed him to, so you haven't cum once in the month you've been apart.
Johnny smiles as you cum, clenching around his cock and letting sweet moans of his name out.
He keeps going, knowing just how easy it is to pull multiple orgasms out of you. You cum again just a moment later, clawing at his shoulders, which only drives Johnny to fuck you down on his cock faster, loving the feeling of you cumming around him. He fucks you until you're eyes burn and tears drip down your cheeks, and he kisses at your tears, pushing you into another orgasm with his fingers on your clit.
It's the fourth orgasm when you collapse forward, fingernails digging into his skin, your lips pressed to his neck. Your body shivers and twitches, pussy pulsating around his cock and so sensitive that you think just another orgasm might be the end of you.
Johnny, who (for the record, claims) he does not moan, lets out a sound then that sounds a hell of a lot like a moan, though it's cut off a little early. And then he cums inside you, and it feels so good after so long without it, that you feel a little drunk on the feeling of his orgasm mixing with your own.
And much like when you're really drunk, you're happy and crying and the words come out of you before you can think twice about them.
"I love you, Johnny," you cry against his shoulder, your wet cheek sticking to his skin. "That's why I left. I want you, I love you, I missed you."
His hands rub soothingly at your hips. His lips brush your shoulder. "That's okay, love."
That's okay. That's all he had to say when you confessed. Like, that's okay, I forgive you for stupidly falling in love. Or that's okay, but I told you I can't feel the same. You hold still in his arms. Maybe you should leave. Maybe this could've been goodbye, because the last time before this, you didn't think it was going to be the last time, but maybe this one could be.
Johnny strokes your hips, and then he slides his hands higher until he's combing his fingers through your hair and the other hand reaches for your hand. Softly, Johnny tells you, "I missed you too, you know. I didn't like waking up alone, having you leave my messages unanswered. Like, one day I had the world, and the next, I was adrift in space."
You sit up, pushing away from his chest so you can look at his face and make sure that Johnny's actually saying these words.
You've always been under the impression that although you definitely got more out of the arrangement since you got bomb dick and gifts, that you were the one that valued it more than Johnny even though he was the one giving you everything. You thought you were just a fuck, a pretty girl for him to give things to make her look prettier in his eyes. Because he'd told you with words from his own mouth that he wouldn't love you, but now here's these new words, telling you that you were like his world.
"You can't say stuff like this," you tell him, pressing your hand against his chest.
"Like what?" Despite those sweet words, Johnny's face is still the solid, cool expression that you so often see.
You frown. "You can't say stuff, comparing me to being your whole world. Not when you told me that you couldn't or wouldn't love me."
Now it's Johnny's turn to frown. "I didn't say that. I said that I wouldn't tell you that, not that I wouldn't feel that way. I'm not.... I'm not good at saying stuff like that, but that doesn't mean I don't feel that way. I like having you in my life, in my bed. I like treating you to gifts, taking you out, making you happy. You make me happy. I thought we were happy until you vanished last month."
"What a fucking miscommunication this has all been." You slide your hands over his shoulders, thumbs resting on either side of his throat. "I could kill you for the stress you've put me through. So you love me, even if you won't say it? That sounds like a problem I can work with."
Maybe it's a bigger problem, to have a man in your life that claims to love you without using those actual words, but you're certain, as Johnny smiles at you, as that cool facade of his breaks a bit to show you the sunshine he is beneath, that you can pull him out of that shell, disappear his fear of telling you he loves you.
requests are closed now! thank you everyone for sending them in!
#asks#johnny drabbles#johnny smut#nct smut#nct drabbles#tbh i don't know what this is#it's like a johnny fuckbuddies or sug*r d*ddy kinda thing with some more complex bits#like I don't know there's definitely some red flags in there probably#but anyway i hope you enjoyed
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prompt, if you have the time: ian and mickey talking about ian's bipolar in a really chill manner. like they are married and their convo after securing business made me think about how many other convos we missed 😔❤️
Disclaimer: I don’t know what it’s like to actually live with bipolar. That makes me nervous because I want to do right by it, so if I miss the mark on prompts like this, please do let me know. Also, this starts out a bit dramatic because when aren't they, but I promise they chill out.
Take Off Your Mask (don’t compensate for me)
Mickey is at the bathroom sink, getting ready to brush his teeth, when Ian comes in behind him. He watches the reflection of that messy red hair get closer as he squeezes minty toothpaste onto his brush—well, onto a brush, he’s not totally sure whose is whose at this point. Ian’s arms wrap easily around his waist, hands dipping just a little too low for common decency, and Mickey leans back into him as Ian bends to breathe against his neck.
“Mmm, again?” Mickey murmurs as Ian licks that sensitive patch of skin just behind his ear, those broad, warm palms heavy on his hips. “Didn’t I just take care of that?” he adds, pushing his hips back.
But Ian shifts so they don’t make contact, their lower halves stubbornly separated even as he plasters his chest to Mickey’s back, and Mickey knows something is wrong.
“You uh…” he starts, suppressing the sudden fluttering feeling in his chest, the one you get when you stand up too fast. He swallows. “You feelin’ good, man?”
Ian pauses behind him, and Mickey can feel him breathing. In and out, in and out, but just a touch too fast. He knows despite his efforts, the words came out cautious, came out concerned. And Ian had definitely noticed.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ian tries casually, bringing sharp teeth to nibble at Mickey’s ear. “Can’t I just be turned on by my husband?”
“Yeah,” Mickey agrees, “sure you can.” He pulls away though, just enough to get Ian looking in the mirror, and meets his eyes through their reflections in the glass.
“But you’re not, though,” Mickey says, and Ian shoves away from him with a heavy sigh.
“Never mind,” he mutters, looking at the floor. He starts to leave, but Mickey’s having none of that, and sets his unused toothbrush down with a clatter to make a grab for Ian’s arm.
“Hey, wait,” he gets out before Ian is spinning on him again, pushing his hand away.
“I just wanted to do something for you,” Ian growls, leaving Mickey stunned with the sudden shift in attitude. “I know that wasn’t enough, earlier, I know I haven’t been enough. Not since they upped my fucking meds.”
“The fuck are you on about?” Mickey asks, completely mystified. “When did I say any of that?”
“Just now!” Ian bellows, and Mickey’s not having that, either.
“Yo,” he states firmly. “Knock that the fuck off.”
And Ian does. His eyes go wide at the iron in Mickey’s voice, and then he’s deflating. Like a balloon animal from the fair that you leave in your room for too long, he goes from overfilled and pressurized to a limp, wrinkled mess in no time flat.
“Sorry,” Ian manages softly. “I’ll just…” And then he’s leaving the room, leaving Mickey staring at the space where he had been, wishing he was better at all of this shit.
Mickey rubs his face with tired hands, then follows.
He finds Ian in their room, huddled on his side of the bed. The blankets are still kicked to the bottom of the mattress where they had left them, Ian’s toes tucked underneath as he sits with his knees to his chest.
Mickey sits on the edge next to him, facing him. Pokes at his leg until Ian looks up.
“Hey,” he says simply. “What’s goin’ on?”
Ian bites his lip, so Mickey reaches out and pokes that, too.
“You gotta talk to me, man,” he presses. “We’re married now, you can’t just run off on me.”
Mentioning their recent commitment is always a surefire way to get Ian smiling, and Mickey counts it as a victory when his husband’s lips can’t help but twitch upward. Ian doesn’t seem any closer to speaking, but Mickey can be patient. They have the time, now.
He doesn’t have to wait very long before Ian relaxes, letting his legs straighten on the bed and folding his hands loosely in his lap. Ian twists his wedding ring on his finger, stares at it, then reaches over and takes Mickey’s hand where it lies against the sheets.
“Been feeling off again,” he starts quietly, stroking the back of Mickey’s hand with his thumb.
Mickey raises an eyebrow, even though Ian can’t see it with his gaze fixed on the clasped hands.
“You think?” he offers dryly, and there’s that hint of a smile again.
“Yeah,” Ian admits. “I know. It’s just…” he hesitates, then pushes on. “I’m happy, you know? I am.”
Mickey nods.
“I am,” Ian repeats with emphasis, and Mickey just snorts.
“Didn’t say you weren’t, Ian, what the fuck?” He pulls his hand away and places it on Ian’s cheek, turning his face so he can look him in the eye.
“Just tell me what’s happenin’ here,” he asks. “You were fine earlier, so what got into that brain of yours to make you think somethin’ was wrong? That you had to make somethin’ up to me?”
Ian shrugs. “Don’t know,” he answers. “I never fucking know, that’s the problem." He laughs humorlessly. "And I can't even keep you from noticing."
Mickey can work with that.
“Alright,” he says casually. “Just the usual shit, then, huh?” He can see Ian’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t let him say anything, or turn away.
“Thought you might be on an upswing,” Mickey continues, “comin’ at me less than an hour after the last time and all. But that’s not it, obviously.”
Ian shakes his head, to the extent that he can with his chin in Mickey’s grasp.
“Downswing, then,” Mickey decides, and nods to himself. “You feel like shit, and that asshole brain of yours is tellin’ you you’re shit, too. Tellin’ you you’re not enough again, or that you’re too much?”
Ian doesn’t try to argue. “Not enough,” he admits, then, “maybe both,” a second later.
“Alright,” Mickey says again. Then he drops his hand from Ian’s face, straightens his back, and stares him in the eye.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Mickey orders. “You’re gonna go take your meds—” he holds up a hand to stop Ian’s protest, “I know you didn’t do it yet, you moron, I was in the bathroom the whole time. So you’re gonna go take ‘em,” he repeats, “and I’m gonna call your doctor. I know they said to give it a couple weeks, but you shouldn’t be havin’ to deal with this.”
“Okay,” Ian agrees softly.
“Then,” Mickey continues, “you’re gonna get a shower and put on something clean, because I can’t make you feel better, but I can damn well make you comfortable.”
Ian sighs. “Mickey…” he starts, and Mickey think he knows what’s coming: the usual diatribe of you shouldn’t have to, this is my problem, just leave me alone.
But it never comes. Instead, Ian leans over, kisses him lightly on frowning lips.
“Thanks,” he whispers, and Mickey cracks a smile.
“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he mutters, but he knows Ian can tell that he’s pleased. “Go take your pills, bitch.”
He moves to let Ian off the bed. Before the other man can get through the door, though, he calls out to him again.
“Ian,” he says, and waits for him to turn around with questioning eyes. “Come downstairs when you’re done, yeah? We’ll lay on the sofa, watch some shitty movies or somethin’.”
Ian smiles. “Yeah? Gonna cuddle me better, Mick?”
Mickey bites his lip, but he knows he’s grinning back. “Maybe. You got a problem with that, tough guy?”
“No,” Ian says over his shoulder as he turns and heads back to the bathroom. “Not at all.”
"And Ian?" Mickey calls out one more time before Ian can close the bathroom door.
"No more hidin' this shit, yeah?" he says. "No more puttin' on a mask for me, no more tryin' to compensate for somethin' that ain't even there."
He moves toward the bedroom door, rests a hand on the jamb.
"I'm in this, okay?" he confirms. "So let me be fuckin' in it."
Ian's back tenses, then relaxes again.
"Okay, Mick," he agrees. "Okay."
And it might not be okay right then, but it will be.
They always will be.
#back to our regularly scheduled programming#thanks for bearing with me through Gallavich week#daily speedwrite#fanfic#gallavich#ian gallagher#mickey milkovich#supportive husbands#bipolar disorder#mental illness#let me know if other trigger tags are needed
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His Girl
Plot: Dick Grayson has a type in women: athletic, feminine, and classy. However, the reader is completely different as she is plus-size, tomboyish, and spontaneous. But a conversation about Y/N between Dick and the batboys takes an unexpected turn one night.
Warnings: Language, Sensitive topics, and Fluff.
“What the hell’s up your ass?” Jason asks Dick, as he hands him a bottle of beer from the refrigerator in the Batcave. It was only until last week that Bruce gave in and allowed a refrigerator to be down there after the boys begged him for one.
As long as it was only for beverages, of course. Bruce had mentioned the boys have been eating too much junk food lately, but the boys knew deep down that his rule is simply for him, because of his age, and maybe for Y/N, too.
Y/N has only been with the Batfamily for a year since her family died at the hands of Two-Face. She had only started training with Bruce for two months now, and the two of them have been working out quite a bit.
Which makes sense of Bruce’s one rule for the refrigerator, though. But that hasn’t stopped Jason from sneaking in food anyways; mostly pizza and lunch meat and cheeses for sandwiches.
But now, Dick’s distant and silence is unbearable since the circus descent acrobat is usually excited and rambling about anything and everything.
“Uh, nothing! I mean...” Dick stutters. His behavior tonight was questionable to say the least. Usually, he would be on his game and even throw some wisecracks but he’s been awfully quiet, nervous even.
“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say,” Jason scoffs.
Dick sits on top of the hood of the Batmobile while he peels the sticky label from the beer bottle. He notices Tim and Damian walking out from the showers and are already dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts. Bruce is seated at the Batcomputer, still in costume but minus the cowl. Jason sits at the small table and sips from his beer and snacks on a triple meat and cheese sandwich he must have made quickly.
And Alfred had long gone to bed after Bruce forced him to get some rest since they’ve returned home and are not dead.
Dick suddenly notices Y/N must still be in the showers, on the other side of the cave for privacy where the guys can’t bother the girls.
“Fine...I’ve been...having these thoughts and dreams about Y/N lately,” Dick confesses. He notices Jason staring at him with a confused expression.
“Yeah, and…?”
“Well…lately, I’ve been thinking about her as…more than a friend. I’ve been seeing her in a new light. And you know I’ve always thought she was cool, and funny, and incredibly smart,” Dick continues, with a small smile. “But…I’ve never been sexually attracted to women like her before.”
Jason purses his lips and appears to think it over. “So, I don’t see the problem.”
“I just told you I’ve never felt this way about Y/N or any woman like her before.”
“Because you’re shallow.”
“I’m not shallow,” Dick argues, suddenly feeling defensive at Jason’s attack. “I just…I’ve never seen heavy women as hot, you know?”
“You can try to justify all that, but the point is, you’re shallow.”
“Have you ever slept with a heavy girl before, Jason?!” Dick snaps.
Jason chuckles and grins. “Actually, I have.”
“Bullshit,” Dick scoffs.
“Yeah, I have Dickie-bird. It happened three years ago, when my Outlaws and I kicked Black Mask’s ass. We went to a bar to celebrate in downtown Gotham. Roy and Star left early to go fuck or something. I was left alone and I was about to call it a night until this smoking hot woman took a seat next to me. She had long dark hair, tan skin, and curves that made my mouth water and my cock hard enough to pound nails. She was gorgeous, but there were these assholes around her and were calling her fat and telling her to leave because no one here would take her home. And do you want to know what I did?” Jason asks.
“What?” Dick asks quietly.
“I took her home, after I broke all those guys’ jaws. She was fucking amazing, man. She had a magnificent ass that she actually allowed me to spank. Her curves were endless, and after I fucked her good three times, cuddling and falling asleep with her was probably the best part of the night. I’ve never felt so…comfortable and felt warm, because I actually felt someone beside me,” Jason admits.
Dick raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, I didn’t think something like that could happen to you, Jason. If anything, I thought you were shallow.”
“I used to be, until I realized I was judging others, when I was actually trying to have others not judge me. Alfred actually helped me with that. I don’t remember every word he said exactly but he said I wasn’t trying all the ice cream flavors out there. Like, I was always sticking to a certain flavor of ice cream, and I wasn’t trying other kinds, meaning I should be looking at all types of women. And after my one night stand with that magnificent woman’s ass, I realized bigger girls aren’t deal breakers; they’re just more to love,” Jason admits, and shrugs with a smug smile.
“That’s…I don’t even know what to say. But Y/N’s different. She’s someone we know and it makes it harder. And my problem isn’t that I’m shallow, it’s how I’m supposed to handle my feelings about her.”
“Yeah, you are, Dick. Y/N’s literally the best woman we’ve ever met. Hell, the best woman I’VE ever met. She’s fucking funny, she’s so caring and kind, she’s smarter than Timbo when it comes to common sense,” Jason lists off his reasons.
“That’s true! I’m not going to lie about that!” Tim interrupts from the distance.
“Y/N’s real, she doesn’t bullshit about anything like other girls. She’s honest, and that’s a rare thing to find nowadays. And fuck…she can really handle her alcohol, she can down shots of Fireball like it’s water,” Jason adds.
“You don’t think I know all that? Of course, I do! That’s why I’m having such a hard time dealing with my feelings for her. I’ve only ever been with tall, athletic women, who wear skirts and dresses, eats healthy, and are…well, feminine,” Dick confesses. A guilty expression shows on his face. “And Y/N’s not any of that. She’s really short, kinda chubby, and she’s more of a tomboy type, who’s loud and rambunctious, and eats like a man.”
Jason snorts. “And that’s a problem why? That’s why Y/N’s fucking awesome, man! I actually really like how she’s not afraid to be herself. She’s not fake. Do you know how long it took for her to be comfortable with all of us and be who she is rather than how she thought we expected from her? And I don’t know about you but I love how she eats, whenever we go out to restaurants, I actually like how I can eat the way I want and not feel like a fat ass because I know her and I both love what we love and fuck all who have a problem with that!”
Bruce turns around in his chair and gives both boys a warning look. Even Tim and Damian silently take a seat and watch closely.
“Fuck…Y/N is the perfect woman. She’ll always be in my eyes,” Jason admits, looking down at his beer longingly before taking a sip.
“If you feel so strongly about her then why haven’t you tried to go out with her or sleep with her?” Dick asks angrily.
Jason’s pause takes everyone by surprise. “Because she can do better than me.”
“You-you actually tried to get with her?” Dick stammers.
“Oh, yeah I definitely did. I think about a year ago. I had spent the summer with her here while everyone was busy with the whole Justice League and Superman bullshit,” Jason explains. “You were with the Titans with Tim and Damian. It was just me and her.”
“Alfred was there as well,” Bruce mumbles.
“Anyways, call it cheesy as hell like those romcoms, but we actually got really close. She’s a spitfire for sure, but she really knows how to get under your skin,” Jason chuckles.
Tim and Damian nod their heads in agreement with that.
“And I obviously made the whole situation uncomfortable as fuck because when I told her how I felt, she rejected me. She said we were too alike, we’d butt heads all the time. And after that, I never brought it up again.”
Jason’s confession gives Dick a sense of confidence.
“Look, if you want to ask her out and do all that then I support you. Just know if you fucking hurt her or do anything wrong, I’ll slit your throat even if you’re family,” Jason threatens seriously.
“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up with her,” Dick says.
“Well, don’t bring up how her weight and appearance bothers you,” Jason says seriously.
“It doesn’t!”
“Okay. How did you ask Barbara, Star, Zatanna, and-”
“I get it, Jason. I’ll just talk to her and tell her I have strong feelings for her,” Dick interrupts him. “I’ll just tell her the truth.”
“You already did.”
That voice belonged to none other than Y/N. All the guys in the Batcave jerked their heads to the top of the stairs where Y/N stood and looked down with tears running down her cheeks. She was wearing her plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt she stole from one of them a long time ago, she doesn’t exactly know who though.
Dick and Jason slowly stand up. Dick carefully walks over to the stairs while Jason cautiously follows.
“Y/N…” Dick whispers, already feeling guilty and nervous that she had probably heard everything. “Please listen to me…”
“WHY?! So, you can tell me you didn’t mean any of that, when you actually did. I thought you were different! I didn’t know you could judge someone like that! Especially someone like me!” Y/N yells. “I thought you were my friend!”
