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odetojeons · 3 years

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Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request: Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

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“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

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“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

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Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

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“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

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Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

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“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

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“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing. You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

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The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

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The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

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If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

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But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

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Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

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You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

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“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

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It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

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“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

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BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

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“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

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This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

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Wonwoo is… hot.

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There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

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And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

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You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

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His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

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You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

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You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

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Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

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You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

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“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

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There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

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“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

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“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

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Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

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“Answer me.”

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You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

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“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

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“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

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“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

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Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

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And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

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“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

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There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

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“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

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“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

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“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

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Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

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“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

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Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

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“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

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“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

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“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

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The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

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“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

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Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

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“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

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Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

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“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

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“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

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“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

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“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

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This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

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“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

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“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

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You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

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“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

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“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

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“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

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“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

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“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

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Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

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“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

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But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

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“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

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There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

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“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

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You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

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But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

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So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

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“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. “P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

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And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

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“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

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You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

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You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

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“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

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“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

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“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

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“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

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Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

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The best intimidating possible.

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Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

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Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

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You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

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“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

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The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

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“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

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He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

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“Did I make myself clear?”

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“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

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Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

��Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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angy-mouse · 2 years

Note

My current like fantasy or escapism is just poly dream team + Karl relationship

And you already know my insecurities about being transmasc like I just wanna be cuddles and validated

this probably counts as a crack fic but i think its cute. maybe read when youre really tired that might make it better /lh

If you do not have your age in your bio this will be going up on @silly-mouse in an hour bc literally the worst thing is that Dream sleeps in his boxers

"Make room,"

You all let out a symphony of groans as Dream wrestled out of his jeans and climbed into the already crowded bed. He quickly gave up finding a free spot and simpy flopped on top of you, burying his face in your soft stomach and slinging his arms over Karl and Sapnap respectively. George responded by grabbing Florida Man's hand and stretching it to reach his thigh, giving a satisfied pat once he was arranged.

"Finally finish editing," Sapnap asked, muffled as he tried to suffocate in your hair. You didn't know why three of your four boyfriends were trying to suffocate themselves with you, but that probably wasn't a good sign. You had no idea what George was doing, there was a wall of Grade-A Texan beef between you that you didn't feel like telling to move.

"Nope, just fucking sick of it," Dream tossed back. "Ugh, hang on..." He dipped his head, securing the bottom of your shirt in his teeth and yanking it up until he could fit his head underneath, nuzzling his cheek against the warm skin. "I am home."

"You are a freak," you muttered, twitching your knee to nudge it into his ribs.

"Wow, babe. And all this time I thought we were best bros."

Karl chuckled against your neck- oh, good, he was still alive. "I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to call them babe and bro in the same breath."

"I'm totally in love with you, no homo."

"Fuck that," George slurred- that bastard really fell asleep. You had six feet of Florida crushing your legs and this man has the audacity to sleep. "I love you with a lot of homo."

"Damn, dude," you hummed, down to about half a brain cell, "that's kinda gay."

Sapnap broke into wheezing laughter, prying his face out of your hair. "I feel like I'm listening to ‘Inception’, what the fuck are you guys talking about?"

"We're talking about how it's almost seven and we haven't slept yet," Karl huffed, trying to tug you into a better cuddling position.

"Here," Dream groaned, pushing himself up and onto the floor. You took the chance to roll onto your side, letting Karl spoon you and tucking your nose into Sapnap's pec-cleavage.

Dream closed the blackout curtains and turned back around. "No it's not, now go the fuck to sleep- hey, what happened to my pillow?"

"He wants to feel his legs," you huffed.

Karl helped scooch you closer to Sapnap and pressed himself like a second layer of skin against you, smacking the mattress behind him. "Come on, big guy, get in here before George starts whining."

"I do not-"

"Yes you do," Sap grumbled around a yawn, wrapping a thick arm around your waist to keep you close- as if you had anywhere to go. "You're a big baby if you can't get comfy at bedtime."

Dream chuckled, stretching an arm across the sea of entertwined bodies that were gradually becoming more and more indescernable to brush his fingers against George's arm. "I'll keep you company in the spare room if it's too cramped for you," he offered, smiling when the brit simply grumbled about being plenty comfy and burrowed into Sapnap's back as you all settled in.

"... You're so handsome-"

"Fucking go to sleep, Sapnap!"

"Sugar looks good all sleepy in my arms, I won't apologize for that!"

"GO TO SLEEP!"

"Aww..."

#angymouse #rainbow anon #minors dni #squeakin #sapsqueaks #karlsqueaks #dresqueaks #gogysqueaks

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

dire ii, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: The only way that this can be summarized is: "Does your horniness outweigh common sense once again?" And, well, when the female Dire Wolf does that weird pheromone thing, Jeon Jungkook just can’t say no.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, world building, eating raw meat; mentions of (species) discrimination and prejudice; violence; smut (fem reader, still too much m-masturbation, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (ty biology), creampie, cockwarming, biting/marking, cowgirl, saliva everywhere lol); non-idol!AU - werewolfAU / soulmates?; werewolf!reader x blond, human!Jungkook; switches between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; is JK a furry? you decide

this is long because smut lmao (but also fluff) yes, I break the fourth wall, it just fit haha inspired by YOASOBI - 怪物 (Kaibutsu)

–

part i

"Stop jacking off!"

He heard the vicious snarl the second the window opened but he didn't stop.

"Hasn't your dick fallen off yet, you animal–"

"It's been a whole fucking month," Jungkook gritted out, throwing his head back into his pillows as he continued stroking himself. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"With me?" came the disbelieving huff at the foot of his bed. "I'm a busy woman. I'm not like you, masturbating every five seconds," she barked.

He brought his head back and glared down on her. Completely froze. Even his hand on his cock slowed.

She was frowning at him at the base of his bed, wearing a torn up black hoodie. It had huge slashes in it across the chest and shoulders, barely holding on. He could see white scars crisscrossed on her skin underneath, a tight black sports bra on her upper torso. She wasn't wearing her usual black face mask. High waisted black pants, with straps on the sides that cinched them in.

"What happened?" He shot up out of the bed, covers a mess, surrounded by too many wadded up tissues.

"Nothing happened," she scowled, looking around him with exasperation.

"But your clothes–"

"I changed form to get here faster," she said dismissively, grabbing the bottom of the hoodie and yanking it up and over her head.

"Why is it only your hood–"

"Because I was holding my other clothes but I can’t be fully naked out in public, obviously," she cut him off as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"Wait, so you're naked in wolf form?"

"Why the fuck would I be wearing clothes?"

She was crawling on the bed and Jungkook's brain was barely functioning, body jumping involuntarily as she neared. She batted away the dirty tissues, gold-streaked eyes narrowed, a large heavy pendant hanging off her neck – was that diamond? with a platinum plum flower pressed in the center?? how the fuck??? – on a thick silver chain. The chain not only held the pendant, but also her rings. The wolf with the opal eyes. The simple silver band. The skull with the snake. The FEED ring. The large opal gem inlaid in stars. The black stone with a bone pressed into it. And now two more – a twisted silver band and a snake head with black gems for eyes.

"You have more rings," he breathed.

"Yes," she growled. "I said it's been a busy month."

Her fluffy silvery ears stuck straight up, bushy tail swaying. She had a lean, fit body, somehow pure power despite being smaller in physique. She came right up to him, nose to nose, breathing heavily into his face.

"Look here, Jungkook," she growled. "I understand you're a very horny human, but I have things to do, and you distracting me with your three in the morning jack off sessions is not helping nor is it the way you attract a mate, do you understand?”

He didn’t try to be innocent about it.

"Yeah, but did you think about me though?" Jungkook breathed, letting it mix with hers.

The gold in her eyes seemed to intensify.

"Of course, I did," she whispered hotly. "All the fucking time, but I have shit to do, like explain to my father that you're not just a piece of side ass."

"You never gave me the chance to be a piece of side ass." Ugh, she was so close. Fuck, she smelled so good. He couldn't even describe it. "I might have liked it."

She huffed. "You would have. You would have loved it, you horny human, but I don't take sex slaves like the other Dire."

"So, it does exist?" he blurted, eyes widening.

"It does." She clicked her tongue. "I don't like it though. Those Dires use it as an excuse to mistreat gullible humans."

Silence.

Just her heavy breathing and staring into each other's eyes.

"Uh... so what now?" he asked softly.

"I don't know." She grimaced. "I only came to yell at you."

"Not ask me to be a piece of side ass?"

She let out a hefty puff of air and backed up, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Can I be the main piece of ass?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You're weird."

"We've established that," he muttered impatiently. "Come on. Just tell me yes or no. Don't leave me like this."

Her eyes darted around them. "Surrounded by cum-filled tissues?"

His ears burned. "Please."

She paused. Then she let out a resigned sigh, removing her arm from his grip.

"Jungkook," she said, suddenly serious, rasp with a sharp edge. "I'm the Dire Alpha's child."

Hah?

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know. The big angry black wolf with silver streaks that stalks around in a suit when he appears on television with the President?"

HAH?

"WHAT?" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

She nodded. "Yes. That's my father."

"You... what?" Jungkook gasped, abruptly grabbing his covers and planting them over his crotch. "Your father?"

"That is, indeed, as some people would say, Daddy."

Jungkook's eyes were swirls. "H-how... what? But you're... you're..."

"Not in wolf form all the time, scaring the shit out of people? No. I'm not. But I could do that, because he's my father and we have similar abilities."

"I was going to say, hot."

She shrugged. "I hear my father has an online fanclub called 'Bitches for WolfDaddy'."

"... Please don't ever say that again."

She visibly cringed. "Anyway, yes, he is my father. I was hoping you'd get bored of fantasizing about me, but I’ve stayed away from you for whole month and you are still going strong," she said, shaking her head. She sighed again, clicking her tongue. "So, I don't know, maybe reevaluate if you want to bang me now that you know."

He didn’t even hesitate.

"I still want to bang."

She flicked his forehead and Jungkook winced, slapping her hand.

"That hurts!"

"I told you to think," she hissed. "I'm not just any Dire. I'm going to be the Dire Alpha someday. Not only do you have to deal with prejudice from your own people, but also mine and possibly have to watch your back for the rest of your life, because even if my father respects my choices, he's still going to want to eat you."

He rubbed his forehead. "We can't... casually date?"

"I just told you the stipulations of 'casual' dating. If you want to marry me, then we'll have to figure that out later, with the ritual and stuff."

"You're gonna fight me?"

"Like I said," she remarked, waving a hand. "We have to figure that out later, if you're still interested."

"... Can I just be your piece of side ass?"

"No."

She startled him by growling.

"No, you cannot. I like you too much for that."

Jungkook's brain stopped functioning. "What?"

She leaned forward, brows ticked cockily, wolf ears at attention.

"I like you. You smell good and you're weird and your actions are funny and I like your blond hair," she listed, reaching up to pet it. "The color is fake but I still like it."

"H-hey!" But he liked the feeling of her hand patting his head, so he didn't move away. She lowered her hand and grinned toothily, revealing the sharp canines.

"I like coming here and seeing your face, Jeon Jungkook."

He was having heart palpitations.

"Although I've been seeing a lot of your dick recently and that's nice too."

She barked in laughter at her own joke and he pouted, shoving her and having no effect, because she was immobile despite her smaller frame. He puffed his cheeks until she stopped. She winked at him.

"What do you think? Does your horniness outweigh common sense once again?"

Which do you think Jungkook picked?

Yeah.

Not common sense.

“Lick me, please.”

“Where is your patience?” you mumbled against his lips, pressing him into his bed with your weight.

“Gone, because you’re driving me insane,” Jungkook growled, firmly gripping your hips and trying remove your pants, but your body wasn’t lifting. “Let me take your clothes off.”

Your hand came up and pressed his head back, kissing down his neck, ignoring his request. Small nips against his throat, making him moan, eyelids fluttering.

“I could kill you any second,” you muttered, still hesitant to go through with it.

“At least let me cum before you off me,” he gasped.

You laughed hotly into his neck. “You’re a crazy human.”

“And I’m horny as fuck, please, I need you.”

You had asked Jungkook if he wanted to wait, if he wanted to take it slow, because it was a lot to take in, all that information of you being the next-in-line Dire Alpha and the fact that you liked him in a more than platonic way, so perhaps, you know, after confessing to each other and agreeing to give this a try, a simple kiss would be enough?

Jungkook was violently humping the front of your pants.

He had replied with, “Can we please fuck? Please?”

Well, you weren’t opposed to it, but maybe some foreplay? A cuddle or some shit?

Nope.

“Stop it,” you chided, but Jungkook wasn’t listening. “Calm down, I’m not going to disappear.”

You lifted your hips and Jungkook immediately slid down, fumbling with the button and the zipper, trying to yank your pants and underwear down roughly.

You yelped, pressing down on his shoulder. “The tail. Watch the fucking tail.”

“What?”

He blinked, letting go as you grunted, sitting up and turning a little so he could see that your large fluffy tail stuck out of a slit in your pants. You pushed your pants down, moving your tail yourself. Your panties were black, but had a snap in the back that you undid first before you could push them down too.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you growled. “Your excitement is getting the best of you.”

Jungkook bit his lip, the mole under his lower lip quivering. “Sorry.” You shifted your tail so it covered you as you removed your panties. He frowned, reaching over. “Hey…” he protested, pausing as his fingertips brushed against the fur. You were about to remove your bra, but stopped.

“Are you petting me?”

He withdrew his hand sharply. “Sorry! Sorry… er… is that rude?” He fiddled with his fingers, obviously itching to touch it again.

You thought about it and shrugged, pulling your sports bra up and over your head. Jungkook’s head immediately jerked upwards to watch your tits bounce out. You shook your ears out as you tossed your bra aside.

“Wow.”

You looked down at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He was looking up at you with awe.

“You’re hot.”

You looked down at his disheveled blond hair, bright chocolatey eyes, tan skin, lean muscle, ink-black tattoos. Innocent, but not. Hesitant, but comfortable in his position under you. There was just something about him. Ah, dating a human was going to be a pain in the ass. You grinned at him and he grinned back, bunny teeth flashing.

Seemed worth it though.

“So are you,” you replied.

He didn’t miss a beat with his cheeky responses.

“You gonna suck my dick or what?”

Your brows raised higher, letting out an amused chuckle. “With these teeth? You sure about that?”

“What are you going to do, bite my dick off? After all your hard work of seducing me?”

You huffed. “That wasn’t hard. All I had to do was lick your face.”

“Speaking of which, please do that again.”

You ticked your head, clicking your tongue. “Damn. Walked into that one.”

Jungkook smirked, placing his hands on your thighs and slowly sliding them up. “Come on…” He pressed his fingers into your skin. “It just makes everything feel so good.” You watched his breathing shallow as he recalled the feeling. “So intense. I don’t know how you do it…” His eyes locked with yours. “I’m pretty sure it’s only you who can do that to me. I want it. Please.”

He wasn’t wrong. It probably was only you.

You leaned down, placing your hands on the sides of his head. Your tail brushed against his nether regions and he gasped, lashes lowering. Oh, how interesting. You swished your tail around, feathering over his hardness. His scent intensified, pre-cum clinging to your silvery fur.

“Mmm, that feels good too…”

You had sex when you were younger, a foolish teenager discovering their sexuality recklessly, but you never had a human partner before. As you grew older, you became weighed down by other responsibilities, too many thoughts to even think about sex. At one point, you wondered if it just wasn’t something that important to you. You didn’t really have initial physical attraction to anyone, so maybe sex was simply lower priority for you than everyone else.

But as Jungkook was under you, as you breathed in his scent and kissed him, long, deep, sensual, you realized perhaps you simply hadn’t found the connection you needed. It wasn’t something you could explain, but there was something. Despite his recklessness and the obvious difference in libido, you wanted to give in to him, on the sole basis that it was Jeon Jungkook and no one else.

You didn’t really understand why, but you weren’t going to question it too much.

Mostly because, at this rate, he was going to cum on your tail.

Your tongue was in his mouth, and he was sucking on it, moaning, small slips of your taste dripping onto his tongue, his hands gripping your ass, rubbing his cock against your fur. You shifted your tail, brushing it up and down his length, and he gasped, breaking the kiss.

“Claim me,” Jungkook breathed. “Please.”

“Technically I have,” you murmured teasingly.

“More,” he whimpered. “Want more. All over me.”

You coated your tongue with your scent, opening your lips a crack to let out a stream of hot breath, wafting over his mouth and nose.

“Mmm, yes, fuck, yeeeeeees…”

“You’re so desperate for it,” your mumbled, barely moving your lips.

“Mhm, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever felt…” he panted, half-lidded eyes shrouded with lust. “Give it to me, you big tease.”

You chuckled, rumbling your chest. Then you tilted your head, placing your lips on his. It dripped down, straight into his mouth; the saliva saturated with your pheromones.

The reaction was immediate, Jungkook moaning hotly into your mouth, eyes rolling back into his head, gripping your hips tightly as he rammed his hard cock right between your thighs, whole body shaking as it invaded him, taking over his senses. You had intense reactions to your scent before, but never like this, never like it consumed the other and drove them as crazy as it seemed to drive Jungkook. Was it supposed to be like this?

Jungkook’s hips were moving of their own accord, fucking the space in between your thighs. You closed them together and he groaned, dropping from your kiss and arching his back, thrusting fast and hard. You watched with fascination, at his closed eyes and straining neck, open mouth emitting his cries of pleasure as he stroked himself with your legs, pre-cum soaking your skin and adding lubrication.

You dipped your head and licked his neck, coating it with you.

He gripped your hips tighter, a tense gasp of your name plucked from his throat.

“M-More, fuck, I’m so close…”

You licked again, dripping more and more saliva onto his shuddering Adam’s apple and he whimpered, face scrunching up as he clenched his jaw, chasing his climax. You hovered your mouth over him, breathing heavily on his skin.

“Cum for me, Jungkook,” you panted, teeth grazing his skin. “Paint me with your scent.”

He whined sharply and shoved your thighs together around the throbbing head of his cock, shuddering as he shot his orgasm into your skin, the hot, thick liquid squirting out between your thighs and dripping down the back and in between. He moaned, thrusting a few more times, smearing his length with his own cum, adding to the pleasure of the sensitive head being squeezed by your thighs.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” he gasped out, falling back onto his bed, but dragging your lower body with him, cock still pulsating and sandwiched by your legs.

“You’ve made a mess,” you observed.

He cracked one eye open. “You make me messy.”

You raised your eyebrows. “It wasn’t my idea.”

Jungkook grinned. “You encouraged.”

You lifted yourself off him and he instantly complained, but you shut him up by sliding down, running your tongue down the length of his chest. Your legs were a sticky mess, but so was Jungkook’s bed covered in cum-filled tissues, and it was only going to get worse because your saliva was all over his pecs and abs, and Jungkook was spreading it everywhere like a madman, shuddering and gasping. His cock was already hard, smacking you in the tits as you lowered yourself to it.

“Is that what you wanted?” you chuckled.

“Y-Yeah… ah, it just makes me feel so fucking good, I don’t understand why…”

You placed your tongue on his twitching cock and licked it up, sighing in satisfaction as his cum coated your tongue.

“Mm, no, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum…” Jungkook whined, but you held his hips, lapping up his taste.

“I’m only cleaning you off, calm down,” you murmured around his cock. You were sure now, by the second taste, that there must be something special about Jeon Jungkook. His cum was addictive. It gave you a euphoric rush, an insatiable hunger for more as you growled, wrapping your tongue around his length and licking up and down, igniting some carnal instinct inside you. You even swiped your tongue over his balls, gathering everything you could, panting as you finished, getting onto your hands.

Breathing hard, lips peeled back, staring down at him like a goddamn meal.

Your drool plopped down onto his stomach.

Jungkook gasped, catching your expression and eyes widening.

“Er…”

You shook your head, puffing out air. “Sorry. Something came over me there.” What was that? Huh. You weren’t in heat. That only happened twice a year. Your next cycle didn’t start for a while. You pondered, furrowing your brow. Jungkook’s hesitant voice cut through your thoughts.

“Er, I have a question.”

You tilted your head, one of your ears flickering. “Hm?”

“Can you… get pregnant by me?” he asked, chewing his lip.

You blinked at him. “Of course. That’s why most Dire males get vasectomies when they have a bunch of… well, never mind.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “Oh. So, we would have half-wolf babies?”

You made a face. Weren’t you technically the half-wolf? Whatever, just explain the result. “No, our children would all be full Dire, because I am the mother. The species of the child is dependent on the biological mother.”

“Oh.” He rubbed his chin. “We have to use condoms then. Or are you on birth control?”

You gave him a confused look. “Why would I be on birth control? I only go into heat twice a year. Which means I only ovulate twice a year.”

Jungkook looked surprised. “Really? Then what does the full moon do?”

“It connects the Dire to our natural instincts as wolves, thus forcefully turning most Dire into their wolf forms. It awakens our primitive instincts of hunt, fight, mate. It heightens all our senses too. But, since we’re only in heat twice a year, our population numbers will always be lower than you humans, which is why we haven’t out-populated you all yet.” You frowned. “Don’t they teach you this shit in school? They teach us human biology at our schools.”

He shook his head. “No. I never learned about this stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “Typical humans, only selfishly focusing on themselves.”

“Uh, I’m right here?” he huffed indignantly.

“Do you disagree, full-time masturbator?” you accused.

Jungkook’s ears turned red. “W-well, it was only because you weren’t visiting!”

How sweet, you thought wryly. “Anyway, why are you asking?”

Now his entire face was red.

“Er… wondering if I can go in raw… If you’re cool with it…” he mumbled.

A bird cawed outside, reminding you both the window was still open.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean if y-you’re not,” Jungkook sputtered. “I totally understand. I got tested yesterday and I’m clean, because I wanted you to not be worried about it and well, oh, maybe you didn’t want to hear that, er…”

You blinked slowly.

“I haven’t had penetrative sex in, I don’t know, three years?”

“Three years?” Jungkook choked. “What? How?”

“I got tested at my last checkup,” you mentioned absentmindedly.

“You go to the doctor?”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Yes? Don’t you?”

“W-well, yeah, but… don’t you heal kinda fast and stuff?”

You raised your hands, confusion deepening. “And so? Do you think I live in the medieval times or something, rubbing leaves on my ailments?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Maybe?”

You slapped your face, rubbing your forehead. “Humans…”

Then something occurred to you. You raised your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Why would you get tested yesterday?”

Now Jungkook was doing that thing were his eyes shifted everywhere. You were becoming well-acquainted with this habit. “Uh… well… you see…”

You looked around you, at the discarded clothes, the rumpled sheets, the tissues, and then snapped your head back to him.

“You planned this,” you barked roughly.

“I missed you!” Jungkook whined, tackling you and pushing you down onto the bed. “You have no idea what you do to me! It’s not fair!” He shoved his face into your hair and inhaled a large breath, shuddering. “You have some kind of weird spell over me and then you wouldn’t come visit and I just needed you so fucking bad…” He was panting against your temple, pressing his chest to yours, moaning as your skin touched his. Your necklace and rings slid down and hit your throat, descending as he rolled his body into yours.

“It’s not a spell,” you gasped, surprised to find yourself breathless as he ground his hips into you. “It’s pheromones, biology–”

“I really don’t care what it is, you make me a horny ass mess and I’m going crazy over here,” Jungkook panted, lifting his head, blond hair brushing your cheek as his blown-out pupils looked down at you. “We don’t have to full-on fuck right now, but you can’t blame me, I absolutely needed to at least see you.”

His hard dick sharply poked you in the thigh.

You raised your eyebrows.

He swallowed. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Well, then you’re just straight up attractive, sue me.”

“You would lose because I can pay a better lawyer.”

He clenched his jaw. “Rich people.”

You shrugged. “We all know the justice system is flawed and driven by money like everything else, even though it shouldn’t be.”

“Stop making societal insights and address the fact you make me horny as fuck,” Jungkook grumbled.

You breathed in his face.

Not normal breath, but breath laced your scent. Jungkook shuddered and rammed his hips into your leg.

“Now you’re doing that thing,” he moaned, rubbing his chest against yours, pushing your nipples around with his pecs.

“It amazes me you’re so turned on by it,” you mused, enjoying the feeling of him pressed up against you.

“Fantastic,” he grunted, reaching up and tangling his fingers in your hair. “Write it in your scientific journal.”

You chuckled. “Are you irritated with me?”

“Little bit.”

His fingertips rubbed the fur on your ears, smoothing it. You hummed in approval. It felt nice, like a head scratch. The tip of your tail thumped against the bed. Jungkook murmured your name into your cheek, kissing it lightly.

“Mm, yes?”

“Am I crushing you?”

“No.”

Silence as Jungkook continued petting your ears.

“Can I put my dick in you?”

“Wow, I was enjoying this nice, lovely cuddle time–”

He quickly apologized. “S-sorry. Sorry, I’ll–”

You opened your legs under him and Jungkook’s lower body dropped onto the bed, his cock bumping against your wet heat. He gasped, yanking your ears forcefully and you growled in warning. He quickly let go, placing his hands on the bed, cheeks flushing.

“Sorry, you just…”

You extended your tongue, arching a brow.

He bit his lip, moaning deep in his throat as he pressed his length against your dripping core.

“S-stop… you’re d-doing it on purpose…”

You licked your lips, coating them with you. You watched him struggle to resist the scent, shoulders locking, head hanging, panting hard as his ash blond hair drifted down and grazed your cheeks. Eyes so dark they seemed black.

“I’m aware of the consequences,” you said huskily.

“Fuck,” Jungkook gritted out before he unlocked his shoulders and dove down, roughly pressing his lips into yours and rubbing his cock into your juices. He moaned, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you wrapped your scent all over it. You shifted your hips and the head pressed against your slick slit. You weren’t sure how he was going to handle this after being that turned on by your saliva, but, oh well, that was his problem now.

“Go ahead,” you drawled against his lips, your voice a low rasp.

Jungkook backed up, panting hard, furrowing his brow at you. “What?”

You smirked. “You’ll find out.”

You rubbed your opening against the tip and Jungkook gasped, eyelashes fluttering.

“Ho-o-oly shit.”

He was fucked.

Absolutely fucked.

The second even half a centimeter slid in, Jungkook lost it and shoved his cock all the way to the base, the feeling so intense and hot that he momentarily forgot what existence was, because, fuck, it was like the pleasure ate him up and all he could feel was the overwhelming heat and tightness of her pussy, every single ridge and squelch of wetness, throbbing and pulsating around him. It was only when she moaned softly under him that Jungkook remembered that he wasn’t on some existential plane of existence and in the real world.

“Gah… it’s so… intense…” he panted out, eyes rolling back into his head as her muscles clenched around him.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to survive if I’m actually in heat,” she mused. “You’ll probably nut within a second of being in me.”

“Wow… that’s awfully rude… of you to say…”

Jungkook wanted to be chill, but it was impossible, because his hips were already moving, sliding in and out, smacking their hips together, groaning at the sensation of being roughly massaged all over by wet heat, soaked with her scent, already pushed to his limit and he had to bite he inside of his cheek to hold back.

“I should have… used a condom…”

“Not sure that would be much help, you horndog,” she teased.

“Do you even feel anything?” he hissed, roughly smacking his hips into hers. “Or are you going to… spend the entire time… giving me snarky commentary?”