“I am your friend! Y/N, please give me a chance to explain! I really like you, and-and I was just trying to ask for help so I can talk to you!” Dick pleads.
“Don’t lie to me! You were only asking for help because you didn’t know how to deal with me being fat and manly! I’m sorry I’m not like Barbara and Star! I’m sorry I’m not beautiful and thin! I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you!” Y/N cries out and runs up the stairs.
“Y/N! Wait! Please!” Dick shouts for her. He chases after her.
By the time Dick reaches Y/N’s bedroom door, it’s locked. He can hear her crying, automatically feeling like shit for being the reason why she’s hurt.
“Y/N, please…” Dick tries again.
“Leave me alone, Dick!”
Dick swallows hard and forces himself to move away from her door. There was no use for him to stand there; he’d already broke her trust and possibly ruined their friendship. He might have even ruined his chances with her.
Jason approaches Dick. “Is she crying?” he asks.
“Yes,” Dick chokes out. He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck, Jason…I don’t know what to do. She won’t even talk to me.”
“You should go, Dick. I think you’ve done enough.”
Dick was a little taken aback by Jason’s command. He pushes himself to walk away anyways.
“Bruce wants to talk to you. You should go find him before he finds you,” Jason adds.
Dick exhales heavily and leaves. Jason shakes his head in disappointment at him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on Y/N’s bedroom door.
“Doll, it’s Jay. Please let me in,” Jason says softly. “I just want to talk to you.”
He didn’t think she would open the door for him. He didn’t think she would want to talk to him even though he hadn’t pissed her off or upset her in any way. But Y/N unlocked her door and even opened it for him.
Jason was deeply heartbroken to see Y/N; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet, and she had the devastating look on her beautiful face. He quickly walked into her room and shut the door, quickly locking it.
He had to be cautious though. He knew couldn’t say or do the things he wants to do with her right now. Instead, he slowly and carefully approaches her. She allows him to wrap his strong arms around her, bringing her closely to his body to hold and protect her from everyone and everything.
“Shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Jason whispers into her hair. He tries desperately to not inhale the addicting scent of her shampoo and lingering perfume so much. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Y/N lifts her face from Jason’s chest and gazes up at him. The sight of her glistening eyes makes him draw her closer to him.
“What did I do wrong, Jay? What did I do to deserve all that? Is everything about me really bad?” Y/N asks softly, on the verge of tears again.
“No. No, don’t say that. Don’t say any of that! Nothing is wrong with you. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Jason admits.
Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. It breaks Jason’s heart more when she tries to pull away from his embrace, but he refuses to let her go. His grip tightens and he holds her as if she’d disappear and leave him all alone.
“That’s not true, Jay,”
“It is true. Hell Y/N, you’re the most badass woman I’ve ever met. You don’t take shit from any of us. You’ve managed to stay here even after all the bullshit everyone has put you through,” he explains. He even chuckles at a memory. “You’ve even made Bruce cry, remember? Remember you called him out on his bullshit when he refused to train you? You’re almost a savage like Alfred, you even make Wonder Woman and Catwoman look like dollar tree prizes, and that’s no lie.”
Y/N looks down at her feet. Jason knows she still doesn’t believe him.
“You’re always perfect in my eyes, Y/N. There isn’t a goddamn thing I would change about you,”
“If I’m so perfect, then why does Dick think so low of me?” Y/N asks. She sniffles adorably and looks back up at him.
“Because he’s a fucking idiot who can’t see the best thing that’s in front of him,” Jason answers, and looks into Y/N’s eyes before he looks at her lips. “But his loss is my gain.”
#dc comics#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#dc comics jason todd#dc comics batman#dick grayson#bruce wayne#tim drake#damian wayne
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Mammon/GN!Reader — Safe
⚠️Warnings: emotional distress (caused by Lucifer) and swearing. If you are sensitive to these, please do not go further.
Sometimes I get fed up with how the brothers, mainly Lucifer, treat Mammon. I hate the “punishments” Lucifer gives him and how it’s just brushed off. I desperately want to hold the poor man when it becomes too much for him, so here’s possibly the most serious Obey Me oneshot I’ve ever written to help me cope with not being able to do just that. Begins as angst and evolves into fluff.
You feel terrible, but there is really nothing you can do but clean up the pieces.
Another night, another sleep interrupted by shouts echoing off the corridors of the House of Lamentation. You wish Lucifer would dial it back at least some nights. Hell knows that you’re not the only one whose sleep schedule is suffering just so he can punish his younger brother — then again, only half of the inhabitants of the house actually have a sleep schedule. Curse this entire house for its innate ability to let sound travel so fucking easily.
You groan, rolling to the other side of the bed in a feeble attempt to distance your body from the noise at least a little. It, unsurprisingly, does nothing and you can still hear the incessant booms of Lucifer’s thunderous voice. A pang of guilt bubbles in your chest. How could you be complaining when poor Mammon is the one who has to endure it all? It just doesn’t sit right with you, especially knowing that if you interfered you might have the slightest possibility of putting a stop to the ill treatment of the second born.
Even so, you can’t exactly blame yourself for being wary. Lucifer has tried to kill you on multiple occasions for doing just the thing you are contemplating. You figure you can let yourself off the hook for that one, just this once.
Miraculously, that one conclusion fails to ease that feeling of uneasiness lingering in your stomach. Fists clench around your pillowcase, nose digging into your soft mattress, your patience wears thinner by the second. Your limbs even twitch in an attempt begin rising and deal with the situation after all — but then the noises cease.
The room sounds eerily quiet. Not even the air conditioning is blasting anymore. You yawn, wondering if your ears had just popped. They had not. You snap your fingers. You can hear that just fine. So, you’re not going deaf. Okay, that’s a good sign, at least. You sit up and gaze around the pitch darkness of your bedroom. Nothing stirs — inside the room, that is.
Outside, however, you can hear the distant clomp of footsteps growing closer to your sealed bedroom door. You know who it is immediately, not bothering to lay back down and attempt to sleep, not even considering it. You sit up, feet hitting the floor soon after as you pad your way over to the door. You swing it open just as the footsteps stop right outside your room.
Mammon stands, fist held up in the air as if he was just about to knock on the polished wood. He blinks a couple of times, and you notice the gentle shine to his eyes and eyelids.
“Ya said that I could come...if I needed anything,” the demon croaks. All power that he ever seemed to hold over you had vanished all too suddenly and, rather than relishing in the feeling, all you can do is nod and step aside to allow him passage into your room.
“Of course, come on in,” you say delicately. The last thing you want is to be too coddling, for he might sense that as a personal threat and duck out. But you allow your instinct to care for him shine through with your soft tone. He apparently doesn’t feel that you are babying him too much, as he trudges through your threshold like a defeated puppy. It sincerely breaks your heart.
“I want you to know that you’re welcome to stop by any time you need to,” You had told him earlier that week.
The intrusive demon had never used your welcome for anything besides barging in to hang out at any and all hours, but now, with this clear predicament weighing down on him as heavy as the earth, you feel deeply touched that your words actually got through to him back then. He felt that he could trust you, which is why he is here now and not sulking in his room as he used to do after a particularly brutal scolding.
You shut the door behind him as he makes his entry, watching carefully as he shuffles around your room as if confused on what to do next. His hesitant nature directly contrasts how he would usually waltz in and make himself comfortable. You contemplate locking the door. It would be completely counterproductive if Lucifer or one of the other brothers forced their way in and made the situation way worse. But, at the same time, you would hate to make him feel uneasy, like you’re trapping him in with no way out. You opt to keep the door unlocked.
You pay close attention to Mammon’s features now, shrouded by the dark, sure, but you can make them out almost perfectly. You like to look at his face — it’s pretty, and you don’t bother to keep yourself from doing so. As a result, you can see all his ticks no matter how difficult it may be from the angle, lighting, etcetera. He often scrunches up his nose when he’s irritated, or on he verge of tears. So, seeing his nose twitch as he looks around your room is no surprise to you.
You step closer to his shifting form, and Mammon seems to get even more uncomfortable, so you move back. You rest your arms at your sides, making their positions known so that he won’t fret about the possibility of you hitting him by surprise. You would never, you know this, but Mammon isn’t aware that loved ones shouldn’t ‘lay down the law’ as harshly as Lucifer does.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask slowly, keeping your voice steady and calm.
Mammon’s hands slide into the pockets of his jeans. He shakes his head, the snowy white fringe covering his eyes shaking along with the movements. You nod, understanding his silence. Understanding that if he so much as opened his mouth to answer, a sob might find its way through instead. Even though he trusts you, you suspect that The Great Mammon isn’t keen on letting his human see him in tears.
“Mams, I won’t judge you if you cry. We all have to let off some steam every once in a while,” you reason, voice straining to keep from pleading but failing as your emotions get the better of you. “I love you all the same.”
Mammon hides his face from you, but the telltale sign of his shoulders bouncing up and down tell you that you need to step in. Your hands brush against his shoulders and he jolts. Though a shock runs through your heart at the sight, you simply have to make sure he knows that you’re there for him. You’re not going to let him cry alone in your bedroom when you’re right there beside him. Your grip becomes a bit more forceful now, only enough to turn the Avatar of Greed around by his broad shoulder and pull him close to your body.
With the contact, Mammon feels free to let go completely. Sobs wrack his entire body as you hold him steady. The intensity of them startled you but not as much as the volume. His head is buried in your shoulder, right next to your ear and you are spared no shout nor whine that comes out of the demon’s mouth. This combined with his heavy weight pressing you down tells you that it’s time to change positions.
You gently nudge Mammon into standing up straight, leading him by his hands to your bed, still warm with your body heat from when you had tried to hunker down earlier. He wastes no time at all in pulling you down with him, arms locked tight around your waist while his tear-stained face nuzzles itself into your chest. It’ll leave stains, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Instead you marvel at how much pent-up emotions Mammon let sit stewing in his head before now. Clear sorrow, evident by the tears now soaking into your night shirt. Anger and desperation, demonstrated by how tightly he clamps around your body, though you can tell he is still somehow holding back, determined not to crush you even in this fit of pure, raw emotion. And all of this caused by a family member. It’s enough to make you seethe, but revenge for Mammon’s sake is not the focus. Right now, his comfort and consolation is all you need to worry about.
You rake your hands through Mammon’s head of ivory hair, brushing it out with your fingers and noting the softness. You plant a frenzy of kisses atop his head, the last one lingering before you lean close to his ear. “That’s it, let it all out...you’re alright now...I’m here.”
Your demon’s cries have, at the very least, calmed a smidge. He shakes less in your grasp but his head remains pressed flush against your chest. You take it upon yourself to ease him further, the hand that held his back sliding down and slipping beneath his ebony-colored shirt. You trace the curve of his spine, relishing in the way it feels against your fingers. He’s more slim than the majority of his brothers, and you absolutely adore it. You get to the dip of Mammon’s lower back and your fingertips nearly move on their own to run over the dimples back there. Warm breath spreads over your chest as the demon cradled in your arms lets out something delightfully close to a laugh.
Your lips quirk upwards in a smile at your accomplishment. Mammon has calmed down enough to where low whines and wheezes are all he emits now. These eventually transform into hums, then snores. You keep Mammon’s face pressed against you — you grew to appreciate his radiating body heat in that area — but moved his mouth and nose away to be sure he wouldn’t suffocate.
Before lying back and drifting off yourself, you wipe some of the excess tears from his cheek and under his eyelids, pressing the gentlest kiss you can produce onto his tanned cheek. Mammon’s eyes only crinkle for a second before his features flatten again with the tranquility of sleep.
Opting to get some sleep of your own, you rest your head finally to your pillow, huffing a great sigh with the contact. As sleep pulls you in, you silently curse the monster that could do this to your baby, dreaming up the most vile plots for your revenge during your outwardly peaceful slumber. But that could be handled another day, preferably whenever Lucifer least expects it.
You wake up before Mammon’s eyes ever begin to crack open. Your position had changed slightly over the course of the night, but most factors still remain the same. Your demon’s face is now in the crook of your neck, steady and cool breaths fanning over your skin, making you shiver. His arm is draped over your stomach as you lay on your back, the other arm tucked underneath him. You want to pull it out from under him — the pins and needles should be bad when he wakes — but you’re determined to let him sleep longer after the night he just had.
Your goal is met, and you lay with him for what feels like a few more hours. You aren’t completely conscious, fading in and out of the realm of sleep every few minutes it seems. Noises begin to sound off outside your bedroom — doors opening and closing, footsteps on the staircase, and eventual chatter from the first floor. People are starting their days like nothing ever happened.
You hope it isn’t the noise that stirs Mammon from his heavy slumber. His eyebrows furrow and a light groan seeps past his parted lips. His head shakes, as if his sleepy self is wondering why his movements are so restricted. If that is the case, you loosen your hold around him. After a few seconds, the Avatar of Greed’s snowy white eyelashes flutter against your neck as his eyes force themselves open.
You pull away to greet him with your smiling face. “Morning, sunshine,” you say, voice coming out in less than a mere whisper as your throat is still rough from sleep.
Mammon’s features flood with realization, an alarmingly dark blush spreading across his nose and cheeks, some even reaching his ears and neck. You wish you could wake up to this face every single day.
“M-m-mornin’...” he tries, stuffing his face in your pillow in an attempt to quell the blood rushing to his face. Your chuckle at this action only makes it worse.
“Everyone’s getting up right about now,” you tell him, your hands finding their way up to his incredibly soft head of hair, twirling a couple strands around your index finger as you speak, “Do you want me to go make you some breakfast and bring it up here for you?”
“Gah!” Mammon jolts, eyes losing their sleepiness immediately to stare at you in disbelief. “Y-y-you’d do that!?”
“Of course!” You pull your torso off the bed, accentuating your declaration, and leaning on your elbows for support. “I’m not gonna make you go down there and face your brothers if you’re not comfortable with it.”
“Oh...yeah...yeah, that sounds real nice. T-the Great Mammon appreciates your service!”
You jokingly roll your eyes, heaving your body all the way up to start dressing yourself. “I’m sure he does.” You halt all movements when pressure suddenly builds around your wrist, constricting and pulling you back before you can stand.
You look back, a worried-looking Mammon staring at you with wide eyes and upturned brows. He seems to catch himself, hanging his head a bit and sinking into the bedsheets. “B-before you do that...do you think you can stay a bit longer?”
You are about to comply with Mammon’s request, positively falling victim to the pleading look he shoots you, when a loud rumble breaks the brief silence. Mammon whines and clutches his stomach, concealing his face with your sheets.
“How about I get you some breakfast, then I’ll come back and we can cuddle all morning. Does that sound good?”
Your demon peeks an eye out from under the covers, white hair bobbing up and down in an affirmative nod. You smile, getting up and slipping on some shorts to go with your nightshirt. You make it to the door, hand on the handle when you turn to ask your sleepy demon a question.
“So, did you have anything in mind? You’ve got your spicy noodles—“
“Wait! I’m saving those! It’s my last cup and Lucifer says we’re not going to the store in a week! Not...ya know, not that I’m scared of him!” He perks up, sheets cascading down his torso.
“I can always make a quick run to the store. Lucifer’s words aren’t law.”
Mammon looks hesitant. He shakes his head and grabs at the sheets to pull them back up his body. “No, no, I’ll take a sandwich. Beel bought some Melancholy berry jam the other day and hasn’t eaten it all yet. Some of that with peanut butter would be great...”
“Not a problem. Oh, and do you want toasted bread?”
Mammon hugs your pillow. You suspect he’s getting weirded out by being asked all of these questions about his own preferences. Not a lot of demons seem to take them into account on a regular basis, after all. “U-um, that sounds good... and ... ugh, never mind!”
“What is it?”
He struggles with his words for a moment before asking, rather rushed, “Could you cut off the crusts, too?”
You have to brace yourself on the door handle to not collapse at how incredibly adorable that request is. Nevertheless, you can tell he is embarrassed and decide not to tease him too much. That could be done later, when he isn’t in such a vulnerable state of mind. You nod, chirping a quick ‘Sure, sweetheart’ before exiting and closing the door behind you.
Heading downstairs feels like squaring up for a fight. Deep down you know you can’t do much, Mammon would be crushed if you got in trouble with Lucifer for his sake, but you won’t be pleasant, either. You cringe at yourself, unable to handle the empty threats you seem to have in abundance inside your brain.
You can’t give most of the brothers the cold shoulder, that much you know. It wasn’t them that forced Mammon to tears the previous night with nothing but their words and whatever other hells Mammon was forced to endure. No, only Lucifer deserves your passive aggressive wrath today.
Luckily for you, there are only a few of the brothers remaining in the kitchen instead of waiting at the table already, one of those few being Lucifer himself who stands against the counter with a mug of coffee pressed to his lips. Satan and Beel are present as well, Beel rummaging through the pantry and fridge while Satan watches with what looks like mild amusement.
“Morning,” you greet the two younger brothers, going out of your way to make as little eye contact with Lucifer as possible. Whether he picks up on this, you can’t tell, but you can sense the change in atmosphere as you open the fridge and dig around for the jam Mammon wants.
“(Name). Is something wrong?” A deep voice inquires and, as you deduct that voice to be Beel’s, you look over your shoulder, offering a smile.
“Can’t possibly imagine why there’d be something wrong.” Wrong with you at least.
“Are you sure? You seem...off,” Satan inquires, as curious and considerate as ever.
You head over to the pantry, now with the jam in hand, and search for the peanut butter. A soft ‘ah!’ escapes you as your hand closes around the jar as well as a loaf of bread and you make your way over to the cutting board.
“I’m cool,” you deadpan. The younger brothers remain silent after you hear them shift a bit.
You begin to prepare the sandwich, daring not to turn around when the sound of footsteps approaching you invades your ears. All too suddenly there is a looming presence behind you, peering over your shoulder and radiating the most intense energy you’ve ever felt.
“What.” You say. It is not a question, but a demand. You still do not meet the eldest brother’s eyes.
You hear fabric shift and body heat warm your skin as Lucifer leans down to speak quietly enough so that his brother’s can’t hear. “It is for his own good. He will never learn if he is not properly disciplined.”
Your blood begins to boil. You raise your voice to him, completely disregarding Lucifer’s attempts to keep his brothers out of the situation as you do. “You know you can ‘properly discipline’ him without hurting him, right? What kind of brother are you?”
You leave it at that, throwing the rest of the sandwich together quickly before storming out of there. But wait...you stop in your tracks and stare down at the sandwich with defeated eyes. You forgot to cut off the crusts, dammit!
So, throwing your opportunity for a badass exit out the window, you march right back into the kitchen, tear open a drawer to grab a knife, and chop every single crust from the bread — all while the three brothers stare at you in both confusion and awe.
As you go to leave again, Satan finds the will to speak up. “Where are you going?”
“To my room.” You hold up the now crust-less sandwich. “The Great Mammon’s gotta eat.”
“But it’s your turn to make breakfast for everyone!” Beel whines, clutching at his stomach helplessly.
Again, you pause. Your fight leaves you and you approach the gentle giant upon seeing him look at you with such sorrow. You know how important food is to him.
“I’ll call for delivery from Hell’s Kitchen. Just round up everyone’s order and text it to me. Is that okay?”
Beelzebub nods enthusiastically and you pat his head, then turn on your heel to head back up to your room. You feel eyes on you as you walk away and, if you weren’t so fired up right now, you might take that as a compliment. But you know it’s Lucifer. You know it’s him even as the presence behind you follows you out into the hallway.
“I don’t like being followed.” You state in a bored tone.
“You don’t have to treat him like a child, you know. He can take care of himself.”
“I don’t want to let him take care of himself. I’m gonna be there for him when his brothers are being assholes.”