Their eyes locked and he noticed how gold her irises were now, almost flaring with light.

“Need it harder,” she breathed.

The overwhelming passion sank into him with every breath he felt against his skin.

“Harder, please, Jungkook…”

And his body responded, lifting one of her legs and smacking their hips together hard, moaning as he felt her thigh against his skin, the heat closing in on him, fucking her into the mattress so roughly the bedframe shook and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe as his orgasm hit him so hard that he keeled over and nearly folded her in half, gasping as he shot into her throbbing heat, cock twitching, but still hard because of this whole scent possession thing so he just kept going, kept thrusting into her, lewd, loud slapping of flesh against flesh, squelching as he fucked his own cum into her.

She grinned at him, mischievous and wolf-like, so many pointed teeth, and he was so damn hard, he didn’t understand how she made him so crazy but, also, he didn’t care because it felt so fucking good. It felt like his entire cock was vibrating his pleasure and fanning out over his balls and ass and back and up his spine and into his head, made more intense by the soft growls of his name from her lips and the smell of his cum mixing with hers. She sucked in a tight breath, body tensing.

“Mm, ah, Jungkook…”

Her pussy tightened, squeezing him rough and hard, and Jungkook whimpered, falling over the edge, pleasure hitting every nerve and igniting them all at once, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping out her name, whole body shivering with lust, his cock jerking and spurting a second load into her all-consuming wet heat, so much that it slid back and coated his own cock. He shuddered and slipped down, losing strength of his arms as her hands quickly planted themselves on his chest, holding him up. Slowly, she shifted her leg down and he moaned, feeling his cock shift inside her and some of his cum squirt out between them, soaking into his sheets.

The scent of sex hovered around them, clinging to their skin.

Jungkook couldn’t move.

Did he die?

Kind of felt like it.

Nothing but heat and pleasure, her pussy wrapped around his cock, pulsing slowly.

She held him up easily, measured, even breaths as she came down, a distinct difference to his absolutely fucked-out state, panting, forehead coated with sweat. He couldn’t say anything. She just calmly lowered him to her chest, wiping his forehead with the back of her hand and exhaling, waiting for his heart to slow and beat in time with hers.

It took several minutes.

To be honest, Jungkook was kind of happy he couldn’t move. His cock, although softening, was having a great time in this wet warmth.

“Uh… this has never happened before…” he mumbled, pressing his cheek against hers so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye.

She chuckled. “I figured you might need a second.”

“I’ll get better at it.”

“That’s true. You’ll need lots of practice.”

Silence. Comfortable silence. Except for a couple outside squabbling loudly like crows. It was kind of ruining the moment.

“You should have closed the window,” Jungkook scolded, inhaling the scent of her hair.

“My bad. I was a little distracted by you furiously jacking off.”

“… Kind of proud I still had it in me to fuck you.”

He stiffened. Her tongue traced his ear.

“It’s the spell,” she teased.

“You said it’s biology.”

She chuckled, the laugh rumbling her chest.

“Why are you always perfectly okay after we fuck?”

You shrugged, nibbling on the piece of cheese you found in Jungkook’s fridge. He was on the floor of the kitchen, panting, hair sweaty and sticking to his face, the floor an absolute mess of fluids after you rode him right here in his own kitchen.

“Guess I’m just built different.”

He gritted his teeth, slamming his fist on the floor.

“It’s hurting my pride.”

This was nice cheese. You chewed, enjoying the flavor.

“I wouldn’t be so depressed about it. Maybe you need to work out.”

Jungkook glared at you. You chuckled and squatted down, flicking your tail against his thighs. He sucked in a breath, moaning softly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s only been a few hours since we fell asleep and woke up.”

He clicked his tongue. “I need a shower. Again.”

“That’s your fault, you know. You always want me to lick you all over.”

“Speaking of which, lick me all over in the shower, thanks in advance.”

Your father could smell him off you and declared he was going to eat him.

“You will not.”

Your father growled at you. It was quite intimidating and you would have run if he wasn’t your father.

“You. Will. Not.” You repeated yourself with sternness.

Your father had snapped his jaw, grimacing in annoyance. Black lips peeling back, showing all his sharp teeth, gold eyes flashing. He was always in wolf form. He rarely changed.

“I doubt he’s more than a gulp to me. A mere bunny.”

“You can have your opinion, but he’s mine.”

He stomped away, paws heavy on the stone floor.

“You’ll tire of him.”

Honestly, you expected more of a fight. But you hadn’t missed the tick of your father’s head as he sniffed you, the pensive spark in his eyes. Everyone said he wasn’t the same since your mother passed away. You wouldn’t know, but he definitely wasn’t the thoughtful type. You watched him walk away, black and silver tail swishing, claws scraping.

You wondered what your father was like when he was in love.

Did he like holding hands? Did he look at your mother in awe and tell her how beautiful she was?

Did he tell her he loved her?

Your father turned his large head, puffing heavily from his elongated snout. You didn’t say anything. He was a huge black wolf, even bigger than your wolf form. Next to your human form, you were comically small. But down the hall, you were almost the same size, eye level.

His white teeth flashed.

Then he faced forward again and walked away.

Was he going to say something but decided against it?

“I love you, Father.”

You said it softly. He was gone, but maybe he heard anyway.

The Dire Alpha had excellent hearing.

“Uh, are you okay?”

You flung yourself through his window, scowling angrily.

“My father made me train for no reason.”

“Train for what?”

“Fighting, obviously.”

You hit the floor of his bedroom with a hard thunk, body aching all over. Still wearing an oversized black hoodie and black jeans four sizes too big. Your father was relentless. You must be going soft if you’re dating a human. Well, you showed him. But not before half-dying from his strikes.

Jungkook hurried over to you, but you scowled, shooing him away. You got on your hands and knees, snarling at the pain, snapping your teeth.

“Do you need an ice pack or something?” he asked, peering at you as you mentally steeled yourself, hoisting your body to your feet.

“No,” was your stubborn response. “I am fine.”

“You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“Sparring with my father does that,” you muttered, cracking your neck. “You want to try?”

“No, not really.”

You finally got a good look at Jungkook. He was wearing a patterned dress shirt with black slacks. Blond hair styled and parted to one side, revealing his strong and handsome features.

“What’s with you?” you asked, confused by his appearance.

He gestured weakly to the bedroom door. “Well… I made dinner… so maybe you want to eat with me?”

Oh. Your cheeks flushed warmly.

“I would love to.”

And then you collapsed, the world going black.

Jungkook couldn’t move her.

He was a strong guy, but she was like a giant sack of bricks in this state, crumpled onto his bedroom floor, bushy tail flared out, silvery ears flopped to one side. She was still breathing, but it was pained and shallow. He grabbed one of his pillows and managed to lift her head, shoving it under her. How bad as it? He pushed up the hem of her hoodie and looked.

Oh.

Fuck.

That’s a lot of bruises.

He shoved the hoodie back down and looked back to her face.

Her eyes were cracked open, husky chuckle on her lips.

“I think I’m a little tired…”

Jungkook tugged on her sweater. “Can you move? Just to get onto the bed. I can’t lift you.”

She let out a puff of air. “Floor is fine.”

“No, it’s not. The love of my life does not belong on the floor.”

“Hah.”

Her eyes slipped closed.

“You called me the love of your life.”

Oh.

He did, didn’t he?

Jungkook looked down at the female Dire. Her soft tufted ears and lush silver tail, but otherwise human. Definitely wasn’t though. He knew that from experience.

He couldn’t leave her.

Not even as the dinner got cold and forgotten. He dragged all his bedding onto the floor and created a blanket circle around their bodies, nuzzling himself next to her. He placed his head beside hers and watched her face. She seemed to be in a deep, dep sleep. Jungkook smiled despite her not being able to see and kissed her nose.

Shut his eyes, enjoying their closeness.

Her tail came up and rested on his legs.

“So I’m the love of your life, huh?”

“Gah!”

Jungkook snapped his eyes open, jerking back. But he couldn’t go far, because she was on top of him, all her clothes off, on her hands and knees. His eyes widened. She still had bruises, but they seemed to be lighter, purple-green. She tilted her head, fluffy ears flickering. The necklace she wore had the diamond pendant and – he counted – eight rings, the same number as before. Whew.

She scratched her neck and he noticed her nails were painted black again.

“Why are you naked?” Jungkook sputtered.

“Got hot,” she mumbled. “I usually sleep naked.”

Jungkook stared into her eyes. She seemed tired, but not near collapsing like she had been when she entered. The window was closed.

“Can you change?”

“Hm?”

“Into your wolf form. Can you change right now?”

She looked down at him. “Yes, of course.”

“Can I see?”

She blinked.

“You a furry or something?”

“N-no? I just… want to see it…”

She raised an eyebrow and backed up, tail swishing. He sat up, watching her form as she moved to an open space in his room. Sleek, primal, powerful. It didn’t take long. Two, three steps and there was the crack of bone rearranging, a sharp gashing of teeth and the long snout appeared, lips peeled back as she shook her head. He almost missed it, the sudden swish of fur and swiftly it was all over, her frame suddenly huge, daunting, reminding him of that night when she had saved him. Wicked black claws, undeniably dangerous. Muscles flexing as she stepped in a circle, the white crescent fur pattern on her back gleaming against her silvery pelt, hairs tipped with black.

She cracked her neck, staring down at him. The necklace now looked comically small and the ceiling seemed far too low. Her voice seemed to resonate, but still husky and recognizable.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Her eyes were pure gold, glinting in the moonlight through his window.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook breathed.

She chuckled, sitting down, tail swishing. “Are you sure you’re not a furry?”

“I don’t know and I don’t really care,” Jungkook muttered, admiring the way the moon seemed to bring out the shine in her fur.

She padded over and encircled him, tail brushing against his chest. Plopped down on the blankets, nudging with her leathery black nose. Jungkook looked up into her golden orbs. She seemed to raise an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

He leaned back against her shoulder, burrowing in the softness.

“Can I… see your teeth?” he asked softly.

She clicked her tongue, chest vibrating. Took him a moment to realize she was containing her laughter.

“You’re a little freaky, Jungkook,” she chuckled and then she opened her mouth, sharp, pointed white teeth glistening, lowering them to him. Next to his shoulder, breathing in heavy puffs. Definitely could rip him apart in an instant.

Not going to lie.

Jungkook was a little turned on.

Her tongue slid out, licking his neck.

Slightly more turned on.

“Satisfied?” she drawled.

“Erm, yes.”

She closed her mouth and laid her head on the blankets.

“Naptime.”

And she nestled around him, letting him sleep against her silvery warmth.

You woke him up by licking him.

Softly, on his neck. But not subtly, because you let it drip on his skin, painting him with your scent. He groaned, shifting in your arms, but you held him still, hands on his torso. He was still wearing that nice dress shirt and slacks. His blond hair was a little ruffled from sleep, but you could see the effort. You felt bad for not realizing his intent sooner but, then again, you couldn’t choose your father’s orders.

You weren’t in wolf form anymore. That would be strange if you were.

But somehow, you didn’t think Jungkook would care.

You heard him mumble your name. You placed your lips on his neck and kissed him softly.

“Bite me.”

“Chomp.”

He clicked his tongue. “Be serious.”

“You would be dead if I was serious.”

“You know what I mean,” Jungkook muttered, taking your hands and placing them on the buttons of his dress shirt. “Just a little bit. I’m human, not fragile.”

He was right.

“Ah, sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t apologize.” His voice was deep, leaning his head back on your shoulder, exposing his neck. “Mark me. Fuck me up. Show me you want me.”

You chuckled, tail swishing slowly.

“Sure.”

He asked for it.

Your lips opened, tongue sliding out, dripping all over his skin. Jungkook moaned under you, hands reaching back and finding your thighs, squeezing them. One button. Two buttons. Teeth pressed against his throat, soaking him with you. Three buttons. You bit down, softly, and sucked, inhaling his scent. He was wearing some kind of cologne. You licked it off, replacing it with you. Jungkook shivered, gasping as your hand slid into his shirt.

“Harder…”

“You’re such trouble, Jungkook,” you mumbled, kissing down his shoulder, nipping at his skin. He whined as you pressed your fingertip to his nipple, rubbing in slow circles. You sank your teeth in, not breaking skin, but definitely hard enough for him to feel it, sucking just as roughly. Fuck. The feeling of him in your canines, the subtle taste of his skin coating your tongue. You growled in your chest, pinching his nipple and hurriedly undoing the rest of his shirt. Jungkook shuddered under your mouth, moaning as you pushed the fabric aside.

“Mmm, fuck, yes…”

You pulled away, seeing the dark purple mark on his skin, pinpricks of red where your teeth had dug in. He pressed his back into your chest, panting heavily. You leaned forward, parting your lips. Thick, viscous saliva dripped down, plopping onto his pecs, coating him with your scent. You took it and rubbed it against his nipples, and Jungkook instantly reared into your hands, moaning, hands flying down to his slacks and fumbling with the button.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

Your lips pressed against his ear as he fought with his pants, grunting in annoyance as they weren’t coming off fast enough. You traced his earlobe with your tongue and he gasped, leaning into it, raising his hips to remove his slacks as you nipped just under his ear, right at the pulse point.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Jungkook growled.

You licked up and down, so much saliva that it trickled down his neck. He whimpered as your teeth closed in.

“Say something…”

You paused for a moment. Then you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him to one side to expose more of his neck to you.

“Time to show everyone you’re mine,” you snarled.

You gripped his head tightly and bit down, sucking his skin into your mouth. Jungkook’s body bucked into yours, throaty moans vibrating in your lips but you barely noticed, because suddenly you could smell his scent, his hand once again palming himself, spreading his pre-cum over his throbbing cock. The faintest prick and his blood touched you tongue.

Oh.

Fuck.

You drew back, eyelids fluttering, grating groan as you leaned forward and licked it off. Couldn’t help it, you were a damn carnivore and his blood was right there, so you had to remove your teeth, but you were still going to lick it up. Ugh, so good. Jungkook whined out your name and you lowered him to the blankets, crawling down to his hand still stroking his cock.

“C-Can you…?”

“No, I cannot. Move your hand so I can sit on your dick.”

He moved his hand and pouted at you. “But–”

You lifted your head and stared at him in the eye. Jungkook froze, eyes widening. You knew what it looked like. Pure gold, almost glowing. One side of his neck was patterned with purple and red, your bites on his skin. He wouldn’t be able to cover them easily. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. Was it the blood? His smell? His body with your ownership on his skin?

In any case, there was no way you were going to attempt to blow him now.

You opened your mouth, panting hard.

“Jungkook, I want to. Sit. On. Your. Dick.”

He nodded, pulling his hands away. “Yes. Please.”

You lifted your body and sank down on him. Jungkook choked on air, gripping the blankets tightly as you closed your eyes, exhaling deeply as you felt him fill you up. Had it ever felt like this before? You weren’t even close to heat and yet it was still so good, felt so nice with him inside you as you squeezed him with your muscles. Jungkook gasped, shoulders tensing at the sensation.

“Are you trying to end me in seconds?” he hissed, but you ignored him, rocking your hips, holding onto his waist, sliding him in and out of you easily. You breathed in, pressing your fingers into his skin as your rode him and he turned into a moaning puddle under you, working his hardness, focusing more on clenching him inside you rather than smacking your hips together.

“It doesn’t matter,” you breathed. “I’ll make sure you can keep going.”

“Fuck, you’re mean,” Jungkook gritted out.

You opened your eyes, looking down at him. Him and his head pressed back into the blankets, blond hair contrasting the navy fabric, jaw tight, eyes screwed shut as he tried to hold on. He felt your gaze and cracked his eyes open, surveying you through his lashes.

You smiled at him, rolling your hips down his length.

“Don’t–”

You opened your mouth and let it drip onto his abs.

“Fuck!”

His hands smacked into yours and his back arched sharply, muffled wail as he came inside you, hot thick strings painting your insides. It was a sudden, euphoric sensation that seemed to flood you with pleasure from bottom up, massaging his length as his cum squelched with your movements, soaking down your walls and coating his cock, trickling onto his balls. You slid your hands out of his and spread your saliva over his stomach, still warm from his hot skin.

You could tell it was taking over him, the way his hands crawled up your thighs, gripping your hips, opening his dark eyes, pupils blown out, completely intoxicated by lust.

You slid your hands to his sides, planting them on the floor.

“Fuck me back, Jungkook,” you drawled huskily. “Shove your cum into me.”

Hard, rough, fast – you slammed your hips into him and Jungkook groaned, grabbing your ass and raising his hips to meet yours, an obscene squish as his cum was jammed back into your folds. You bit your lip, grinning, all your nerves tingling, ears and tail bristling, chasing your release as you thrust him into you and he smacked his hips back, matching your pace. His eyes found yours. Darkness to gold.

“Shit, you look so hot…”

You tightened around him and he moaned, throwing his head back, the purple-red hickeys on his neck flexing with his muscle.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty with my bites,” you panted, towering over him, the head of his cock jamming into your deepest parts, so perfectly nice and wet and messy, his cum and your juices spilling out onto his legs and balls, soaking the blankets under you as you fucked him relentlessly. “Cum for me, Jungkook. Let’s make a mess.”

Your name tore of out of his throat, and you gasped as he filled you again, all the way to the brim, eyes fluttering closed as your orgasm shadowed his, suffocating and unrelenting, squeezing his stiff length so hard that your cum and his cum splattered down, painting mixed scents on both your crotches. Strong and heady, intoxicating and addictive. You sat all the way down, moaning as you relished in the joined wetness, thick and wonderful, your hands coming up and caressing his heaving torso, his hands falling from your hips and hitting the floor with a thud.

Slow, deep breaths.

You looked down at Jungkook. His eyes were closed and he was breathing shallowly. His blond hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, jaw tense. You patted his chest and he opened one eye, peering at you.

“Should I get up?”

His hands came back up and rested on your thighs. “No. I like this.”

You pulsated around his twitching cock and Jungkook closed his eyes again, sighing in satisfaction, listening to the lewd spurt of more cum dripping out. You lifted one of your hands and placed it on your lips. Then you lowered it and placed your fingers to his lips.

Jungkook’s eyes opened, brown orbs hazy.

You grinned at him, silvery ears flicking upward.

Jungkook stared at himself in the mirror.

This t-shirt was not going to cut it.

He went back to his closet and retrieved a scarf.

Nope, this just looked stupid.

He went back to the closet and found a turtleneck. A white and black striped one.

Well. Less stupid. Too hot for it, but that was his own fault.

Jungkook pulled down the collar. He traced the bite mark. He swallowed, feeling the arousal building up inside him once again. Remembered the way she felt around him. The way his whole body seemed drawn to her, the way his cock was soaked with him own cum and hers. She had already left. Had things to do and all that. A slow smile grew on his lips.

He had ten minutes before he actually had to leave for work.

He could annoy her for a little bit.

Jungkook’s tattooed right hand slid down to his jeans, undoing the button.

You raised your head.

Frowned.

You father got up from the table and took his plate with him. Hunk of raw meat and all.

“Father?”

The gigantic black wolf paused and glared at you. Blood dripped from his white teeth.

“Daughter, I recognize his scent just as well as you.”

Oh.

Yikes.

You decided not to tell Jungkook that.

Ignorance is bliss.

“No.”

“Why not?”

You were sitting on the rooftop of his apartment complex. He had taken you up here to show you the sunset over the city. Fed you a large hunk of raw high-quality meat and three bottles of soju. Became slightly upset when you didn’t get drunk. Too much muscle mass, perhaps.

“I’m not going to fuck you on the full moon, Jungkook,” you chuckled as you nibbled on a piece of cheese. It was such an interesting flavor. Jungkook had said it was some kind of gourmet cheese, but to you it was only a wedge of very tasty dairy.

“It might be nice?” he tried, nudging you.

You chuckled. “It’ll definitely be nice, but you still can’t move after I’m done with you at the moment, so let’s build up some tolerance first.”

“Let’s,” Jungkook pouted. “You just mean me.”

You were sitting on a green plaid blanket Jungkook had spread out for you two. You looked over to him and his dark denim jacket with matching dark jeans. He was wearing a white Beatles t-shirt under it.

“Do you actually like the Beatles or are you just wearing it for aesthetics?”

Jungkook looked down at his shirt. “Of course, I like the Beatles. Who doesn’t like the Beatles?” He snapped his head up, eyes widening. “You know who the Beatles are?”

You rolled your eyes. “I keep telling you I am not from the medieval times; there are just some primitive ideals in my culture, ugh.” You poked his chest and he rubbed it, frowning. You continued, ignoring his frown. “Obviously I know who they are. The Beatles changed music. Recording, songwriting, artistic presentation – they brought music to new heights. They changed music not only as an industry but also the way people felt about music. Think about it. They became an international act when people were only listening to music on the radio. Do you know how insane that is? Everything travels so fast on the Internet nowadays, but the Beatles became popular without the internet. Can you even imagine that in this day and age?”

You turned your head to make your point and Jungkook was staring at you, slack-jawed.

“What?”

He shook his head, smiling. “I like listening to you. I totally agree by the way. Do you like music?” he said excitedly. “I work at a records store. You want to come by sometime?”

You blinked at him.

“Ah… sure. That sounds nice.”

part iii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #jk x reader #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jk x you #jungkook scenarios

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neonponders · 3 years

Text

I’m so sorry that I don’t remember who originally posted about Steve accidentally calling Billy, Daddy, and Billy - naturally - going feral for it.

But daydreaming about this helped me sleep so ~ enjoy! (If anyone knows the post I’m talking about, I’ll happily add a link to it in a reblog and the ao3 notes.)

Read on ao3 here.

Featuring reunion/aged up trope ~ (I didn’t really keep canon in mind for this, but if you want it to be post season 3, that’s fine.)

It’s a strange twilight zone, meeting someone again. Being complete strangers with a history.

Not the best history, either, so Steve just had to laugh to himself while he sat on Billy Hargrove’s couch. The guy looked up from the kitchen counter across the open floor plan. “What?”

And Steve might be internally combusting a bit-

A lot.

Because Billy’s hot. Like...Steve can actually appreciate it now. It’s not the first time he feels like a fool for being too slow. Billy was a looker in high school; easily one of the guys who completed puberty first and knew it. Made him an asshole for it. And people liked assholes.

Steve guessed he just didn’t do it right. Being the mean guy. But that was far behind them, now, and Billy’s late twenties were doing him favors.

Steve supposed if young, spry, Adonis Billy came with being a complete dick, then he could appreciatively leave him behind. Because Billy wasn’t a complete dick anymore. And the man strolling back across the room with a pair of whiskey sours was definitely, 100%, burning a hole through Steve’s jeans better than the show-off from high school ever did.

Steve reckoned Adonis never got laid nearly as much as Zeus or Poseidon anyway, which he only knew from Robin’s ramblings about her Greek theatre class. Steve earned a distinct wrinkling of her nose when he said, “Lettuce? Adonis is symbolized with lettuce? Yeah, no. Aphrodite, that cougar, fell for a twink while Daddy Poseidon was getting whoever he wanted with his beard and all.”

Robin had barked a laugh but chided, “Please don’t ever call Poseidon, “Daddy,” ever again. Oh my god.”

Joke’s on her, because now she referred to the gods and heroes by whatever name Steve gave them.

And the joke was on Steve. Because he was definitely the twink in this new situation he found himself in.

Billy had always been stacked. But the guy walking through the university gallery to make Steve’s heart stop beating in his chest was something else. He wasn’t even bigger, really. Something just...happened as soon as a person could see 30 closer than 20. Steve had first noticed it with Robin, because they spent the most time together. Obviously that crush had been snuffed out with her gentle coming-out to him years ago, but Steve still had eyes in his head. Robin aged really well. Steve had begun to wonder if he was aging nearly as gracefully.

Billy, that bastard, strolled right up to him with a freaking mustache of all things, invited them to lunch the next day - where he had switched to clean shaven - and now sat on his couch in his newly built apartment complex with a sweating, rattled Steve. He had neatly pulled him aside before the three of them parted the restaurant to invite Steve over for drinks that evening.

Steve was unprepared for the sculpted scruff on the man’s face now. He’d never seen a guy switch facial hair styles like he was changing shirts. Frankly, he didn’t know anybody who could just grow it that easily.

Steve gulped loudly around his whiskey sour.

It was Billy’s turn to laugh under his breath. “You okay? You never answered me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little out of breath. “I’m just...reeling, here. I think the last conversation we had involved a fist fight.”

Billy laughed again and Steve’s eyes trailed over the shirt fitting perfectly around his built shoulders. Maybe Billy is bigger. In like a...domestic sort of way. Like he still had all his muscle but didn’t throw a fit over a bowl of pasta. Steve is still taller. Steve still had that, at least, but he sure felt like his second puberty hadn’t graced him yet.

Billy was talking. Pay attention, Steve.

Something about Robin. Steve replied, and hoped he was answering close to whatever Billy had said, “Robin teaches there and some of her students were in the exhibition. It’s an art nerd thing. Everybody’s involved, even if it’s not your subject.”

Steve couldn’t tell if the pause was Billy processing or if Steve had been completely off the mark. Deflect. Reroute! his brain told him, so he asked, “Did we ever ask how you knew about the gallery?”

“Max goes to school there.”

“Oh,” Steve chirped bluntly. “Small world.”

Billy hummed a sound low in his chest. Something vibrated inside Steve and he closed his eyes in a hard blink, grasping at flimsy straws for composure. Billy finished, “I was in the area. Definitely a pleasant surprise to see your familiar face.”

“My Lego head?” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. “I guess this block always did stand out.”

Billy huffed a surprised sound, like he hadn’t expected that, but he let it tumble into easy laughter. “You look good. I never saw you with short hair.”

His fingers pushed the arching swoop of Steve’s fringe behind his ear. The briefest touch across his temple finishing on his neck...

I’m going to have a heart attack.

“Thanks. That goes for the both of us.”

Just like he almost missed never snatching a chance with high school Billy, Steve only kinda missed never getting his hands on that mullet. Only to know how soft that hair actually was. Not like Billy needed it, of course. Truly absurd, how he rocked any hair situation on his head that wasn’t shaped like a Lego person’s.

Steve finished his whiskey in the next gulp.

He could feel Billy’s laser blue eyes notice this, and then he stood from the couch. “I’m getting us some waters.”

“Okay,” Steve chimed dumbly. Feeling dumb.

Jesus Christ, it’s Scoops all over again. You suck. You suck-

“Poseidon liked a twink too, you nimrod,” Robin had teased back. “His name was Anteros.”

“And he dies too, right?”

“Nope. He’s basically Poseidon’s husband and chauffeur.”

“Aw. Good for Daddy P.”

Billy returned. “Are you one of these people who likes seltzers?”

Steve blindly took the can while his thoughts slammed mutinously into, Daddy B. B is kinda cute. Shorter-

“Thanks-

Billy.

-daddy.”

Steve opened the can before it sank in what he’d just said. Carbonation gently kissed his skin as he held the can to his lips but didn’t drink. Some may or may not have landed in his lap before he lowered it to see Billy’s unreadable face.

“Oh my god.” Steve rushed to place the can on the coffee table and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Did you...?”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, removing a hand as if to physically defend against the words in the air.

“Steve-”

His words came muffled from where he hid inside his hands. “Oh my god. I’m gonna throw up.”