Lucifer looks taken aback. You don’t curse at them, you just don’t. Unless you’re joking, you never speak ill to them no matter what. And you didn’t to Beel or Satan. Even in your fired state you calmed enough to treat them as you normally would, with kindness and compassion. It is him you have the grudge against right now, and Lucifer’s brain can’t seem to accept or handle the fact that this is because of your protectiveness over his younger sibling.
“You won’t be here forever, you know.” Lucifer knows he crossed a line, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “He will need to fight his own battles eventually.”
“How about you give him less battles to fight, hmm?”
Lucifer seems to have nothing left to say. Taking his silence as an invitation to leave, you do just that and start up the stairs to your bedroom.
“Oh, and by the way,” you begin, stopping midway up the staircase to address the short circuiting demon you left in the hallway, “I may not be in this world as long as you guys will, but if you even touch him after I’m gone, my ghost will fuck you up.”
You make your final leave, Mammon’s breakfast in hand and a smile lining your face as you prepare to greet your greedy little demon.
#obey me oneshot#obey me#obey me swd#obey me shall we date#obey me mammon#mammon obey me#mammon x mc#mammon x reader#reader insert fanfic#reader insert#mc obey me#obey me mammon x mc#mc x obey me#obey me mammon x reader#obey me beelzebub#obey me satan#obey me luficer#tw swearing#tw emotional distress
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Harsh Words
REQUEST: When Y/n getting hurt the way Bakugou talks to her due to the tone of his voice, ended up fighting when y/n tried to tell him about it, Bakugou getting mad, both of them not talking for days/weeks, Bakugou getting triggered when Y/n is always with Shoto since they were friends too..Ahhhh thank you 🤧
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Enjoy! :)
Pairing: Reader x Bakugou Katsuki
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me...yeah that’s bullshit. Doesn’t apply to Katsuki Bakugou. Y/N finds out first hand. The true impact of his words hits Katsuki two weeks too late, as the need to have his partner back wins over his pride.
Masterlist
Y/N lived for the rare gentle moments, sleepy conversations, quietly studying together, taking care of the other’s wounds. Although they were rare, Y/N cherished every single gentle movement with her fiery boyfriend.
Right now, though, Bakugou was anything but gentle
“Stop being dramatic.”
The words stung, especially when considering how hard Y/N was trying not to snap at him. SHe just wanted a rational conversation to discuss this. She crosses her arms, her face twisting into a scowl.
“I’m not being dramatic, Katsuki! Just listen to me for once!”
Katsuki was rough around the edges, there was no doubt, and it was one of the things that made Y/N fall for him a year ago. The past few weeks, however, had been particularly rough. His insults towards her had been much meaner, his tone harsher. Although she has always been on the lesser end of his receiving temper, this was taking a toll on her.
She finally had enough when he had insulted her clumsiness in front of the whole class in the dorm common area. She remembers full well the crash of the glass as it shattered upon impact, hitting the ground, followed by a snort and a “What? You got two left feet to match your useless quirk now?”. She had stormed out of the room, eyes glassy and Bakugou had followed her.
And here they were.
“You’ve been horrible to me this whole past month! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, that you think it was okay to yell at me like that in front of everyone, but-”
“I’ve been exactly the same. You know what you got yourself into when you started dating me. Don’t get all sensitive now.” he rolls his eyes, fixing her with a glare. The way he completely dismisses her makes her want to bang her head against a wall with frustration. He didn’t get it. She was human too, and she had a limit to her patience.
“You’re just being an asshole lately! This has nothing to do with me being sensitive.”
“The fact that you’re yelling at me proves that it does.” He yells, before taking a step closer. “What? Can’t handle an insult, dumbass? This bothers you that much?” He mocks her on the last part, tilting his head in a fake sympathetic look.
“You know what? Fuck you!” She yells back, shaking her head, tears of anger and frustration trailing down her cheeks. “I don’t have to deal with this shit. Come talk to me once you fix your shitty attitude and decide to stop being a literal asshole to me.” Y/N turns on heel and walks out of his room, ignoring Bakugou’s angry calls for her to come back.
Her tears unsettled him, although he doesn’t admit it. He feels guilt, or some variant of it, eat away at his insides, knowing he was the reason for their distress. He did care about her, a little too much in his opinion. He watches the door shut behind her.
Scoffing he moves over to his desk, sitting down and running a hand through his head angrily. He wasn’t any more of an asshole than he usually was, he was sure of it. Right?
Lost in his though, he idly fidgets with a pen from the holder at his desk. He recalls Y/N frowning a lot more these days...and she didn’t really bite back to his jabs anymore...when was the last time they had actually spent time together? Gone out? Now that he thought about it he hadn’t had a quiet moment with her in a week or two.
Huffing out a breath, he shakes his head to himself. Whatever. He would do something about that once she came back to him and apologised. That’s how it usually worked after one of their fights. Y/N was the first one to apologise, then he’d do his part silently by spoiling her or spending time with her. It was his way of a silent apology. She always came to him first though, knowing his pride wouldn’t let him be the first to admit the fault lied with him.
Bakugou is left hanging for the first time. He expected nothing to happen on the first day, or the second day...but two weeks later?
Y/N had not talked to him for two weeks, and he was itching for things to go back to normal. He didn’t want to admit how much this was affecting him. Not having her to study quietly with, or cuddle with at night, or someone to nag at him for pushing himself too hard...it was annoyingly frustrating. He wanted her back. He wanted her so damn badly and he was starting to crack.
He feels especially shitty today as he watches her walk straight past their usual table, to join another table, where she’d been sitting at for the length of time she’d been...ignoring him. The fact that it was Deku’s table only worked harder to piss him off. He watches, his eyes narrowing in an intense stare as she slips into the seat next to Todoroki.
Icyhot.
Another reason he’d been especially prickly. Y/N was good friends with Deku’s group, he knew that. It’s not like he could, or would, stop her from doing what she wanted. He wasn’t like that, even he wasn’t that much of an asshole.
He can’t help but shift restlessly in his place, as he sees her relaxed, giggling at something Icyhot had said. He didn’t even know the guy was capable of making jokes. Gritting his teeth, he turns away, focusing on the conversation the idiots around him were having.
He manages to keep himself at bay for about 15 minutes, before he sees Y/N and Todoroki get up...together, and leave. Together. The fact that she didn’t even spare him a glance as she walked by definitely didn’t feel like someone was painfully squeezing his heart. Obviously not. As he stares at them leaving, his eyes narrow when the Half and Half bastard puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her out. He gets up suddenly and follows them, fuming.
Y/N was miserable ever since the argument. She was tired and hurting and today was especially hard for some reason. The moment she walked into the cafeteria, she felt her boyfriend's eyes on her. Ignoring them, refusing to look his way, she made her way over to Izuku’s table. He wasn’t going to be the one to apologise. If he truly cared about her and their relationship, he would have to swallow his pride and come to her.
The whole time she’d been a little dazed, and on the brink of tears, effectively hiding it underneath laughs and jokes. She fooled pretty much everyone except the quiet guy next to her. About 15 minutes into lunch, she feels Todoroki nudge her and point to the door, a look of muted worry plastered on his face. Y/N can do nothing to protest without bursting into tears so she complies, standing and excusing herself.
By the time she’s nearing the exit door, her shoulders are shaking, and she feels Todoroki’s steadying arm around her. She welcomes the comforting touch.
He leads her to an empty hallway, pulling her into a classroom. He prompts her to sit on one of the desks, taking a seat next to her. Y/N feels bad about placing her worries on her friend, but she can’t help but let it out. She knew Todoroki was a good listener and that he wouldn’t judge her. By the time she’s done recounting the past painful weeks, there are tears running down her cheeks.
Todoroki awkwardly looks around for a second, before placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder and comforting her. He was trying his best, but the look of uncomfort on his face was almost comical. He wanted to be there for his friend, and Y/N was thankful for it. She looks up and offers Todoroki a shaky smile. She goes to thank him, when she’s cut off by a familiar harsh voice.
“The hell are you two doing?” Bakugou stands, eyes narrowed at the two of them, a scowl on his face. Why were they so close? They didn’t need to be this close.
“Bakugou.” Todoroki nods, standing. Y/N glances at him once, before looking away, determined to keep ignoring him. She doesn’t know why he’s here. He hasn’t tried to talk to her at all. She doesn’t realise she’s tuned out the conversation between the other two, which in retrospect, was a horrible idea knowing how much Bakugou disliked Todoroki, she’s only snapped out of her thoughts when she hears the door slam, causing her to jump.
Bakugou stands there for a second, before narrowing his eyes and walking towards her. She stays where she is on the desk, shifting her gaze to stare at the ground. Why was he still here? Where had Todoroki gone?
She stills as she feels him stop in front of her. Feeling his hands rest on the desk either side of her, he hears him scoff when she doesn’t look up. Hearing him shift, he grasps her chin and makes her look at him.
Although he has his usual scowl and annoyed expression, Y/N can identify mild worry as his eyes scan over her face. It’s very evident that she’s been crying, her eyes still puffy. She doesn’t have time to react, before Bakugou steps forward and slides his hands up to her sides pulling her into a...hug? He rests his chin on top of her head and holds her tightly to himself.
What?
After her momentary confusion, she struggles half heartedly to get him to let go of her. However much she didn’t want to admit it, she missed this.
She missed him.
Pretty son she gives up and stays there, letting him stand in front of her and hold her. He’s fully aware of the tears slowly soaking the front of his shirt.
“What do you want?” Y/N asks quietly, a single hand clutching the back of his shirt. She feels, doesn’t hear, his mouth move in her hair. Pulling away slightly she looks up. Even when she’s sitting down on a desk, he’s still a little taller. His gaze flickers to her eyes, before going back to looking at something behind her. He mumbles something Y/N can’t quite hear, but he doesn’t loosen his grip around her.
“...What the hell are you say-”
“I’m sorry.” He finally says properly, shifting his gaze back to her.
Y/N’s pretty sure that’s the first time she’s heard him genuinely say those words. “Are you?” Ignoring the hope swelling inside her, she tilts her head in question. She wouldn’t let him get off the hook that easily.
He looks slightly annoyed, before remembering why they were in this situation in the first place. “I am. I...shit, I didn’t realise I was hurting you. The past few weeks have been shit without you. I’m sorry.” He mutters the last part again, heat creeping up his neck. It looks like he was struggling to get the words out.
“You did. Hurt me, that is. That won’t change.”
“I know.” His voice is unusually quiet. “Won’t happen again.”
“It will.” Bakugou looks surprised at that. “I’m not telling you to become a whole different person, Katsuki.”
She brings up a hand and cups his cheek, smiling a little when he leans into the touch. She was glad she wasn’t the only one being affected by this fight.
“That brash loud part of you is the guy I fell for. I don’t want that to change. It’s just...yelling at me like that in front of everyone wasn’t cool. You really made me feel like shit.”
Bakugou let’s that sink in, before scoffing and tightening his grip around her. The guilt that had been brewing over the days comes crashing like a wave. “I said it wouldn’t happen again, didn’t I? You think I make empty promises, dumbass?” He didn’t. He’d keep his word.
Y/N responds by tugging on his shirt and pulling him closer and resting her head on his shoulder, humming a little at how warm he was. She feels him reach up and brush her hair off her forehead and place a small peck on it.
She knew how un-Bakugou-like that was. It showed her that he really was sorry. She swears it could be her mind playing tricks on her, but she’s sure she heard Bakugou say something. Smiling into the fabric of his shirt, she responds.
“I missed you too.”
——————————————————————————
Author’s Note: These types of fics are my jam! Feel free to leave feedback! (23/02/2021)
Edit: I had to reupload this because the link was faulty, so excuse the reupload!
Requests for BNHA are Open and Welcome!
#bnha fanfiction#bnha#fanfic#mha fanfiction#fanfiction#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou#katsuki x reader#katsuki#fluff#angst#hurt comfort#bnha fluff#bnha angst#mha fluff#mha angst#bnha hurt comfort#x reader#bnha imagines#bnha headcanons#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#mha x reader#mha x y/n#x y/n
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Sleep talk
Harry Holland
A/N- i literally have no patience so i’m giving you all this way earlier than i anticipated. OOps 🤭❤️
Summary- a bad habit of talking in your sleep gets you into a predicament you would have never expected
Word count- 4k
Warnings- sleep talking. Smut. So much smut. additional warnings under the cut.
🌸🌼 Masterlist 🌼🌸
Warnings: Wet dreams. oral (F receiving) unprotected sex, (Please wrap it up!)
You wondered if anyone else felt that the car was stuffy. Sandwiched between Sam and Harry with Tom and Harrison in the front, there was little to no room. This was day three of the ten day road trip, and you were officially tired of sitting in the car. Sam was respectful, trying to give you as much space as he could with you being in the middle seat, Harry on the other hand was pushed up into you with his hand resting on your leg for the umpteenth time. Not that you particularly minded, but you weren't sure why he was being so touchy with you. Your mind kept wandering every time his fingers brushed across your thigh, and as much as you tried to not think the things you were about him, you couldn't help it.
You had finally given up, and closed your eyes, hoping the ache that was in your core would dissipate. There was quite literally nothing you could do about it yourself, at least in the moment. So with your eyes squeezed shut and your head thrown up on the headrest you tried desperately to get the dirty thoughts about your close friend Harry Holland out of your head.
It probably would have worked too, until you felt his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His warm breath ghosting the skin of your neck, spreading goosebumps all through your skin and making that desperate ache grow ten times. You couldn't take it anymore. With your thighs squeezed together, in hopes of any relief you let out a loud sigh. “Harrison, can we please stop at the next place with a restroom?” You asked, hoping that no one noticed the desperation in your tone. Harrison obliged, pulling into a nearly empty rest stop only a few miles further down.
As soon as Sam was out of your way you bee lined it towards the building, rushing to the bathroom like your life depended on it. You stood in the tidy restroom, with mirrors that barely offered a reflection. You splashed cold water on your face hoping the ache would disappear now that you weren't stuck to Harry.
Years upon years of knowing the Hollands, and since day one Harry had always tickled your fancy. The curly red hair, the humor the boy quite simply radiated, the warm kind eyes, and his smile. Oh his smile. This road trip was supposed to be a fun experience, a vacation of sorts, but it just seemed to be a constant torture for you. The other boys sticking you with Harry every chance they got. You were sure it was merely a coincidence, there was absolutely no way they knew about your crush. Right?
Last night though, had taken the cake. The hotel had only one room left and they had stuck you and Harry in one bed. You claimed it was no big deal, but in the middle of the night when he had unconsciously thrown his arm around your waist and pulled you into him, you were sure you were going to explode then and there. And the ache just seemed to keep growing.
The door opened causing you to jump. You looked over to see Harry walking in, weary of the fact that he was in the ladies room.
“What are you doing?” You asked him. The smirk that creeped up his lips let you know, he knew. He had to know. Why else would he follow you into a rest stop restroom?
“I was just worried about you, love,” his voice was low, deeper than usual, and you could feel your pussy clench at the sound of his voice.
“I'm alright,” You whispered. His eyebrows raised as he took another step towards you. You shivered as a million ways he could simply take you right now flashed through your mind.
“I've noticed the things you have been doing you know,” he smirked. Your eyes grew wide, not sure exactly what he meant. You have been doing an awful lot lately. “Every time i touch you, your thighs clench together, probably in hopes to relieve some of the pressure that has surely built up over the last few days,” the truth behind the things he said had your mouth hanging open, unaware of what to say to him. He closed the distance between the two of you arms boxing you in as you leaned against the wall in absolute complete shock.
“I-” You began to try and say anything but his finger pressed against your lips. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked over you, a fire in his eyes you had never seen before.
“Am I wrong?” He whispered as he brought his lips to your neck, leaving the softest kisses down from behind your ear to your shoulder. You let out a moan, as you felt yourself grow wetter. “Didn't think so,” Harry mumbled before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss started slowly, his lips familiarizing themselves with yours. Moving gently over yours, but soon it became deep and with intent, you could feel his hand traveling down your body stopping right before the pool that had accumulated in your underwear. This was it.
The car screeched to a halt and you could hear Tom cursing at the driver in front of you, you looked around shocked that you had fallen asleep. When did Tom and Harrison swap seats? More importantly, how long had you been asleep and how much of your dream had slipped from your unconscious lips. You were a sleep talker, like majorly, so the panic set in instantly, having just had a wet dream about the boy to your right.
Harrison noticed you had woken up first, turning around in his seat as much as he could to look at you. “Morning y/n, have a good sleep?” it didn't seem as there was any teasing behind his question so you were hopeful.
“S’allright. How long was i out?” you felt Harry's body move as if he was chuckling you turned to see a giant shit eating grin spread across his face. You felt your stomach twist. “What did I say?” you asked burying your face in your hands, you knew this could be bad.
“It's okay love, think only I heard,” Harry whispered.
“I heard,” Sam piped in.
“So did we,” Tom announced from the driver's seat. You groaned in embarrassment, why did you have to have a wet dream in a car with your closest friends.
“Was it bad?” you finally asked, peering through your fingers to see Harry's face. You could clearly tell he was holding back something.
“Oh Harry,” Tom mimicked your voice.
“Better than my dreams,” Harrison added.
“Soo soo good,” Sam chuckled.
This was it, the end of your life, this was by far the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened.
“Please don't stop Harry,” Harry whispered in your ear, eyebrows raised, obviously enjoying this. You were sure you were as red as a tomato at this point, your worst fears coming to life.
“Oh my god, you could have woken me up!” You shrieked, burying your face deeper into your hands.
“It seemed like a very good dream, didn't want to interrupt,” Harrison chuckled from in front of you.
You decided to keep your eyes closed for the next few hours, being sure not to fall asleep. When you finally arrived at the small cabin that had been rented for the night, prior to the trip you were relieved to be able to breath and stretch. You had stayed relatively quiet, you were absolutely mortified and you didn't want to become more embarrassed by anything you could say or do at this point.
“Y/N” Tom called. You turned your attention to him, not having heard what he had just said. “Only two rooms, so I'm going to have you bunk with Harry again. You don’t mind right?” He said the last part with a smirk and you knew instantly you would never live this down.
“Course she doesn't,” Harry chimed in, throwing his arm around your shoulder. saving you from having to respond in any way. You smiled up to him through your lashes, silently thanking him. He nodded at you and winked.
Your heart skipped a beat.
The rest of the night was uneventful. Sam whipped up a quick but delicious dinner before the five of you went to your sleeping areas. Tom and Harrison took the bunk room, Sam settled with the pullout bed, leaving you and Harry to share a full sized bed. It would be a snug night.
“You okay darling?” Harry asked as he settled into the bed next to you, you were trying to not let your mind wander. Sleep, you were going to just sleep tonight.
“Other than being mortified, I'm alright,” You mumbled as you rolled onto your side facing away from Harry.
“Because of your dream?” you felt him shuffling on the bed before his hand reached out gently resting on your hip. “You can't control the things your subconscious comes up with. Honestly it was flattering,”
“Seriously?” you asked, face deadpan. As you turned to look at him. He raised his eyebrows at you. “It wasn't my subconscious Harry, yes i happened to be asleep, but i have been having these thoughts for weeks. Imagining you stripping me naked and having your way with me. Every time you touch my leg, I hope your hand will travel between my thighs. I'm longing for you to scratch an itch I wasn't even aware I had,” you took a deep breath and then realized what you had just said. “You're my best friend, I'm not supposed to be thinking like this,” You went to turn back around, but Harry reached out grabbing your waist. Before you even had a second to respond you felt Harry's lips crash into yours. His fingers gripped onto your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you, you of course reciprocated, your hands rested on his chest as he pulled your body closer to his. His lips left yours causing a whimper to leave your mouth.
He moved his mouth to your neck, leaving soft kisses and light nibbles down the sensitive skin, till he reached your collar bone. He looked up at you, with lust filled eyes. “I haven't been able to get you off my mind,” He admitted shyly, returning his lips to yours. You smiled into his kiss.
“You're joking,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth while shaking his head. You were sure everything melted away at that moment. Your arms went around his neck as his arms went around your waist closing any distance that was between the two of you. The kisses became sloppy and hungry as Harry's hands slipped under your shirt. The feeling of his fingers on your bare skin sending a wave of excitement through your body. “Harry,” You moaned as his lips ghosted over the skin on your neck.
“Tell me what you want love,” his voice was deeper than normal, and filled with lust making you shiver.
“Touch me please,” You nearly begged him. He raised one eyebrow before letting his hand that he had moved to your cheek travel unimaginably slow down your body.
“Where do you want me to touch?” He asked you as his hand made its way to your breast, cupping it and feeling around over your shirt until he had the bead of your nipple between his fingers gently rolling it. You gasped at the sudden stimulation. He lifted your shirt replacing his fingers with his mouth letting his tongue roll it around while his hand glided down your stomach stopping just before the waistband of your pajama bottoms. “Can I?” he asked coyly.
“Please,” You let out as his hand slipped down past your pants and your undies. His fingers gently glided through your soaking folds, before finding your bundle and rubbing it lightly in a circular motion. You let out a moan at the action.
"Take it off for me," Harry said as he pulled his hand away from you.
You began to shake slightly your eyes shooting open, was this seriously happening a second time in the same day? You looked over to see Harry propped up on his elbow next to you, his features illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the curtains. His grin was undeniable.
“Please, i don't even want to know,” You groaned as you buried your face deep in the pillow.
“Oh but I want to know,” He said as he ran his fingers down your spine. “Please tell me what I am doing in your dreams to make you make those noises?”
You lifted your head, looking at him. You could tell him everything and maybe he would feel the same and actually act on your wild dreams, or you could pretend not to remember and hope this never happened again. He leaned in closer to you and his lips brushed against your earlobe. “Tell me how I'm making you moan like that in your pretty little head,” he whispered.
You let out a gasp, at his sudden close proximity to you. You could already feel the juices pooling in your panties.
“Well,” You gulped. “It usually starts with you kissing me,” His grin grew as he leaned in, letting his lips nearly touch yours. You were sure you were about to melt.
“Just like this?” he whispered, not actually connecting your lips.
“Y.y.yeah,” you stuttered out, your mind going wild at what was actually happening.
“And then?” he asked, licking his lips as he stared into your eyes.
“You move to my neck.” He moved his hand so it was on your neck, his fingers brushing up and down your skin.
“Kissing, sucking, or biting?” he asked. You nodded to him, unable to think about anything. He flashed you a smile before moving his lips down to your neck, barely kissing your skin.
“What's next?” he asked into your skin, not moving his lips from where they were peppering the most gentle kisses.
“Either you touch my boobs or go down lower, but then i always wake up,” you admitted, your voice breathy and uneven. Harry lifted his head from your neck with wide eyes.
“You're telling me that's as far as it goes and I have you making noises like that?” The shock on his face and in his voice was cute, and you couldn't help but giggle at him.
“Yes,” you said coyly, a serious blush spreading across your cheeks.
"How long have you been having these dreams y/n?" He asked you quietly. You felt your breath hitch and you didn't want to admit to him that this isn't a new thing, your attraction to him has been a thing for years. You shook your head, not wanting to answer the question. “How long?” he repeated.
“Months,” You whispered, barely audible, But by the cocky look on his face you could tell he had heard you loud and clear.
“And you have never said anything, because?” He asked as he placed his hand on your stomach slowly sliding it down.
“I didn't think it was appropriate,” You mumbled, as you watched his hand as it slipped between the hem of your pajamas and panties. You let out a gasp as his fingers slid up and down your panties.
"So wet, and for what? I haven't even done a thing," Harry teased. You couldn't believe this was happening, especially after the day you had. To say you were embarrassed was an understatement, but in this moment you could care less. "Tell me what you want me to do," he told you as he rubbed you over your panties.
"If we're being honest Harry, all I can think of is how you would feel inside of me," as soon as the words left your mouth you were shocked at yourself, unsure of what exactly had come over you.
"Let's find out then princess," he whispered as he grabbed your pants and panties and peeled them off your body. You felt exposed laying sans bottoms in front of Harry, your friend, who you had feelings for. He reached down, running a finger through your slick folds, and then bringing it up to his mouth. The motion alone was enough for you to nearly die, the idea of Harry tasting you was unbelievably hot, and judging by the obvious bulge in his pajama pants, he agreed.
You reached out to palm him through the fabric of his pants, and as soon as you made contact he let out a quiet groan before pushing you down onto the bed, and finally connecting your lips.
Kissing Harry was everything you expected and more, his lips were soft and gentle all while being rough and hungry for yours. He kissed you with such passion you were sure this had to be yet another dream. It wasn't until you managed to push his sweats halfway down his thigh, revealing his hard outline in his boxers that you were fully sure this was in fact happening.
He moved his lips from yours and down the entirety of your body, focusing a little on your breasts, being sure to pay each one the equal amount of attention, until finally making his way to right above your heat. This was always the part you would wake up, never having experienced Harry between your legs, tongue at work while his curls tickled the inside of your thighs, just the thought of wrapping your fingers in those unruly curls to hold him closer to you made your mouth salivate. When he finally dipped his head down, running his tongue all the way from your entrance to your clit you let out a loud moan, forgetting that the three others were only separated by thin walls. The noises you were making were like music to Harry's ears, telling him he was doing a perfect job, and once your fingers grasped at his hair and began to tug tightly he knew you couldn't get enough of his tongue. He moved his hand from where it had been resting on your knee, slid it up your thigh slowly until his fingers were able to tease your entrance while his tongue focused all on your sensitive nub, drawing circles and flicking it so perfect that once his finger went inside it only took you about two brushes against your g spot for you to completely let go, and Harry rode that shit out, not stopping his precise movements until your moaning and gasping had quieted a little.
He pulled away from you, face glistening in the moonlight with a mixture of your orgasm and his saliva, he wiped his face with the back of his hand before crawling over you, and kissing you again. This kiss was different, more soft and gentle, still with purpose but unlike the first it seemed rather intimate, Harry let his body sink down onto yours, his clothed bulge brushing your sensitive nub while he continued to kiss you.
"Harry," you moaned into his lips, as you hooked your fingers in the hem of his waistband.
"We'll get there baby," he said brushing a few loose strands of hair from your face. The unusual pet name towards you just made your want for him grow. Harry Holland was to good for this earth, too good for you, yet here he was, fueling your fan fiction fantasies, and he was doing it so well you could almost forget that once this was over, you would go back to just being friends, and nothing more. Cause if you were sure of one thing it was that despite your ever growing feelings for Harry, he was not one to develop feelings, in the years you had known him you had never seen him be in a relationship. Which made you think he just wasn't interested.
With his hips grinding against yours while the two of you kissed for what felt like forever you could feel the ache building back up, needing more of him, needing to feel him. He disconnected your lips, pushing himself onto his knees so he could pull his boxers down, his cock which was oh so yummy slapping up against his stomach before he grabbed it and pumped it a few times. "You sure?" He asked you. Eyes full of worry. Once you did this there was no going back, even though your heart would probably break knowing he would never be yours.
"Never been more sure of anything else," you told him. He flashed you his giant Harry smile before lining himself at your entrance, his cock teasing you as his eyes were focused on your face. He wanted to see your reaction to him, to see how he made you feel. He pushed in slowly, giving you ample time to stretch to his size, though with how aroused you were you didn't need all that much. When his hips were flush against yours he started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, bit then harder and faster, stroking your spot with every thrust. The noises coming from the two of you sounded like they were out of a porno, skin slapping against skin, moans escaping from your lips and groaning from him as he pounded into you. After a few minutes of that he brought his hand down between you, letting his fingers rub circles on your nub, it wouldn't take you long now.
"Harry, 'm Soo close," you moaned, your fingers digging into the skin on his back.
"Me to baby, me to," he mumbled as he sped up his rhythm. When the cord finally snapped you felt a wave wash over you, of complete and utter euphoria. You felt Harry twitch inside you before slowing his thrusts down and falling onto your body. Your pretty sure you blacked out for a bit after that, cause when you finally open your eyes, the sun is streaming through the curtains and you are snuggled up against Harry. For a second you're worried it was just a dream, until you notice you are both still sans clothes under the sheet.
"Morning," Harry mumbles, eyes still closed.
"Good morning," you say quietly, not sure what's going to happen from here.
"Last night was amazing," he says after a few excruciating seconds. You giggle and nod your head, afraid that your word will betray you. "I've been waiting for that for years," he adds. Your eyes grow wide as you prop yourself up to look at his face.
"What did you just say?" You demand. His eyes flutter open and look directly at you, a smile on his face.
"I have been waiting for that for years," he repeats matter of factly. He could see the shock written on your face, so he reached out to grab your hand, interlocking your fingers. "You didn't honestly think I didn't have feelings for you did you? Why do you think Tom and Haz were always forcing us to bunk together?" You think back to all the times where the other three boys would group you and Harry off, leaving the two of you alone, and suddenly it all makes sense.
"You like me?" You ask, a smile spreading on your face.
"Baby, I'd be crazy if I didn't," he whispers, leaning up to kiss your lips.
Right then the door flies open and an irritated Tom, Harrison, and Sam are stood in the doorway. You're fully aware of your naked state now, clutching the sheet to cover all the exposed parts of your body.
"You guys were SO loud last night," Harrison says looking back and forth between the two of you. You mumble a sorry, completely embarrassed, until Tom starts to laugh.
"It's about time," he says, walking over and patting Harry on the shoulder before the three of them disappear back into the main area of the cabin.
"Whoops," Harry laughs, placing a kiss on your temple. You look up at him and can't help but smile.
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for monster march, 6 ot4 nsfw?
Here you go!
Content note: #6 is Eldritch, which means there is some body weirdness/minor body horror. I tried to keep it tame and don't describe anything too graphically, but if you're super sensitive to that stuff, proceed with caution.
Should Indrid have stopped at the last town, before the road became lined with nothing but cornfields? Yes
Should he have stopped at the gas station at the edge of the small town called Kepler, to ask if anyone could tell him if that sound under the hood was a problem? Also yes.
Is he now stuck in a dead car on a dirt shoulder in the middle of nowhere. Of course he is.
He grabs his phone, hoping his father hasn’t canceled the family AAA account he’s been secretly using for years. There’s no service, and he remembers that the sign also said NRQZ.
“Well, fuck me I guess.”
In the dying August twilight, he spots a silhouette of a farmhouse on the other end of the huge field. If nothing else, they’ll have either a phone or a car he can use. After walking up and down the road and finding now sign of a driveway or country road, he parts the sea of stalks and starts forward.
Twenty minutes later, the light is completely gone, and there’s no sound but crickets and the rustle of corn. Worse, the house isn’t getting any closer. He’s checked, using his hand for scale, and the building never gets bigger.
“Lovely, apparently you can create a mirage in a cornfield.”
“Ain’t a mirage. But it ain’t really a house either. It’s just a staging area.” A voice comes from his right and he yelps, spinning to scan for the source. He finds none, just more leaves fluttering as the voice adds, “kinda surprised, usually they start ‘em from there.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to find a phone.”
“Phone ain’t gonna help you.”
Indrid swears the stalks are pressing closer, caging him, and his voice isn’t as level as he likes when he says, “Then can you? I need to call AAA.”
“......Is that minor deity or somethin’?”
“No.” Indrid crosses his arms in front of his chest, suddenly wishing for more than a tank top and jean shorts to put between himself and the voice, “Look, I, I know you’re just a local messing with me so knock it off and help me get to town.”
The corn shakes and Indrid realizes with horror that it’s laughing at him.
“Well, you got one thing right: I’m a local.”
The soil in front of him splits, roots and dirt coiling into a dozen arms, vines sprouting after them. Rotten wood sticks out from all sides as both dead and living stalks form some incomprehensible skeleton around the mass. Bioluminescent fungus flicker to light throughout it, regarding him like eyes. He can’t even step backwards, looks down to find a web of mycelium binding his feet to the dirt. Part of the monstrosity reaches out and he closes his eyes as if that would make it go away as warm tendrils touch his chest, right above his heart. They spread outward, coiling and searching, and Indrid prepares himself to be swallowed up.
Then the appendage retreats and the corn behind him bends and binds into a backboard. His feet are released, only for his arms to be trapped by his sides by cuffs of leaves. Which is fitting, as he’s shaking like one.
“You can open your eyes.”
Indrid shakes his head with a whimper.
“Aw, I ain’t gonna hurt you. You got a good heart, like most of the folks they sacrifice. Just keep you around for a week or so then turn you loose.”
“What h-happens in that week?” He’s shaking harder, visions of mushrooms sprouting from his pores, of vines sucking the energy and years from his sinews, flooding his mind in a nightmarish torrent.
“I use you for energy. Helps me keep the orchards, fields, and whatnot nice and healthy all year long. That’s the deal; I make sure the town’s livelihood thrives, they make sure I get my offerin’ now and then.”
“I’m not an offering!” He’s yelling, hoping someone might hear and knowing they won’t, “I just got lost, I need help, please, please-” a tendril touches his face and he shuts his mouth, terrified it might slither inside.
“Hush now, darlin. You ain’t in any danger.” Two more vines caress his sides through his thin shirt, “all I need is this, just to touch you some, and I get what I need.”
“Promise?”
“Yep. Aw now,” something earthy lifts his glasses away, “don’t cry. Here, lemme put on a form that’s easier on a human brain. There, you can open your eyes.”
Indrid decides it’s best to obey, weakly cracks one eye open and finds he now has to look down a few inches to see his captor. The monstrosity in the field is now wearing the shape of a middle aged man, with soft features, dark hair, and a sturdy, chubby body. Were there not glowing fungus and bits of plant matter peeking from his skin, Indrid would think he’d just been rescued from his nightmare by a bear.
“That’s..that is a little less alarming. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I may be a god of the, uh, well it used to be the harvest but now it’s more general, anyway, point is I don’t like seein’ a sweet, stunning thing like you cry.”
Indrid sags in his restraints, “You don’t have to flatter me. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
Corn silk brushes his hair from his face as the creature studies him, “That ain’t flattery, that’s just the truth. Ain’t ever had a human out here who looked quite like you.”
Indrid’s about to point out that unique is not the same as appealing when the god steps into his space, the heavy scent of soil filling his nose.
“Can already tell we’ll get along just fine, can hardly keep myself off you.” He indicates where vines and leaves are stroking Indrid’s skin, parting his legs, tugging at his hands and shirt. Where the dirt is covering his feet and seems to be rubbing them.
Indrid giggles, shaking his head, “And here I thought I was clingy.” When the god meets his eyes he adds, “my ex dumped me because I was ‘too needy.’ He hated that I always wanted to be cuddled or touched. Really, he hated it when I needed more care than a pet rock.”
“Shame.” The man touches his cheek with a hand that almost feels human, but a little too thin, the skin of a stone-fruit, “some folks don’t know their own good luck. Well, won’t have to worry about that with me; make sure you get lots of attention.” He hesitates a moment, then brings their lips together.
Indrid gasps, expecting this to be the start of some kind of torment, but the gesture is gentle and chaste, more reassuring than anything else, and he finds he doesn’t want it to end.
Poppoppopop
The god pulls back, both of them staring at the ears that just turned into popcorn.
“What are you?” Glowing green eyes study him.
“A broke artist?” His hands are suddenly free and the backboard is gone. He wobbles, the man steadying him gently. He’s warm, and when Indrid hugs him sprouts burst from the ground.
“Whoa, hey now, ain’t your time, go back to sleep.” The man lets go of him, kneeling and waving his hands over the bright green, “got a whole winter to get through. There we go, back under ground, build your strength.” He turns, still on his knees, and sets his hands reverently on Indrid’s hips, “you positive you ain’t even a demigod?”
Indrid laughs, “If I were, I would not have blundered my way into a Stephen King book. Oh, ohhhh” he sighs as Duck’s hands pet his thighs and net of roots grips his ass, massaging away the stiffness of day after day of long drives.
When he first appeared, the man had regarded Indrid with a kind of casual hunger. Now, there’s no mistaking the look in his eyes (both the ones in his face and the one that keeps peeking through his forehead) as desire.
“I…I would not be opposed to more touching. But I don’t suppose you have somewhere a little comfier?”
“Nope, but I can make one. C’mon, know just the spot. Uh, it okay if I carry you?”
“I suppoOHs” Indrid cackles as he’s lifted bridal-style. The man tries to brush stray dirt from his hair and only succeeds in sprinkling more, but it’s the thought that counts.
“You got a name?”
“Indrid.”
“Mines-” he lets out a series of low creaks, adds, “but you can call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If he survives this, Joseph is going to have Agent Williams’ badge. And possibly his head, depending on what happens to him out here.
When their cover in Kepler was close to being blown, his fellow agent panicked and finished the job. In exchange for the information, he was allowed to speed out of town in their car after handing Joseph over to a cult on a goddamn silver platter.
All he has to do is stay calm; he’s managed to so far, and because of that he knows what route they took and where they are, even with his eyes covered. If he keeps this up, he can get himself free and find out why people passing through Kepler sometimes lose weeks or disappear.
He’s shoved to his knees as the sheriff calls out, “Mighty and Bountiful one, Protector of our fields, he who walks behind the rows and sleeps beneath the earth, we bring you an offering on this, the appointed night of your unknowable name.”
Thwack
Something lands in the dirt near him as confused murmurs fill the air. The same noise, over and over, and as the sheriff argues with the mayor, he reaches out and feels around until he solves the mystery: the field is pelting them with corn.
“I think it wants us to go away.” The sheriff’s voice, puzzled.
“It could be a test. Let’s consult the elders and regroup. And don’t let the suit out of your sight.”
As Joseph is hauled to his feet, he wonders if he should be insulted that whatever is in the field doesn’t want him.
—---------------------------------------------------------------
“Are you certain you don’t want to just tell them?” Indrid sits on a stump, eyes closed; Duck asked him to so he could surprise him with his new home.
“I got corn to throw for days. Besides, I don’t wanna leave, even for a second. Not when I got you here. Okay, open your eyes.”
Indrid obeys and then, in spite of himself, flaps his hands, “Amazing!”
Duck proudly pats the side of the cabin of once-rotted logs and corn husks, “Thanks. Oughta give you plenty of room, and a hurricane couldn’t knock it down.”
As he steps inside, Indrid smiles; Duck must see flashes of human life but lack important context. For instance, there are two chairs facing a black rectangle that must be a T.V, and there are two large, green boxes that he suspects are meant to be a washer and dryer.
Duck snaps his fingers and a bowl of soup appears on the table. As Indrid moves towards it, he notices all the plant life in the room is trying to interact with him; the floor warms under his feet, grasses or flowers try to brush him, and vines and stalks bend towards him or twist around him. He eats the soup and drinks the glass of something with notes of wheat and honey that Duck conjures (from the facsimile of the microwave, not the fridge). All the while vines pet his legs and glowing eyes study him from across the table.
One of the few items of furniture that’s just as it should be is the bed; it’s huge, moss turned to soft pillows and corn silk transformed into sheets. Indrid lays down, full and warm, eyes fluttering closed as Duck brackets him on all sides.
“Sleepy little thing.”