He stood up - to go where, he didn’t really know. Probably best to just leave at this point. Way to choke. Way to absolutely choke, Harrington. You don’t even know if Billy’s bi and you just deep-dived into WEIRD-

“I’m really sorry,” he rushed as he stepped around the coffee table.

“Steve.” Billy gripped his arm and pulled right back onto the couch as if it were easy. Steve more than landed in his spot, he landed flush against Billy. His thigh felt Billy’s warmth, and his lips stayed parted to keep breathing when he realized how close their faces were.

Billy this close was something else, and Steve didn’t have the brain power to navigate it.

“Say it again.”

So it took him a long minute to absorb that. Was he seeing stars? So much for breathing.

“Huh?”

Steve’s lashes sagged heavily over his eyes when Billy leaned tantalizingly close. Either of them could stick their tongues out and taste the other’s lips.

Don’t, he commanded his mutinous subconscious.

“Say it again, Steve.”

He wondered which was louder: his thunderous heart or the racket in his brain trying to turn rusty gears. He whispered against Billy’s skin, “I didn’t mean to say it.”

A hand, gentle but there, found Steve’s nape. “I’m telling you to say it on purpose.”

Was he making fun of him? Steve couldn’t tell. He hadn’t spent more than a handful of hours with him. But his voice made that thing in Steve’s body vibrate and his brain had officially declared itself a lost cause.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Steve closed the gap - tiny as it was - and involuntarily moaned at the softness of Billy’s lips. The hand on his nape tightened and another came to hold the front of his throat; not pressing against his windpipe, but Billy’s fingertips held Steve’s jaw in place and his palm surely felt the drumming of Steve’s heart.

Steve’s tongue couldn’t help itself. He touched the plush skin of Billy’s upper lip, ever so lightly-

Billy groaned, wanton and hungry as he pushed entirely into Steve’s personal space. The latter gasped at the sound, and then he really did see stars as Billy’s tongue fucked against his own. He tasted sour and sweet and the citrus mixed with Billy’s natural taste in such a way that Steve tilted his head for more, pushed right back into Billy’s space.

Steve’s body rotated enough that his knee bumped into Billy’s. Then Billy was gripping that joint hard enough to bruise so that he could pull Steve all the way around to straddle him. Steve clumsily climbed onto his lap, grateful for the influx of air as Billy planted wet kisses and pressed his tongue into Steve’s pulse. He didn’t really know what the boundaries were anymore. This was explosive and sudden and Steve sat, unsure, higher up on Billy’s thighs-

“Ahh!” he burst when Billy gripped his hips and yanked his pelvis flush against him. Steve’s moan clipped short into a small ache of pain. The way his jeans tightened with the stretch of his thighs crimped into his already throbbing erection.

Billy opened his jeans. Steve’s voice escaped with his gasp when the colder backs of his fingers touched his belly as he dipped into Steve’s underwear. He stood up on his knees to give Billy the room to free his erection, and Steve couldn’t help the moan that exhaled out of him when he sat back down, feeling Billy’s soft shirt against his red cockhead.

Steve shivered as Billy’s hands slid up and around his body, mapping out Steve’s topography and shoving his shirt as high as Steve’s collarbones. Steve felt like a lewd wet dream: an exposed, panting mess on Billy’s lap. His heart ricocheted around his ribs with the sharp tickle of stubble, and he whimpered as it scraped over his nipple and chest.

“Your shirt,” he heaved, knowing he was dripping precum. “Billy-”

“Call me what you did before.” He reached into the back of Steve’s jeans and gripped a handful of his ass that had Steve lurching forward and bucking into the softness of that shirt and tummy, the warmth of Billy’s body. Steve whined when Billy held him down, unable to move.

“Say it. Whatever you want. Just say it for me.”

Steve bought a little time by kissing him, hard. Hard enough to make Billy lie back into the couch, his head tilted up to moan into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s lips nuzzled the side of his lips and began an exploratory trail across Billy’s cheek and jaw, down to his throat.

“I just...wanna feel all of this on me. I wanna feel your beard so much I’ll still feel it tomorrow... Daddy.”

Steve’s voice pitched to the ceiling when a hand gripped his hair. Billy’s other hand released his ass cheek to push encouragingly on Steve’s lumbar the same time he drew Steve’s earlobe into his mouth. Steve gripped the couch upholstery behind Billy’s shoulders as he bucked against him, rutting like a teenager. Billy’s own jaw fell for his moan to escape when Steve’s ass and backs of his thighs moved over his own cock trapped in his pants.

Steve tried to slow down a little, to rub against him without making the fabric chaff. “Daddy, what do want?”

If he didn’t feel Billy’s heartbeat before, he sure as hell did now. Steve felt it against his hands as he sought to know the contours of Billy’s shoulders and chest. He watched Billy’s swallow through the gorgeous neck that lay open to him as Billy gazed up at him. One of his hands traced the gently twitching artery on the side. Steve began to pepper slow, audible kisses against his face. When he landed on Billy’s lips, Billy kissed back, and when he wandered all the way up to Billy’s temple, Billy let him. Only his hands moved sluggishly between Steve’s thighs and his waist, seeking skin underneath his shirt.

Steve came back down to whisper against Billy’s lips, “Daddy?”

It was a blur of movement punctuated by Steve’s surprised yelp of glee as Billy threw him onto his back on the couch. Billy kissed the laughter out of his flushed, red throat, growling in satisfaction at how those bubbles of mirth sank into breathy moans.

“I’ve wanted you for years, pretty boy.”

Steve’s brain didn’t absorb that so much as his body did. Pinballs of emotion and sensation darted to and from his groin. He lifted his leg to rest across the back of the couch and to give Billy access to whatever he wanted.

Strong hands moved carefully - fondly - over Steve’s thighs. A stuttering breath left him when Billy clutched the backs of his legs. A sweet ache to have the muscle squeezed there.

“Don’t hold back on me now, baby,” Billy taunted, pressing his hands into the couch on either side of Steve and aligning his bulge with Steve’s hole and undercarriage still inside his jeans. “Let me hear you.”

Steve’s other leg wrapped around him and he lifted his pelvis to grind against Billy’s front. Billy’s bravado melted into an anguished, blissed-out frown as he shut his eyes against the sensation. When he opened them, Steve held his cock in hand, pumping himself in time with his pelvis rolling up to meet Billy.

It was sloppy and desperate and Steve didn’t think he ever did this even as a teenager. It had all been a small town rush to get hands or mouths on skin and get rid of the stigmatizing V-card. Except when Steve was in love, and allowed to take his time...

Steve didn’t know if he was in love now. But as another wave of ticklish warmth darted through him, Steve laughed a little.

“What?” Billy asked, not unlike the first time.

“I just...I just like this, that’s all,” Steve admitted. “You feel good. You smell good. Ahh! I’m close.”

“Let me see you, baby. Let me taste the mess you make.”

That didn’t so much as nudge Steve off the cliff as it drop kicked him into his orgasm.

“Hahh! Daddy, I’m there! I’m there...”

The mind-halting knot of sensation burst inside him with a force that let Steve not even care that he craned his face toward the arm of the couch, moaning and splashing his hair over the upholstery like a romance novel cover.

He realized somewhere in the middle that Billy had grasped his cock and was the reason his climax kept going. Milking little dribbles of cum out of him. Steve hadn’t cum like this in years, and he lay riveted to Billy hastening his rhythm to chase his own cliff edge.

The furrowed brows of concentration on Billy’s face were wiped off by Steve gripping his shirt and yanking him down for Steve to taste him, to plunder his mouth and feel that soft material against his own bare, messy torso.

Billy shuddered and pushed, pushed against Steve like he meant to bury his cockhead inside as he came. The visual sent an aching thrill into Steve’s core, knowing how Billy looked when he came and knowing that he’d cum inside. It made Steve eager to feel the pressure of his thrusts and the aftershocks when he pulled out to repeat it all again.

Steve had just cum like a seventeen year old and wanted to go all the way, with Billy’s hands all over his backside and his scruff against Steve’s ass cheeks-

Billy’s hand brushed over his hair and eased around to cradle his head. “What are you thinking behind those big eyes?”

Steve blinked drunkenly up at him even though it certainly wasn’t whiskey giving him this high. “My eyes?”

“Mmhm,” Billy hummed through lips pressing into a content smile. He hovered over his elbows, still framing Steve in but not crowding him. Fingertips pressed little swirls over his scalp, drifting around his ear. “I like your big, doe eyes.”

No one ever commented on his eyes. His hair, obviously. His butt. His shoulders. His moles. Billy gazed down at him, searching through Steve’s thoughts. The way he always had, really.

“Thinkin’ about you creaming me instead of your pants.”

Billy turned his head to the side so he didn’t laugh directly in Steve’s face. “Only if I’m not dreaming this time.”

This time.

God, Steve liked what that implied.

His arms came around Billy’s shoulders, loving the broadness and weight of the man on top of him. He kissed him softly, bumping his nose against Billy’s and eliciting a groan while Billy tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

“Again,” he begged through the kiss. “I want you again, Daddy.”

#i've never written a daddy kink before #i hope it's okay u_u #harringrove #neonponders #pondermoniums #ficlet #daddy #daddy!kink #my greek mythology nerd is showing #steve out here being a service top even when he bottoms

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Working late

Previous: Here

For the rest of the time Ango had off, he spent with you. It was a nice time, and it made him happier than he had been in a long while to have someone to talk to that wasn't Tsujimura. It also helped that he could talk about something other than his job with you, as well as have something to think about aside from said job. So, in the end, he didn't regret trying out that dating app, even though he'd been so skittish to build a connection with someone. You, meanwhile, didn't seem to care about all of the flaws he brought up on your dates. You were fine with him not having much time to do much, and seemed to accept that this long stretch of time off wasn't his usual schedule. Thankfully, you didn't pry into why he'd suddenly gotten a month off if it wasn't normal. "I'm not looking for a constant partner. I can deal with taking things slow and being long distance," You assured on the second to last day of his break, wrapping an arm around him in a small hug, "My only demand is that I'm allowed to send you stuff and keep in contact as much as possible. Please just don't ghost me." He nodded, and with that, you seemed pretty content with that, letting him leave to return to work after his month off. Sadly, his happiness was swiftly squished under the weight of the work Taneada gave him upon his return. Of course, it wasn't a surprise to him, his boss had always been keen on shoving piles of work at him whenever he could get away with it. So, he just dug in and focused on catching up for the month of work he'd missed. So, another week passed uneventfully. Ango hadn't gone home more than two or three times, instead opting to crash on one of the decorative office couches for small naps when he got too exhausted to continue to work at times. He was swiftly exhausted, struggling to keep awake and to avoid completely crashing and sleeping for most of the day during his little naps. Though, it wasn't all bad. He tried his best to reach out to you when he could, and you were one of the few bright spots he had on the days where he was too busy to go home. (y/n): You doing alright? Wishing for another vacation yet lol.Ango: Very much so, but the paperwork is pretty standard, so it's nothing too taxing. (y/n): Ew, that sounds so boring. Ango: It is. That's why I didn't go into detail about my job, other than some of it being classified. (y/n): Yeah, kinda would've ruined dinner if I fell asleep to your paperwork chat lol. Ango: Lol. He smiled as he read your casual messages while he laid in the dark office long after even Tsujimura and Taneada had gone home, leaving him with the night security guards and little else in the way of coworkers. Usually, Ango just went to sleep as quickly as possible, having honed the skill of falling asleep on command pretty much, but when you'd checked in on him, he was fine with staying up to talk to you and unwind that way, and when his phone vibrated to notify him of another of your messages, he was further encouraged to stay awake out of pure curiosity. (y/n): Hey, Ango, I might know a way for you to destress. Ango: What is it? Yoga?(y/n): Nope! With that message, you sent a photo attachment, and he turned quite red before he'd even opened the file. Oh god, please don't be up for sexting. I'm much too rusty at that. He quickly plead internally, than, after swallowing the anxious lump in his throat, he opened the picture. Sure enough, it was a risque photo of yourself, nothing nude, but he got a healthy hint of what you looked like beneath your clothing. It brought a bright red color to his pale cheeks, but he didn't dislike the image, in fact, it honestly sent a bolt of excitement straight to his pants. Though, he was then faced with the predicament of responding. Fuck, do I comment on their body? Their underwear? He mulled over his options for a long moment and tried to formulate a good response that didn't sound too rude, but in the end he still struggled. Ango: Why the sexual image? Ango: You look nice, Ango:Your undergarments are rather cute. (y/n): Lol, take your time, dear. Ango let his phone fall to his chest after that and just scrubbed at his face with both of his hands, being mindful of his round glasses, then wiped his sweaty palms on the couch before finally sending a response he didn't delete. Ango: I'm sorry if I seem rude, I'm not used to being sent photos. You are very attractive. (y/n): Awww, thank you~ Have you really not been sent risque pictures before? Ango: Not really, haven't had many partners before to try. (y/n): Lolol, well dear, it's usually good etiquette to send a pic in return if you want😉 That sent another hot bolt of thrill to his groin, but he wasn't super sure on whether he should give into that lascivious voice in his head. Is it really smart to do this? They could use any compromising pictures against you. The anxious voice in his head whispered, but, after a moment or two of debating, the glasses-wearing man took a deep breath and let it out slowly, I guess it wouldn't hurt, as long as I don't show my face it shouldn't be that bad, even if they does use it against me. Besides, I can't exactly sleep comfortably after this, might as well take a photo while I'm at it. He told himself, using a bit of reasoning to curb how anxious he felt on his way to the men's room, the one rare place where there wasn't any security cameras. Once safely hidden in a stall with his phone, out of the view of any of the night guards or security cameras, Ango took a moment to relax so his hands didn't shake too badly, then, pulled his pants down just enough to let his semi-erect member free. He then took a moment to figure out how to take a passable picture and sent it off, his cheeks now as red as a rose and his gut was in a maelstrom of nerves, excitement, and arousal while waiting the painfully slow minute it took for you to reply to his picture. When you did, it was with a second image, (y/n): I appreciate your bravery~ Here, a final little picture for ya before I go to bed. Good night, Ango~ Your humor helped to relax him after such a nerve-wracking adventure into such a new territory. Not to say Ango wasn't a puritan, he'd had sex more than once, and he was pretty flexible with what he did in bed, but sending lewd photos from work was a new, anxiety-filled experience. Although, his stiffened member didn't seem to care about that paranoia. Fuelled by your second, slightly more risque image, his member now demanded to be dealt with before he even thought of sleep.He let out a little sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair, taking his glasses off and setting them carefully on the back of the toilet before shutting his dark green eyes and began to slowly stroke himself. The friction his hand gave, paired with the images now in his mind was the perfect mix to form fantasies starring you. Thoughts of you taking his long-neglected member into your mouth, or maybe riding him, so many thoughts that made his erection twitch filled his mind, trickling in as he finally fed his long neglected sexual needs ever so slightly. He hadn't done so in so long that he forgot just how addictive it could be to chase that delicious boost of happy chemicals masturbation could give him, but he was highly enjoying rediscovering the pleasure of the friction from his hands when paired with the fantasy of you being the one to stroke his twitching member until the pleasure reached its peek and a groan was yanked from his throat and quickly muffled as his body tensed and his brain was filled with static for a few moments. When he'd come down from that high, his euphoria was quickly replaced by immense shame, so he was swift to put his softening dick away and scrub up the evidence of his alone time. He put his glasses back on, straightened his clothes, and took a few deep breaths to slow his pounding heart and lessen the stain to his cheeks before he left the bathroom and returned to the couch. This time, he just went to sleep.

#Ango Sakaguchi #bsd #Ango x reader #bungo stray dogs #x reader #fanfiction #not sfw #long distance #quotev

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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

Text

Only the Good Die Young (Part 4)

Summary: You tried hard to believe that Bucky was a changed man, but he made it difficult

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents

Author's Note: Alright, I’ve flaked. My different-song-per-part ambitions were too high, I flew too close to the sun. I’m so sorry Billy.

---

You buried your face in his neck.

Everything he’d said was spiralling through your mind. You knew your parents well enough to know that staying with Bucky for much longer meant losing them forever. You didn’t want to go back but, if you stayed away and things didn’t work out, there was a chance you’d end up completely alone.

Bucky was a risk, a huge one. You wanted to trust him. You wanted so badly to believe that he was everything he appeared to be.

So you did.

A leap of faith. You were good at faith.

You pulled your head up, coming face to face with him. ‘I would like to get very, very drunk.’

‘Me too.’ He went to get up, but stopped suddenly and looked back at you. ‘You ever been hammered before?’

You shrugged with one shoulder, reluctant to admit further inexperience. ‘Communion wine is pretty strong stuff.’

‘Jesus. I almost feel bad, enabling sin like this.’ He sauntered to the kitchen and rifled through the cupboards, grinning in your direction when he found a half-empty bottle of tequila. ‘Almost.’

The golden liquid burned your throat as you took shot after shot, the warm glow in your chest getting stronger with every sip. This was fucking brilliant, why had you never tried it before?

‘So, here’s the plan.’ You could see that Bucky was at least a little tipsy, he’d been matching every one of your shots with three of his own. ‘I make enough money fixing bikes to keep the flat and feed us, so you can quit that fucking college course and find something you actually want to do.’

You paused for a second, processing his words. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’

‘Are you turning me down?’

You grinned and shook your head, making a mental note to reconfirm that in the morning when he was sober. You had hoped that he’d at least let you stay with him for the summer, but knowing that he was willing to put up with you more long-term quelled some deep anxiety you’d been harbouring for days.

You shifted your tone, trying your best to look as sober and sincere as possible. ‘Buck. You said you just want someone to talk to, right?’ He nodded, half-smirking and pushing some hair behind your ear. ‘So talk. You know so much about me, I want to know about you.’

‘What you wanna know?’

‘Tell me about your parents.’

His eyes wandered away from yours and he dropped his hand to your shoulder, wincing a little while he strung his words together. ‘Well you’ve met my dad, he’s no different now than he always was. The only time I ever hear from my ma is when she needs money. God knows what for, I don’t ask.’

‘I’m really sorry, I can’t imagine what they put you through.’

You’d never seen him so subdued. You almost felt bad for putting a damper on the evening, but you got the impression that Bucky had never spoken to anyone about this stuff before, drunk or sober.

‘Fucked me up for a long time, I did a lot of bad stuff.’ You reached out and squeezed his free hand as he was speaking, prompting his gaze to fix back on you. ‘But I don’t want to be that person anymore.’

‘You’re a good guy Buck.’ You gave him a wide smile. ‘Plus, after all those Sundays at church, the big guy owes me a couple favours. I can get that slate of yours wiped clean, no problem.’

He narrowed his eyes at you, the warm glow returning to your chest as you watched his mouth curl back into that familiar smirk. ‘You’re buzzed, ain’t ya?’

‘Should I slow down?’

‘Nope.’ He poured you both another drink. ‘Speed up.’

You didn’t ask about the things he’d done, you didn’t need to know. It was in the past, and he regretted it. That’s all that mattered to you.

The tequila was gone far too quickly. Both of you raided the cupboards again, finding a nearly empty bottle of triple sec, three cans of cider and a bottle with Russian writing that contained something resembling paint stripper.

A few hours and all that booze later, you and Bucky found yourselves tangled around each other on the bed, nursing your slowly developing headaches.

‘You’re a terrible influence, Barnes.’ You croaked into his chest.

‘I’m barely even getting started darlin.’

---

The first thing you felt in the morning was dizziness. Even before you’d opened your eyes, you knew the room was spinning around you. You adjusted yourself a little, relieved when you felt Bucky’s arms still wrapped around you and his chest against your cheek. Scooching upwards, eyes still screwed shut, you brought your face level with his.

He stirred, croaking faintly. ‘Still here. Haven’t run away yet.'

‘I feel like there’s a bee hive inside my head.’

‘Your first hangover.’ He chuckled. ‘We should celebrate. Breakfast?’

‘I’m never eating again. Or drinking. Or… moving.’

He started wriggling. ‘Well, either you move or I piss the bed.’

You flopped onto your back, the movement making your brain rattle inside your head, as Bucky scuttled to the bathroom. You started drifting back to sleep, only to be unceremoniously woken when you were hoisted off the bed and carried you through to the front room. He made breakfast while you lay on the couch, feeling sorry for yourself. You managed a few reluctant mouthfuls and a pint of water.

‘I’ve been thinking.’ Bucky piped up whilst washing the dishes. ‘When you feel a bit better we should go back to the flat. I know it’s close to your parents, but at least my dad doesn’t have keys to it.’

You considered for a second, weighing up whether you were more intimidated by your parents or his. ‘That’s fine with me. Whatever you think is best, Buck.’

---

The two of you left the trailer the next morning. You were still feeling pretty ropey, but you were at least able to walk six feet without getting dizzy. In truth, you were pretty happy to be getting away from the trailer. Aside from the stained walls and crappy shower, you hadn’t felt safe there since Bucky’s dad had burst in the other night. Christ knows what else that man was capable of.

Somehow, at some point during your first day back at the flat, Bucky had convinced you it’d be a good idea for the two of you to go out that night. He suggested his usual haunt, a bar you’d never heard of despite living in that town all your life.

It was a dive bar. You’d never been to a dive bar before, you weren’t even really sure what it meant, but as soon as you saw the outside of this place you knew. There was a flickering neon sign advertising Miller High Life above the door and bikes as far as the eye could see.

Some extremely intimidating clientele eyed the two of you as you approached, giving a gruff chuckle when you brushed past them to get to the entrance. Bucky enthusiastically greeted a few guys who were already inside. One of them you vaguely recognised from school, but the others looked quite a bit older.

You were so far out of your comfort zone in this place, every muscle in your body felt tense and you were convinced that dozens of dirty looks were being thrown your way.

‘What’ll it be then sweetheart?’ Your eyes followed the voice to a tall, brawny blonde with freakishly wide shoulders and a crooked smile.

Your mouth opened slightly as you scurried around trying to figure out what kind of alcohol was sold in a place like this, before Bucky piped up. ‘She’ll have my usual.’

You just nodded, keeping quiet for fear of coming across as the naïve religious freak in front of his friends. A few seconds later you found yourself with a pint of beer in one hand and a shot of whiskey in the other.

‘Boilermaker.’ Bucky whispered, close to your ear. ‘Proper booze, gotta make up for all that shit the other night.’

One of the friends led you towards a cramped booth with a sticky table. You found yourself tucked in between Bucky and the blonde, the former’s arm circled tight around your waist, hand resting possessively on your thigh. You didn’t speak much, only when spoken to- that was until the blonde started cross-examining you.

‘No offence, but you weren’t exactly what I was expecting.’

Great. This shit again.

‘Leave it, yeah?’ Bucky’s tone was friendly, but you could sense a hint of warning.

‘Like I said, no offence.’ He smirked. ‘She just looks a little suburban, y’know.’

Bucky got more agitated. ‘What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?’

‘Jesus, chill out Barnes. She’s not bothered, are ya?’ He nudged you hard, pushing you into Bucky’s side. You just smiled politely, a pathetic attempt to diffuse.

Progressively more irate words were thrown back and forth between them, but everyone else around the table was seemingly unfazed by the argument. It escalated quickly, resulting in blonde reaching over to yank Bucky up by the lapels, spilling a pint of beer all over you in the process. Buck shoved him off and helped you out of the booth, apologising as he ushered you towards the door.

Blonde was shouting after you, following you to the door. Just as you thought the two of you might make it out of there intact, Bucky wheeled round and punched him square in the mouth. He got a swift jab to the stomach in return and the two of them crashed into the bar, arms and legs flying in every direction.

Finally, after intervention by a couple huge biker guys, you managed to pull Bucky away. As you pushed open the front door, flashing blue lights flooded the bar. You squinted, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Cops. One of them approached you and Bucky, the same one who came to the flat after your parents reported you kidnapped.

‘Told you your time would come, boy.’ He smirked. ‘James Barnes, you’re under arrest on suspicion of assault.’

Everything said after that was drowned out by a high pitched whining that started in your ears. Buck was dragged away and shoved into the back of a car, he shouted something in your direction before the door closed but you didn’t catch it. You were reeling with shock. They pulled away, lights fading as they disappeared down the street.

There you were, completely alone. Standing in the gutter outside a dive bar, trembling and covered in beer, playing perfectly into your parents’ predictions.

What the fuck were you supposed do? Go sleep on Bucky’s doorstep, hoping he’d get released before morning? How many more times were you going to have to do that?

You couldn’t help but feel so, so stupid. You’d leapt, fallen and landed flat on your face. Maybe your mother wasn’t exaggerating, maybe she was right all along. Christ, maybe you were just some naïve, sheltered Christian kid in way over your head.

You had no choice. You went home.

---

Waking up back in your bed sent a wave of depression crashing over you. You could still smell stale beer and cigarettes, making you feel even worse.

Only your father had been awake when you timidly knocked on the door the night before. He’d stepped aside and let you in without much more than a stern look, but you were dreading having to face your mother this morning.

You sat up, the motion kick-starting yet another hangover, and walked to the bathroom. Switching on the light, you stared into the mirror and were greeted with someone you barely recognised. Your eyes were dark, bloodshot and puffy, your hair was wild from days of washing it with shower gel in the trailer’s crappy shower, your clothes from the night before were still hanging off you, stained and reeking- but you looked alive. And you felt it.

The doorbell rang.

You ran to the top of the stairs, only to see your mother standing in the doorway, face to face with Bucky. He looked awful, cuts and bruises littering his face. You stepped back slightly to hide yourself from his view.

‘Get off my property or I’m calling the police.’ Well she hadn’t changed while you’d been gone.

‘Is she here?’

Silence. You peeked round the corner to see your mother whip her phone from her pocket. Bucky shouted your name. Fuck, so much of you wanted to just run down the stairs and throw your arms round him, but you knew there was a good chance you’d just end up here again a week or so down the line.

‘Fine.’ He backed away, holding his arms out. ‘Y’know, sooner or later, it comes down to faith. Someone’s gonna help her see through all your bullshit, I might as well be the one.’

He limped down the steps and was gone from your view. Dragging yourself back into your room, you looked at your phone for the first time that morning. Twenty-five texts and eight missed calls from Bucky. Taking a deep breath, you typed a message to him.

Meet me on the bench at noon tomorrow.

---

As you turned into the park, you saw him sitting there. He looked tense, elbows resting on his thighs while he ran his fingers through his hair. As soon as he spotted you approaching he stood up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hug him, so you just perched on the other end of the bench silently. He obviously didn’t take the hint, moving closer and sitting right next to you.

You heard him chuckle. ‘Blink twice if we’re being bugged.’

You lifted your eyes, scanning them over his wounds. His knuckles weren’t even fully healed from the fight with his father. He was just cuts upon bruises upon scars and you weren’t sure if he’d ever stop adding to them.

His face dropped when he saw your obvious distress. ‘I’m really sorry y/n. I fucked up, bad.’

You just nodded, taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep your thoughts straight.

‘I know I struggle to control my anger sometimes, but you gotta believe I’m getting better. I’m not the person I used to be.’

‘You keep saying that.’ You couldn’t meet his eyes, too scared to see the hurt your words would cause him. ‘Then you do shit like this? I’m really struggling here, I-’

‘I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying, now more than ever. Because of you.’

‘What happened the other night... I was so scared, Buck. I barely even made it out of the house to get here today.’ Tears were clouding your vision as you felt his hands grasp your firmly. ‘I can’t do that again.’

---

Part Five

---

@shawnie--jo @brilliantbellesoares @noiralei @bebeyeni @kingkassam @newyorkgoddess @livingoffsavvyillusions

I’ve bolded the names that wouldn’t let me tag, sorry guys

---

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selene-tempest · 3 years

Text

It’s my birthday and apparently the hubby isn’t going to let me ignore it...

((Author lady is putting this up now to celebrate, but it won’t be uploaded to Ao3 yet because it doesn’t fit the timeline at the moment, so you’ll have to wait.))

“What do you mean she’s not coming home?” Scott asked.

“She’s not coming home,” John replied with a shrug. What else was there to say? How else could he make that simple sentence any clearer?

"Like never again?" Alan whimpered.

John didn't dignify that with an answer.

“But why?” Gordon asked.

“Because she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you try to talk her round?” Scott asked.

“Of course I did, but she’s being stubborn, and you know what she's like when she sets her mind to something.”

“Why? Did we do something wrong? Does she not love us any more?” Alan asked, looking like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she still loves you. Do you honestly think that after four years in this family and all the things we’ve been through, this would be the time she decided she wanted out?” John couldn’t believe how dramatic they were all being about it.

“But it’s her birthday, she should be here with us,” Scott said firmly, like that was all there was to it.

“Yes, her birthday, and she does have a choice in the matter,” John reminded him.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“You can tell her then,” John said. “Because I’m certainly not going to get involved with that.”

“Did she at least say why?” Virgil asked, ever the sane one.

“Yes, she said that she isn’t having a birthday this year, she’s ignoring it because someone,” John paused to glare meaningfully at Scott, “keeps teasing her about getting old because she’s hitting the big Three-O.”

Scott sniggered quietly to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of it if I were you,” John warned him,

“I didn’t even say anything that bad to her,” Scott protested weakly.

“No, but you asked me what it was like being married to a cougar that only wanted me for my youthful body.”

Scott sniggered again, turning it into a cough when John’s glare rached up a notch.

“And yesterday you got up off the couch and asked her if she wanted to sit down,” Virgil added.

“I was being considerate!”

“If that was the case you shouldn’t have said that you were doing it because it’s only polite to give your seat up for the elderly,” Gordon laughed.

“Oh for the…” John dropped his head into his hands in utter despair. Scott was just lucky that he was only there in hologram form or he’d have punched him.

Scott just shrugged. “She needs to come home, it’s her birthday.”

“Well she’s not going to,” John told him, wondering if he should whip out the hand puppets to get him to understand the simple answer of no.

“Go and get her, she’ll do it if you tell her to,” Alan tried.

“Let me think about it...no.”

“Aw, come on, John, please?” Alan was going to pout, John just knew it.

“I’ll try,” John sighed, knowing he was beaten.

-x-

“Come on, love, get out of bed.”

“No,” Selene said, her voice muffled since her head was currently stuffed under a pillow.

“Everyone wants to see you,” John wheedled.

“I don’t care, I’m not moving.”

“You have to celebrate your birthday.”

“Lies! I say the same thing to you every year and every year you tell me you don’t want a fuss. No party, no going anywhere, no nothing. Why can’t I do the same?”

“Because I’m me and you’re you. You’re the sociable part of our couple, you’re the one that forces me to go places I don’t want to by insisting that I'll have a good time when I get there.”

“And you still argue, complain and refuse to go. Maybe I’ve finally started to listen to you and realised you were right all along, birthdays are bad, social is bad, celebrating anything is bad. I get it, you were right.”

“Don’t even try that,” John warned her.

“Try what?” she mumbled innocently.

“Telling me that I’m right so I’ll be so shocked I won’t argue with you any more.”

“It was worth a shot,” she grumbled to herself.

“Enough of this,” John declared, grabbing the edge of the duvet and yanking it off the bed, revealing his darling wife lying flat out on her belly like a dead starfish. “Come on, get up.”

“No! I’m not getting up. If you really loved me and wanted me to celebrate you’d go and get a Chinese and eat it in bed with me.”

John paused for a second, because honestly that did sound very tempting… no, he had a duty as a husband, a duty to give his wife a birthday she wouldn’t forget for such a milestone.

“No, we’re doing something for your birthday and that’s final. You asked me to trust you for my birthday last year-”

“And you didn’t! You bitched and tried to seduce me into staying on Five and ignoring the trouble I and everyone else had gone to.”

“Never happened,” he lied smoothly. “You have two choices, get up and come with me or I’ll call your mother and let her drag you out of this pit.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“No, because then you’d have to talk to her and you know how that would go,” Selene left the threat hanging in the air.

John paused, his brain frantically scurrying to come up with something like a hamster spinning on its wheel. What could he do that would be special for her birthday? He’d used up his one good idea planning a night away for the four year anniversary of the night they met… huh..maybe he could…

He pulled his phone out and sent a quick message to EOS asking her to get to work rearranging the surprise. Selene's birthday was close enough to their anniversary, shifting the two bookings he had made shouldn't be too much trouble.

“Fine, then you have two more choices, get up and pack yourself an overnight bag and be waiting patiently for me to get back so we can go, or I’ll pack for you and throw you over my shoulder and drag you out. Choose wisely.”

“I choose door number three.”

“Stop being dramatic, plus you know that’s not an option. You can see your family tomorrow, for today you’re mine. I would strongly advise you pick the first option as you know my idea of suitable clothes to pack differs wildly from yours, you know I can’t be trusted…”

“Not convinced.”

Huffing he grabbed hold of her legs and yanked her backwards down the bed. She shrieked like a fire alarm. He ignored it. Flipping her over he tugged on her arms, pulling her into a sitting position.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” he lied, taking in the messy hair, mascara smudged around her eyes and the fact she was wearing the hideous nightshirt that he loathed with the fire of a thousand suns.

She snorted, clearly not falling for his line.

He knelt down beside the bed, taking her hands in his.

“Do you trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me now, do as you’re told and stop being obstinate for the sake of it. Think about it, you and me, a whole night away…”

“And no mention of my birthday?” she clarified.

“Not if you don’t want it,” he promised. “I had something arranged for our anniversary but I think you need it a little earlier.”

She still looked suspicious but she reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

“Good. I’m going to head back to the island to pick up Dad’s plane-”

“Plane? Just where are we going, exactly?”

“That’s on a need to know basis and right now you don’t need to know,” he told her. “Just concentrate on getting yourself ready, have a shower if you want to, dress in something you feel amazing in and be ready in two hours.”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?”

“Nope, now move your backside,” he ordered, giving her butt a little swipe.

-x-

John had walked straight out of their flat after giving her her orders, leaving her to it. She procrastinated for half an hour, feeling that he would have totally won and she would have lost if she got up and did as she was told straight away. She needed to keep some form of dignity and control over her own dramatic leanings.

She then slowly packed a few essentials, throwing in a nice maxi skirt, some leggings she could wear under it if they were going anywhere cold, a peasants blouse along with underbust corset she could add to jazz it up in case they went anywhere fancy, a thick shawl for chilly weather, a T-shirt to wear in bed, fresh underwear, makeup bag, toiletries and she was done.

She did take a shower, not because he suggested it but because she felt a bit grotty and knew it would make her feel better. She resisted the urge to stare at herself in the mirror and scrutinise her naked body until she wanted nothing more than to hide back in bed again, and got on with the laborious task of hair washing, leg shaving and getting dressed.

She was just about ready in jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie she’d stolen from Alan, comfy travelling clothes, when he texted to demand her presence downstairs.

He had an automated taxi waiting that took them straight out of town to the nearby private airfield that Scott used whenever he was taking a break and leaving One at the island in case of emergencies, although this wasn’t a surprise since he had said he was going to get Jeff’s jet.

The flight time had been relatively short in relation to standard commercial flights, only an hour and a half, but when you were used to being in a family that could zip across the globe in half an hour it was quite long. This comparison did absolutely nothing to tell her where they were at any given moment or where they were going to end up, so she stuck with sitting quietly, letting him get on with the whole flying thing.

“Are you still grumpy at me for making you leave the house?” John asked after half an hour of mostly silence from Selene.

“No,” she sighed, “I just really didn’t feel like doing anything, I’m not sure I’m going to be the best company at the moment.”

“Did I ask for you to be good company? It’s not like I’m a shining example of how to be the life and soul of a party.”

“I know, sorry, I just kinda wanted to forget about it. Everyone wants to make a big deal about my birthday and I don’t. Mum wanted to drag me around to visit people, to which I firmly said no, so she’s not really talking to me at the moment. She did that a lot when I was a kid, kept having parties and events that were loosely based on one of our birthdays, but she’d invite a lot of her friends and family members we didn’t really like. She’d have a great time but we didn’t because it just wasn’t what we wanted to do."

“I can understand that, Grandma was much the same.”

“Plus it’s the first big thing, apart from our wedding, without Dad and I’m just not really in the mood to celebrate, I’d rather just have a quiet night in and get a pizza or something.”

So that was what was really bothering her. Not so much the fact that she was getting older, though he was sure that wasn’t helping, but the fact that her Dad wasn’t going to be there. He could understand her point. Scott had turned thirty while their father had still been missing, presumed dead and it hadn’t been the celebration it should have been. Birthdays without their Mom had been much the same, celebrating milestones without important people was always hard. Maybe they were a little guilty of forgetting what that felt like, since their Father had been recovered after so many years. They were used to him being there again and didn’t let themselves dwell on the past if they could help it.

“I promise you that we don’t even have to think about your birthday,” John assured her. “This is just us, having a night away from the madness that is our lives and tomorrow I’ll send Virgil to pick up Celia and Adam, she loves him so she'll behave, to bring them back to the Island for the night so we can have a quiet family dinner. Will that work for you?”

She thought about it for a moment or two, but could see no other way of getting around it.

“Yep, that’ll do.”

"Good," he smiled, turning away tk check on the course settings.

Watching him fly the plane, knowing he had put in a lot of effort already made her feel like a complete bitch.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you going to all this effort to arrange something, I didn’t mean to be a grumpy cow.”

“I’ll let you off this once, because it’s your birthday,” he teased, earning himself a half hearted glare that turned into a giggle as she finally let go of the tension she had been holding onto.

“I’m gonna smack you, you know that, right?” she warned him.

“Not while I’m flying, and maybe wait until after dinner, I’ll be slower then and easier for you to catch.”

“Noted,” she nodded, reaching over to drop her hand on his knee.

“I hope you’re not planning on distracting me,” he said mildly, acting as if nothing was happening, his eyes on the sky.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, or is that another thing best left until after dinner when you’re too full to run away?”

“I could handle a little distraction now, but if you want me to be able to reciprocate with a little distraction technique of my own, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I’ll wait,” she decided, but that didn’t stop her leaning closer to smack a kiss to his neck. “Have I told you today that I love you, husband?”

“No, you were too busy ignoring me, wife. My heart is shattered by the way.”

“Oh, yes, you seem so very heart broken.”

“I’m hiding it well.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, trying very hard not to laugh. “I do love you though.”

“As you should.”

His tone was so serious that she lost the battle to hold herself together and started to laugh. John smiled to himself, relieved to see that she had perked up. Hopefully she would have loosened up enough to enjoy the activities he’d planned for them both that evening as they were certainly more her thing than his.

John landed the JT1 on what appeared to be a small runway with a barn, in a field, in the middle of nowhere. He had refused to let her see where they were travelling to, insisting she pull down the window blind next to her as they got closer and close her eyes for the last three minutes of their descent and landing.

A local woman was there to meet them, her accent saying she was american, southern by the sound of it, although Selene wasn’t too good at identifying accents. After the woman had opened the barn doors and John had taxied the small jet into it, she introduced herself as Cherise. Hands were shaken and pleasantries exchanged before she led them to the small truck that she had parked nearby. A five minute drive and…

“Is that a river boat?” Selene asked, unable to figure out just what the heck was going on.

“Yep, now get on,” John instructed, guiding her onto the walkway with one hand while grabbing their bags with the other. They waved a goodbye to Cherise who assured John she’d be ready and waiting the next day and to just text when she was needed, and went in search of seats.

The boat was more of a ferry, containing around 150 seats, only half of which were filled.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"You would if you loved me."

"Its because I love you that I'm not telling you," he replied cryptically, getting up from his seat and moving to the front where an attendant sat.

“What river is this?” Selene sneakily asked a nearby passenger as John paid their fare, a measly sum of five dollars each.

“Please don’t answer her,” John called over, obviously overhearing.

The man chuckled, having been shamelessly listening in and finding the situation most amusing. “Are you being kidnapped?”

“I don’t know, you'd better ask my husband,” she pouted.

“It’s her birthday and it’s a surprise,” John explained as he returned to his seat next to her. “She’s being impatient and sneaky.”

“You’ll only have to wait five minutes,” the man told her, patting her shoulder. “Surely that’s not too bad?”

“You’d think so,” Selene huffed, crossing her arms as the boat slid out of the dock and out into the open water.

Just as their fellow passenger had promised, just a shade under five minutes later the boat cruised into another dock and they were ushered off.

“Now will you tell me where we are?”

“Nope, not quite yet,” John grinned, enjoying this game immensely. Tucking her hand into his they followed the stream of passengers out of the dockyard and onto the streets beyond.

It wasn’t until she saw the streetcar waiting for the offloading passengers that she figured it out.

“Oh my gods, you didn’t?” she gasped, the pieces of the jigsaw finally sliding into place. The river, which surely had to be the Mississippi, the streetcars and the friendliness of the locals, there was only one place they could be. The city of New Orleans was famous for being one of the only places in the world to still have a working historical streetcar line, something she had heard all about from her friends who had been lucky enough to visit. It was one of the places on her bucket list, her spiritual home for her laidback, chilled out self.

“I did,” he smirked, feeling incredibly pleased with himself at that moment, knowing that his hunch had been correct.

"You are amazing!" she screamed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Finally you realise it,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist for stability as she bounced enthusiastically on the spot, almost knocking him over. “Shall I assume you approve?”

“Hell yes I approve!” she squealed, smacking a kiss to his lips.

“Good, because we’ve got a full evening booked up.”

“And time factored in for a wander?”

“Translation, time to look at some shops?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe we can find a little time tomorrow morning,” he allowed. She smiled happily, knowing that was a yes.

She squeezed up as close to the window as possible on the streetcar, wanting to see everything, squeaking and pointing like an excited child whenever she saw something she recognised.

When he had been thinking of somewhere to take her for an overnight stay he'd happened to overhear a phone conversation between Selene and another friend. They had been discussing a mutual friend and their shop in New Orleans and had spent ten minutes talking about the area with Selene saying how much she wanted to go, how it was on her list of places to visit before she died. The answer, it seemed, had quite conveniently fallen into his lap.

It had been simple enough to organise, just a hotel booking, pick up from the landing area in St Bernard Parish and tickets for the tour he’d found. He’d planned on surprising her for their anniversary, knowing that it would never be something she would think to plan herself. She knew their busy lives, knew that time off was a rarity that could never be counted on, plans often had to be ditched at the last minute and so she never made them, not wanting him to feel bad if her efforts went to waste because IR were called out and he had to return to Five.

He had thought she would want to do something with family and friends for her birthday so had booked for the week after, but once again she had surprised him with her insistence that she wasn’t going to celebrate. So he’d had to make some quick decisions, adapt, improvise, overcome.

He kept his eye on his phone, watching the little dot moving on the screen that was them and their streetcar, waiting for the right stop to disembark. Seeing the stop for Toulouse Station coming up he grabbed their bags and waited for her to notice. When she didn't, so engrossed was she in the streets going past, he had to catch her hand and tug her out of her seat.

“Come on, we’re walking from here,” he instructed, pushing the bell to indicate to the driver, nothing was automated in New Orleans if they could help it, that they wanted to get off.

The stop wasn’t terribly close to the hotel he’d booked, but he’d thought it would be nice to walk, allowing her to see the sights a little and familiarise themselves with the layout of the area.

They walked hand in hand through Jackson Square and out onto St Ann street. St Ann’s was a pleasant walk past a number of shops, bars and restaurants, the end of which intersected onto Bourbon Street. Selene insisted on dipping into a gift shop and grabbing a few items for the family, just in case they didn’t get a chance to later. It took all his skills in sneaky manipulation, and promises of later distractions, to get her moving again, following the street until they reached their hotel. The whole walk took them less than half an hour but they were already feeling a little damp and sweaty.

The Lafitte Guest House was on the quieter end of Bourbon, something he knew both of them would appreciate. Selene liked her sleep and hated being woken suddenly and, although she suffered it well on the island, he knew for a fact that she would not appreciate it while they were away. He’d debated the wisdom of knowingly booking into a haunted hotel but experience had told him that his wife would find a spirit no matter where they were and at least this way they would be forewarned.

“This place is so nice,” she had cooed, running a hand along the ornate wooden handrail on the staircase.

“It’s a little smaller than some of the fancier hotels, but I thought you’d prefer the atmosphere here.”

“I do, it’s the perfect choice,” Selene agreed as they were shown to their room. And it was, a three storey building that fitted in perfectly with its surroundings, the classic New Orleans French inspired architecture.

“This building was constructed in 1849,” their concierge told them, “by the same man who designed our opera house, Robert Seaton."

He turned down a hallway, beckoning them to follow along.

"I’m afraid, although your original booking was for our most haunted room, room 21, it is already occupied, I do hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all,” John assured him. “Any room you have will be fine, we’re just thankful you could accommodate us at such short notice.”

“No problem at all,” the man said, leading them up a flight of stairs and along a corridor. He opened the room with a flourish, stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The room itself, much like the rest of the hotel, was like stepping back in time, containing period furniture, a lovely large four poster bed and large french door windows that opened out onto a small wrought iron balcony overlooking Bourbon street.

“It’s gorgeous,” Selene sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed with a woop of delight.

“Happy wife, happy life,” John quoted, much to the man’s amusement.

“Will you be requiring anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you, we’re just going to freshen up and then head out to dinner," he said, dropping Selene's bag in a nearby chair." Actually, is there anywhere you can recommend?”

“Many places, but I’d say the best idea is to follow your nose and your stomach, although I would encourage you to try something authentic, the gumbo at SoBou is my favourite.”

“Then we’ll be sure to try there,” John promised. “Sel, are you done messing up the bed?”

“Nope,” she answered, continuing to roll around like a happy puppy, burying her face in the pillow.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” the man laughed, backing out of the room after John shook his hand, discreetly pressing a twenty into the man’s palm.

“I’m going to freshen up with a shower,” John told her. “Try not to fall asleep.”

“I could come with you,” she offered, perking up at the idea, sitting up on the bed expectantly.

“No, I’m far too hungry for that, besides which we have somewhere to be tonight, so your continued attempts to distract me will have to wait,” he told her, grabbing his bag and firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Unfair,” she pouted, flopping back down again. “It is my birthday you know!”

-x-

“I literally can’t eat another bite,” Selene complained, pushing her bowl aside with half the, admittedly delicious, Jambalaya still in it.

“That’s because you ate four bits of bread before they brought the food out,” John told her, finishing the last bite of his gumbo and wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I regret nothing,” she insisted, reaching over to swipe the crust of a piece of bread off his side plate, wiping it through the sauce left in his bowl.

“I thought you were too full to eat another bite?” he asked as she popped it in her mouth, chewing hard before swallowing to answer him.

“Of my own food, obviously, yours is fair game,” she sipped her coke and smiled sweetly.

“Of course, how stupid of me not to realise that.”

“It really was,” she agreed, holding in a giggle at the martyred look on his face.

“Dessert?” he eventually asked once she stopped sniggering like an idiot.

“Obviously, do you want to share one?”

“Sure,” John shrugged, at ease with pretty much anything at that moment. He had worried that he might find the whole area overwhelming as it had a reputation as a nonstop party town. He’d been dreading crowds of people getting too close for comfort, being too loud, too boisterous and invasive. But he’d found that, while it was loud it wasn’t unbearable, seeming to consist of a lot of music, laughter and the occasional shout.

Although it was crowded, they weren’t shoving and barging, they were respectful of personal space and friendly enough without being over friendly. It was a pleasant surprise, one that was reflecting in his current mood. Selene, for her part, was so chilled out she was practically horizontal, four witch types had already waved hello and greeted her like a long lost friend even though she didn’t know them at all and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, her grumpy mood of earlier completely forgotten.

“What do you fancy?” Selene asked, currently studying the dessert menu on the board.

“Besides my gorgeous wife?”

“Yeah, besides her, wives are not for eating,” Selene snorted.

“I beg to differ.”

Selene tore her eyes away from the menu to look at him. He lifted his bottle of beer and took an innocent sip, his eyes projecting trustworthiness. She wasn't fooled.

“Something chocolatey?” she offered, trying to distract herself away from the thought of his mouth on something other than the neck of the bottle.

He thought about it for a second or two then shook his head. “Maybe something with fruit?”

“ Or possibly Ice Cream?”

“Maybe,” he studied the menu himself. “Bananas Foster?”

“Perfect,” she nodded.

They finished up the last of their meal at a leisurely pace, chatting in between sharing bites of the delicious dessert. Bananas Foster was a favourite of Gordon’s and she snapped a picture to send to him later, wanting to make him jealous.

John paid the bill, leaving a generous tip and reached for her hand, guiding her outside. He took out his phone, checking the time and location for their next activity. Keeping hold of her hand, using it to pull her in closer to his side, he led the way further down Bourbon and onto St Peter’s where the tour guide would hopefully be waiting.

"Hello!" one of their guides greeted them as they closed in on the group of maybe twenty people already waiting there. "Tracy, party of two?"

"That's us," John confirmed and Selene nodded too. She had no reason to, she just wanted to look like she had some kind of clue as to why they were there and what was going on.

"Good, then you're the last ones, let's get started. I'm Delphine, this is Remi, and we'll be your guides on this, the world famous New Orleans Ghost Tour."

Selene squeezed his hand excitedly and he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding. It was always a bit of a gamble with her when it came to planning anything like this. In most things she was incredibly laid back, but when it was anything that involved the potential for witchcraft, mediumship or ghosts then you were swimming in muddy water. It depended on how respectful the people involved were. He had done his research as best he could, seeing that the tour had been running for more than 80 years in some form or another and that they didn't employ the use of jump scares, people in costumes or sensationalise it in any way. He just hoped it was all it promised to be.

"This is a two hour walking tour, ending with a visit to the beautiful and very haunted St Louis Cemetery No 1," Delphine informed them all. "But we're going to start right here in the heart of the French quarter where murder, mystery and voodoo magic helped shape our history."

The other attendees ooed and ahhed, already impressed by the mere thought of ghosts and ghoulies.

Selene was busily looking around them curiously as they wandered slowly down the street, Delphine and Remi giving them a run down on the architecture, the history, the customs and the people that make up New Orleans. But he could feel that she was already on alert, the hand that held on tightly to his arm seeming to warm against his skin, letting him know that her gifts had already awoken, sitting up to take notice.

As they walked they were told a little about the Le Petite Theatre and the young chorus girl who, falling out of favour with the producer, hung herself above the stage during the opening night's performance. Legend had it that every opening night her shadowy form could be seen hanging against the backdrop of the stage.

The first place they stopped at properly to take pictures and listen to the full history was the Andrew Jackson hotel, somewhere John had looked at as a possible place to stay but had decided against it when he had realised it was on the tour.

“The Andrew Jackson, once a boarding house for boys, fell victim to two major fires at the end of the 1700’s,” Delphine told them. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, loud enough that they didn’t have to strain their ears but soft and lilting in that southern way that put you at ease instantly.

“One of those fires burnt the school to the ground, killing a number of young residents. The spirits of the boys are often seen and heard in the hotel, being described as mischievous spirits who like to play outside people’s rooms at night. One guest reported waking up in the middle of the night to see three small boys sitting on the end of her bed. Of course, she screamed, which the boys copied, screaming back at her in terror before vanishing.”

“Can you sense anything?” John whispered to Selene, making sure to keep his voice low, not wishing to interrupt Delphine or distract the other people listening.

Selene waggled her hand back and forth in a ‘meh’ gesture, indicating it could be something or nothing.

“I can feel energy from there, but nothing is coming forward to say hello,” she whispered back. “If we were inside I’m sure I’d get something more but out here, not being funny but the spirits are probably so used to tourists coming through that we’re boring to them now. That and, where I’m usually one of the only mediumistic people to come in to talk to spirits, there are tons here, you can trip over a witch by accident. So they are probably just keeping themselves to themselves.”

“Fair enough,” John chuckled, he always loved the way she explained things, a mixture of simplistic and colourful language with a hint of ‘I’m the expert’ that he so admired.

They continued walking, Remi pointing out interesting landmarks and telling the odd story of a murder or some other tragedy that had occured until they reached their next proper stop.

“Here we are at the historic, and very popular, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar, the oldest in the city. History is mixed on whether this building was owned by the famed Lafitte brothers, Jean, or John, and Pierre or just named after them. Some accounts say that they ran the blacksmith shop as a front, others say that they cannot find any actual evidence of their involvement. All we know for sure is that they were nasty pieces of work.” Remi swept a hand out, gesturing towards the bar that was already hopping even though it was still relatively early.

“Jean and Pierre, the Pirate Captains, were instrumental in helping to win the battle of New Orleans during the war of 1812 against the British,“ Delphine continued to explain, glancing at Selene and winking at the mention of the British. “Jean was given a pardon for all his misdeeds as reward for their help, but in exchange he was ordered to leave the state of Louisiana.”

“Bit mean,” Selene whispered to John, who nodded in agreement, imagining how it would feel to help save a city only to be thrown out of it.

“It’s said that they left great treasures around the French Quarter and in the Mississippi itself which have never been found. The only other person that knew of their whereabouts was a fellow pirate that Jean made the mistake of trusting. Unfortunately, as is often the way with pirates, he was untrustworthy, returning again and again to the cache's to skim a little off the top, so to speak. When Jean found out he did a little skimming of his own, he killed the pirate and it’s said that his spirit is cursed to guard the treasure forever more.”

“That’s a bit of a rough deal,” Selene muttered. “All eternity guarding something he can’t have? That’s like Virgil dying and hovering over the coffee pot.”

John snorted out a laugh, picturing his brother in ghost form, wailing as Scott took the coffee pot, poured himself a cup and drank it in front of him.

As they wandered on, John and Selene were asked for a few selfies by tourists not in their group and they had to hurry to catch up a few times, finding it impossible to be rude and refuse even though John would have much rather done so.

They were told of the Pharmacy Museum. The building had the dubious honour of being the first licensed pharmacy in the United States but the treatments offered often did more harm than good, verging on barbaric. From drilling holes in skulls to relieve the pressure as a cure for headaches, to chemical concoctions that would have you put in prison were you to use them today.

The second doctor to practice there was known to kidnap pregnant women and perform horrific experiments on them and it was his grizzly spirit that was said to shunt the building still.

They stopped outside a large, three storey building, getting comfortable as their guide started her story.