“If you’d spent days driving in the heat and then gotten lost in an otherworldly cornfield, you’d be tired too. So, if you” he yawns, “want to, ah, fuck me, you should do it soon.”
“Okay, sugar, we won’t do anythin’ intense tonight. Want this to be fun for you, not wear you out. And I ain’t entirely sure fucking you hard and long won’t accidentally send all the orchards in town into bloom.”
“I doubt I’m that good in bed.” Indrid grins.
“Look, you ain't me, so you can't feel it but...fuck, you saw what happened to that corn when I kissed you. You put all this energy out from the barest reaction to me, plants are budding and soil is renewing at a rate I ain’t ever seen.” He rests his hand on Indrid’s shoulder, “I wanna get to know the guy who can help me do that. And, uh, it seems like you’ve had a rough time lately. Seems to me lookin after you will be good for both of us.”
Indrid turns his head, looking at Duck’s hand. Soil peeks through his knuckles and a corn stalk is visible between his thumb and wrist. It doesn’t unnerve the way it first did, and when he runs his own fingers over it, Duck sighs happily.
“Do I have to leave in a week?”
“Not if you don’t want. And you…you could leave right now. If you really want to. There was enough energy in carrying you here to satisfy me for a long time.”
Even as he says this and the vines retreat, the hope in Duck’s eyes is painfully clear. And how often does one get the chance to be worshipped by a god?
Indrid settles his hands by his head, “Oh, I’m staying. I want to see what those tentacles can do.”
“You mean these?” Duck grins as two bind Indrid’s wrists to the bed, bends to kiss him as a half-dozen more pull his shorts and underwear away.
“Yes, yesyesEEP! Cold, so cold.”
“Fuck, sorry.” The slick, thin tendril pushing into his ass suddenly feels like sun-warmed grass. Duck bends down, capturing Indrid’s moans in his mouth and wrapping his fingers in his hair. His weight is comforting, reminds Indrid of when he’d bury himself in the sand at the beach. Now and then Indrid can almost feel himself sinking against him, like into loose soil, but Duck always corrects before it gets to a point where Indrid panics at the thought of being swallowed up. And so he relaxes, shielded by the ever-shifting body above him, and let’s Duck make good use of his offering.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------
Indrid is napping in the sun, newly woven sunhat on his head, when the unmistakable racket of someone blindly crashing through the field wakes him. If it’s those cops again, Indrid is going to be annoyed.
They already turned up once, asking if he was the owner of the abandoned VW. When Indrid said that yes, he was, and it was only abandoned due to the haunted cornfield, they pretended not to know what he meant, even as the air above the corn told them to take the van to Chicane’s garage and make sure the repairs are paid for. Then the corn passed Indrid’s two backpacks from stalk to stalk as the cops told him to have a nice day.
“You left the window open. Figured you want your stuff” Duck drawls from all around him, busy ensuring the fields haven’t gotten ahead of themselves thanks to what he and Indrid did last night.
When the well-dressed man stumbles to his knees in front of Indrid, they’re equally surprised by this turn of events. Indrid is also wondering if having sex with a harvest deity improves someone’s luck, because the man is gorgeous; he’s in a white dress shirt and black slacks, tie around his neck, his black hair is coming loose from a slicked-back hold, and there’s dirt on his unfairly sculpted and symmetrical face.
Mr. gorgeous hurries to his feet holding out his hand, “I’m Special Agent Joseph Stern. If you’re also in this field against your will, I left a stealth trail back to the edge. Assuming I can find it again, I can get you out too.”
Indrid shakes his hand, “Thank you, but I’m quite happy here. And I doubt you’ll find that trail unless Duck wants you to.”
“Who’s-” Joseph loses his balance, sitting heavily down on the blanket next to Indrid as the ground rumbles and shifts. As Duck’s inhuman form fills the space, glowing eyes all turned on the newcomer, Joseph’s blue eyes stare right back. Then he whispers, “I knew it. I knew there was something out here, something behind the disappearances.”
“Hey, I let almost all of ‘em go. Like, 99%. And the ones I didn’t deserved to be swallowed up. One of ‘em was a fuckin serial killer.”
“Which one?” Joseph stands, talking to Duck as if he were a man on the street and not an eldritch entity, “because I had a theory that one of the disappearances here tacked oddly to a serial killer two towns over…”
Duck chuckles, “If I hadn’t seen them throw you in here, mighta thought you’d volunteered. I got business to take care of, so I can make you a path out.”
“Excellent! This is going to be such a satisfying report to write.”
Duck’s eyes narrow, “What report?”
“About the disappearances. Everyone at the UP thought I was crazy but-”
“Oh no, you ain’t blabbin about this.” Vines whip up, covering Joseph’s mouth and dragging him into the cabin, the agent fighting the whole way. A much gentler vine taps Indrid’s arm, just above his Luna Moth tattoo.
“Darlin? You mind goin’ and talkin some sense into him? He’s got a good heart, so I don’t wanna hurt him, but I also don’t want a bunch of feds pokin around town. I’d do it but I just got word my buddy Barclay is arriving early this year and I gotta get some stuff in order for the changing seasons.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks.” A vine pinches his ass playfully as the god disappears.
—----------------------------------------------------------------
“I can’t just abandon my mission! That’s unethical, and it’ll get me fired!” Joseph throws up his bound arms for emphasis.
“Think of it this way; no one else is getting offered, so no one else is in danger.”
“How can you be sure?”
Indrid fiddles with the edge of his tank-top, “I’m staying with Duck, and something about our connection means energy he gets from me covers him far longer than other offerings would.”
“Indrid, with all due respect, you’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. How can you be sure you won’t want to leave?”
“I probably will now and then, maybe I’ll even find a job nearby, or an art studio. But I can just come back for visits and Duck still won’t need more offerings. Besides I…I like him, I like the way I feel with him.” He glances Joseph’s way, red glasses hiding his face, then looks down, “you wouldn’t understand.”
Joseph scoots closer, “Try me?”
Indrid weaves stray bits of grass, “I’ve been traveling for almost two years, looking for a future I could live with. Feeling less and less like a person and more like a cryptid, sneaking around the edges of society because I just can’t work out where I belong. And now here’s this, this being who doesn’t want anything but my company and the chance to be nice to me. Who spent last night making sure no part of me was left wanting for his touch.” Indrid snaps his mouth closed, then resolutely opens it and adds, “don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
Sometimes, the best strategy is the truth.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious. And I get it; I’m surrounded by people all the time, and I’m always hiding some part of me from them. Sometimes it’s a cover story, sometimes it’s just the fact that I believe in bigfoot and have the best of ABBA CD in my car.”
Indrid snickers, then gives him a secretive grin, “Mine is an Enya compilation.”
“Hey, she’s great for relaxing.” he shivers, Indrid mirroring the motion and yanking a blanket from the nearby bed, “christ, why’s it so cold?”
“That may be why” Indrid points to a pelt of fur with mouths on all sides that just appeared on the floor. It sprouts arms, everything from bear paws to monkey hands to gnarled, stripped treebark. It pushes itself up, cold air and snow whirling into a shifting mass, even more mouths and teeth appearing as Indrid huddles closer.
“Oh, hey, I’m Barclay.” The horrifying shape waves with all available hands, “Duck’s probably expecting me. Man, this is cool, he’s never built a house before.”
“Never had a reason to” Duck appears, though he’s wearing a human form that makes it much easier to imagine what he and Indrid do in bed. Which Joseph is not complaining about.
“Nice job. Good to see you again” The mass sort of hugs Duck, then fur flaps and dead branches twist into a mostly human form.
“It’s a good thing you like bigfoot.” Indrid murmurs. Joseph has to agree, though Barclay’s spare hands keep shimmering into view, and his fur almost seems to be pelts wrapped around a frame of frozen ash.
Dirt shoves Joseph into a standing position as Duck helps Indrid up, “‘Drid, Barclay is sort of a winter and decay/renewal guy. This here is Indrid, my new, uh, energy source.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ember colored eyes take Indrid in appreciatively, then zero in on Joseph, “damn, they sent you two this year? And two hot ones? Harvest must be shaping up nice.”
“It’s kinda a long story. I ain’t sure what to do with Joseph yet; he was talking about telling the FBI about us.”
Joseph’s about to make his case when Indrid says, “I think we can trust him.”
Duck waves his hands and the bonds are gone. Then a fur lined collar closes around his neck.
“Still might wanna keep him on a, uh, tight leash. I don’t feel like risking being found out.” Barclay’s smile suggests he’s enjoying the look on Joseph’s face. One that Joseph hopes doesn’t give away his true feelings on collars.
“Good thinkin’” Duck snaps and a long leash of woven plants tethers him to the wall, “okay, mister god of the winter pantry, feel like feedin some humans?”
“Fuck yeah I do.”
Joseph tugs at the material of the leash, glancing at Indrid, “Do you think this is flammable?”
Barclay looks over his shoulder, “Not helping your case there, blue eyes.”
From the air, a drawl adds, “No, you’re really not.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------
“It’s raining.”
Joseph smiles; Indrid has the habit of stating the obvious, which he initially apologized for. Joseph finds it grounding, and told him his as much
He opens his eyes, looking up at the other man. His silver-dyed hair is up in a half-bun, offering a lovely view of his singular face as he reads page after page of Stakes and Spurs.
Joseph has the habit of imagining the worst-case scenarios for missions, mainly so he can plan for them, and some of those have included ending up chained to a bed. So the fact the last five days have been wonderful is a welcome surprise.
His move to the bed happened his second night; he and Indrid were talking and the artist mentioned the only downside to having Duck for a lover was that he couldn’t stay around and cuddle him while they slept. Not only did he not have to sleep, there was a real risk he would accidentally engulf Indrid if he tried to. Barclay admitted there was a similar risk with him (which confirmed Joseph’s theory that he was interested in Indrid). So Stern offered to keep Indrid warm.
He hadn’t spent the night in someone’s arms in over two years. And he fully intended to let Indrid simply hold him or curl around him as needed, to avoid the awkwardness of his own desires. But then artists murmured, “you’re allowed to hug me back, agent” and Joseph nestled into tattooed arms and never looked back.
Duck and Barclay are also warming up to him (the leash stays on at night out of habit more than anything else). Duck genuinely enjoys his questions about the mechanics of his powers and purposes of different plants, even laughs with a strange, rustling giggle, when Joseph makes a bad pun. More than once, he’s felt vines stroking his hair as he sleeps, or awoken to find the plant life in the house collaborating to pass him a cup of coffee (Duck pulled some strings with a deity in town to get a basket of goods delivered for Joseph and Indrid).
Barclay, once his wariness wore off, poured more attention onto him than Joseph’s had in years. He waves him over to the kitchen every morning, proudly showing off the food of his domain; preserves over sturdy bread, marrow spread on seedy crackers. Talks with him about myths, even plays chess with him. And when Joseph struggles to sleep, his mind fills with a vision of a little black fox, asleep in a warm den beneath the snow and he can finally rest; he’s positive that if he takes the collar off, the dreams will stop.
Then there’s Indrid, who sits by his side in the fall sunshine as the gods work . Who’s as unafraid of the caress of Duck’s vines or an embrace from Barclay as he is of holding Joseph’s hand under the covers. He’s also sharing the box of paranormal romance paperbacks he bought at a library book sale in Missouri; Joseph knows he was on book one of the Saloon of the Count series last night and that he’s now holding book two.
“You stayed up all night reading.” He raises up on his elbows.
“Indeed.” Indrid closes the book, yawning, “it’s not my fault she ended on a cliffhanger. However, I think I should rest a little; it’s only five now.”
He lays down, sighing happily as Joseph spoons him. More than once Joseph's wanted to take a man like Indrid to bed but never so much as approached them; they’d sniff him out as the uptight nerd he is right away, he knows it. He pets the artist’s side, musing on what it must be like to kiss someone with a tongue piercing, when his fingers brush Indrid’s chest. Lord help him, his nipples are pierced, too. Does he touch them when he jerks off? Does Duck know, twine his vines or tongue around them to make Indrid scream-
“Something you want, Joseph?”
His fingers freeze; he’d been toying with the left piercing.
“I, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“That’s not what I asked.” Indrid rolls to face him, “now is it?”
He takes a deep breath, “I want…I want to kiss you. If we have condoms, I want you to fuck me like I, I matter.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Indrid removes his glasses, brown eyes wide with affection, “nothing would make me happier.”
Joseph smooths his hand over Indrid’s chest, “I won’t be as good as a multi-form god, but I’ll do my best.”
Indrid kisses him, presses him down into the bed with a teasing grin, “I’ll be the judge of that.”
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Duck guides the sight he extended into the house back to the core of himself; he’s glad Indrid and Joe are getting closer. Both because it increases the odds he’ll get to tether both of them to the bed and fuck them, and his understanding is that humans do better with other humans for company.
As he lays within the soil, the network of his body stretching from field to field, he thinks on how little he really knows about humans. He sees glimpses of their lives when he takes his offerings, but the only others who know of him are his followers. And their only interest in him is what he can do, how he can better their lives.
Not like Joe, who asks a dozen questions and doesn’t shy from complex and slow-coming answers, his blue eyes glittering with curiosity. Not like Indrid, whose kisses make flagging plants bloom and who now touches Duck’s formless form without fear.
Above him, fallen fruit shrivels up and decays. That’s how Barclay sustains himself without offerings; the fruit that goes rotten on the ground or vine, the scraps of food that fall unnoticed into fireplaces and under stoves as people brace themselves for winter and feed themselves through it.
“You really think Joseph would kiss me if I asked?” Barclay’s question rumbles down to him.
“Yep. He’s fuckin fascinated by you. ‘Drid is too.”
Silence, then, “I think Joseph might have the same effect on me Indrid does for you. Whenever I touch him it’s like the clouds start gathering rain in earnest. Do you think I should ask now?”
“Nah, he and ‘Drid are busy. The storm’s gonna get worse tomorrow, right? We could make a whole day of it. Really spoil ‘em after too.”
“Right, because you’re so rough on them the rest of the time” Barclay teases, “what with making Indrid a whole new wardrobe.”
“We wanna talk about that special mushroom coffee you created for Joe?”
Barclay laughs, the rumble of the earth settling, “Fair enough.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Thank you again for agreeing to this.” Joseph clicks his pen as Indrid opens his sketchbook. Barclay has agreed to let Joseph make some notes about him for personal reference, with Indrid providing illustrations.
“You sure nobody will find out about us from these?” Duck tilts his head at Joseph’s notes.
“Positive. I, um, I use a personal cipher I developed in college.”
“Nerd.” Duck says fondly.
Barclay kneels by the bed, holding out a hand as Joseph asks about their dexterity and how far they can reach. Then he asks about his eyesight, why he has so few eyes than Duck seems to, with both gods chiming in to answer.
“This is fascinating. Can you open your mouth next, like you would if you were eating something?”
The entity nods, smiles like usual. Then the curve turns into a cross, opening to show rows of teeth on multiple sides and at least two tongues.
“Goodness.” Indrid’s breath hitches.
“I can change it up some, watch” the teeth disappear, replaced by rows of soft ridges. He raises his eyebrows at Indrid, “you okay there, little moth.”
“It looks like a fleshlight I used to have.” Indrid blurts out, then bonks his head into the sketchpad.
“Yeah? Y’know, if you ask nicely, might let you see how it compares.”
“I would very much like you to suck my dick please and thank you. Is that alright?” Indrid looks over at Duck, who nods.
“I mean, I want to, but doing that really turns me on. But, uh” Barclay turns his glowing, dark red eyes on Joseph, “might turn me on so much I’ll need something to do with my dick.”
“I, I’m sure I can suffice.”
Barclays hands rest on his knees and the god presses their foreheads together, “More than suffice, blue eyes. That was my fucking clunky way to ask you if I could fuck you because I think you’re amazing and gorgeous and I wanna build a big, warm, burrow for us and just keep you there to fuck and feed forever.”
“Ohmylord.”
Indrid kisses his cheek, “I told you he was interested.”
“He ain’t the only one.” Duck purrs, wooden chair walking itself over to join them.
Barclay leans in and Joseph offers his mouth for a kiss. He tastes snow and spices, moans as hands gather him up and lay him down on the floor. A soft, cornflower blue cushion forms from the plants and for a moment the world is only him and Barclay, warm fur blanketing him so he feels like a kid sheltering in bed on a snowy night.
“Here, this way I can take care of you and Indrid at the same time.” Barclay sits, head by Indrid’s lap as vines peel away Joseph’s clothes. Two lower his collar, holding it questioningly.
“Yes, please.” He laughs as more and more plant life manhandles him to help latch the collar into place.
“Glad you like it” Barclay paws between his legs.
“It makes me feel safe. I know, that’s a little ridiculous.”
“Nah” Duck settles on the floor next to him, snapping so vines trap his arms behind his back, “makes perfect sense. Handsome fella like you was made to be tied down and kept in his place.”
“Christ” a blush spreads down his chest and then he gasps as the rounded head of a cock pushes into him. It seems to be a ball covered in pleasant bumps with a narrow base, short enough that soon his folds are grinding against Barclay’s pelt.
“My, that’s a lovely sight; how thoughtful of Barclay to stay sitting up so I can see just how nice you look on someone else's cock.” Indrid licks his lips, seemingly unaware of the vines creeping up the bed.
“One, one of these days I’ll have all my stuff and then you can see how good you look on mine.”
Indrid blows him a kiss, then cries out as Barclay swallows him to the root.
“Ohyes, yesyesyesyes thank you” Indrid’s fingers dig into dark fur, “Barclay, dearest, ohmygoodness.” The artist’s long legs kick out, only for Barclay to grab and throw them over his shoulders. Indrid makes a much higher noise, writhing like he’s close already.
“He’s cute when he loses control, ain’t he?” Duck murmurs, running a finger over Joseph’s cheek.
“Very.”
“You got good taste, city boy.”
“Th-thank youOH, ohmygod” he bucks his hips.”
“You okay?” Duck grins.
“It changed” he stares, fascinated, at where Barclay’s cock thuds into him. It’s no longer short and round; it’s as if the first shape unfurled, a central, bumpy shaft pounding into him, each of the bumps rubbing and pressing at his walls as if each has a life of its own.
“God, that’s incredible” he arches his back. Barclay rumbles out a purr, making Indrid yelp, and winks at him.
“You take it like a champ, I’ll give you that.” Duck cups his cheek, “let’s see if you take it down the throat just as well.”
“Yesplease.” He moans as Duck straddles his face, parting his lips eagerly as he lowers himself down.
What slides into his mouth reminds him of sundews he saw in a botanical exhibit once; short tendrils dotted with something sticky and sweet, curling and twisting as he teases them with his tongue.
“Fuck, that’s it city boy, show ‘em some love.” Duck rolls his hips, “hell yeah, could, could sit here all fucking day and not get sick of this sweet mouth.” His eyes glow bright as he looks down and adds, softly, “not when you look so fuckin’ happy, anyway.”
He moans and sucks harder, smiles when Duck tugs his hair, forcing his head from side to side so he can worship his thighs with kisses.
There’s an undignified noise, followed by Indrid saying, “Cant keep yourself off me can you, sweet one?”
“Not when that ass is right there, just beggin’ me to fill it up.”
Joseph can just see around Duck to the edge of the bed, where a thick vine teases Indrid’s balls and a smaller one fucks his ass open with deliciously slick movements. Indrid tenses, cumming with a cry which morphs to a whimper when neither Barclay nor Duck lets up.
“You’re in trouble now, little moth” Barclay pulls back, lapping at his softening cock, “now that I got a taste, gonna make you cum over and over to keep getting more.”