“The Palace, the Sultan’s house and the murder house,” Remi called out over the increasing noise of the streets and the chatting of the tour attendees. “All names for this building. Originally the second home of a wealthy businessman, he was hardly ever in residence and often rented it out in exchange for some extra cash that he probably didn’t need. Legends differ, one saying that the mysterious young man, a tall, dark and handsome stranger, was the brother of a sultan, hence the name, while others talk of him being some kind of demon or devil.”

“Demon’s aren’t real are they?” John asked Selene in a side whisper. She didn’t answer but her scrunched up nose and avoidance of his eyes told him all he needed to know.

“Do you know any?”

She nodded vaguely, clearly not comfortable talking about such things out in the open as they were so he took the hint and shut up, tuning back into the talk.

“The man was very exotic,” Delphine was saying. “He had an accent that no one could place, he arrived with a full entourage of young and beautiful people, both male and female. Again, here accounts differ, some say that the Sultan actually hired a number of assassins to murder his brother and his entourage but others are far more sensational.”

“How much more sensational could it get?” an older woman whispered to her partner.

“I don’t know,” the other woman whispered back, “maybe an orgy?”

John dropped her chin to Selene’s shoulder, burying his face in her neck as he tried not to laugh. Selene was less composed, out right giggling as he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist so she could lean back against his chest.

“The man and his ‘family’, for that was how he referred to them on the rent agreement, moved in. They immediately closed all the window shutters, hung heavy drapes and weren’t really ever seen again, although the neighbors knew they were in there. They could smell food cooking, they heard music playing at night and the smell of incense often wafted out. But, more disturbingly, the sound of screams would be heard, although it was never known if they were of pain, or pleasure. After a while the house grew quiet, no signs of life were seen and with the silence came a sickening smell. When the police broke down the door they found a scene that they likened to a slaughter house. Dead bodies were everywhere, blood splattered the walls and in the garden they found a freshly dug grave that contained the body of a man, supposedly buried alive. “

“Damn,” the woman who had suggested the orgy, muttered to her partner. "That's definitely not as much fun."

“As I said, accounts vary, some say that it was the sultan’s brother’s harem that had been killed and the brother was the body found in the garden, others say that the family escaped and killed those that either attacked them or that they were demons feeding on the flesh and souls of their victims. We will never know for sure. But rumour has it that the ghost of the sultan’s brother haunts these halls, that passers by still smell the incense and that the echoing screams can still be heard coming from inside.”

“Anything there?” John murmured in her ear, nodding towards the big building.

“There’s definitely an energy of some kind in there,” she answered, keeping her voice low and quiet. “It feels more like residual energy though, not so much an active spirit, but I'd have to be inside to know for sure.”

As they walked Delphine told them of another house, 734 Royal Street where a young black woman had frozen to death on the roof, having been told to disrobe and wait up there by her lover as a joke. He never expected her to do it and was the unlucky person to find her the next morning, naked, frozen, dead on the rooftop. It was said he died soon after from a broken heart.

Some people report to have seen a woman standing on the roof, being concerned enough to call the police. But as soon as the police hear the address they are known to dismiss it as just Julie, still waiting.

Next on their stop was the LaLaurie Mansion. Delphine, their guide, told them the story of Delphine LaLaurie, the beautiful lady of the house who married a man named Louie LaLaurie, a doctor from Europe. They were what was considered an it couple of the time, the height of fashion and threw extravagant parties to show off their wealth and to network.

The only thing of note that anyone found strange about them was the high number of slaves they seemed to own. Delphine LaLaurie would explain it away as nothing if you asked, brushing it off but if you continued to press the issue, or asked anyone else, you would find yourself ousted, shunned, never to be invited back again.

On the tenth of April 1834, whilst hosting another of their elaborate events a fire broke out in the house. The fire brigade were called and soon had the flames under control. Everything seemed fine, the damage seemed to be minimal but they checked the area thoroughly, just to be sure.

The fire looked to have originated in the kitchen and there they found an older enslaved woman, huddled close to an open window, coughing harshly, almost overcome by smoke. They wondered why she had not left through the window to save herself, but they soon found the answer. They discovered that she was chained to the stove by her ankle, unable to even leave the room, let alone the house itself.

They questioned her on the fire and she admitted that she was responsible, she had set the fire. When they asked why she pointed above her head and told them to look in there. In the room above the kitchen, the slaves quarters, they met with the most horrific sight.

The attic room was full of tortured, mutilated slaves. The doors had been locked but they had soon broken it down. As soon as the doors had opened the smell that hit them had made them heave, some of them needing to turn away to vomit. Papers from the time told of at least seven slaves, chained, beaten, tortured. Victims of pain experiments, their muscles and limbs stretched and broken.

Even though the people of time didn’t hold slaves in the same regard as others they were up in arms, calling for the LaLaurie’s blood. A mob gathered outside but they could not find them, the LaLaurie’s had made their escape in a carriage.

“People talk of a dark and depressive atmosphere in the house,” Remi continued, “and many have reported to have seen the ghost of LaLaurie. A young couple once lived here with their baby. One night the man awoke to see a woman standing over the crib. At first he thought it was his wife but she was right there in bed beside him and she didn’t have long, red hair. He yelled out loud and the woman turned to look at him before running away. He made to follow but something told him not to, instead he stopped to check the baby. The baby’s sock had been removed and had been stuffed deep down into the baby's mouth, partially down its throat, choking it.”

“I don’t like this one,” Selene whispered, her eyes fixed on the building in front of them. Even though it was a lovely warm night and she had her shawl around her shoulders, John could feel that she was shivering and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

“There’s a darkness in there, not like at the Sultan’s Palace, different. I feel that this building still has evil inside it. The energy is so...spikey,” she finished, not really knowing how to describe it. “Like it could prick you or hurt you just because you were there. I can’t say if there are any spirits in there, I’d have to go in for that, but the things that happened in there, it’s soaked into the walls, the floor, everything.”

She shuddered again, taking an instinctive step backwards, forcing John to do the same or have her knock him over. He knew what she meant, the house felt strange even to him, like every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to turn around and leave. He was a Tracy, he didn’t back down from anything, even with the fine hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention, but he was more than happy to start walking as the tour moved on.

The last stop on their tour before they moved on to the cemetery was the famous house of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans who, despite being dead for over 250 years, still seemed to hold some sway over the city, still having powers from beyond the grave.

“Born in 1801, to a wealthy white plantation owner and her black mother, Marie was said to be incredibly beautiful,” Delphine told them. “She married and went on to have two children before her husband mysteriously went missing. After this she called herself a widow, though some people believe that this was simply to save face and that he had actually abandoned her and their children.”

“Is this place any better?” John asked, his voice low in her ear, making her shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Much better,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet. “I can feel power here, but it’s neutral, nothing that I would call malevolent or nasty.”

“After her husband’s disappearance she was in need of money with which to take care of herself and her children. With precious little options, she began working in a hair salon, serving wealthy white and Creole women of New Orleans. Just like the salons of today they were a hotbed for gossip and secret spilling. She hoarded the information she was privy to, using to her advantage to rise up the ranks of society.”

“Honestly, I can respect that woman,” Selene muttered. “I gather gossip and use it to my advantage too.”

“Sweetheart, you said that finding Grandma’s old photo album and stealing the picture of Dad’s emo phase was you doing the Gods work.”

“I stand by that,” she sniffed, ignoring the giggle from the young man standing behind them.

“Marie entered into another relationship with a wealthy and powerful man from a prestigious local family,” Remi continued. “And they had a total of fifteen children in quick succession.”

“Sod that!” Selene yelped, crossing her legs in the ultimate act of self defence.

“And you said I have too many brothers,” John teased, hugging her tighter when she attempted to elbow him.

“Obviously, with so many children to look after she found that her time was limited,” Delphine said, ignoring Selene’s outburst. “She quit her job at the hair salon and devoted herself to raising her children. It’s believe that this was the time when she started to pay more attention to her mothers voodoo beliefs and practices.”

The story, which Delphine and Remi continued to tell them as they walked towards their last stop of the night, St Louis Cemetery number one, said that while she had a basic knowledge from her mother she learnt most of her craft from a voodoo doctor known only as Doctor John.

Selene turned her head back to look at John as she walked beside her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a side hustle in Voodoo? You’ve been making me do all the magical heavy lifting for years.”

“Well, I had to leave you with something to do to make you feel useful,” he retorted, smacking a kiss on her lips when she squeaked a protest.

“Quite Christian based in the prayers used, voodoo combines the use of saints, incense and dance into its practice,” Remi continued as they walked. “She was known for her pet snake which she had named Zombie, and for providing Gri-Gri bags, spiritual readings, spells, fortune telling and mediumship for the wealthy of New Orleans upper class. She was said to have died with a smile on her face in 1881 and, when her death was reported in the newspapers they called her the kindest woman that had ever lived. She was said to have nursed the sick and helped out with all manner of problems that people might have, although many said it wasn’t so much because of her magical abilities that she was so powerful, but the secrets that she kept. Secrets that kept many politicians in her debt.”

They came to stop outside the crumbling white walls that surrounded the cemetery, glowing eerily in the rapidly darkening twilight between dusk and full night. The walls themselves were actually made up of wall tombs, a place for families who couldn’t afford a large above ground one.

“Marie Laveau was laid to rest right here in this very cemetery. It’s said that she still wields a remarkable amount of power even from beyond the grave, so much so that people often petition her spirit in the hopes that she will grant their wishes,” Delphine said as they entered.

She and Remi led the way through a maze of tombs, some old and crumbling, others surrounded by iron railings that tilted at odd angles due to age and decay, some large, some small, some classical, some extravagant while others were just so outlandish that they looked completely out of place.

They stopped beside a rather plain white tomb, relatively small in comparison to some of the others they had already seen. Delphine reached out a hand to touch the side of the tomb, right beside a green X that had been scrawled on the paint.

“The practice has since been banned and is considered a criminal offence, but in the past people would mark her grave with an X, although as you can see some people ignore the law. The ritual stated that you should mark the grave with an X, turn around three times, knock on the tomb and then yell out your wish. If the wish came true you were supposed to return, draw a circle around your X and leave an offering to the lady.”

“I can think of a few wishes I’d like granted,” a lady in their group stated, making a fair few people laugh. “Not much, just a few million in the bank, a nice house and a good looking man on my arm.”

“Well, I can’t help with the millions,” her husband said, “but at least you have the good looking man.”

“Yeah, in my dreams,” she countered, although he didn’t seem too offended by it.

“Marie’s ghost has been spotted in many locations throughout the French quarter where she made her home," Remi told them. "She is most recognizable by the red and white turban tucked around her hair and the bright clothes she wears. People are still drawn to her and often follow her wanting to introduce themselves but she always vanishes, sometimes right in front of them, before they can do so.”

“She doesn’t sound scary,” a man said dismissively.

“Oh, she’s seen as very friendly,” Delphine answered, “until you cross her. She’s been seen many times in this cemetery, walking between and sometimes through the tombs. Usually she leaves you be but, if you do anything that she deems disrespectful, such as disregarding or insulting her beliefs or religion she has been known to scratch, pinch and shove people to the ground. Voices have been heard coming from inside her tomb and some people that get too close have reported feeling sick.”

“She’s not too bad,” a voice beside Selene and John said in a conversational tone.

“Have you seen her?” Selene asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Delphine and Remi as they told of the cities other famous inhabitants of the cemetery such as Bernard de Marigny and Barthelemy Lafon.

“Seen who?” John asked, dragging his attention away from the talk and back to her.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you,” she whispered.

“Do you happen to know where the Vignes tomb is?” the man asked, changing the subject from ghost talk to something more mundane.

“No, sorry, we’re just on a tour here, we don’t know the area,” Selene admitted.

“Who were you talking to?”

“This guy,” she said, nodding towards the blond man who had begun to wander closer to the front of the tour group, obviously wanting to take advantage of listening to the information without having to pay for the privilege like the rest of them had.

“Who?”

“Him,” she replied, waving in his direction. "That new guy, he definitely wasn't with us at the start. He must have joined in along the way."

“There’s no one there, Sel,” John said quietly. She looked at him, studying his face to make sure he wasn't messing with her, but he seemed serious enough. She sighed, for someone so observant John certainly seemed to be missing the obvious.

“Yes there is, he’s right there,” she insisted. Praying for patience she grabbed his hand to drag him closer. “See? He's right there.”

“Yes,” John gulped, eyes widening, “I actually do see him.”

“Right, so he was saying that Marie Laveau isn’t as bad as everyone says she is, I assume he meant that her spirit isn’t that menacing, I was asking him if he’d seen her but then you interrupted and-”

“Sel,” John interrupted, his eyes locked on the man who was meandering back their way, “I don't think he joined the tour, he just walked straight through that tomb.”

“Damn, then he’s got some serious energy in him,” she breathed, catching John’s meaning. “He must have if I didn’t sense it straight away.”

“Sorry, I had to listen to make sure they told my story right,” the ghost said, reaching her side. John’s eyes almost fell out of his head, confirming that he could now hear him as well as see him.

“Oh, are you a famous one?” Selene asked as the tour moved on, affording them a little more privacy to talk.

“My name is Henry,” he told them, dipping in a courtly little bow. “Oh, that's my cue, if you’ll excuse me…”

Henry vanished and reappeared nearer the front of the tour. Making a face of pure boredom he stepped into a gap between two tombs and moaned in a low, quiet voice. “I need to rest.”

Several people in the tour jumped and an older lady stumbled. John, actinb on instinct, reached out to steady her, letting go of Selene’s hand in the process.

“Where did he go?” John asked, returning to her side after assuring himself that the lady was unharmed.

“No where, he’s still right there,” she answered, giving Henry a small wave.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is,” she insisted, “come on, we’ll go talk to him again.”

“As we were saying,” Remi could be heard above the mutterings of the other attendees. “The story of Henry Vignes is a sad one. A sailor who trusted the wrong person, Henry died having no place to be laid to rest, his tomb sold by the lady he had entrusted with his most important papers.”

Henry nodded sadly, leaning casually against the side of a tomb.

“He has been seen by many people, usually so clearly that they do not realise that he is even a ghost,” Delphine told them. Henry preened a little at that.

“He often strolls right up to tourists and asks them where the Vignes tomb is located as he’s having trouble finding it himself. He’s even been known to appear at funerals and ask if there is any room left in there for him.”

Selene giggled, she couldn’t help it and Henry winked at her, tipping his hat before fading away.

“Are you sure he was still there?” John asked later that night as the tour returned to the french quarter meeting place.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she sighed. “I don’t know what happened there, you seemed to see-”

“And hear,” John added.

“And hear him just fine. Then all of a sudden you couldn’t anymore.”

“I couldn’t at first either,” he reminded her, “I thought you were talking to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she grumbled. “Sometimes I’m the only person that will listen to me.”

“Was there anything you did that might have allowed me to see him?” John asked, ignoring her insinuation that he never listened to her. He listened to her all the time, he was just selective with what he chose to reply to, knowing she needed very little encouragement with some of her more ridiculous ideas.

“No, I didn’t do anything at all,” she promised him. “All I did was move you closer so I could point him out.”

“You took hold of my hand,” he said, mentally rerunning the moment in his head. “And kept hold of it the whole time.”

“Not the whole time,” she reminded him. “When Henry did his haunting voice that lady stumbled and you caught her before she hit the deck.”

“And I didn’t hold your hand again until we were walking back,” he finished.

“Nah, it can’t be that simple,” she scoffed. “I hold your hand all the time.”

“But have you ever done it while there was a spirit around?” he asked, guiding her around a group of drunken young ladies all carrying brightly coloured cocktails in yard long plastic containers with straws sticking out of them, most of which were being eagerly slurped from as they walked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, thinking about it. “I don’t think so now that you mention it.”

“Do you think that could be another side effect of that little bonding mistake we made?”

“I guess anything is possible,” she mused. “Tanzi did say that we might keep noticing new things for a while after.”

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” he shrugged, “you’ll just have to make sure you tell me next time you see one.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised him. He smiled at that, knowing how just a few years ago she would never have dared to even agree to try, let alone have any intention of doing so. Her ex, Nathaniel was responsible for messing up many things in her life, her confidence in herself and her abilities being one of them, but John was determined that, no matter how long it took, he was going to prove to her that she never needed to be wary again.

Bourbon street at night was like no place they had ever been before. They heard it before they even got close, the neon lights glowing from a distance. The lights reminded Selene of London but that was where the similarities ended.

The entire street was a wall of noise, music of all kinds seeming to spill out of every single bar on the strip on either side. She felt John tense beside her, knowing that it wasn’t somewhere he would be at all comfortable.

“Do you want to try and avoid it?” she asked and he nodded gratefully. A quick word with Remi and they had secured directions and a suggestion to head down Dauphine St instead of continuing onto Bourbon. They could follow it until they reached St Phillip’s St which would lead them to the intersection where their hotel was located.

They thanked him and Delphine for a fun and informative tour and struck out on their own. Dauphine street was much quieter than Bourbon appeared to be, there were still small crowds milling around outside but not enough to send John into flight mode, so they took that as a win.

“Want to grab a drink?” John offered but Selene shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m not really feeling it today, maybe it’s the crowds or all the walking but I think I’d rather wait until we get closer to the hotel, that way we can find a quieter one to try before we head to bed.”

“Good plan,” he agreed, pulling her in closer. It was only eleven at night, relatively early for them, but they had had a long day and the thought of the comfy bed awaiting them was a very pleasant one.

They located the intersection where Dauphine met St Paul's and soon hit the tail end of Bourbon. From there the music was far more bearable, seeming to be a mixture of classic rock, Selene could hear Smoke on the Water playing from a bar, and some kind of Jazz.

With Virgil, Scott and Jeff being fans of old fashioned Jazz music they decided to move a little further in that direction, meaning to take a video or two to show the others when they got home. That was their first mistake.

“No, no way,” John protested as a woman separated herself from the crowd outside the bar where a band was playing and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, honey, you have to dance,” she insisted, swirling on the spot and dragging him with her.

“Help!” he yelped as his arm was pulled this way and that by the enthusiastic woman.

“Little busy,” Selene laughed, having been swept up into the arms of a man who was trying to lead her in some kind of 1920’s era Jazz hop dance that involved a lot of quick footwork and much arm waving.

John managed to escape as the band paused before launching into their next number and stole Selene back. She took full advantage, holding on to his hand as the music began to play again.

A couple near them started something that looked vaguely like a charleston mixed with a waltz that Selene was determined to try to copy. Neither she nor John were very good, not knowing the steps or the music enough to actually follow along and ended up finding their own rhythm, not caring that they didn’t match the others, not caring that they were slower and less energetic. It was nice, it was simple and it was very much them.

“Thank you for forcing me to celebrate my birthday,” she said, pulling him in closer to steal a quick kiss.

“My pleasure,” he grinned, twirling her on the spot then dipping her in his arms. “Anything for the birthday girl.”

-x-

“It was so nice to see Myst again,” Selene sighed, relaxing deeper into the passenger seat of Jeff’s jet as they cruised over the Pacific, on course for Tracy Island.

“I haven’t seen her in two years, not since she last visited Tanzi, I can’t believe how great the shop looked, they’ve run it for years but don’t get to spend much time there.”

“Well, with what we spent they'll still be open for at least another ten,” he teased, not in the least concerned by her shopping spree. You only turned thirty once and if she wanted to buy up half of the shop that was her choice.

“I didn’t buy that much,” she pouted, but couldn’t hold it for too long when, with a no doubt on purpose twitch of the controls, the little plane rolled sideways, sending a number of bags cascading to the floor.

“You were saying?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she huffed, trying not to laugh. "You said they were birthday presents.”

“So I did,” he agreed, lifting his hand off her knee to poke the console, bringing up a comm line to the island, announcing their impending arrival.

Virgil had messaged earlier that morning to say that he was picking up Celia and Adam in time for their return, so all they had to worry about was enjoying a leisurely breakfast.

They took him at his word and shared a delicious three egg omelette, an order of beignets and the best coffee she had tasted in forever. Bellies full and suitably rested after an uneventful nights sleep in the hotel, the resident ghosts declining to visit, they had wandered around Jackson Square and the shops of the French quarter.

John had insisted that he was hungry again and craving something special for lunch, that something special had turned out to be oysters. Selene had watched in morbid fascination mixed with horror as he had proceeded to devour a dozen oysters speckled with hot sauce, which she refused to try, while she munched her seafood salad. She was still undecided if watching him swallow them down whole so easily was hot or disturbing, the jury was still out.

Cherise had been as good as her word, waiting for them to dock from the ferry and taxing them to the bar where the jet waited for them. They had waved a happy goodbye after awkwardly stuffing their shopping (the pieces they hadn’t arranged to have delivered) and overnight bags into the back and taken off for home.

“I hope mum doesn’t make dinner awkward,” Selene sighed, knowing that with her family anything was possible. “I know she’s going to be a bit disappointed that I didn’t want to spend the actual day with her.”

“Then let her, you can always blame it on me.”

“My hero,” she smiled, lifting his hand to her lips to kiss it. “What would I do without you?”

“Marry Scott?” he joked, ducking out of the way of the smack she aimed at his shoulder.

“I think Cat would have something to say about that,” she huffed. “Besides, you know you’re the only man for me.”

“I know, but it’s nice to be reminded now and then.”

She was still giggling, feeling relaxed and happily clinging to his arm, as the lift from the hangars completed its ascent, the doors opening to spill them out into the hall just beyond the lounge.

“Why do I hear music?” Selene asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea,” John admitted as they rounded the corner into the lounge.

Selene stopped dead in the doorway, as did John, unable to believe what they were seeing with their own two eyes.

“Am I that old now that I need glasses,” she whispered, “or am I actually seeing this?”

“Unfortunately it’s very real,” he whispered back, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

The lounge lights were flickering to the beat of the music, someone had laid out food on the coffee table, including a plate of mini sausages that Armstrong was steadily working his way through and someone had opened the concealed drinks cabinet.

It wasn’t the fact that there was quite clearly a party in full swing, a party that she had said on no uncertain terms wasn’t to happen, it wasn’t the fact that the entire family , plus her mother, Adam, Cat, Penelope, Parker, Bandon, Conrad and Moffie were all there.

No, it was the fact that each and every one of them was sporting a wig in various shades and stripes of purple and black. Wigs they had apparently teamed with half the contents of her wardrobe and every band T-shirt Jeff had ever collected.

“What the ever loving fu-”

The music quietened as the party animals realised they were no longer alone. They looked at John and Selene rather guiltily, not saying a word.

Scott, who had somehow squeezed his chest back into her favourite corset, was tossed under the bus and shoved forward to greet her.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, trying to back away as he advanced on her, arms open in anticipation of a hug.

The world's most annoying best friend simply grinned at her, flashing those dimples that he knew she could never resist.

She tried to duck behind John but Scott was too quick for her, herding her directly into the path of the oncoming Virgil.

She was swept up into a bone crushing bear hug, vanishing under the tide of Tracys that descended to join in.

-x-

“Admit it, it wasn’t that bad,” John said, catching up with her beside the pool and handing her another can of her favourite cherry coke.

“I didn’t want a party,” she argued.

“But…”

“But I guess it wasn’t that bad,” she admitted, moving over on the padded bench seat to make room for him to sit next to her.

“They only did it because they love you.”

“I know, but they are all idiots.”

“I know, but it was a special birthday and they wanted to celebrate with you.”

“I know,” she said, leaning against his side with a contented sigh.

"I've got a present for you," he announced, jiggling his shoulder to get her to move and shifting so he could dig into his hoodie pocket.

"Really? Why?"

"Because it's your birthday."

"You really didn't have to, New Orleans was more than enough."

"The trip was supposed to have been for our anniversary, I just moved it forward," he reminded her. "Besides, I'd be a pretty lousy husband if I didn't get you something special to mark the occasion."

He offered her a bright green velvet pouch which looked to contain something rectangular and hard.

"Open it," he instructed.

"OK." She did as he bid, noticing that he was watching her very closely. Did he think she wouldn't like it?

She loosened the draw strings and tipped the pouch up, catching the bundle of cards that slid out.

"Tarot cards? What are they…" she paused, turning them over, her eyes widening as she realised exactly what they depicted.

"Oh my gods," she gasped then burst out laughing. "These are amazing!"

She flicked through them quickly, laughing even more at some of the pictures, each matching perfectly with the subject.

"Where the hell did you find Muppets Tarot cards?" Kermit was the Emperor, Miss Piggy his Empress, Fozzy the Fool, Sam the Eagle as Justice, Animal as the Devil and most perfect of all, Statler and Waldorf as Judgement.

"Tanzi put me in touch with someone who makes one of a kind sets to order," he replied, breathing a little easier now that he saw she liked them.

"They're perfect, absolutely perfect. I love them so much."

"Good," he smiled, slipping his arm back around her waist and pulling her in closer. "I wasn't sure if it was something you would like or I should actually buy for you and didn't want to do the wrong thing. But Tanzi said that tarot cards are often gifted to people so it was OK."

"Why would you think I wouldn't like them?" she asked softly.

"I know how important your tools are to you and how Nathaniel never respected them. I guess I wanted to show you that I care too, that I'll always respect you and your beliefs."

"You are the best husband in the world," she assured him, pulling him closer for a kiss. "I love that you did this and I love that you know me so well that you could commission the most perfect set of cards just for me. Thank you, I love them."

"You're very welcome. I'm glad you like them."

"You always surprise me, just when I think you couldn't be any more amazing you pull something like this out of the bag, literally," she laughed, holding up the green pouch.

"So, does this mean that you enjoyed turning thirty?"

“I guess, as birthdays go, it wasn’t too awful.”

“Not too awful?” he mock gasped, clutching his heart.

“Not awful,” she repeated, tipping her head back for another kiss. “Did you know they were planning all that?”

“Not all of it,” he admitted, “I suspected that they might not stick to a quiet meal but the rest was as much of a surprise to me as it was you.”

She let out an elegant snort in response, clearly not convinced.

“Honestly it was,” he promised, making the rescue scout sign. "Scouts honour."

“OK, I believe you, even though you weren't the scout, Scott was.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulders, his head tipped back to look up at the night sky above their heads. “All over for another year, how do you feel?”

“Better than I did yesterday morning,” she answered.

“Good, then my work here is done.”

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the peace of the late night,

“You’re quiet,” he said softly a few minutes later. “Everything alright?”

“Yep,” she promised. "I'm just thinking.”

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?”

“Yep,” she repeated, grinning evilly. “I was thinking that mine isn't the only special birthday this year.”

Realisation dawned on him, a feeling of dread skittering up his spine.

“No, absolutely not.”

“But you said it yourself, you only turn thirty once.”

“No.”

“You forced me to celebrate, so it’s your turn next.”

“No, listen to me very carefully. I, as your husband, forbid it.”

“I’m thinking of a nice, relaxing trip somewhere quiet. I’ve heard that Finland does an amazing range of glass igloos to stay in to watch the sky, it's supposed to be beautiful that time of year.”

That didn't sound too bad, he had to admit.

“OK, that wouldn’t be too terrible,” he agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were planning a party.”

“Would I do that?” she asked innocently, sliding out of his arms and off the bench. "I'm just going to show these to Mum, she'll have a fit."

“No, you aren't. Get back here. I forbid you to even think about planning a party."

"I'm not planning anything," she said, deftly avoiding his attempts to catch her and pull her back down.

"Promise me you won't plan a party," he pleaded.

"I promise," she vowed, dancing around the side of the pool towards the kitchen.

John's eyes narrowed, she looked entirely too suspicious…

“I’m going to leave that to Scott.”

She dropped her bombshell, turned tail and ran like her life depended on it.

#selene tempest #John Tracy #birthday girl #birthday trip #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds 2015 #healthy relationships #relationship goals

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immortalonus · 3 years

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Where You Belong: Chapter 2

A/N: Hey folks, this is a day late from my posting on AO3, mostly due to tiredness/travel, but here it is! I'm not sure how quickly I'll be able to put out the next chapter (In addition to being mostly dialogue, it's also a mess,) but I'll try.

Read it now on AO3

Chapter 2:

“Nope, nope, nope.”

In the realm of the dead, there was no night. No dark reprieve from the inescapable glow. A state that wore on eye and mind alike in its obstinate refusal to diminish or fade.

This did not mean the Zone was without its own sort of cycles, however.

Every seven hours, perhaps eight, the thin, omnipresent mists scattered throughout the air would begin to thicken, coalescing into a deep, impenetrable fog that stuck to every surface with a viscosity not unlike that of cold soup. It's brightness, too would gradually increase until the traveler was left all but blinded for the unending wall of light now spread on all sides before them.

Navigation in such conditions was impossible, and even ghosts seemed to prefer squirreling themselves away during these hours of fugue than to brave the blind depths the mists made of the world around them.

It was really nothing like night, but for conveniences sake, Valerie had taken to calling it as such.

It was now well into what she liked to consider “evening.” The mists had already weltered up, thickening strands not yet impermeable to the naked eye, weaving themselves into fantastic shapes ever larger across the atmosphere of the zone. Soon to merge, but not now, not yet.

While she normally preferred to travel as long as she could safely dare, Valerie had opted to settle down early that evening, using the extra time to sort through the goods held in the bug ghost's many sacks instead.

“Nope, nope, nope, weird, gross, and oh--hell no!”

Valerie yanked her hand free, shaking off the clear slime that coated her fingers as she threw the parcel and all its contents, still squirming, over the ledge of the small outcropping that served as her latest campsite.

If she were ever forced to say one nice thing about the Ghost Zone, Valerie would admit, grudgingly, that it did make a remarkably good garbage bin.

She sighed, allowed herself to stretch out and rest after yet another day of continuous exertion. One would not think riding on her sled for hours on end would tire her so, but it did. And when she added the additional effort of chasing down and interrogating that ghost--She grimaced, still unsure it had been wise to let the creature scamper free, in the end.

There had just been something in the way it had begged, had cried and whimpered as it carried out her every command with that slump of abject surrender that had just made finishing it off seem so, so...Dirty. As though she would be in the wrong, somehow, for doing it. It gave her such a sense of frustration. She couldn't help but wish that ghosts were precisely the emotionless hulls the Fentons believed them to be.

Oh, ghosts were essentially selfish, no doubt about it, narcissistic chunks of ectoplasm that only rarely empathized with their own kind, and never with humans, but they did feel.

Phantom, the bug, even Plasmius, in his own, twisted way, it was no longer something she could reject.

A part of her hated them all the more just for that, as though it made her life better, somehow, to know.

Couldn't she just have this one thing? After all the shit she went through, all the misery she bore, couldn't this one thing be something simple?

Goddamn ghosts, ruining her life, her stuff, and now her morals, too.How was she supposed to be the hero here? how was she supposed to save anyone, much less Elle, if she couldn't crush one goddamn dirty bug?

“Shit.”

Valerie flopped down on her back, staring into the viridian heavens with bitter eyes. The sky could not be bothered to stare back, rolling over in a cloud of mist instead.

“Shit,shit,shit!”

She tried to breath, but it caught in lungs suddenly shriveled against a breast-bone to tight for air.she clenched her fists, fingers squeezed into a shape fit for violence. Her body trembled, her hidden heart beat staccato as something hard and hot and sour twisted through her very soul.

“Stupid ghosts.” She whispered.Her eyes were cold marbles, but deep within her chest, she was still burning.

Valerie grabbed a stone laying loose on the ground beside her, pushed herself back up, and lobbed it with all her strength at the offending universe.

“You won't win!”

She picked up another rock, tossed it even further.

“I won't let you!”

She threw another rock, then another, as fast as her arms could reach them, intent on stoning the high green heavens for all the wrongs it had ever wrought against her. Each projectile went higher and farther into the encroaching mists, which swallowed them whole.

“You hear me! Not now, not ever!”

Even her screams were muffled, now, pressed against her ears by the haze. The stones made even less a mark, vanishing into clouds unrippled by their passing, engulfed the sound of their landing, if, indeed, they landed at all.Her chest heaved, her arm ached, but still her emotions threatened spillage. She felt at once utterly drained and full to bursting, squeezed of all verve even as her heart simmered still in some vague malcontent.

She flopped back to the ground, tired, but too troubled for rest.It wasn't all hopeless, she knew. She had an idea of where to go now, closer than she'd dared to hope, if the directions of the bug she'd captured earlier were to be believed.

And even if it was a lie, she'd still managed to buy herself some time.

She reached over to her right, where she'd piled everything of use from the insect's many stores. It was a pitiful stack, a single bag of food plastic wrapped or canned, adorned in letters and signs utterly foreign. But food it was, enough to keep her going a few days more.

She had set her stolen boot next to the parcel, and, resting just beside it, a crumpled polaroid weighed down by a worn leather fold.

She brought her hand down, shimmied the picture out from under its makeshift paperweight. Her other hand rose to brush across it, one last attempt, gentle, futile, at smoothing out the damage littering every aspect of its face.

It was fruitless, of course, but even broken beyond all repair, even with all the bitterness that lingered from the loss, the photo still soothed her, touching something deeper, more tenderly, than any hard flung stone.

She reached into the depths of her mind, grasping for those parts of the huntress that were always with her, woven in electric tapestry with the living currents of her brain.

Graphical Storage and Processing:Status: Active:

Recall request: Confirmed.

Data: Available, reporting 100% recall.

Overlay Request: Confirmed.

Initiating Command: Overlay:

Processing...

The change took place in the space of a moment. Emerald fragments reformed into broad leaves struck through with sunshine. Golden light struck their rays through the gaps where shadows fluttered down across the youthful oak that cast them, springing proud and slender from a meadow thick with blooms.

Beneath the shade of the tree, nestled between the long grass arches, there was a family.

They were at a picnic, the three of them, quilt littered with the remains of their meal. Cold chicken and half eaten corn cobs peeked out from broad folds of cloth, plastic water bottles refracted the scattered sunlight in their crumpled facets, where it danced across the surface of what liquid yet remained.

The man of the family sat beside a big wicker basket, arm resting over the thickly woven lip of its hatch. His face not yet wearied, his mustache quirked in a second smile as he looked into the long vanished camera with an expression of shy delight.Her father, Damian Grey.

A young Valerie could be seen sitting just in front of him, clutching a rubber ball nearly half her size. Grass stains streaked the young child's face, grin bold as she hoisted her rubber prize high above her head.

Besides the child, shoulders leaned in close press to the man beside her, knelt a woman. Acorn brown and satin soft, head tossed back in jubilation bold as summer. Her heat dewed neck curved swanlike above shoulders hunched up in mirth.

Valerie traced the outlines of the woman's face, slowly, ignoring—refusing—the ragged edges that brushed against her thumb as she outlined the vanished forms of her lips, her cheekbones, her chin, alight with a youth yet lingering even as the glow of motherhood softened the hard angles of ignorant adolescence.

A beautiful woman, vibrantly, vivaciously alive.

You would never know, looking at her, just how fast it would all drain out, her every pore a sieve for the good health she would never more contain.

But Valerie wasn't thinking about that, now, just as she wasn't thinking about the photograph or the damage it sustained.

Just for the moment, she allowed herself to focus only on the memory of a memory before her. If she imagined hard enough, she could almost see that sparkling smile turn, eyes opal dark and glimmering in delight at the chance to see her one and only daughter once again.

“Hey ma.” She said by way of reply. “Long time no see.”

#Fanfiction #Danny Phantom #Writing #Valerie Grey #Where You Belong #Chapter 2 #ao3 fanfic

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 4 years

Text

Knot In Love - Alpha!Dean x Omega! Reader

A/N: Part twenty three is back. Again, where it’s a daily thing? I am not tagging anyone new. 3pm is the magical time, usually. Today, there’ll be a few extra. This one at 7pm and one at midnight. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy one of my favorites <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: Forced mating. Knotting. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Witchcraft (more based on real craft than Hollywood). Angst. Etc. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 3,900

“Where'd Dean go?” You walked out to the library, finding Sam glaring at a stack of books. The hunter you had been searching for had disappeared before the daily session.

“Beer run,” He didn't look up, frowning at the aged paper that rested in front of him. The more Dean pushed, the worse he seemed to get. So, you didn't. “Need something?”

“Just curious,” Was your answer, settling down in the seat across from him. Picking up a book and scanning over the cover. “Anything good?”

“Nope.” His sour tone made you sigh deeply. It was the same attitude you'd been receiving since you'd all said goodbye to Donna. “What?”

“Just trying to figure out what I did to you,” Your eyes carried hurt as they met his, making him look away quickly. “Anything we can talk through?” Sam's face grew mullish; his teeth grinding together as his head shook. “Okay...” You swallowed tightly. Brows slamming together at that answer. “I guess I won't bother you, then...Sorry...” The younger Winchester could only hold up to so much.

As you stood to leave, he stopped you, “Y/N...” A small exhalation pushed past his lips. “I... could use some help. Looking for anything that'll lead us into Apocalypse World.”

“Yeah,” You nodded, not looking as eager as you had in the beginning. “Okay.”

Slowly, your body lowered down into the chair. Still carrying the wounded expression. But, you stayed. Discussing what you two found. Carefully avoiding anything else. Eventually, he started warming up a little.

Whistling sounded some time later followed with heavy footsteps as he came down the stairs. Too chipper to be normal. Dean was home. Your head lifted slowly, taking in the sounds.

“Hey,” Sam called out, catching the older brother's attention. “Uh, I think you might be right. I think maybe its time to go ahead and call Cas.” Dean was still whistling as he entered the room. “Because, I mean...if...if...” The train of thought failed as a spin accompanied a low whistle. The keys and beer thudding onto the table. “You alright?”

“Am I alright?” Dean leaned forward, a pleased grin on his face.

“Looks stoned to me,” You answered, inclined onto the table. “Did someone find a little green herb?”

“I'm in love.” He paid no heed to your question. Your heart lost control, then. Speeding up a bit at the words.

You two had spent more time together than you'd ever before. He'd started training you to fight. Giving you more notes on monsters. All things that would keep you safer in his life. But, never once had he said those words. Even hinted at them.

“You...” Sam glanced back your way, noting the way you were staring wide eyed. “Oh, are you?” A small chuckle left him.

He'd suspected attachment, but not a full blown admission. He glanced around, looking for any open bottles to explain the sudden exposure of his brother's feelings. Nothing.

“I mean, I am like, full on twitterpated here.” He stated seriously. Grinning like a loon as he straightened to his full height. “Seriously, I can't wait for you to meet her.” Instantly, your shoulders deflated a bit. Sam paused then, glancing over at you and then back to his brother. He was still going. “She...I mean, she's...” He inhaled deeply, hands gesturing in the air. “She's sweet, and she's beautiful. And she's just kinda, sorta, perfect.” Dean was gushing like a school girl, that annoying grin on his face. You had the urge to give him the same treatment you'd delivered to Marlon.

“Stoned. He has to be,” You turned to Sam, seriously. Chiding yourself for having believed it could have been anything else. “I bet if you ask for a name, he says Mary Jane.”

“You're a negative nancy,” He turned on you, waving his index finger in your face. Earning an expression you'd picked up from them: the bitch face. “Anyways,” He moved towards the ugly red chair in the room. “I'm thinking of asking her to move in with me, here.” He dropped down, reaching in one of the drawers as if he hadn't sent a spike into your chest. “If that's cool. Cause this is big time,” He laughed gleefully, making your eye twitch. Your face turned to Sam, silently asking him what the fuck was going on. A sigh left Dean as he pulled out the covered book that rested in the drawer and clobbered to his feet.

“Uh, Dean,” Sam started moving then, turning to better face his crazed brother. “What are you doing with the black grimoire?”

“He's about to get it upside the head,” You grumbled under your breath, squinting in confusion. Looking for any signs of something physically wrong with the man you'd come to know. There was nothing obvious on him.

“It's a gift,” He answered proudly, tapping at the black and gold cover. “For Jamie.”

“For Jamie?” The younger brother got to his feet slowly. Concern coming forth at the turn.

“My soul mate.” Dean confirmed. Pleased as could be. As if it should have been obvious.

“Sure,” Sam went along with it, earning a snort of betrayal from you.

“Great, I have a name to throw on a tombstone,” Your voice was sickly sweet as you leaned forward. Going further ignored. No longer seeming important.

You were starting to get what was happening. A love spell. Suddenly, you found yourself hating witches. Or rather one in particular: Jamie.

“And she happen to ask for that book by, uh, name?” The question was designed to confirm what you already knew.

“Yeah!” Dean's excitement made you close your eyes in pain. Looking to the ceiling. Silently asking Chuck- the God you hadn't believed in- why nothing could ever be simple. “I mean, isn't that kind of cosmic fate that we actually have it?” A groan left you at that. “Like,” His hands widened as he imitated an explosion from his brain. That, at least, was accurate.

“Cosmic fate?” Sam's voice was soft as he muttered to himself. “Right. Yeah.” Louder, he continued. “Okay,” He chanted a few times, trying to decided just what the hell he was going to do. You were eyeing up the thick books, trying to decide which one would work best to knock the spelled alpha out. “I think I know what's going on here.” He decided on the upfront approach as you weighed two novels in your hands. “Do you remember, uh, Becky? In Vegas? The love spell and...” Sam got closer to his brother as he talked, hoping to make him see reason.

“I don't,” Your interest was suddenly picked back up. “Tell me more.”

“No,” Dean cut that idea right off. Gazing at his brother as if he was insane. You settled on the lore Sam had been using and got to your feet.

“Okay,” The younger brother tried again. Not giving up at the apparent lapse in memory. “I think Jamie must be a...a witch, or a demon.”

“Whoa,” He backed away as you prepared to take a step. Suddenly more alert. You sighed at that, knowing you'd have to wait your turn as the word was repeated in offense.

“What?” The question was forced from the taller man.

“Be nice.” Dean ordered, glaring at his little brother. Then his grin grew bigger. “Cause she's got a sister.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Patience be damned; you were on the move. Only Sam stopped you that time. Yanking the makeshift weapon from your hands.

“If you play your card's right,” Your ex mate continued as if you hadn't attempted to bash his brains in to silence him, “you guys might fall for each other. You know, the less attractive siblings? They fall in love.” Sam's grips against your arms loosened for a second, as he considered letting you finish your goal. Only resisting because he knew it wasn't his brother talking...mostly, anyway. “That's kinda cute, right? Huh?”

“Just hold on a second,” Sam ordered.

“I can ask if she has a brother,” Dean didn't stop, looking at you with innocently hopeful eyes. “Get you all taken care of.”

“You can-” The sputtering began, then. “Can, go fuck yourself. One of the world's best hunters is wrecked by a love spell. Unbelievable.”

He skipped right over the steam leaving your ears, “I can't wait 'cause she's waiting for me at the market. So, I'm just gonna...” He reached for the keys. Sam finally released you to grab them before his brother could. Dean's hand squeaked as he drug it across the table, nothing rested beneath it. “Okay. Alright. That's fine. You know why?”

“This ought to be good,” Your arms crossed as Sam tugged up his sleeves.

“I'll walk,” Was the answer. “Cause it is...” His hand waved through the air as a sing song kinda phrase left his lips, “Gorgeous outside.”

“Wait, Dean.” Sam grabbed onto his shoulder as the older man moved to walk away.

“Should have let me knock him out,” Came your own song. Earning the infamous scowl from the younger brother. You simply shrugged.

“Dean, listen.” His grip tightened, earning a solid punch to Sam's face. Knocking the taller brother to the ground.

“Ohhh,” Dean cheered for himself as the loud thud sounded. “Right on the button. Listen. When I get back from my date, I'm gonna help ya ice that. Okay?” Your hands cupped the book that had been confiscated as he gloated. When he turned away, you swung. Only to end up with your wrists caught. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Trying to save your dumb ass,” You stated seriously, bringing your knee up to his groin. When he doubled over, you thought you might have had a chance. Until he dove at you, pinning you to the ground.

His hand rested over your throat in warning, “I don't want to hurt you.” The grip tightened for only a moment in warning. “Don't make me.”

“Why not?” You hissed out, struggling against him. Making him look into your eyes as your nails dug into his forearm. “You have Jamie. The new witch. You don't need me anymore.” He frowned at that, but let go of you. Backing away as you rubbed over the place he'd been squeezing.

“Stay here, Y/N.” He warned, his green eyes threatening you. “Alright? Thanks. Good talk, pal. Good talk!” With that, he was trotting out of the bunker. Leaving you to wake Sam up to try and stand a chance against the large, spelled jerk.

It took a bit to get Sam up and moving. Enough time for Dean to get to the market if he had run. He was anxious enough to see her, you were sure that he'd broken his no jogging rule at least once along the way.

“Witch killing bullets?” You loaded the gun how Dean had shown you as Sam sped towards the local market. “Remind me never to piss you guys off.”

“How are you even still conscious?” He griped, rubbing at his cheek. Feeling the tenderness from his brother's solid fist still lingering behind.

“Hell if I know,” The question had been bothering you, too. “Misguided chivalry?”

“Doubtful.”

“Well, then you come up with an answer, moose-man.” His lips pulled down and in, revealing the unimpressed dimples at the nickname. “But, until you do? We're taking mine.” Worry left you snarkier than usual. “Sam, he's there!” You pointed out Dean standing with his back facing you. A sledge hammer poised to be lifted near his scalp. Sam whipped the Impala around. Gunning it in that general direction. When the vehicle slammed to a stop, you got out of the car. Weapon raised, “Get away from him.”

“You heard her,” Sam's gun cocked in his hand. Aimed at the other blonde haired sister. Twins with a bad attitude based on their matching frowns.

“Don't point a gun at her!” Dean roared, charging you two.

You were knocked backwards as Sam was pinned against the hood. The one holding the book started laughing, then. Dean was past reason. Shouting it over and over again as he ensured the both of you couldn't reach a weapon, or the witch.

He tackled Sam, pinned your body down with his boot. The women walked away, leaving their play toy to hold you two hostage. “She doesn't care about you, you idiot!”

“No,” Dean yelled out, falling backwards to use his ass instead to pin you. “Don't leave!” They didn't listen.

As they pulled away, Sam's hands tugged out a red block, “Hex bag!” It was tossed out of his hands as Dean pushed it away. Pulling his brother into a choke hold.

“Get off of me!” Your feet kicked. Hand grappled out for the monstrous little charm.

“I'm sorry, guys.” He wasn't even slightly sorry. “I just love her so much!”

A shock of electricity ran through your bodies, throwing you all apart. Ending the feud in seconds. Your eyes lifted to see a pair of heeled shoes making their way over to the bag that combusted with a purple flame.

“Hello boys,” An accented red head leered over you all. “And...girl?”

“Y/N,” Sam motioned out towards the woman. “Meet Rowena.”

“Ah,” You let your back rest against the Impala. Wincing at what you were sure was tread marks along your spine. “The witch.”

“You've been talking about me,” Pure scottish joy left her lips. You recognized the burr. “How sweet.”

That wasn't quite the word you'd use. Either way, you were grateful to her assistance. The curse had been lifted.

“She's awfully at home,” You acknowledged as the drinks were lined a few minutes later. Four tall glasses.

“Ask me,” Rowena encouraged, tipping the brandy into the first cup.

“How are you alive?” Dean questioned unsurely, keeping his eyes open as he watched for any funny business. Being hexed once in a day was more than enough.

“Lucifer told us he killed you.” Sam barked out, looking every bit as protective as he could. Not quite friendly with your kind at the moment. “Pretty, uh...pretty graphically.”

“And he did.” Her teeth clashed at that. A steadying breath calmed her before she continued, “But, I take precautions to ensure that if I die...” She capped the bottle as the last glass was filled. “It is temporary.”

“You're talking about a, uh...a resurrection spell. Like last time?” The younger Winchester pried for details. She turned around with three glasses in hand. A simple hum that sounded like the beginnings of a song was her answer. Confirming his theory.

Rowena grinned as she moved towards you all, “That said, it took a very long time to heal.” The glasses thudded against the wood as her voice hardened. “And, I'm not interested in it ever happening, again. Which is why I need the black grimiore.” Her eyes batted oh so sweetly towards Sam. Steady as ever, she walked over to her drink. Heels clicking against the floor.

“What a coincidence,” The dry tone Dean emitted made your lip twitch. You'd missed him during that brief time of overt joy. “You happen to show up right when it's stolen.”

“Oh, no coincidence,” There wasn't an ounce of shame as she turned back to face all you. “I felt the book moving. In a moment of weakness, I may have put a tracking spell on the grimoire behind your backs.” Her drink was lifted to her lips.

“Moment of weakness, huh?” Dean deadpanned, believing that there was damn well no weakness present in Rowena MacCleod. “Right.” Your finger traced your glass's rim as the older Winchester reached for his.

“Why do you want it so bad?” Sam spoke up, letting you take it all in. “Why now?”

“Oh, years ago,” She began dramatically. Drawing you in immediately, “The grand coven cast a binding spell limiting aspects of my magic.” Her face scrunched as she talked, clearly not thrilled at the prospect. “There's a page in the grimiore that may help.”

“Help you become more powerful?” Dean demanded, voice deep and hard. “Yeah, that's what we want.” His hand lifted to rub over his lips as he listened to the response.

“Help me protect myself.” Your fingers raised upwards, wrapping around the crystal you wore. You could empathize, though you hadn't gone to the extremes she had.

“Let me get this straight,” The younger Winchester was trying to process the newest dent in your paths. “You, uh, felt the book moving. And you decided, what? You'd...you'd...you'd show up and just take it?”

“Well, I thought about asking you nicely for it, but...” She returned, honey mixed with vinegar.

“Yeah, you knew we'd tell you to go to hell.” Was the finishing response from the ornery man in front of you.

“Exactly.” Another dramatic frown lined her pretty face. “Now, I'm worried the girls will damage the book, and you're worried about awful things they'll do with it...so...Let's help each other, shall we?”

“We don't need your help,” Sam rushed out. Lifting his drink with a smug smile. “We've handled witches before.”

“You're familiar with our work, right?” Dean joined in, arrogant as always.

“Make me feel safe and cozy, why don't you?” You grumbled their way. Earning a peaked interest from the centuries old woman who stood before you.

“Ah,” She grinned, then. A fond sigh leaving her lips, “Oh, you Winchesters.” She slowly approached the table, then. Grinding her lips together as she moved. “I've changed.” Her eyes landed on you. Dean tilted his head, face remaining blank as he waited for her to continue. “Honestly.” Sam's eyebrows lifted at that. Waiting to hear the tale she'd spin. “Having your skull crushed and being burned alive can do that to a girl.” Her response was loaded with sass. Staring them down stubbornly. “And, it's my tracking spell, so if you want to find those girls...”

“I'm sure we can find a way to tap into it without your help.” Your knee was patted, as if you were a pet. That wasn't flying.

“I believe her.” Your drink was lifted as all heads turned towards you. Two in dismay. One in glee.

“You don't even know her,” Dean scowled your way. Dismissing the idea with a flick of his hand.

“She's gotta better feeling oozing off of her than that bitch from earlier and her skanky sister.” Your eyes blinked innocently, making Sam's eyes roll.

“Well, lover?” Rowena grinned, rocking her hips theatrically towards Dean, making you snort. Another dirty look was your reward.

“Okay.” He bit out, unhappy with the turn of events. Sam's lips ticked a bit at his brother's expense.

“You'll need me,” She promised. “Slainte.” She toasted in Gaelic. To health.

“Slainte Mhat,” Your glass lifted, making the eyes all turn to you. To good health. Another look of betrayal was sent your way at the toast.

“Oh,” She took a drink before turning back to the table. Keeping her back towards you, “One more thing. Where's my son?” The answer came harsh and fast. “Fergus is dead?” There was a tremble in her voice at that. Your head tilted a bit, feeling the energy she carried swirling ever so slightly.

“Yep.” Sam answered.

“Killed himself for us.” Dean confirmed.

“That doesn't sound like him,” She bit out. Glancing over her shoulder, but not quite turning around. Finally, the younger Winchester seemed to catch onto what she was feeling.

“Right, well, Fergus,” The name sounded like a mock coming from Sam. “Uh...uh, Crowley.” He corrected, feeling better using that coinage. “Um, he had changed a lot. You'd have been proud of him.”

“Is that so?” Her voice gained a hopeful edge, then. As suddenly as it came, it ceased. “Fergus was my only child.” A crack broke through as she shuddered. “And, I promise you...” A deadly anger rose up inside of her from her grief. “I'd rather have a living son, even one that hated me, than a dead hero!” The snarl left her cold and furious. She poured more of the drink into the glass.

“Because of him...Lucifer is trapped in another reality. So...” The explanation Sam offered didn't seem to help.

“Yeah,” Dean spoke up. Eyes crinkling as he finished, “The devil's gone.”

“Oh, don't be stupid,” She spun around, then. Eyes wet from unshed tears.“He's never gone!”

“Okay, listen. I know what Lucifer is cap-”

“Okay,” She cringed, shutting down as Sam spoke up. “C...can we not? It's...it's like reminiscing about an abusive relationship. Why do that?” Rowena turned back away to recompose herself.

“Let's get back to the book.” The hard note in Dean's voice had no room for sympathy. You reached down to pinch his thigh sharply, earning a hiss. “What kind of hurt can these chicks do with it?” Your fingers were crushed with his, holding it for his protection under the table. You didn't enjoy the warm, rough skin. That's what you told yourself as you glared at him, anyway.

A deep sigh left her, “Oh, I'm sure they have big plans.” She promised, slowly turning to face you all again. Completely back in control.

“Sounds like you know 'em.” Sam pried, waiting for the answer to come. Sure enough, he got it.

“Just remember being a young, overly ambitious wee witch.” Her eyes met yours, again. “I'm sure you can relate?”

“Not on this scale,” Your legs crossed, and your wrist jerked. Attempting to free yourself. You got absolutely nowhere. “Couple of stupid spells, though. I'll own up to that.”

“I have to give them some credit,” Rowena admitted thoughtfully, turning back to the boys. “Out foxed you, didn't they?” The wicked grin on her face was nothing short of pleasure. She chuckled, then. Moving closer to the main victim. “Tell me...Did they get to fifth base?”

“There's no such thing as fifth base,” Dean looked up to her eyes. Not blinking as he stared her down.

“Oh, you poor, sheltered boy.” Her purr was entirely carnal. She bit her lip, no doubt thinking of what she was referencing as she turned away. “Anyway,” Back on the prowl, she left Dean wasting in confusion. Turning to his brother to figure out what she was talking about. Sam only motioned for him to let it go. “What's by is by. And who knows? If I help you, maybe you'll change your minds about helping me.”