“Ohgod” Indrid whines as the god takes him back in his mouth, “nnnnf, that’s so good.”
“You need it to stop for real, just say the word.” Barclay’s voice comes from around them rather than his mouth, “I’m gonna cum really soon, blue eyes, so be ready.”
Muffled growls pour out of Barclay’s chest as his hips gain speed, the bumps on his cock warming the harder he fuck him. Then there’s a howlgrowlpurr and the central shaft retreats. But the bumps remain, pulsing and stroking inside him, the once again rounded cock keeping them from spilling out. Several find his G-spot, seem to respond to his moans and garbled pleas for more.
“Fuck, you like that, you and I are gonna have fun later. This ain’t the only dick I got, and they can put all different seeds in you. Ones that got a little chill, ones that suck your dick while they fuck you deep, and I just fuckin know you’re gonna wanna make notes on all of ‘em and I cannot wait.”
He groans, twisting to try and free his arms.
“Somethin you need?” Duck pulls sits up so he can speak.
“I want to touch you, Duck, please, please let me touch you.”
His hands are instantly free, guided by vines up to Duck’s thighs. He gropes them, slips around to smack and grab Duck’s ass as he returns to fucking his face. If he holds tight his fingers sink into soil, and when he rubs his hands along the human form, blossoms and moss sprout in their wake, Duck seeming to have trouble keeping his form intact the more he loses himself.
As Barclay’s cock concentrates on just the right spot inside him, he closes his eyes and sucks, greedy and hard. When he read reports about Kepler, the people who lost a week here report the only difference between before and after their visit was they dreamed–often stressfully– of plants for weeks on end. Holding Duck to him, eyes closed, he smells the honeysuckle that used to grow outside his window, and visions of a summer orchard, fruit on his tongue and soft grass between his toes spread through his mind. Now and then they change, replaced by the invigorating chill of a walk in new-fallen snow, of a hearth warming his cold bones as he lays naked on a bearskin rug.
He gasps, cumming so hard all the visions collapse into a field of white. There’s a crack of cornstalks, the floor shoving his body up so Duck’s cock is as far in his mouth as it can be. There’s a burst of an almost too-sweet liquid that tingles down his throat as Duck collapses backwards with far more eyes visible on his body than normal.
Then the god is on him, kissing him ferociously as Barclay pulls out with a chuckle. There’s a weak cry above them, and after a final, adoring kiss, Duck helps him sit up to marvel at Barclay forcing Indrid through another orgasm, his hands now pinching the nipple piercings to make the artist squeak
Indrid whines and Joseph climbs onto the bed, kissing him while Duck materializes beneath him to coo soothing, filthy things in his ear as he cums.
“Everybody okay?” Barclay’s mouth returns to normal as he wipes it.
“Hell yeah.”
“Very.”
Indrid can’t speak but manages a thumbs up. Then Duck is fully sitting on the bed, human cradled in his arms and head resting on Joseph’s shoulder. Barclay joins them, cuddling Joseph close and petting Indrid tenderly.
“Did that m-make a convincing case for staying?” Indrid looks up at him.
Joseph kisses Barclay’s hand, “My work really is important to me. As much as I, I want to stay here, to be part of this strange home, I don’t think I’d be happy doing just that.”
“I get that” Barclay murmurs.
“Yeah.” Duck kisses his shoulder, “we’re gonna miss you when you go, city boy.”
Joseph kisses the top of his head, “Then we’d better make good use of my time here.”
—-------------------------------------------------------
“Are you certain you want to continue investigating Kepler?” Hayes raises his eyebrow and Joseph from the other side of his desk, “Agent Williams made it sound-”
“I’m not interested in the opinion of an agent who ran at the first sign of the case being difficult.” Joseph says calmly, “besides, I’ve cultivated contacts in town who can assist me.”
“Alright, I’ll get the requisitions and details in order and you can be on your way.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m excited to return to the field.”
#OT4: government men and their cryptid boyfriends#monster boyfriends#monster march#terato#exophilia#sternclay#indruck#trans agent stern#inclay#duck newton/agent stern
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“What is… going on between you and my sister, exactly?” Elain asked. The question sounded more curious than accusatory, but Eris still wasn’t sure how to answer.
“We haven’t really defined it,” he said lamely.
“Okay,” Elain said. “It just concerns me a bit, that’s all.” Oh good, Eris thought. Another concerned younger sister to deal with. “She and Cassian were together for almost two years,” Elain continued. “It didn’t end very pleasantly, and it’s only been two or three months. I just think it’s maybe a bit soon for her to be getting into anything new.”
“We’re not rushing into some serious relationship, Elain,” Eris said gently. “We’re enjoying each other’s company. I’m not going to make her any promises I can’t keep.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about,” Elain said calmly.
______________________________________
New Velaris, Old Vendettas
Chapter 8 | Sur la Table
[3200 words]
<<previous chapter | masterlist
______________________________________
Eris leaned back in the uncomfortable meeting room chair as Auric triple checked his figures against the proposal draft, feeling lightheaded and almost nauseated with fatigue. He’d never been so tired in his life. So many nights with three or four hours’ sleep had compounded and at this point he was little more than a walking corpse. Lucien was handling everything to do with Usurper alone, because he had no time and even less energy.
“I think maybe we need to allow some more contingency for the construction phase,” Auric was murmuring. “There are high end concepts, the finishes will need to be flawless.”
“That’s fair,” Eris said. “The contracts will need to be very specific on that too, if and when the time comes.”
Auric nodded. “I’d be surprised if it doesn’t,” he said. “It’s a great proposal. You’ve done an incredible job to pull this together in such a tight timeframe. I still don’t really understand how you’ve done it.”
“It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” Eris said cryptically. “Thank you, though. I imagine you’ll be as relieved as me when we finally submit this.”
Auric gave a humourless chuckle. “I’ll never take a full night’s sleep for granted again.”
Eris nodded his fervent agreement as Auric gathered up the papers. “Take those while you revise the figures, if you want,” Eris offered. “Just make sure you lock them away when you’re not using them and put them through the shredder when you’re done.” Wouldn’t want competitors somehow getting their hands on such sensitive information, he thought wryly to himself.
As he dragged himself back down the corridor toward his office, he met Daimon coming the other way. His brother had not spoken two words to him since the last disastrous Friday night dinner, but that suited Eris fine. Lucien wasn’t the only one lacking the family nose now, Eris observed, with a grim sense of satisfaction. The two black eyes Eris had given Daimon had faded to a faint yellowing, but the crooked nose was there to stay. Unless he got rhinoplasty, which Eris wouldn’t put past him – he was the only person in the family more vain than Eris himself.
Daimon shot him a vicious glare as he passed, and Eris pouted his lips and made a kissing noise in return.
He was nearly at his office when he changed course and headed for Lucien’s instead. He knocked on the frosted glass door. Lucien wasn’t usually one for a closed door policy, but since he now spent a lot of his time clandestinely working on Usurper, he liked to have some warning before anyone walked in. Luckily for both of them, he could pretty much handle the scutwork that Beron tossed his way in his sleep.
“Yo,” came the muffled reply from inside the office. Eris walked in, closing the door behind him. “What’s happening?”
“Just saw Daimon in the hall,” Eris said, grimacing. “Reminded me it must be almost time for Friday night dinner again. It’s been over a month since the last one, hasn’t it?”
Lucien pulled out his phone and flicked to the calendar. “Next week,” he confirmed. “I think it was originally meant to be this week but Finn had something important on. What happened with Daimon, anyway? I know Elain saw you deck him, but she either doesn’t know or wouldn’t say what sparked it.”
“He was just being a fuckwit,” Eris said dismissively. If Lucien knew Daimon had put his slimy hands on Elain, he’d be likely to do far worse than punch him. And he was more formidable physically than Eris. For Allegra’s sake, Eris was not willing to set off a prolonged feud among his brothers. Not when she already had so much on her mind.
“Well, that’s hardly anything new,” Lucien said, but didn’t press him further.
“Have you got anything on for Saturday night?” Eris asked, changing the subject.
“Nothing special. I’ve got stuff to do for Usurper, but I was just going to hang with Elain in the evenings. Why?”
“Perfect, why don’t you both come over for dinner? I’m inviting Nesta too.”
Lucien, uncharacteristically, was speechless for a few moments. “You’re inviting us over for dinner? That’s very… suburban of you. Are you and Nesta a couple now?”
“No. We’re… not labelling it. I think we should talk to Elain about maybe working on Usurper with us, if she’s interested. Nesta is smart about this sort of thing, hopefully she’ll help convince her.”
“You want Elain on board?” Lucien looked thoughtful.
“Feyre suggested it, and I think it’s a good idea,” Eris said, shrugging. “She has an HR background, right? We need to recruit some great journalism grads and content creators. And have a plan for future team growth. Elain is charming, and if that idea you had about key sponsors is going to work, having someone like her to collaborate with them would be an asset. Besides, it would give us someone we can trust to act as a go-between while we’re still keeping things afloat here.”
“Hm. She’d be good at it, no question. I’m just not sure it’d be what she wants. And don’t they say you should never work with your spouse?” He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not married yet, and you wouldn’t even be in the same location most of the time. I don’t think it counts. Look, I’m not going to try to railroad her into anything, but it doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”
“I guess not. What time Saturday?”
“Six thirty? Seven?”
“Okay. We’ll be there.”
Beron submitted the proposal to his contacts at the City of New Velaris on Thursday afternoon. He must have been happy with it, because once Auric had completed the costings and Eris put the final polish on the document, he didn’t have a single thing to say. Not even a well done, but of course that was to be expected.
Eris took Friday off and slept for the entire day and night, but for a two hour break in the afternoon to take Orion to the dog park. He’d been a neglectful these past few weeks and the poor guy deserved it. He also ignored when Orion snuck onto the bed with him later that night, and it wasn’t just because he didn’t have the energy to shoo him off.
On Saturday he and Orion walked to the fish markets before heading home to prep for dinner. He spent the afternoon leisurely weighing out ingredients, julienning vegetables and chopping herbs, so that when everyone arrived for dinner he’d only have to do the finishing touches. It felt like an absolute luxury to have a day where he could do anything without the panic of that stupid proposal hanging over his head. He enjoyed every second of it.
Nesta rang the buzzer right on 6pm. He’d told her to come earlier than Lucien and Elain so that they could spend time alone together first. He buzzed her in remotely. “Come through to the kitchen,” he called out as he heard the door from the elevator lobby open. Nesta rounded the corner, wearing a sleeveless blouse in cobalt blue silk and a black pencil skirt that hugged her ass and hips like a second skin. Lord save him.
She put a bottle of Louis Roederer down on the corner of the kitchen counter. “Hey. This is nice,” she said, glancing around the loft. Orion trotted over to her, curious. “Oh, hi there!” she said uncertainly. “Who’s this?” Orion sniffed at her for a second, then wandered past her into the kitchen to patrol for anything Eris might have dropped.
“That’s Orion, my right hand man,” Eris said as he whisked together a dressing.
“He’s yours? I didn’t know you had a dog,” she said.
“I never mentioned it? Sorry, I should have said something. You’re not afraid of dogs are you? Or allergic?”
“No. I mean, I haven’t been around them much, but I’m okay with them. What kind of dog is he?”
“He’s a greyhound. A rescue, he didn’t cut it on the track so he ended up in a shelter.” An ex-girlfriend of Eris’s had been into animal rights, and he’d agreed to foster Orion for a couple of weeks as a favour to her. The relationship with Anaïs hadn’t lasted, but the one with Orion turned out to be true love.
“Oh, that’s sad. At least he has a good home now.”
Eris put the dressing in the refrigerator and draped the dishtowel he’d tucked into the waistband of his pants back over the hook by the oven. “I’m glad you could come.” He wandered over to Nesta and bent to kiss her.
She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and instantly he was lost the way he had been in her office last week. Pulling away from her went against every instinct in his body, but after a minute he did. “You know, if you start on me like this right now, it’s likely the kitchen will be on fire by the time Lucien and Elain get here.”
Nesta laughed low in her throat, in a way that made the blood rush straight to his groin. “Okay. Later,” she promised.
He picked up the bottle of champagne she’d brought to distract himself. It was already chilled. “Very nice. You didn’t have to do that.”
Nesta shrugged. “A supplier gave it to me, and I know Elain has a weakness for it.”
“Shall we open it and have a glass out on the balcony? It’s a nice night, I thought we could eat out there.” She nodded. He filled an ice bucket and led the way out to the covered balcony.
“Wow, cool view. I wouldn’t have expected you to live in this area, to be honest.”
Eris’s home was in The District, an arty, historic neighbourhood of New Velaris full of black box theatres, whiskey dens and live music venues. His loft apartment, the top floor of what had once been a convent, was above a collective of artist studios. It was a fair comment – it wasn’t the sort of area anyone expected him to live in. When he’d decided on the loft, the main attractions had been that it was about as far as he could get from the family penthouse, and that Beron had hated it on sight. But he’d come to love the neighbourhood. He enjoyed the creative buzz of activity, and his neighbours seemed to accept the stiff in the suit without any qualms. Though that might have mostly been because Orion was so popular.
“Well, there you go,” Eris murmured. “Both of us living in unexpected places and occasionally doing unexpected things. Almost like you can’t tell everything about a person just from their reputation.” He twisted off the metal cage from the champagne bottle and slowly turned the bottle and cork in opposite directions until he heard the hiss of air escaping. He coaxed the cork out and poured each of them a glass. “Here’s to us deviants, I guess.”
Nesta smiled and clinked her glass against his. “Indeed.”
They sat and talked on the balcony until Eris heard the door buzz again and went back in to greet Elain and Lucien. Elain thrust a plastic carrier box into Eris’s hands as she came in and immediately rushed to greet the dog. “Hey puppy! Is this Orion? Hello! Hello baby! I’ve heard so much about you, I have, I have! Aw, you’re so handsome! You know it too, don’t you? You are!”
“Good to see you, too, Elain,” Eris said, with dry amusement.
“Shh, your dog and I are having a moment,” she admonished, tickling Orion behind the ears as he stood there with a dopey look on his face. “This place is not what I expected,” she said as she got to her feet.
“No, that seems to be the consensus.”
“Could use a few plants, though,” she observed. “They change the whole energy of a home, you know.”
“Not sure I could manage plants, it’s hard enough work keeping Orion happy. Where’s Lucien?”
“He dropped me off and went to find somewhere to park, he’ll be up in a minute. Those are for you,” she said, indicating the plastic carrier. It was filled with a dozen delicate little cupcakes decorated with piped lilac buttercream frosting and sugared violets.
“You made me more cupcakes?” Jesus, when would it end? Too much more of this and he’d have to join Azriel for some 3am gym sessions.
“Well, Lucien told me how appreciative you were of the last batch, so I thought I’d treat you. You deserve it. I mean, after that night at your Mom’s.” She frowned. “I’m glad you walked in when you did. And to thank you for Catherine, of course.”
“Catherine?” Who the fuck was Catherine?
“The Monstera,” she clarified. “I name all my plants. My favourite ones, anyway.”
“Smells good in here,” Lucien said, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter as he walked in.
“Come out to the balcony, we’re going to eat out there.” Eris led them outside, where they greeted Nesta. He poured them each a glass of the champagne before going back inside to put the starter together.
“Oh, this looks a bit special,” Elain gushed as he put plates down in front of her and Nesta before returning for two more.
“So what are we looking at here?” Lucien asked.
“King scallop ceviche, served in the half shell,” Eris said. “Fresh caught, Orion and I went to the fish markets this morning.”
“Of course you did,” Lucien said, rolling his eyes. “Such a show off.”
Eris grinned.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Elain demanded. “Lucien can grill a decent hamburger, but this is next level.”
“Well, this dish is technically raw, actually – it’s cured in citrus juices, no cooking involved. But I spent a gap year in Paris once,” Eris explained. “I took an eight week course at Le Cordon Bleu while I was there.”
“Just for the hell of it,” Lucien added. “Because that’s the kind of thing you do when you’re an insufferable fucking show off.”
While Elain and Lucien playfully argued about his failure to prepare Le Cordon Bleu quality meals for her, Nesta gave him an enigmatic smile. “Very impressive, Eris Vanserra,” she said quietly.
He winked at her. “Like I told you, hidden talents.”
When Eris picked up the empty plates and went in to prepare the main course, Elain followed him. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“It’s already mostly prepped,” Eris told her, as he scraped the empty scallop shells into a plastic bag of seafood trimmings in the freezer. The trash wouldn’t be collected for another few days and he didn’t want it stinking up the loft. “It’ll only take me a few minutes if you want to relax with the others.”
“I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“Oh? Okay.”
“About Nesta.”
“Ah.”
“What is… going on between you and my sister, exactly?” Elain asked. The question sounded more curious than accusatory, but Eris still wasn’t sure how to answer.
“We haven’t really defined it,” he said lamely.
“Okay,” Elain said. “It just concerns me a bit, that’s all.” Oh good, Eris thought. Another concerned younger sister to deal with. “She and Cassian were together for almost two years,” Elain continued. “It didn’t end very pleasantly, and it’s only been two or three months. I just think it’s maybe a bit soon for her to be getting into anything new.”
“We’re not rushing into some serious relationship, Elain,” Eris said gently. “We’re enjoying each other’s company. I’m not going to make her any promises I can’t keep.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about,” Elain said calmly.
“It’s my heart you fear for?” Eris said incredulously.
“Only because I suspect it’s softer than you let on,” Elain replied. “I can see you feel my concern is misplaced, so I won’t harp on about it. Just take care, okay? Now, what can I do to help?”
Eris turned over her words as he pulled a tray of snapper fillets out of the oven and showed Elain how to open the parchment paper sleeves and plate the fish on the celeriac mash. This was the first time he could remember being accused of having a soft heart. And what kind of monster did Elain see her sister as?
He quickly whisked a little more butter and white wine into the pre-prepared sauce base and tasted it before ladling it over the fish. “Help me take these out?”
Nesta was laughing at something Lucien had said when they came back out to the balcony. “Shh, here he comes,” Lucien stage-whispered. “Don’t tell him I told you that.”
Eris refused to rise to the bait. “Red snapper en cocotte with beurre blanc sauce,” he said smugly, placing a plate down in front of Lucien. “Sorry it’s not a hamburger.”
As they ate the meal, Eris floated their ideas about Usurper to Elain. She was confused at first.
“But there must be plenty of people who would be better at it than me,” she said, frowning.
“Possibly, but we’re so deeply committed to nepotism in this family,” Lucien joked. ‘It’s really all we know.”
“You sell yourself short,” Eris said, ignoring his brother. “You’re intuitive with people, which is really valuable. Besides that, we need someone we know we can trust to act on our behalf while we’re still involved with Forestier. You’d be good at it. Just think about it, okay?”
“I will,” Elain promised.
“I was going to serve a cheese board instead of dessert,” Eris said once he’d cleared away the main course. “But Elain made these, so I think we’ll have them instead.” He placed a two-tiered stand laden with Elain’s purple cupcakes in the middle of the table.
Nesta laughed and began peeling a cupcake out of its paper wrapper. “Some things never change,” she said, glancing at Elain fondly. A sudden breeze whipped over the balcony and Nesta shivered, her bare arms erupting in goosebumps. She leaned closer to Eris, and he put an arm around her shoulder. Elain and Lucien exchanged glances.
They stayed at the table talking until it got too cold outside, then retired to the loft’s living area for a Vanserras versus Archerons game of Pictionary, largely fought between the hyper-competitive Lucien and Nesta while Eris and Elain watched on in amusement, delighting in irritating their respective siblings by occasionally guessing wrong on purpose.