“No.”

“Not happening.” Both men agreed wholeheartedly, smirking at the witch. Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling, yet again.

“Teach Dean what fifth base is, and I bet he changes his mind,” As you finished your brandy, your hand was twisted under the table. It had been well worth it to get your ounce of blood.

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

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poesparakeet-fics · 3 years

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AKA “Yasha The Protector” fic from the prompt poll!

Note: This is basically a SFW fic with a lil NSFW ending. The whole SFW bit is here, so enjoy, and click to AO3 for the sexy bit!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Poly Nein - Relationship, Beauregard Lionette/Caleb Widogast/Yasha, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Poly Nein Characters: Beauregard Lionett, Caleb Widogast, Yasha (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Tickling, Bedtime, gang tickle, Sub Caleb Widogast, Stress Relief, dope monk shit, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, Polyamory, Group Sex, Threesome - F/F/M Series: Part 1 of The Poly Nein Summary:

Trent Ikithon has been brought back into the Mighty Nein’s orbit, and Yasha’s real mad about it. After Jester take Caleb to her bed to take care of his feelings, Yasha does the same to keep him safe. Beau… helps?

FICThe Empire and the Dynasty needed to figure their stuff out. They needed to take all their stuff, and just... lay it out on the table, measure it, and figure it out. That’s what Yasha thought, anyway. She supposed that these talks might be their way of doing it, but it sure was a bad way. At the very least she wished the Mighty Nein could stop getting mixed up in it.

When Yasha first saw that Trent Ikithon had manipulated his way onto the king’s party, she’d been tempted to bamf out her wings and scream in his face, right then and there. He was old, she suspected she could maybe stop his heart that way. But she’d felt Beau go still next to her, hard and poised like a switch, and paused to match instead.

The last night before their departure they’d set up the mansion in a rented room far from the castle.

Fjord was sure Ikithon had done it to force Caleb to interact with him. Caleb agreed, in that quiet way he did when he was thinking very hard, his eyes cast down.

“We should kill him while we have the chance.” Veth said. She didn’t shriek it like she might have done a year ago, but says it matter-of-factly, in the calm, sweet voice that always meant she was talking to Caleb. They were all talking, but what she said was meant for Caleb.

“No.” He says. “Peace is worth the wait.”

Nobody was willing to argue with him on it, but she could tell Beau and Veth both wanted to. When they all bundled off to bed, Jester intercepted Caleb and pulled him into her and Fjord’s room. Caleb went along numbly, only smiling a little when she insisted that he wouldn’t have nightmares if he slept with them.

Yasha was tense all night, sleeping with Beau weaved around her rigid form like willow reeds.

The talks the next day were very boring. Lots of people she didn’t care about talked. Trent talked occasionally, but only when called upon. Otherwise he would just whisper behind his hand. Fjord talked. Caleb talked. Jester even talked a little, defusing a heated exchange with spun-sugar grace.

Yasha didn’t talk. She stood directly behind Caleb, though, staring down Trent and his molefuckers. Throughout the day she tried to convey three things to them with just her eyes:

She wanted to rip their limbs off.

She was fully capable of ripping their limbs off.

The only reason she was not ripping their limbs off was because Caleb asked her not to.

Beau, on the other hand, roved around the room like a shadow, but her head was always turned in Trent’s direction.

The others seemed happy with how the talks had gone. The fortress they were in had rooms for them, but they all agreed to set up the mansion in one of them as an extra layer of protection. Yasha trotted to catch up with Beau, one hand reaching out to brush her arm.

“Hmm. What? Sorry.”

“That’s OK.” Yasha soothed “It’s been a long day. Um… so... I want Caleb to come sleep with us tonight?”

Beau looked a little surprised. “Uh, sure, but why? I’m not as good at feelings as Jester or Fjord.”

Yasha patted her arm. “You’re getting better. But it’s not about feelings! I want to make sure if some vole-fucker wants to show up next to his bed they get a big raging surprise.”

Beau snickered and Yasha beamed, pleased with the success of her joke.

“God, you’re so cute. Also, uh... very correct. I was worried about that too,” said Beau with a frown, "If they wanna try and take him out, we'll beat them right out of the pocket dimension."

They were all quiet and tired when they stepped into the mansion, Caleb most of all. Yasha wasn’t as persuasive or cajoling as Jester, so she settled for just grabbing Caleb out of the air as they floated up through the tower’s floors and carrying him to their room over her shoulder.

“Oof! Ah, Yasha…?”

“You’re not sleeping alone with him so near. You’re coming with us.”

“Oooh, good idea Yasha!” Jester’s voice carried down to them as she floated past. “Byyye Caleb!”

“Well, ja, alright then.” Caleb sounded too tired to argue.

“We’ll keep you safe.” Yasha assured him quietly as she gave him a pat on the butt. She didn’t put him down until they were in their room and she could dump him directly on the bed. Then she slipped the Magician's Judge underneath the frame.

“I need a bath before bed because I smell! Get comfy though, I’ll join you soon.”

Once she’d stripped down next to the always-steaming copper tub she turned around, surprised to see Caleb sitting on the ground pulling books out of his bag.

“Do you want a bath too Caleb? You can come in with me, you’re just little. Beau fits.”

Caleb gave her a quirk of a smile.

“No, thank-you. I’m just restless. I’ll work for a while before bed, I think.”

“Caleb!” Yasha’s brow furrowed. This was not good. Jester would never allow this, if she was the one taking care of him.

He shrugged. “I’ll stay here, if they attack I’ll be safe. You'll wake.”

“That’s not what she’s worried about, dumbass.” Beau joined them, a wine bottle under her arm and three glasses in her hand. “It’s late, this thing starts early tomorrow, and you’re the Bright Queen’s favorite human. You need to be sharp. You’re drinking this wine with us and you’re going to bed.”

“Verdammt noch mal , I’m manipulating countries by day and being put to bed like a child every night. Would you all let me be?!” Caleb snapped.

Yasha’s hands moved to her hips.

“You don't get put to bed like a child, you get taken care of by people who love you because we can't trust you to take care of yourself! And we’re here to protect you, even if it’s from the stupid part of your brain that’s too smart!” Oh, no, that hadn’t come out the way she wanted.

Caleb’s posture turned surly, but Beau stepped between them.

“Babe, relax, I’ve got this. Take your bath.”

She had him down in a matter of about six seconds.

First she reached out and seemed to only touch him in the centre of his chest. Yasha barely had time to notice that she’d undone the buckle of his holsters before he was being spun around by a steely hand on the back of his coat-collar.

Beau yanked his coat off in on swift movement, her other hand immediately grabbing the back of Caleb’s holsters and yanking them down to his elbows. She tugged the books out and set them aside while twisting the leather straps into a makeshift binding for his arms. She shoved him face-first onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

Yasha clapped when it was finished, having crawled into the hot bath to enjoy the show.

“Beauregard! Let me go. Now.” Caleb snapped

“Nope.” Beau tugged at his holsters until she could roll him onto his side, one clawed hand starting to scrub at his belly without so much as a glance. Caleb’s body spasmed, his breath pitching as he tried to resist laughing and keep a glare on his face. “There’s only three ways this ends for you. One, you give up, have a nice glass of wine and go to bed in the strong goth’s arms with me. Two, you use your safeword so I have to let you go and you can run off into a corner with your books like a pissy little bitch. Three, I personally tickle you until you pass out, which solves my problem anyway. So what’s it gonna be?”

Her hand squeezed his side and started to climb his ribcage, finally breaking the dams of his resistance. His torso was stretched, his ribcage extended by the angle at which the holsters were pinning his arms behind his back, and with Beau’s strong thighs around his center of gravity he couldn’t do much more than squirm. First a smile broke out, then helpless, rumbling laughter.

“FUHUHUCK YOU LIONEHETTE!” He ground out, earning an audience gasp from Yasha.

There was a stubborn, defiant and mouthy side of Caleb that only Beau seemed to be able to bring out. Often shocking, when Caleb was always so deferent to his lovers. But then, Beau’s relationship with the men in their group tended to be more ‘beloved best friends I share lovers with and also occasionally make out with’ than 'lover.'

“Ooh, mouthy! So, that’s how you wanna do it, huh? Huh?”

Beau’s hands started to fly, lightning-fast pinches tweaked Caleb’s ribs, sides, hips, armpits and neck faster than he could react.

“Ah- haha, nein! ” for the first time a little desperation entered Caleb’s voice, his defiance wavering just a little under Beau’s onslaught.

“No? Why? Is the little wizard ready for bed yet? Huh?”

Caleb’s face twisted into a furrowed glare over a helpless smile, and he shook his head from where he was currently muffling his laughter against the bedspread. Beau’s hands jumped to his uppermost ribs on each side, a precision attack that made him start thrashing and shouting in Zemnian. Yasha didn’t know what he was saying, but it didn’t sound complementary.

“How bout now, huh? What if I just do this forever? All ribs, all time! You like that, you smart-ass little shit?”

“No! Nohoho! I will gehehehet you!”

“Pfft. How you gonna do that, huh? You can’t cast your little spells while you’re squealing like a lil bitch…”

Yasha finished towelling herself off and flopped onto the bed next to them, putting her face near where Caleb’s was turned and pressed against the sheets before starting to dance her fingers around his neck and ears.

“Y-Yasha! I- Ah! Hahaha- I don’t- don’t feheeheeheel safe!”

“Oh so now Yasha’s here and you think she’s gonna save you? Nuh-uh. Hey babe, wanna see something cool that Dairon taught me?”

“No!” Caleb yelped, but it was muffled because Beau was already turning him onto his stomach.

“Ooh yes!” Yasha answered, leaning in with her chin on her other hand and continuing to tease the back of Caleb’s neck. Beau’s fingers started to follow the ley-lines of Caleb’s body, applying a poke, a twist or a ground knuckle at the intersections.

Caleb’s laughter petered into giddy giggles as his body trembled under the ministrations. He could clearly feel the effects of Beau’s work, because the steady whine of “nononononononono” became just a little more frantic with each applied touch, his neck and shoulders squirming and scrunching further to avoid Yasha’s teasing.

“We usually use this to make people’s nervous system more sensitive for interrogation,” Beau explained, “so… well, I guess it might work pretty well, huh? Let’s see!”

She didn’t bother to roll Caleb over this time, instead jamming her hands under his arms from behind to get his armpits and ribs. Every part of Caleb’s body started to shake, and his laughter turned into muffled shrieks.

“Nahahahat there!”

“Um, we already talked about this. It’s ALL ribs, ALL the time.” Beau teased, stepping up the rhythm of her fingers and making Caleb’s hysteria kick up with each word . “Yup, that works. How’s that, tough guy? Still wanna fight?”

She turned him on his side so he could talk, one hand still jammed under his arm. Caleb was red in the face, but he still spit out “Fuck you fuHAHAHAck you fuHAHAck youhooHAHAHA!”

“Caleb! That’s so rude!” Yasha admonished. “And you know what? I’m getting a little hungry.”

Caleb’s eyes widened and his thrashing sped up. Beau looked a little confused, but watched the one-sided exchange with an amused smile on her face.

“Remember in Aeor when you were a big spider? Do you think you’re as tasty now?” She pounced face-down on one of his thighs. “Omnomnomnom!”

Caleb’s squeal started before Yasha’s face got anywhere near him. She placed one hand on his knee and the other on his stomach to keep his body from folding up to block her, worrying both places with gently wiggling fingers. Then she nipped up and down the thigh muscle from hip to knee like it was corn on the cob, and Caleb nearly levitated off the bed.

“AAaaiiiiii! YAHAHASHA! AAAH! YAHAHASHAHA PLEAAHEEHEEHESE AAAH! UNCLE! UHAHAHANCLE!"

Yasha paused, peering up at him along the length of his body. Beau's fingers stilled too.

"Are you gonna come to bed?"

"Yehehes,” he wheezed, “yes!"

Yasha backed off. Beau started to, before mischief overcame her and she tweaked Caleb's ribs, making him convulse and scream.

"Hey!" Yasha warned, pointing at Beau. "He gave. My meal of wizard legs was interrupted, but I'll fill up on monk ribs if I have to."

Caleb made a raspberry sound at Beau from his position in a heap on the mattress. Beau held her hands up in surrender. "Alright! I was just teasing him, no need to get aggressive... Hey, you! You still want some wine?"

She untwisted Caleb’s holsters, setting him free.

“Yes pl- *hic* please.” Caleb croaked, still catching his breath.

Beau moved to pour the wine-- white, Caleb didn’t like red-- and they all sipped it as they got ready for bed. Once Caleb had stripped and tucked himself under Yasha’s arm with his head on her shoulder, Beau sat behind him. His spine went rigid.

“Relax.” The monk soothed. “I’m done. It only lasts an hour, but we can get rid of it faster.”

She started to rub Caleb’s back his firm, flat palms, working out muscles, nerves and energy where she had disrupted it to make him more ticklish. Caleb did relax, eyes rolling as his eyes started to flutter closed.

Beau moved to her other side, settling into a position that mirrored Caleb’s. Yasha fell asleep to the sound of their quiet breathing.

#yahsa protects Caleb from the dangers of being a sad wizard.#but also from deadly wizards #she does it all #yasha nydoorin #caleb widogast #tickling #tickle fic #tk fic #critickle role #mine #poes prose

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peteywillproceed · 4 years

Text

All The Lies

Author’s Note: I’m so glad you guys liked the teaser for this yesterday, I hope the full thing lives up to expectations! As always, I hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Admitting you got cheated on is hard. Being cheated on by the person your best friend set you up with is harder. But telling your best his girlfriend was the other woman? Impossible. What good could even come from it?

Word Count: 3,582

“I cannot believe you!” You yelled, hands in your hair, jaw almost on the floor. “You told him what?”

Harrison just laughed, wiping the dish you’d unceremoniously dropped in his hands after the revelation and putting it back in the rack. “I didn’t know it was a private thing.”

“My breakups are not a matter of public interest,” you told him pointedly “and why did you even feel the need to tell him about it anyway?”

“I dunno, we were just out and you came up and he asked what you’d been up to recently.”

You almost screamed, biting down on your lip before you could snap and say something you’d regret. “You could’ve answered that with ‘she’s good’, there was no need to tell internationally beloved actor Thomas Stanley Holland that my relationship was a complete and utter failure.”

He snorted, draining the sink of washing up liquid and chucked the tea towel into the washing machine. You leant against the counter, staring out of the window whilst you wondered what the most effective way to kill your best friend was and whether this constituted a well meaning kicking-out-of-your-flat. Sighing, you shook your head and blinked back the tears that had pooled in your eyes when you were distracted – you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it, after weeks on the sofa and tonnes of ice cream. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

“Y/n?” Harrison said softly, moving behind you so his chin rested on your shoulder.

You took a deep, shuddery breath, plastering the best fake smile you could muster on your face and spun around to face him. “Yep?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t ready for people to know yet,” he pursed his lips and rubbed your arm, pulling you into a tight hug when a sob wracked through your body. You clung onto his shirt, feeling the material dampen as you pressed your face against it, trying to remember to breathe, trying to forget the loss of a two year relationship.

“It’s okay,” you finally managed, choking back the sobs, even though it definitely wasn’t. “I just didn’t expect you to be so blunt about it. Or to tell Tom.”

“Well he was going to find out sometime, or were you planning on leaving it till he came over and Justin wasn’t in the flat anymore?”

You laughed between tears, wiping your face with your palms. “That one.”

“And, may I ask, have you been Googling Tom again? Since when did you know his middle name?” Harrison poked your chest playfully and you rolled your eyes, batting his hand away.

“Since he wouldn’t stop teasing me about mine last time he came over, I figured I needed some ammunition.”

“Ahh, you never were that good at revenge, were you?”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, pretending to be offended “what are you implying?”

“Y/n, Tom’s an actor – he’s been teased so much about that name I honestly don’t think he gives two shits.”

You could hardly breathe between laughs, the tears drying up faster than they ever had before, and you wondered if that was what progress had looked like. You’d thought it was progress when you’d gotten out of bed, when you’d stopped eating two tubs of ice cream a day and finally brushed your hair, but the truth was Justin had still been in the back of your mind, always there, always reminding you of that night you so desperately wanted to forget. Except for the first time in months, for that little split second, he hadn’t, and it had just been you and Harrison in your own little bubble.

“Anyway, speaking of the dipshit, he’s home tomorrow,” Harrison pulled his coat off the back of a chair and slid his arms into the sleeves.

You frowned, trying to remember what Tom had told you the last time you’d spoken to him. You’d known both Harrison and Tom since you were young, always that little bit closer to Harrison, and you’d been nervous about Tom coming home because he’d missed so much. You’d dreaded telling him everything that had happened, because he was the one that had set you up with Justin all those years ago. So, when he’d invited you and Harrison out to Morocco a few weeks back you’d stayed behind, too scared to face up to reality. You thought you’d have more time to prepare yourself – he was supposed to be on set for another month. “Oh really? He’s done filming already?”

“Yeah, something about a schedule mixup,” Harrison shrugged and fished his car keys out of his pockets “there’s a welcome home party at Nikki’s tomorrow night, are you coming?”

Oh, that. You remembered the invite, burning a hole in the pocket of your jacket. You’d seen the little white note card lying on the floor last week, but you’d been so caught up in Justin and that stupid picture you’d barely had time to process it.

“Sure, I think it’s in my calendar.”

“I can’t believe you still have a calendar,” Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Hey, some of us like being organised!” You chased after him as he made for the door “Some of us actually make it to appointments!”

“It’s 2020, Y/n,” he smirked, looking over his shoulder as he got the flat door open “It’s time to live a little and take some risks!”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and tutted. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“Then life is going to make you,” Harrison called, already disappearing into the hallway outside “and I, for one, am going to enjoy watching.”

***

You pulled up to the Holland house later than you meant to.

Mostly because you’d spent half an hour in front of the mirror wondering if it was a better idea to just stay home. But also because you’d tried putting makeup on for the first time in weeks and somehow you just looked worse.

You’d ended up back on the floor, sobbing so hard you thought your chest would cave in and wondering if it was even worth going tonight. You hadn’t seen your best friend in months, and it sucked that you had to ruin it by having a conversation you never wanted in the first place. By the time Harrison texted you asking when you were gonna get there, it was way past six and you were embarrassingly, stupidly late.

You shouldn’t have gone.

Yet here you were.

And everything felt so much worse.

“Y/n!” a familiar voice yelled as you hopped out of the car and spun around. Harry was running down the steps and launching himself towards you, pulling you into a tight hug before you’d even locked the car. “Harrison told me, I’m so sorry, Justin’s a dickhead. No wonder you didn’t wanna tell Tom.”

“Yeah, well we didn’t need to ruin two relationships did we?” you laughed, pushing away the pain. You’d practised what you were going to say, run your lines like you were rehearsing a movie. You figured there was no way you were going to make it through this without crying, but you could at least try.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, clearly confused by what you’d just said, but you were interrupted by Harrison flying down the stairs and yanking you into the house. “Finally, thought you’d died or something.”

“Nope just car trouble,” you lied, more than grateful as he dragged you away from a frowning Harry. “Where’s Tom?”

“Right here, darling,” he said, stepping into the hallway and swinging you into the air.

“Jesus Christ, Thomas let me down!” You laughed, bashing his back as he spun you in a circle. Harrison grinned as Tom tipped you upside down, spinning you so violently the black and white floor blurred into one, meaningless grey, and you had to close your eyes or else you would’ve ended up vomiting.

“Six months, SIX MONTHS its been since you graced me with your presence!” Tom turned you back upright and pulled you against his chest, arms wrapping around your waist. “You can let me have this!”

“Yef but canft breafthe,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Don’t care, you owe me.”

“TOFFAS!”

“Alright alright,” he relented, letting you go. You could feel the heat flooding your cheeks as you smoothed down your hair and fixed your top, rubbing your palms against your jeans. “But you do owe me a proper cuddle.”

“Should’ve stayed in England, mate, there’d have been plenty to go around,” Harrison smirked, but you eyed him wearily, knowing exactly what he was referring to. For a good three weeks after the break up, you were pretty certain Harrison hadn’t left your side.

Tom seemed to pick up on the double meaning, sliding his eyes between you and Harrison in turn. “Am I missing something here?” he asked.

“Depends how you interpreted it,” Harrison said, turning towards the living room. “But you two probably need a catch up. I’ll go find Sam and give him a hand with dinner.”

You glared daggers at his retreating back, mentally cursing him for not even allowing you to take your shoes off. You felt Tom’s hand rest gently on your shoulder, the other tilting your face to face him, and you took a deep breath, knowing that if you didn’t get it over with, you’d never be brave enough again.

“Yeah, he’s right, we probably should,” you sighed, and Tom’s frowned deepened.

“Is everything okay, Y/n?”

You hesitated, gnawing at a loose piece of skin on your thumb. “Not…not really. Can we go sit in your bedroom? I feel awkward doing it here.”

Tom nodded, not taking his eyes off you as you took your shoes off. You could feel him staring at your neck, knowing his brain was working over time to figure out what was going on that was so bad you had to wait to tell him. You knew he’d be thinking the worst, it was just what he did, and usually you never had to make that a reality.

But today…today was different - and you had no idea how he’d take it.

***

“So,” he said, closing the door and pulling you onto the bed “what’s up?”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and looked everywhere but his face, knowing you’d lose all the confidence you’d built the moment you looked into his eyes. His room was clean, a few pants chucked across the floor and a couple of dust bunnies lurking beneath the bed, but he’d only been a day. He had more than enough time to dirty it up to its usual standard.

“Seriously, Y/n, you’re scaring me now.” Tom’s voice reminded you he was still sitting in front of you, the two little lines creasing his brow even deeper now.

“Sorry, it’s just…I don’t really know how to phrase this.”

Tom smiled, taking your hand in his, and you almost snatched it back in shock. His palms were warm and clammy, just as trusting and open as they’d always been. You had a feeling this might change things. “It’s just me, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“But’s that’s not the point. It’s just…well, it’s about Maura.”

“Maura? As in, my ex-girlfriend Maura?” Tom drew back slightly, confusion still written across his face. “What about her?”

“Well I- wait, your ex girlfriend?” you stopped mid-sentence, realising what he’d just said, mouth hanging open in shock. Tom gulped, flicking his eyes away from yours, and shuffled backwards on the bed. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, desperately looking for anywhere else to focus on, and this time it was you getting more and more confused. “Since when did that happen?”

“Since before I went away,” he sighed, scratching the side of his head as if that was enough of an explanation. “I figured we weren’t right for each other.”

“But I thought-” You’d been going to say you thought he loved her, thought she was the one for him and that was who he was going to end up with. This all seemed so…so random, so out of the blue you couldn’t even have written it as a surprise twist in a book. You could barely process what he was saying, a thousand thoughts crossing your mind at once. Why hadn’t he told you? What the hell had happened for him to break up with her? But the most important one of all, the one you didn’t really want to let yourself believe, kept flashing in front of your eyes like a neon sign.

If they’d broken up before he went away to film Cherry, then that meant Maura had been single that night.

“Justin cheated on me,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “He cheated on me when you were away and I’ve had no idea how to tell you.”

“He did what?” Tom’s eyebrows shot up so fast they were a blur, and before you could process what he was doing he had his phone in his hand and was scrolling through his phone. “I’m gonna kill the bastard.”

“Wait, no, Tom, stop,” you desperately reached for the phone, clawing it from his grip as he tried to turn away from you.

“That arse hole cheated on you, Y/n, he’s not getting away with it!”

“But you don’t know what happened!” You finally grabbed the phone and yanked it away, panting from the effort. “There’s more to it than that!”

“Like what? What possible excuse could he have for cheating on you, Y/n?”

You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Tom’s face was red with anger, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “We’ve kind of gotten off topic here.”

“Well you were the one that brought up getting cheated on,” Tom stepped towards you, holding his arms out “I honestly had no idea.”

You collapsed into his reach, remembering how much you’d craved his smell and warmth over the months he’d been gone, and sighed against his chest. “That’s because I didn’t want you to know. I made Harrison promise not to tell anyone.”

“But why? It’s not like I would’ve blamed you for it, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No,” you admitted “but, the thing is…he cheated on me with Maura and-”

“And you thought we were still together,” he finished the sentence for you and the relief that washed through you was like water poured on a wildfire. You’d kept it bottled up for months, sobbing to Harrison and wondering how the hell you were supposed to tell him about it. To finally say it, to finally hear him understand, was worth more than you’d realised. “You didn’t want to hurt me too.”

“Especially not whilst you were filming. I knew how much you loved her and I couldn’t bear the thought of upsetting you when you were thousands of miles away.”

He laughed, the sound hollow and unnerving as he guided you back to the bed and held your fingertips with his. His gaze was fixed on the door, barely acknowledging you as you turned to stare at him in bewilderment. “The irony is, you did still upset me.”

You frowned, your lips parting in confusion and your heart beating wildly in your chest. “What?”

Tom raked a hand over his face and lay back against the bed, his chest heaving a sigh as you fell down beside him. His curls were gone, the stubble of his head prickling your fingers as you reached up out of habit to run your fingers through it, trying not to panic. You’d worked so hard to keep everything to yourself so it wouldn’t mess up his work, that the thought you somehow hadn’t even managed to do that was crippling.

“When I set you up with Justin two years ago, it was for a reason other than just wanting you to get out more,” he said eventually, turning to face you. “I couldn’t admit something to myself and I figured the best way to…stop thinking about it, was to pass the problem on.”

“What problem?” you shook your head, still not really understanding what he was trying to get at. Tom’s hand reached to cup your waist and you gasped at the contact, not used to being this close to him.

“You,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “You were my problem. Y/n, I’ve been in love with you for years and I couldn’t admit it to myself. I thought if I saw you happy with someone else it would make everything go away, but somehow…somehow it just made it worse.”

You couldn’t breathe, paralysed by Tom’s revelation from your head to your toes. Your eyes were locked with his, filled with desperation and a sadness you’d never seen before, and your heart almost broke at the thought he’d held himself back from this for years.

You’d never given much thought to it really, there’d been the usual teasing in secondary school but once Tom had gotten with Maura it had pretty much stopped. There’d never been any confusion, no wondering about what might have been – to you, he’d always been Tom, the boy who’d wiped a booger on you at six, and copied your chemistry homework for four whole years and never been caught. Sure, you knew exactly what people saw in him, why girls chased him on the streets and oogled him in the gym, and now that you thought about it you’d always liked it when you went swimming.

But he was still just Tom.

“I…I don’t really know what to say,” you said at last, pulling away from him slightly. You saw hurt register in his eyes, and it killed you to be the one that caused it. But what else could you say? You couldn’t tell him you loved him too because it was a lie...

...wasn’t it?

“Anything - anything but that this has scared you away.”

You held back a sob, somehow feeling more conflicted than you had than when you’d come here in the first place. “It hasn’t, I’ll always love you Tom,” you saw hope flare in his eyes “but I don’t think I love you like…like that.”

He nodded, pushing his tongue against his cheek and pulling away from you. Suddenly the air went cold, all the energy disappearing with him, and you wanted to sob at the loss. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, his back blocking you from seeing his face, and you ran a finger across your lips, at a loss for what to say.

You knew today would go badly, but you hadn’t expected it to be because of this. You’d prepared yourself to deal with the fall out of a cheating girlfriend, not a declaration of love, and now you just didn’t know what to do.