Eventually, Elain yawned and turned to Lucien. “We should probably go. Didn’t you have some things you wanted to get done tomorrow?” she asked pointedly.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Lucien agreed.
“Do you want a ride home with us?” Elain asked Nesta.
“No, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Elain said slowly. “Thank you for the wonderful meal, Eris. Can we give you a hand cleaning up before we go?”
“No, you go ahead. I’ll do it in the morning.”
Orion kissed Elain goodbye like she was a soldier going off to war, and she and Lucien took their leave.
“Finally,” Nesta said, when the door closed behind them. She stalked toward him slowly.
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A Favor: Part Seventeen
Nessian Modern AU
Masterlist
a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows
TW: discussion of SA
***
Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.
Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.
“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”
“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”
“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.
Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”
“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”
Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.
Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”
“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”
Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.
Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.
“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”
Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”
“For what?”
“This conversation.”
Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”
The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”
She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”
Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.
“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.
“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”
Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”
“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”
“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”
“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.
Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”
Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.
“On New Year’s.”
“And you turned it down?”
“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.
“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.
“The movie?”
“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”
Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”
She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”
Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.
“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”
She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”
“Of course I said no because of you.”
“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”
“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”
“You sound codependent,” she retorts.
He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”
He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.
“Why not?” he demands.
“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”
“Again: why the fuck not?”
So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”
Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”
“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.
“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”
“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”
“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”
“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.
“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.
“How so?” she challenges.
“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”
Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.
“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”
“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”
“I do not,” Nesta defends.
“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”
Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?
“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.
“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.
She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”
That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”
“Forever.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.
He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”
Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”
“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”
The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.
“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”
A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.
“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”
When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”
She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”
Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”
Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”
“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”
She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.
“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”
“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.
“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”
Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”
“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”
“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”
***
Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.
Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.
“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.
Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”
“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”
“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.
“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”
“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.
“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”
“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.
“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.
Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.
“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.
“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.
“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.
Gwyn pales.
“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.
“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”
Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”
She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.
Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”
“But I didn’t do anything—”
She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”
“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”
“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.
Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”
Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”
Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”
“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.
Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.
“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”
But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.
Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”
Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”
“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”
Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”
“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.
***
They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.
Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”
“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”
“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.
Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.
Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.
Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”
“Why?” Nesta says.
“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”
“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”
Nesta doesn’t give her form back.
“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”
“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.
Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.
Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”
Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”
“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.
She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.
“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.
But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.
“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.
“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.
“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.
Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”
“But I’m not done yet—”
“Now.”
“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.
Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.
Gwyn makes a face at her back.
“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.
“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”
Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.
Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”
She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.
“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”
“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”
Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.
“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?
At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”
“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”
Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”
“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.
But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.
During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.
“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”
Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”
“Just not today?”
Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”
Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.
After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”
Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”
Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.
Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.
Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”
Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”
“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”
The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.
Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.
“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”
Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”
“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”
Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”
Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”
Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”
“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”
“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”
“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”
Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”
“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.
“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.
“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”
They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.
Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.
Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”
“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.
“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.
“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”
“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.
Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”
“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”
Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.
“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.
That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.
***
a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era
taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes
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You Shouldn’t Touch What’s Not Yours
Pairing - Diluc and Childe x Reader (separate of course).
Warnings - Violence, implied bullying/harassment/assault, very very mild gore.
Other Comments - I’ve wrote so much for Childe that I thought I should probably throw someone else into the mix, so why not put in my second favorite white boy Diluc hehe. (♡-_-♡) I can’t help but write angst for my babies but I promise I have some lighter fluffier stuff on the way (￣ω￣;). I also tried to make these a little shorter since I was writing for two characters this time hehe.
~ Childe ~
The day was set up to be so good. Childe had been quite busy with his usual Harbinger duties, but he had finally been able to score a couple days off and decided he wanted to plan out a romantic sequence of evenings. He had spent so much time and effort making everything perfect. Childe most definitely not frugal in any terms of the word, but he managed to surprise himself with how much Mora he had spent for just two days. Of course just the luck for him, a wrench had to be thrown into the mix.
You had been having a tough couple of weeks trying to deal with a rather difficult man who had commissioned you from the Adventurers guild. After you had informed him that you were unable to complete his commission, he had decided to make your life a living hell; constantly throwing insults at you and almost getting physical with you on a couple of occasions.
Now of course when you had received message from Childe that he was going to be “home” for a couple of days, you were absolutely floored. You missed him greatly and you were finally going to have someone to distract you from the awful harassment; but this also meant that you were going to have to figure out a way of hiding the obvious toll it took on you.
There were dark bags underneath your once gleeful eyes, from the loss of sleep due to worrying about this man and his whereabouts. There were also a couple of bruises left on your knees from stumbling when running away from your aggressor; though those could easily be written off as injuries from the Hilichurls or Treasure Hoarders.
On the day of Childe’s arrival he had expected to be greeted with a beaming (y/n), and a great big hug, maybe even a passionate kiss. But what he was greeted with, was the shell of his significant other. Today was the worst possible day for him to see you, as you had just gotten out of a physical altercation with the usual suspect. There were clear tear stains, you had dirt and scrapes all over you, and he even dared to go as far as give you a bloody nose.
You gave Childe a lifeless smile that couldn’t even reach your eyes, before heading straight into your apartment and closing the door; not waiting for Childe. Not only was he outraged and your actions and appearance, the way you were acting clearly alluded to this abuse lasting for a while. Why didn’t you say anything about it to him, send him a message? He could’ve sent over Fatui agents to take care of the cockroach. Of course his outrage was misplaced, is was not your fault; he knew this. He needed to get to the roots of this little weed.
It took a little bit of digging, but once Childe found the source of your issues it was over. This man had never been more blind sighted with rage, than when he made eye contact with the piece of shit who dared to lay a hand on you or speak to you at all.
Childe was very careful about only showing you the good side of him, at least for now as your relationship with him was still too new; so gods did it feel good to really beat the shit out of this guy.
“Hey you! Did you commission an adventurer by the name of (y/n) by any chance?” Childe new better than to suddenly go in swinging, by the slight off chance that this may have been the wrong man.
“Huh? Oh yeah, or at least I tried. The useless little shit couldn’t get it done though, so I do not recommend them at all.” Ah yes, the flash of red in Childe’s vision confirmed it all. How dare they speak ill of you, and even worse touch something that belonged to him.
“Bad news comrade, you should never touch something that isn’t yours.” There was an evil glint in Childe’s now dark eyes as he suddenly swung at the man. He didn’t really care if others say, he decided it was good to make an example out of this jerk.
By the end of everything, Childe was spattered with blood, not to mention how awful his fists looked. Though that doesn’t even begin to cover what the other man looked like. To call him a bloody mess was an understatement, and the copper headed man wasn’t exactly sure if the man was even breathing anymore though of course he didn’t exactly care either.
With that, Childe cleaned himself up before heading back to your residence. He guessed he would just have to extend his stay with you for a few more days to make up for what this scum bag did. He would be damned if he left without seeing that playful glint return to your eyes.
~ Diluc ~
Diluc was an incredibly busy man, so he never got to see you much except for the rare occasions that you would stop by the winery if you were say in the area. So when he made the executive decision to leave work early and surprise you at home, he was more than a little shocked to see you getting yelled at by one of the Knights of Favonius.
He knew you had always been a little more on the soft and sensitive side, which made him love you even more. You were the polar opposite to him in that regard, so a switch flipped in him when his eyes met your tearful ones.
“Excuse me what happens to be the problem here?” Diluc’s strides were large and quick, trying to get between you and the dreadful knight as quickly as possible. It was clear that this Knight was not normally on patrol inside of Mondstadt, or on patrol anywhere for that matter as he seemed to be pretty new. Even if Diluc despised all of them, he knew almost every single one of them.
“Well, this one right here clearly doesn’t understand the laws of gliding, as they clearly do not have a gliding license-”
“I’ve been trying to tell you I have a license I must’ve just forgotten it! You can ask Amber she’s the one that did my test!” You were quick to explain yourself once again, accidentally cutting off the knight.
“Don’t you dare interrupt me!” The knight reached around Diluc to push your shoulder, to which Diluc quickly shoved him back causing him to fall backwards.
“Don’t fucking touch them. I’ll have you know, I know your Acting Grand Master quite well it would take no time at all to send her a letter of how poor you are at your job. You’re clearly new here, so i hope you enjoy getting your job stripped away as fast as you ‘earned’ it; if you could even say that.” The color completely drained from the knight’s face and they went to stand back up and quickly jogged away. With that Diluc quickly turned around to face you.
“(Y/n) are you okay? Have you been hurt? I swear you should never trust any of the Knights they all-” Diluc was rambling, you’d never seen him this frantic before. It was almost kind of cute how he was almost as shaken up as you were as he looked you over for any injuries, even the smallest scrape.
“Diluc, I am okay. Thank you for helping me.” On of Diluc’s gloved hands came up to cup your cheek as he brushed away the last few tears on your face with his thumb. Relief visibly flooded over him, before quickly going back to his usual stoic self.
“Well, I am glad I just happened to take the rest of the day off. This wasn’t exactly the way I was planning of surprising you with that but oh well.” A smile immediately lit up your face, causing Diluc’s to flush a light pink.
“Really?! That’s great I’m so excited! Wait... So are you really going to tell Acting Grand Master Jean about him?” Diluc let out a low chuckle.
“I just might. I haven’t visited her office in quite some time either so I guess this does give me another excuse to take another day off from the tavern. And besides, a guy like him has no place in the Knights, he would’ve turned out to be a cocky power hungry fool. Now shall we get going?”
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact imagine#genshin imagine#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#genshin diluc#genshin impact childe#genshin impact tartaglia#tartaglia#childe#genshin imapct diluc#diluc#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia imagine#childe x reader#childe imagine#diluc x reader#diluc imagine
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mind games [part fourteen]
masterlist | part thirteen | part fifteen
zuko x fem!reader fluff, angst smau (it has the social media elements, but not as much as the last series)
avatar: the last airbender
summary - being zuko’s best friend is the easiest thing in the world. until he gets a girlfriend and you realize you’re in love with him
warnings / includes - (this counts for any/all chapters) - fighting, suggestive, language, crying, alcohol, cheating, talk about injuries, making out, alluding to sex, talks about sex. you are sokka and katara’s older sister. you, mai, and zuko are seniors in college, sokka and suki are juniors, katara, aang, and toph are sophomores
note - this is just a filler chapter for the next enjoy!
————
“hmm,” mai hummed, turning around and wrapping her arms around jet’s middle. she opened her eyes lowly and looked up at him, a smile creeping up her face.
jet sighed and looked down at her, giving her a quizzical look. “why do you look so happy?”
“i just…” mai sighed, “like having you here in the mornings.”
“oh, yeah? why?” jet smirked. “well one, you’re amazing at sex. two, you’re not a cuddle-hog like zuko,” she explained.
jet chuckled, nodding and laying his head back down on the pillow. he looked up at mai’s ceiling, closing his eyes. he breathed in and out, beginning to think about all the things he had to do today. it was the first week of summer and everyone was enjoying themselves before they had to buckle down and get a real job, not just the JD and clothing stores.
he knew he had to go and pick up food for appa and momo, do laundry, pick up your jeans from the dry cleaners.
jet’s eyes flew open once you came into his mind. he took mai’s arm and threw. it off of him, quickly getting up to find his clothes. mai frowned at his hasty behaviour, getting up and wrapping her blanket around her.
“where’re you going?” she asked. “i-i have to go and run some errands,” jet answered, jumping into his jeans.
mai rolled her eyes as she knew that his errands all were pertained to you. “what kind of errands.”
“pick up appa and momo food, pick up y/n’s jeans from the dry cleaners, other. stuff,” he said.
“y/n can pick up her own clothes. she’s an adult for spirit’s sake,” mai spat. she sauntered over to jet, taking his hand in her’s and pulling him close. “c’mon, stay for a while. we never hang out after ten.”
“and there’s a reason for that, mai,” he rolled his eyes. he yanked her hand away from his, putting his shirt back on. “i gotta go. i’ll call you later, yeah?”
mai frowned and followed him out of her room. “she knows you know.”
jet scoffed, “she doesn’t know shit.” “well, she’s gonna. better just milk it until she figures it out. i hate to say it, but she’s smart,” mai said.
“yeah, and what about zuko, huh?” jet shot back.
“he’s going to break up with me soon. him and y/n are in love with each other. better just let the cat out of the bag.”
“no. she’s not going to figure out and i’m not going to “milk it” or whatever because after this, we’re done.”
mai laughed, “yeah, right. that’s what you said the last time.”
jet snapped his head to her, giving her a hard glare. “you and i have partners already. this, us, we are a mistake, and you know it.” he made his way down the stairs, getting his shoes and slipping them on.
“so? you seem to forget that whenever you come over!” mai balled her hands into fists, still standing on the top of the stairs.
“i still love her, okay!” jet yelled back, looking at mai. “i-i still love y/n. she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. you? you’re the worst.”
“if you really loved her, then you wouldn’t be in my bed every weekend,” mai snapped.
jet looked down at the floor, knowing that she was right. he didn’t say anything, though, instead going out the door and slamming it shut.
while jet drove back to his place, you were at your sibling’s house, hanging out with zuko.
“gonna do it tonight, huh?” you asked. “yep. is it bad if i say that i can’t wait?” zuko asked.
“i don’t think so,” you shook your head. zuko smiled, “ugh, i can’t wait to be a free man!”
“well, hey, now you’re being a little mean,” you said.
“well it’s true,” he shrugged. “cut mai some slack. i know you two fight a lot, but i can tell she cares about you,” you nudged him.
“yeah, sure. well, i don’t care about or love her,” he said.
you smirked and leaned against the counter. zuko furrowed his brows, “what?”
“i know you say that, but let’s be honest, you love her more than you think,” you explained.
zuko’s face fell and he looked down. honestly, he never really loved mai. sure, he’d said it to her, and he told his friends how great she was. he just didn’t love her like she should. his heart belonged to someone else, anyways.
you frowned and put a hand on his bicep, your heart fluttering as you felt over the muscle. you pushed away your budding feelings and focused on the task at hand.
“did i say something wrong?” you asked tentatively.
zuko shook his head, holding his head up. you were met with his shining, amber eyes. the ones you could get lost in if you let yourself.
“no, i just... i love her but, i don’t love her.”
you nodded, “yeah, that makes sense.”
zuko looked into your eyes, speaking before thinking. “do you love jet?”
your eyes widened at the question and your hand fell from his bicep. you were going to pull away, but zuko’s hand found yours and he intertwined your fingers with his. he never took his eyes off of you for a second.
“do you love jet?” he asked again. more for himself than for general curiosity.
“i-i do,” you nodded. as you spoke, your eyes couldn’t help but trail down to his lips. “i do,” you said more confidently, still looking at his lips.
zuko’s eyes also stared at your lips, both of your hearts pounding against your chests. you felt yourself scoot closer to where you could feel his breath on your lips.
“but do you love him, y/n?” he asked, putting more emphasis on the word. his arm snaked around your waist, his hand gently cradling the small of your back.
you started to breath heavily, your head spinning at the questions and how close you were to zuko. your eyes flickered up to his eyes, seeing his pupils blown wide. you were sure yours were the same. you went back to looking at his lips, leaning in to press your forehead against his.
“i... i think...” you trailed off. your mind was behind clouded with the idea of kissing him. how good it’d finally feel after all these years, how well your lips would fit together with his. you were sure zuko would kiss you better than jet. zuko was a passionate and sensitive guy, while jet was a passionate, but also tough guy. he kissed you rough, but you wanted a slow, fervent kiss. one you knew only zuko could only provide.
but as you were comparing how the two boys kissed, you got turned off on the idea. you closed your eyes and sighed, pulling away from his embrace.
“yeah, i do love him like that,” you mumbled your final answer.
zuko’s heart broke at your words. he knew it was a long shot, but he just wanted you to see that you were with the wrong guy. like he was with the wrong girl.
“um, anyways,” you coughed. “i gotta go and see if jet has picked up my jeans and stuff. i’ll see you later, yeah?”
zuko nodded, looking at you longingly. you gave him a small smile, going up to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaving. once zuko heard the door, he pulled out his phone, giving mai a call.
“hey, babe. everything okay?” mai asked.
“uh, yeah,” zuko nodded. “just um, do you want to come over later? maybe watch a movie?”
mai went silent for a moment, thinking if she should say yes or not.
“mai?” zuko asked. “huh? o-oh yeah. movie sounds great. what time?” mai asked.
“um, 5?”
it gave him enough time to think about how he was going to break up with her.
“sounds good. are we going to be along?” she asked.
“yep,” he answered. “great! see you later!” mai exclaimed before hanging up.
zuko put his phone on the counter, running his hands through his hair in distress. all he wanted was you and he hoped that by dating mai he would be able to get you. how did he manage to screw things up?
————
“heh, babe,” you smiled as you walked through the door.
jet looked up his phone, a smile spreading onto his face. “hey. where have you been?” he got up out of his chair and engulfed you in a hug.
you hugged him tentatively, not leaning in or kissing him like usual. “katara’s. you um, didn’t come home last night,” you chuckled nervously. you moved out of his embrace, going to the kitchen cabinets to get yourself something to eat.
“o-oh, yeah. sorry about that,” jet chuckled.
“you never answered my question,” you said.
“right! well, i was picking up an extra shift at work,” he answered.
you raised your brow while getting out yogurt. “oh, really? why?”
“so i can get some extra money to take you out,” jet explained with a smile.
“you don’t need to take me out. you can come home to me, though. i was lonely,” you frowned.
jet looked at you with regret and guilt. more because he had been sleeping with mai, but you didn’t know that.
“i’m sorry,” he sighed. “tonight i’ll be here. i promise.”
you looked at him, staring for a few seconds before giving in. you weren’t very sure he meant his sorry, or if he was telling the truth, but you had more pressing things to deal with.
“alright. did you pick up my coat?” you asked.
“u-uh, yeah,” jet nodded, confused as to why you still seemed distrusting.
“great, thanks,” you walked by him, not bothering to spare him a look.
jet frowned, going over to you. “hey, did i do something wrong?”
“no,” you stated flatly. “i think i did. is it something i said?” jet asked.
you sighed, “i just... don’t believe you.”
“w-why?” jet stuttered.
you frowned and looked at him as if it were obvious. “you’re not coming home at night anymore, you’re making excuses, y-you smell like perfume.” you voice cracked at the last sentence, thoughts of him cheating on you running through your mind.
jet look the collar of his shirt, taking a whiff only to curse at himself in his head. you watched him with wide, tear-filled eyes as the look of realization came onto his face.
“see? y-you’re hiding something!” you accused.
“i’m not!” jet’s eyes widened. he went to take your hands in his, but they were holding a bowl. so instead he put it hands on your shoulders. “i would never hide or lie to you.”
you glared at him. “you’re lying. just say you’re cheating on me.”
“i’m not!” he scoffed. “bullshit!” you exclaimed.
“why do you think i’m cheating on you?”
“because you’re doing exactly what shan did! what else am i supposed to think?”
“this is just how men act! i’m allowed to stay out at night and hang out with my friends whenever i want!”
“no, that’s how a boy acts. we’re supposed to be communicating, not fighting for each other’s trust!” you scolded.
he looked at you helplessly, knowing you were right. he opened his mouth to say apologize, but you stopped him.
“i’m going back to sokka’s,” you muttered. setting the bowl down harshly and stomping to the garage door.
“b-but you just came back,” jet frowned.
“and i’m leaving. until you can provide me when a better reason, i’m staying there,” you said, grabbing your coat and purse.
“and what if i can’t? what if nothing satisfies you?” jet asks.
you sighed and looked at him, tears rolling down your cheeks. “the truth will satisfy me. if you can’t provide that, then... then...” you trailed off, your mouth going dry. you tried to say the words, but it wouldn’t come out. it didn’t matter anyways, jet already knew what you were going to say.
you gave him one last hurtful look being leaving to your car. jet immediately grabbed the bowl, smashing it to the ground. he put his hands over his face and combed his fingers through his hair violently. tears streamed down his face as he knew he had just potentially lost you for good. how did he manage to screw things up?
————
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#zuko x reader#zuko imagines#atla#avatar the last airbender#atla zuko x reader#atla imagine#zuko x reader smut#zuko imagine#jet x reader#atla jet x reader
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Man, I always feel awkward doing these, lol. Hello! I found your work recently and really love what I've read so far! As I notice your prompts are open at the moment, if you're up for it, I'd love to see a Shinsou/Deku fic. Platonic or romantic, I don't have a preference. I just love those two together so dang much. Keep up the great work! ^^
A/N : aaa omg ok i absolutely LOVE ur blog and all ur fics, tysm for sending in a prompt!! also, this is a little longer than originally intended and i wrote it in a night so hopefully it isn't too dogshit LMAOO and pls keep in mind that this is my very first time writing for shinsou, so im not 100% sure what im doing lol <33 anyways, i rlly hope you enjoy!!
Patterned Socks (My Hero Academia)
Ship : Lee!Midoriya / Ler!Shinsou
Summary : Shinsou is nervous after inviting Izuku over to his room, as he only just realized his crush on the green-haired boy a few weeks prior. But when Izuku shows up in full All Might attire, Shinsou can't help but tease the boy to the point of new discoveries.
Word Count : 3494
REBLOGS ARE ALWAYS GREATLY APPRECIATED!! MWAH <33
. . .
Shinsou couldn’t help but feel a little...nervous. It wasn’t like he and Izuku had never hung out before, the freckled boy had invited Shinsou to hang out multiple times with his own group of friends, and it always made the usually kept-to-himself boy feel surprisingly loved and thought about. He’d even had a sleepover with Izuku and his friends before, and he couldn’t say it wasn’t fun for him, as he honestly had a great time, it was just...this was going to be his and Midoriya’s first time hanging out...alone.
Being alone with Izuku shouldn’t make him feel this nervous, this bubbly, this giddy. But it did. The boy with the mop of green mess on his head wasn’t even in Shinsou’s fucking room yet and somehow the teen with eye bags deeper than the ocean itself was more than wide awake with the nerves zooming through his system. He couldn’t help it though. Not after his realization weeks ago that, ‘oh shit, maybe I actually have a crush on this little nerd.’
So here Shinsou was, sitting cross-legged with a straight posture in the middle of his bed like a fucking lunatic, twiddling his thumbs and picking at his fingers like he was minutes away from taking the biggest exam of his life, when the only thing he had to currently expect was that timid, awkward kid from Class-1A to knock on his door and hang out with him for a few hours-
Knock! Knock!
“Hey, it’s Midoriya! I’m here, sorry if I’m late!” the muffled voice from behind the bedroom door was unmistakable, and somehow it made Shinsou’s heart stop for just a moment from nerves.
‘Fucking pull yourself together!’ Shinsou thought to himself as he slid off his bed, wiping his sweaty hands against the soft and linted fabric of his plaid pajama pants. ‘You’re acting like he’s here to murder you! You’re just a couple of friends hanging out, you’re making this a way bigger deal than it needs to be!’
“You’re fine, just one sec,” Shinsou spoke nonchalantly as he made his way towards the full length mirror propped up next to his closet. He hated that he actually cared enough to look at himself, to make sure he looked good, but not too good to have Izuku think he was trying to impress him or anything, even if he WAS trying to impress him, but just not-
“Okie dokie! Take your time!” Izuku giggled, and Shinsou swore all the sweat he had JUST wiped off his gross, clammy hands had just pooled right back to his palms at that adorable little sound. That stupid fucking giggle was going to be the death of him, he just knew it.
With a sigh of frustration at himself, Shinsou finally made his way towards his door, giving himself one last peek at his mirror over his shoulder before whipping his head back around and opening the door as nonchalantly as someone could perform the action.
As the door swung open, Shinsou was greeted by the sweetest smile a person could probably ever muster, the boy in front of him lifting a bag up towards the boy’s face with a giggle.
“I brought gummy worms,” Midoriya chuckled shyly, scratching the back of his neck. Shinsou couldn’t help the small tinge of endearment his eyebrows gave before trying to go back to his stoic, edgy persona, giving the boy a small smirk.
“Of course you did,” he snickered, opening the door wider to let the boy inside. “Sit your stuff wherever, I don’t mind. Just put your shoes by the door,” Shinsou shut the door behind them once he saw that Izuku was fully inside, already sitting his stuff down by the bed.
“Oh sure, no problem,” Midoriya nodded towards Shinsou, making his way back towards the door as he carefully slipped his signature red sneakers off to sit by the doorframe. Shinsou finally sat back down on his own bed, but never stopped watching the boy go about his room. It was Midoriya’s first time visiting the boy’s room, and to Shinsou it just felt so...odd, seeing him actually in here, being able to look at everything he had up on his walls and the little messes scattered around his floor. He felt almost a little insecure.
It was a colder Saturday, and it seemed Midoriya had no other plans besides hanging out with the purple-headed teen, as Shinsou saw that he was sporting a worn-out hoodie with All Might’s face adorning the front that he’s probably had for God knows how long, and some oversized pajama pants that were decorated to look like All Might’s own hero suit. He was such a fucking fanboy, even when he was trying to be comfortable. It was...it was too fucking cute.
Once Izuku had finished the business with his shoes, he made his way over to Shinsou’s bed, joining the boy on the small mattress as he climbed on top. Shinsou was sat on the front of his bed, his back against his pillows, while Midoriya had chosen to sit at the end of the bed, his legs outstretched so his feet were just about a foot away from Shinsou’s own crossed legs. Midoriya looked at Shinsou with a smile.
“So...what’cha wanna do?” Midoriya asked, propping his body up with his arms behind his back, tilting his head to the side at his question. Shinsou sucked on his teeth in thought, letting out a small “Hmm…” before scanning Midoriya up and down subconsciously. His eyes made his way down to the boy's feet propped in front of him, his eyebrows quirking at the sight before a grin stretched across his face. His head was tilted downwards towards the boy’s feet as his eyes wandered back upwards towards Midoriya’s eyes, the smirk never leaving his face.
“Are you for real right now?” Shinsou asked playfully, his eyes glancing back down towards the boy’s socks before looking back up into Midoriya’s eyes, who looked a little confused. “You even wear All Might socks?!”
Midoriya’s eyes widened a bit at Shinsou’s realization, his hand slapping at his own mouth to cover the smile etching across his face from embarrassment. His cheeks were just faintly flushed, but it was enough to make Shinsou chuckle in endearment.
“I didn’t even realize!” Midoriya muffled behind the palm of his hand a giggle escaping that made Shinsou’s brain short circuit for just a second before coming back down to reality, shaking his head with a snicker of fondness. “I wear these all the time…”
“You are unbelievable, Midoriya,” Shinsou chuckled, before gently cupping the underside of Izuku’s heel and raising it up closer to his own face. Midoriya let out a small gasp, his leg jerking just slightly from surprise, but not so much for Shinsou to lose his grasp. Where Shinsou had gained the slight confidence to take such an action, the edgy teen had no clue. But Midoriya honestly seemed to be...liking the attention? The smile was evident, even behind the palm of his hand, and even though his eyes were wide and cautious, they looked daringly into Shinsou’s own, almost asking him to make a bolder move without needing to say a word. Though really, the smile was more than enough to agg Shinsou on even further. Who was he to deny this cutie the attention he so obviously wanted?
Shinsou’s grasp on Izuku’s heel tightened a bit, enough to make Midoriya stiffen, now both of his hands going up to cup at his mouth and keep himself quiet, almost like he was trying to keep himself from protesting. Shinsou gazed at Izuku’s cute, flushed face one more time before looking back down at the socked foot in his hand, taking note of the design on the sole. It was decorated in different cartoon All Might designs. One of his face, one of his signature catchphrase “I AM HERE!”, one of his full body hero suit, and one of just his trademark bunny-like hair. Shinsou grinned at this, deciding to make his own little game out of the designs.
“So you wear these socks a lot?” Shinsou asked with a teasing tilt of his head, looking back up to Midoriya without moving the boy’s foot an inch. Izuku raised one eyebrow in slight confusion before nodding his head. Shinsou hummed with a nod, his eyes wandering back down to the sock. “So if I were to poke at...this spot here…” Shinsou brought a finger up from his free hand to the sock, his nail just barely scratching at one of the cartoons on the sole of Izuku’s foot. Izuku jerked at the sensation, a small yip muffled by his hands still being heard by the purple-haired boy teasing him near to death, much to Shinsou’s amusement. “...could you tell me which design it was?”
Shinsou continued his gentle wiggling of one finger, but it was just enough to get Izuku tittering behind his hand, one eye squeezed shut as the other glared at the boy. Izuku gave him no response, however, only pulling at his leg slightly when Shinsou scratched over particularly sensitive areas that made him let out louder snickers than others. Shinsou playfully tisked with a shake of his head.
“Not gonna play my game, huh? I thought you wanted to do something fun, Midoriya,” Shinsou just sighed with a smile, a small evil glint shining in his eyes that gave Izuku goosebumps and made his own eyes widen in...fear? Giddiness? Excitement? “Fine. New game,” Shinsou grinned wickedly before snatching up both of Midoriya’s feet and locking them by their ankles in between one of his elbows. Midoriya let out a loud gasp of shock, before playfully tugging at his feet as if he wanted to escape. They both knew it was all just for show. “Try to stay quiet.”
Midoriya’s eyes widened before immediately slamming shut at the teasingly ticklish sensations that danced across his left socked foot. Shinsou scraped at the sole slowly, using only his first three fingers to do so, but good fucking God was it effective. Midoriya’s hands seemed to be glued to his mouth at this point, almost squeezing at his cheeks to try to keep quiet, though the muffled titters did not go unnoticed by the tickling teen before him.
“Aww, whatsa matter, Midoriya?” Shinsou teased with a small grin, his fingers edging their way upwards towards the bottoms of his toes, curling into the spot he knew to be sensitive on himself which only made Izuku shriek behind his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re ticklish~”
Izuku shook his head, though the way his body was practically vibrating under Shinsou spoke volumes. “Oh, you aren’t, huh? You’re not ticklish? Not even a teensie weensie bit?”
Izuku once again shook his head, the slow and gentle tickles provided by Shinsou giving Izuku just enough leeway to lie his way through this playful torment with only tiny titters and snickers. But the moment he felt his toes being pulled back by the side of Shinsou’s hands, both of his eyes shot open in excited fear.
“Well that just won’t do, now will it? I’m a pretty convincing guy, though, so maybe we can change that up a bit,” Shinsou grinned before scratching the nail of his thumb into Midoriya’s now stretched out toes, and Izuku couldn’t hold back anymore. The boy let out a stream of giggles behind one hand, his other now shooting down to clutch at his belly.
“AHAHA! Wahahait! Nohoho!” Izuku’s eyes squeezed shut, throwing himself back to lay flat on the bed, both of his hands moving up to cover his now terribly blushing face. Shinsou snickered, incredibly amused at the boy’s intense cuteness. “I’m sohohorreheheehe!”
“Aw, you’re sorry? For what?” Shinsou chuckled before raking all four of his fingers down the sole of Izuku’s socked foot, the boy letting out a yelp at the change before dissolving back into his adorable stream of giggles.
“I dohohon’t knohohohow!” Izuku shook his head, his feet just barely pulling at Shinou’s grasp out of pure bodily instinct. Shinsou just smiled fondly, chuckling a little in amusement. The purple-haired teen zeroed in on one particular spot right under the ball of Midoriya’s foot, the poor boy under him letting out a small shriek before arching his back at the sensation, shaking his head wildly.
“Ohoho, this a good spot, Midoriya? Right here?” Shinsou scratched at the sensitive area, Izuku cackling at the sensation before shooting his hands down to clutch at the front of his own hoodie, his knuckles almost turning white. “Aw, it is, isn’t it? You can’t take it here, huh?”
“AHAHAHA! PLEHEHEASE!” Midoriya cackled, pulling at his hoodie even harder, enough where Shinsou could even see the space of skin right under the boy’s pale neck. It was freckled there too, he noted, and...he couldn’t help but wonder if he was freckled anywhere else too.
“Please what? If you want me to stop just say so,” Shinsou tilted his head, observing very closely as he noticed Izuku’s face grow an even darker shade of tickled pink. He chuckled in delight as he heard no sounds of protest from the cackling boy underneath him. “Aw, that’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want me to stop?”
“DOHOHON’T DOHOHO THAHAHAT!” Izuku giggled wildly, pulling his hoodie up to cover his face and hopefully muffle those adorable laughs as much as he could, though of course he succeeded in only looking as cute as ever.
“Don’t do what?” Shinsou smirked, his fingers moving to his other foot to scratch at the same oh-so sensitive spot, now mirrored. Midoriya practically screamed into the fabric of his hoodie at the change in sensation, curling his body upwards instinctively before flopping himself back down onto the bed through his fit of cackles.
“TEHEHEASE MEHEHE!” Izuku cackled, pulling at his feet just enough to seem like he was fighting the playful torture, when really Shinsou saw right through him and all his All Might merch far too easily.
“Oh so you WANT me to tease you? You like being teased, Midoriya?” Shinsou snickered at the panicked giggles escaping through the fabric of Izuku’s hoodie, wiggling his fingers back into that oh so sensitive curve right underneath Izuku’s toes that made the boy scream in ticklish agony. “You’re so sensitive, y’know that? So ticklish even with your little All Might socks on. I wonder, though, will it tickle worse if you don't have All Might to protect you?” Shinsou smirked before slipping his fingers under the edge of Midoriya’s sock, the green-haired boy letting out a loud gasp before whipping his head out from the hiding spot in his hoodie.
“No! Dohohon’t!” Midoriya giggled as Shinsou teasingly edged the sock slowly up the boy’s foot, not having even tickled the bare foot yet but somehow still getting a rise out of him.
“I haven’t even started yet! Are you really so ticklish you’ll laugh when tickles are even threatened?” Shinsou grinned, testing his theory once he threw the sock over to the side by wiggling his fingers just above the boy’s bare foot where Midoriya could see from his angle. Sure enough, Midoriya absolutely dissolved into a puddle of giggles, his arms clutching at his tummy as he barely tugged at his trapped feet. Shinsou couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, I was kidding, I didn’t think it would actually be true!”
“Juhuhust do it alreadhehehe! Plehehehease! I can’t tahahake it!” Midoriya pleaded, his hands moving to cover up his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Shinsou. Shinsou felt his heart swell in adoration.
“You want me to tickle you that bad?~” Shinsou teased, slowly swiping one finger from the top of Izuku’s bare foot down to the heel, the boy gasping at the sensation, curling the foot up as much as it would go.
“Plehehease, I cahahahan’t!-” Izuku was a flustered mess under Shinsou, squirming and blushing into the oversized fabric of his hoodie, giggling like a child all the while. Shinsou finally gave in, scribbling his nails on the sole of his foot, pushing Midoriya to squeal before dissolving into panicked, high-pitched cackles. “GAHAHAHA! SHIHIHINSOHOHOU! AHAHA NAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAHAN’T!”
“It doesn’t even sound like you know what you really want anymore, huh?” Shinsou giggled, slowing his fingers down to small, teasing scratches on the boy’s soles, both socked and bare. Izuku was a puddle of snickers and giggles, barely pulling on his feet as he finally opened up his eyes as much as he could to gaze up at his tormentor. Shinsou looked down at him with a smile, finally stopping his tickling to rest Izuku’s feet in his crossed lap. Midoriya’s breathing was heavy, but the smile on his face seemed plastered on, and didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. Shinsou tilted his head at the boy with a grin. “So...you liked that, didn’t you?”
Izuku whined, shoving his flushed face into his hands. “I mean...I don’t know…”
“It’s okay if you do...it’s uh…” Shinsou chuckled sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s kind of...cute, y’know?”
Midoriya peeked out from behind his hands to peer at Shinsou, before bringing his arms down to prop himself up and get a better look at the boy. “You thought it was...cute?”
“Well yeah, I mean...you were all giggly and stuff, and I uh, already kinda thought you were cute beforehand so that just kinda heightened the cuteness I guess,” Shinsou had a hard time making eye contact with Izuku, acting almost as if HE had been the one tickled to near tears just moments ago. He suddenly felt so shy, just like he had felt before Midoriya arrived. Where did all that previous confidence come from? And where did it go when he needed it the most? (now!) “Not to mention the fact you liked it in the first place. That’s just downright criminally adorable.”
“Quit it!” Midoriya whined with a giggle, though he left his feet in Shinsou’s lap, only kicking them out slightly during his fussing. He let out a huff of air, clearly embarrassed and very flustered. “I...I was nervous before I got here...thank you for that…”
Shinsou blinked. “Wait...you were nervous too?”
Midoriya looked up at Shinsou with a furrowed brow. “Yeah...wait, you were nervous?! Why?!”
Shinsou swallowed. He felt like some kind of nervous lump that had been growing and festering in his tummy this entire time was suddenly trying to crawl from his throat, choking him on his own words. His eyes were a bit wide, and suddenly his hands felt all clammy again like they had before Izuku arrived. “You just, uh...you make me nervous sometimes.”
“Do I do anything wrong?”
“No! No, of course not! It’s just...uh…” Shinsou huffed, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands until he saw fireworks, refusing to meet Midoriya’s gaze. “I kind of...like you…a little bit…”
There was a second of silence, Shinsou’s hands still covering his shy eyes as if to protect him from inevitable rejection. He felt the warmth of Midoriya’s feet slip from his lap, and at the same time felt his heart drop from it’s spot in his ribcage. He almost felt like he could cry...that is, until, he felt fingers start to poke and prod at both sides of his ribs, making him arch his back with wide eyes. Those eyes met Izuku’s own mischievous ones, a smirk growing on the green-headed boy’s still flushed face as accidental giggles started spilling from Shinsou’s lips, his body curling from left to right at each poke and prod.
“H-Hehehey! Whahahat?!-” Shinsou melted into giggles as Izuku started to pinch along his ribs, the boy falling onto his back against the pillows as Izuku straddled his waist fully, still relentless in his tickle attack.
“Stop looking so nervous and mopey, Shin,” Izuku smiled, leaning his head down to touch their foreheads together as he slowed his tickling down to his his hands resting comfortably on Shinsou’s sides. “I like you too.”
Shinsou blinked, never knowing he could blush so much until he realized just how close him and Midoriya’s faces were in that moment. They stared into each other’s eyes for seconds that felt like millenia until…
...until they kissed. And what a kiss it was. Filled with small giggles of pure joy and breathless huffs of air that made them forget they even needed oxygen in the first place. It was perfect and pure and everything Shinsou could’ve ever wanted. That night was filled with more kisses and more tickles than either of them had experienced in a lifetime, but it was worth it for each other. It was more than worth it. It was everything.
...
A/N : tysm for reading!! if u enjoyed pls consider reblogging, it helps spread my fics to more ppl who might enjoy!! thanks for the support, much love <33
#tickling#my fic#tickle community#my hero academia#tickle fic#mha#bnha#boku no hero academia#deku#midoriya#midoriya izuku#shinsou#shinsou hitoshi#lee!deku#ticklish!deku#ticklish!midoriya#ticklish!izuku#ler!shinsou#mha tickling#shindeku#anime tickling
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