Thinking on instinct, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his shoulders shake as his warm hands embraced yours and he leant back into your body. You glanced at his cheeks, reaching up to wipe away a tear, and sighed into his neck, wondering how you’d gotten here.

“I’m sorry, you probably didn’t expect that,” Tom laughed, the sound full of a profound sadness you’d never heard in him before.

“I didn’t, but I’m glad I know,” you replied, feeling more sure as soon as you’d said the words.

“Really?”

“Of course. It seemed like it was upsetting you not telling me, and if telling me has made it any easier for you than I’m glad I know.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s made things easier.”

You smiled, bending down onto the floor and cupping his cheek. “Maybe not, but things are always better out than in.”

“Isn’t that a drinking joke?”

“It applies here,” you grinned, relief filling you as he cracked a small smile. “Besides, things change.”

Tom’s brow furrowed, big brown eyes turning to look up at you as you rubbed your thumb over his chin. “What?”

Hesitating, you bit your lip and met his gaze, remembering what Harrison had told you yesterday about life and taking risks. This was either a horrendously bad idea or about to change a hell of a lot in the space of five seconds.

You weren’t exactly known for your rational decisions after all, you barely managed to make it out of your flat alive most days. But the second he’d said it, the second he’d made you question everything you believed, you knew you had to find out what it felt like, even if it was just once and never again.

And so you went for it, without thinking, and pushed your lips against his, feeling the shock wave course through his body and his rigid mouth melting against yours as he finally registered what was happening. For a second, you wanted to pull away, pretend like it never happened, but then Tom reached for your neck and fireworks exploded behind your eyes.

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, butterflies flapping excitedly in your stomach, your heart swelling and beating faster than ever before. Bolts of lightning raced through your veins, electricity crawling across your skin and setting your nerves on fire as his lips moved slowly against yours. Suddenly, there were no more questions, no more overthinking, just you and Tom, exactly where you were supposed to be.

And, for the first time in weeks, you were stupidly...embarrassingly...happy.

When you finally pulled away, you were both a little breathless, a little starry eyed and overwhelmed. Your lips curved into a smile, a small laugh escaping you as you fell against Tom’s arms and nuzzled your face into his chest.

“Does this mean...” he started, but you pushed your finger against his lips.

“Don’t even question it, Thomas,” you grinned, reaching up to press another kiss to his cheek. “It’s not something that needs to be thought about.”

Before you could think, his lips were back on yours and this time you were in his lap, pulled flush against his chest and he was running his tongue along your bottom lip.

But before you could deepen the kiss, the door behind you suddenly burst open, Harrison nearly giving you a heart attack as he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Oh FINALLY! Harry? You owe me twenty quid!”

Taglist:

(if you want to be added, send me an ask or leave a reply with the account you want tagged!)

@jinxfanfics @zabdisamor @jillanaholland @enjoymyloves @averyfosterthoughts @ziggyspurplehaze

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland oneshot #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

Radioactive Ch. 4: The Wolf

Summary: Logan continues trying to make his escape, which he finds is more difficult than it probably should be.

A/N: Title comes from “the Wolf” by SIAMES.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Logan wasn’t quite sure how he got into this situation, but he was determined to find his way out to safety. The logical Side was literally inside the electrical circuitry and connected system of the Server. He knew he didn’t have a physical body, and it was an odd floaty experience. No sense of touch grounding him, but unlike last time when he’d been trapped in a glorified solid state drive for almost a full day, it was energizing. He was pulling energy straight from the power grid. He could move, and he’d gotten into the camera system to be able to hear and see vicariously what was going on.

Troubling, though, he couldn’t find his body where he’d first gone into the stereo system wires in the main room. He didn’t know what happened to it, but he hoped it was reclaimable.

“Where is that muffinhead?” Bad demanded angrily, he was armed with several guns and a furious rage.

“Get in line, Karl felt it too,” Quackity snapped back, “and Skeppy has more aura to spare than Karl does.”

Logan left the hallway and moved into a separate room. He needed to find some type of exit. He needed his equipment and his body, and then he needed to leave. But none of the cameras were positioned near a door. If he could—

The logical Side felt himself being pulled from the system and placed somewhere else. At first Logan felt instinctive fear, remembering the last time he’d been trapped somewhere.

“Calm down,” Tubbo said close to his phone’s microphone. “I happen ta[1] like this phone an’[2] if you break it, I can’t bother Ranboo with it.”

Logan brought up a notepad app and typed: “Where am I?”

“In my phone, big guy,” Tubbo typed, he was smiling and Logan got access to the young man’s camera. “Didn’t want to watch you keep struggling in the camera system. You’re lucky Sam hasn’t found you yet.”

“You have found me, that is not much better,” Logan reminded.

“Yeah, but lucky for you, I have to go home,” Tubbo typed and then pocketed his phone. It cut off Logan’s camera view, but the logical Side could still hear what was going on around Tubbo.

Maybe this was how he could make a quick escape and find the other Sides and they could come back for his body and things. He did not want to leave those, but his survival was more important.

“Hey Tubbo,” Dream’s voice was too close for Logan’s liking. “You find him, yet?”

“Nope, boss man,” Tubbo popped the “p” on his first word, the phone jostling a bit as Tubbo moved. “You need me ta[1] make another round?”

Dream didn’t answer at first.

“Nah,” Dream decided. “Don’t think it’ll do much good. You think about my offer?”

“I did,” Tubbo answered, “it’s a shit offer.”

“Still,” Dream somehow got closer. “The offer stands.”

There was another pause and Logan decided he didn’t like the silence when he couldn’t see.

“Throw in Tommy an’[2] it’s a deal,” Tubbo decided.

Dream let out a cackle, “Didn’t know you still cared about the fucker, but sure, he’s all yours. Take him, so long as I don’t see him, we won’t have any problems.”

“Then we have a deal,” Tubbo agreed. “What you want, fer[3] what I want.”

“Right,” Dream said with a smile almost audible in his tone. There was a shifting and for once Logan could actually feel aura. It made him feel weird but drawn to it like a moth to a flame. “There we go.”

They started moving again.

“You know what Tubbo, you never cease to surprise me,” Dream told Tubbo. “I think it might be because the first time we met, you were desperately trying to be one of Phil’s little fledglings. It was cute in a sad way.”

“Good times,” Tubbo had a soft tone to his voice. “You had ta[1] ruin it by existin’[4].”

“Well, maybe,” Dream half-agreed, “but some cheap blond hair dye was never going to trick Phil into thinking you were one of his.”

“Hey, Dream, can we talk?” Someone Logan didn’t recognize spoke up.

“Give me a minute, Karl,” Dream said. “Just making sure Tubbo here gets home safely.”

“George and I can do that,” Karl promised. “We got this.”

“Oh sure, sure,” Dream agreed. “Tubbo, give me the phone.”

“No,” Tubbo immediately refused as Logan felt an acute sense of dread.

“The phone isn’t part of the deal, give him to me,” Dream ordered.

“Is that yer[5] favor, then?” Tubbo demanded.

“Tubbo,” Dream warned darkly, as Tubbo’s hand went into his pocket. Aura charging around them, ready to strike.

“Dream,” George spoke up, he’d set his hand on Dream’s shoulder. “I’m taking Tubbo home, do you have a problem with that?”

The aura in the room almost plummeted, giving Logan whiplash from where he was hiding.

“Fine, whatever,” Dream growled and Tubbo began moving again.

“Thanks,” Tubbo said.

“Out, before he changes his mind,” Karl began pushing Tubbo towards the back door of the Server and they slipped out. Logan felt the difference but he couldn’t push out of the phone and was completely confused on how to actually perform the action.

“Come on,” Karl urged.

“Shotgun!” Tubbo called out.

“Shotgun!” George called a half-second sooner.

“Come on, man,” George groaned.

“I’m not ridin’[6] bitch, get in the back,” Tubbo chuckled.

“Fucker,” George chuckled.

The three of them got into a car and Logan began to try and escape in earnest, not wanting to be taken to some other location where he also didn’t know where he was.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Tubbo told Logan out loud. “Yer[7] gonna[8] melt my phone.”

“Wow he’s really in there, huh?” Karl commented, as Logan could see through the front and back cameras, but had to switch between the two because his brain could only focus on one at a time.

“Yeah, he can’t get out,” Tubbo seemed to be in the front passenger seat.

Logan accessed Tubbo’s map app.

“There you go, buddy,” Tubbo laughed a bit as Logan started tracking where they were going.

Then Logan texted Jackie, “Driving along NE Ralph St.”

As an afterthought, Logan added, “This is Logan, I have access to Tubbo Underscore’s phone.”

Tubbo took over and called Jackie’s number. It took a little bit for Jackie to answer.

“H-Hello?” Jackie asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Tubbo started, “tell yer legate friend I got his glitch arm in my phone, an’ I kinda want him out before he bricks my phone. You want ta bring yer best tech guy an’ meet us somewhere?”[9]

“How the fook[10] did yeh[11] get my number?” Jackie demanded.

“He’s in my phone,” Tubbo repeated. “Get him out before I have ta[1] get a new one.”

While he was talking, Tubbo began texting Ranboo.

“Boo!!!!”

A response came a couple seconds later. “No.”

“Boo!!! Plz[12] don’t ignore meeeeee!” Tubbo smiled.

“Come ta[1] our base an’[2] we’ll talk,” Jackie told them.

“Gotcha[13], be there soon,” Tubbo promised as Ranboo didn’t answer. He did hang up on Jackie first, and texted Ranboo, “If you don’t stop ignoring me I’m going to start withholding.”

Logan tried to always know where they were often getting in Tubbo’s way as he tried to text.

“No.” Ranboo told him.

“Stop ignoring me and come and pick me up from the heroes’ base.” Tubbo asked, then added, as an afterthought, “plz.”[12]

“Fine,” Ranboo relented.

“Forty minutes to the heroes’s base, Tubbo has requested his husband to be there. There are three people in the car besides myself,” Logan reported. “Also, I may have lost my body and my equipment.”

“Geez,” Tubbo commented. “Calm down, yer[7] gonna freak ‘em[14] out.”

George’s phone buzzed before nanites took over the steering wheel, almost causing an accident as they were pulled off to the side of the road by force. The stop was a little jarring and the front of the car was yanked off and Google was there and looking between the three people in the car.

Karl and Tubbo screamed, George flinched in pure fear.

“Where is he?” Google demanded. “Give him to me!”

The more aggressive android was shoved out of the way by Bing. “I told yeh ta wait one freakin’ second. They were comin’ ta us, dude. E’erythin’ was fine.”[15]

Tubbo leaned over and held out the phone, which Bing gently took.

“See?” Bing smiled. “No need ta[1] freak out. So chill out.”

“Is he glitching?” Google demanded. “He lost his physical form.”

“Googs, chill yer ****s[16] fer about five seconds,” Bing told him. “Lo, can yeh[11] talk ta[1] me in there?”

“No, don’t know how to use the speakers,” Logan wrote in the first document he could bring up.

Bing chuckled, “Yeah, give me a sec[17], never tried ta[1] extract a glitch from somethin’[18]. I got Mini outta[19] my stereo system so it can’t be that much different.”

“I’m not a glitch,” Logan defended stubbornly.

“Lo, you lost yer body, an’ yer stuck in some stranger’s cellphone,”[20] Bing reminded. Then he looked the phone over, “an’[2] I might have ta[1] destroy it ta[1] get you out.”

“Fuck,” Tubbo complained.

“I’ll try an’[2] put it back together,” Bing promised.

“I don’t want to be a glitch,” Logan said and Bing didn’t offer a verbal comment. Logan finally added, “I wish to leave this phone, please.”

“I got you,” Bing promised. “I’m gonna[8] have ta[1] turn the phone off, so don’t freak out. It won’t be too long.”

Jackieboy Man finally reached the group, and Google almost fired on the speedster for getting too close to Bing and Logan too quickly. “Woah!”

“Back up!” Google ordered him.

“Okay, Lo, gonna[8] turn it off in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1,” Bing warned and then he turned on the phone and dismantled it. “Okay Lo, I know you can still hear me. So just relax and— There you are!”

Bing extracted a glowing dark blue orb that swelled out to show a small galaxy inside of it. “Lo? You alright?”

Logan didn’t talk, he was more aware of what was around him rather than seeing it himself.

“Yeah, we need ta[1] get you inta[21] a speaker or somethin’[18],” Bing decided, and Logan’s orb floated haltingly over to Google who shielded the orb with his nanites.

“Yes?” Google asked carefully.

Logan used the little bit of aura he had the ability to use and pulled and pushed the nanites between him and Google.

It took Google a second or two to realize what Logan was asking.

“Oh, of course,” Google smiled and pulled out a cube of nanites, “They’re yours, I made sure to keep them operational for you.”

Logan hesitated, knowing how those nanites had been used before, but he took them. To the logical Side it was like stepping into a familiar pair of shoes, or a well loved coat. These nanites were his. They knew his form and obeyed his command. The imitation of flesh and sinew and bone swirled into being, more of a shell than an actual body. But they were something.

It formed, rather unfortunately the last setting they had been set to, which was Logan’s future Suit of Spades outfit, the nanites turning a glossy black with a brass spade in the front.

“Ugh,” Logan groaned, the voice modulator still active and Logan was quick to try and deactivate that. “I hate this suit.”

“Yeah, not expecting ta[1] see it either,” Jackie agreed as Google had a camera track around Logan as Logan tried to get the nanites to reset to his normal suit but it required a password and Logan didn’t know it.

PATTON

Logan typed it and to his amazement, it worked and he cursed his older self’s single minded nature. He spent a couple minutes reconfiguring the settings for it to turn back into his normal nanite suit and Logan felt relief.

“I wish to go home,” Logan decided.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Jackie smiled, happy to have Logan back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. to

2. and

3. for

4. existing

5. your

6. riding

7. You’re

8. going to

9. tell your legate friend I got his glitch arm in my phone, and I kind of want him out before he bricks my phone. You want to bring your best tech guy and meet us somewhere?

10. fuck

11. you

12. Please

13. Got you (or: Understand)

14. them

15. I told you to wait one freaking second. They were coming to us, dude. Everything was fine.

16. tits

17. second

18. something

19. out of

20. Lo, you lost your body, and you’re stuck in some stranger’s cellphone

21. into

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sourwolf-n-the-spaz · 4 years

Text

This is a little follow up to the post from the other day. I wanted to do more text messages, but the story didn’t fit right for it at this point, so I decided to do a written drabble and continue with the messages after -- I already have an idea of how to go on after this.

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

“Scotty. Scoottiiiieee,” he slurs, trying to give his friend a slight shake. ‘Trying’ being the operative word because ever since Scott become a werewolf, he’d acquired this weird sort of concentrated muscle mass thing or something — he’s heavy, more than he should be considering how much space he actually occupies. And Stiles is drunk. Correction, Stiles is wasted. Which is probably why he misses Scott’s shoulder entirely and ends up smacking him dead in the face instead.

Thankfully, Scott doesn’t bite off his hand in retaliation, preferring to let out a long garbled groan that Stiles barely makes out over the loud music and tilt to the other side of the questionable couch. Stiles is pretty sure he’d be more worried about that sticky substance coating the cushion he’s sitting on if he wasn’t so out of it himself. As it is, he can’t really amass the willpower to care — he already has to look after Scott and that single task uses up all of the brain capacity currently available to his disposal.

He glances over the hordes of people congregating on the dancefloor, squinting to see if he catches sight of the girl he’d left Scott with before — back when he thought his friend had just lucked out and considered ‘mission find Scott a rebound’ a whooping success.

He doesn’t really remember her face, but he knows that she was blond and flirty, and she was wearing red leather pants. Normally that kind of thing would jump out to the eye, but this club had a worrying amount of people involved in the single goal of embodying the matrix’s cast wardrobe. So, no dice.

He leans back to avoid the guy who almost spills his entire cup of beer on him, avoiding most of the spillage but still getting some on his pants -- those are going directly into the wash when he gets home -- and looks back at Scott. Who is currently doing his best to become one with the couch. And drooling.

He hopes Derek wasn’t lying about being here in ten, if something really is wrong and it turns out they walked right into the lion’s — hunter’s? — den, Stiles wouldn't last thirteen seconds on his own. Normally he’d give himself at least a minute, two if he’s feeling lucky, but the alcohol in his blood is making his brain to limbs coordination even more shoddy than usual. He’s the brains of the operation, he needs Scott for the brawn part.

It’s when he’s contemplating the consequences of actually calling his dad for help and risk being grounded for over a month that they show up. He doesn’t notice her at first because she pulled her hair up into a bun, and he’s pretty sure she was also wearing a different top before, but she’s not alone.

There are two guys trailing after her, the kind that could give the bouncers of this place a run for their money, and they’re heading straight for them. They should probably get gone like, yesterday.

Stiles stumbles his way up from the couch and tries to lift Scott from his melted starfish sprawl so he can drag him away, which is easier said than done. He manages to get Scott on his own two feet, swinging his arm around his own neck and carrying the brunt of his weight on his shoulders.

He maneuvers them through the moving throng of bodies on the dancefloor, hoping that the chaos is enough of a distraction to shake their tail. He almost takes a nosedive to the floor when Scott crosses his feet and gets in the way, but he crashes against someone’s back and is able to stay upright. There are some insults thrown his way for it, but the music just hit a particularly dubsteppy verse, so it’s not like he can hear them anyway. And he has more important and time sensitive things to do than apologize for stepping on someone’s toes, like escape the possibly murderous hunters who’ve poisoned his best friend.

He continues pushing his way through the crowd, guiding Scott through a zig zagged line to the other side of the room. He remembers seeing one of the club’s security people posted in that direction, close to the cloakroom, so that’s probably the safest place for them to be right now. Until Derek gets here, that is. Derek who definitely said to give him a warning if people showed up for Scott. He totally forgot. In his defense though, texting Derek would take up more time than he could spare at the moment.

He spots the security guard he was looking for and thinks he might actually be home free for about two point zero four seconds before a hand snakes around his neck and hauls him back by the hood of his sweatshirt.

He loses his hold on Scott, who is also wrenched away from him, and finds himself being dragged off to the side and shoved through an open door. Scott is flung right after, crashing into him, and they both drop to the floor.

They go down like a human-werewolf knot game gone wrong and Scott’s elbow finds a way to whack him right on the stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs. Must be karma working its avengeful ways for earlier.

He barely manages to roll out from under Scott when hands are grabbing harshly at shoulders again, yanking him up and forwards. He careens into the wall ahead, experiencing the terrible feeling of having the room spin violently in his head.

There’s the sound of a heavy door opening next to him -- the back door, they’re taking them outside, not good -- and then he’s being forced to move again. This time, when he falls on the cold hard tarmac outside, they don’t bother hauling him up again. Scott is dropped next to him unceremoniously, and Stiles spares a grimace at the way he lands on his arm. He's pretty sure he heard a crack.

He looks up, finally getting a good look of their captors. There’s the girl from before, who decidedly does not look as blond or as nice she previously did, and her two goonies, both sporting some curious looking bulges in their pants that Stiles is pretty sure are not of the happy variety. His suspicions are confirmed three seconds later when they both pull out their handguns.

How in the hell did they even manage to get those things inside the club? He is so gonna write a one-star review about this place as soon as he gets internet access and a functional computer.

“Where’s the rest of your pack?” not-so-blond biker barbie barks at them, sporting the stink-eye of the century.

He has enough perception to think, Don’t give up werewolf secrets to the scary girl in leather pants, Stiles, and lets his mouth run before his brain has time to catch up.

“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” he says intelligently, earning a sneer from the trio. In his defense, he’s too drunk to be held accountable for anything he says.

“You really want to play stupid when I’ve got two guns trained on your mutt?”

“That’s a very good point. Taken, deliberated, sustained. As you were,” he deflects, fidgeting nervously when one of the goons switches aim and trains his gun on him instead.

“You might want to reconsider what you say to us. Your buddy here might be able to heal a bullet as one would a scratch, once the wolfsbane wears off, but something tells me you won’t fare as well if I put a hole through your stomach. Care to test that theory?”

Stiles swallows, “Nope, I’m good thanks.”

“Glad we’ve reached an understanding. Now, how many are there?”

“Huhh, fifteen -- no, twenty,” he mumbles, fiddling with the club’s wristband, “there are definitely twenty smokes in a pack of cigarettes.”

The girl lets out a groan of frustration, yanks one of the guns out from the hands of her thug and charges towards him. He scrambles back, wincing when he feels a shard of broken glass dig into the palm of his hand – right, back of a nightclub, there’s probably a lot of broken bottles around – but is unable to do much as she ceases the front of his hoodie and hauls him up, placing the muzzle under his chin. He gulps, feeling the metal of the barrel pressing against his throat.

“I’m losing my patience with you. I might just skip the gut shot entirely and put one directly in your mouth. What do you think?” she asks, mock-curiosity thick in her voice.

“I think that would be very counter-productive towards getting me to talk?” he offers back, unable to control the nervousness that seeps into his voice. Let it not be said that Stiles Stilinski wasn’t a little shit ‘til the very end, though.

The girl smiles, a twisted sneering turn of the mouth, really, and is about to say something undoubtedly terrifying and death-threatening when a deep howl rips through the air.

Oh thank God.

Judging by the volume of the sound and the way the pebbles and glass shards tremble on the ground, Derek is close. Which is also a conclusion his trio of captors have arrived at, evidenced by the worried looks they’re now exchanging.

“Want to know how many there are? Fine, I’ll tell you. Ten. There are ten of them, and that’s not even counting our alpha,” he says, lying through his teeth and hoping the urgency in his voice combined with their growing concern is enough to sway their minds. “Do the math, that’s three of them for each of you. You really think those odds are in your favor?”

“Brie, we can’t take on the alpha,” the goon in the navy-blue shirt says, uncertainty coloring his tone. “Larry said—”

“I know what Larry said,” the girl – Brie, thanks for that lovely piece of information goon no1, now he’ll know who to stalk – snaps, turning her head to glare at him. “Fine. Put one in the beta’s head and we’re out of here.”

Turns out adrenaline is a good head-clearer. Truth is, Stiles barely registers moving until he’s shoved Brie away, catching her by surprise enough to dislodge the gun from under his chin, and diving for Scott. Luckily, Derek picks that moment to show up as well, which is probably why the hunters make the very intelligent decision to ditch and run rather than kill them and earn themselves a very angry alpha in pursuit.

They retreat back into the club as Derek catches up to him, eyes flashing red with fangs and sideburns proudly on display.

“Scott?” he asks, skidding to a stop next Stiles and glancing at the aforementioned, still very intoxicated, werewolf.

“He’s fine, or will be anyway.” He’s pretty sure he heard Brie talking about the wolfsbane wearing off, so they must have dosed him with the normal purple strand. “Go after them.”

Derek doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s disappearing inside the club even before Stiles finishes the sentence. He hopes the alpha at least had the forethought to tone down on the sideburns -- it’s not exactly close to Halloween, people might not take too kindly to having an outright werewolf shoved in their faces.

He drags Scott over to the wall and props him up against it before sitting down and leaning back on it himself. He takes in a long breath and lets his head thump on the bricks.

“Stiles?” Scott mumbles from next to him.

“I’m here, Scotty,” he sighs. “I’m here.”

It’s doesn't take long until Derek’s storming back out of the club, his presence and the heavy frown on his face allowing him to make the obvious assumption that the hunters got away.

“No luck?”

“Do you have any idea what nightclubs are like? Too many scents, too many sounds, they’re impossible to track,” he growls, turning the force of his million-volt glare to him. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Huh, about?”

“Coming here!” he snaps, eyes flashing.

“I was thinking we need a break! Come one dude, even you have seen how hard Scott is moping around lately, I needed to get his mind off Allison.”

“So, you decided the best way to do that was to bring him here—” he points an angry thump back at nightclub—" for a late-night hook-up, out of pack territory, and straight into the hunters’ arms?”

“Well, it’s not like I knew there’d be hunters!”

Derek sets his jaw and glares him into silence. Had it been a year ago Stiles would currently be having major concerns about his continued safety and well-being. Now though, he’s (mostly) sure Derek won’t actually do anything to him, no matter how much he pisses him off. He did come all the way out here at four in the morning to rescue their asses, right? He totally cares.

Derek’s nose twitches then, and his eyes run a cursive look over his and Scott’s bodies before settling back on him with a renewed anger.

“Why is there blood?”

“What?”

Apparently Derek is short on patience because next thing he knows he’s being manhandled into an upright position and receiving a full-body search.

“Wow, wow, wow. Calm down, grumpywolf. I just cut myself on some glass,” he explains, lifting his hand to showcase the small gash, no more than a scratch, really. There is a slow trickle of blood running down his palm, and it stings a little, but he‘s more worried about catching an infection from the dirty glass than at the actual wound itself. Derek must have caught the scent of it.

“Can you go two seconds without somehow endangering or injuring yourself?”

“Probably?” He totally doesn’t mean that to sound like a question. He blames the alcohol.

Derek rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it physically hurts and lets go of his arm with a huff. Stiles wipes the the blood on his pants, making a mental note to scrub them with hydrogen peroxide – the things one learns when regularly associating with werewolves – before putting them in the wash.

Derek sidesteps and leans down to grab onto Scott’s arms, heaving him up and supporting him by placing his arm around his neck just like Stiles had done before. Scott mumbles out something unintelligible to Stiles – not to Derek though, going by the distinct sour look his face adopts – and sags against the alpha.

“Come on,” Derek says, starting to head down the alley.

“Huh, what about the car?” Stiles asks, fumbling to catch up.

“Leave it. Scott, can come back for it tomorrow.”

“What if we get a ticket?”

Derek stops and turns to shoot him the glare of deathTM, judgmental eyebrows and all.

“Right, shutting up now,” he promises, making a lip zipping motion and swaying slightly on his feet from a momentarily alcohol induced loss of balance.

Derek glares at him for a second more. “If you hurl on the Camaro, I’ll toss you in the street.”

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek drabble #drunk!stiles #sterek ficlet #stiles x derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #my drabble #text convo verse #whump #tw: alcohol #tw: gun #Derek to the rescue

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 46

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother

Everything hurts.

Back. Shoulder. Knee. Head. Especially the head. A ferocious, pounding that has settled above and behind his eyes and in his temples. Even the sliver of sunlight that manages its way past his heavy lids tortures him; an incessant burn that seems to travel right through every optic nerve and straight into his brain. And he winces and groans in agony and yanks the comforter up over his head, attempting to will away the throbbing and the slight nausea and lightheadedness.

He can’t remember the last time he had a hangover; body and mind so accustomed to a lifestyle of excessive drinking that they’d stopped being affected. The worst that would happen would be passing out and staying that way for ten to twelve hours. Sometimes even longer depending on many Oxy he’d taken. There were days -more often than not- where’d he wake up disappointed; upset that no matter how much he’d had to drink and how many pills he popped, he was still alive; stuck in a shitty, miserable existence filled with enormous guilt and regret and unlimited self loathing.

But this...this suffering takes him back to his high school days; drinking too much at house parties or at get togethers on the beach and then passing out whenever he was standing or sitting at the time. The mornings after were always brutal; the headaches and dizziness, the way you tongue felt thick and dry and it seemed as if your mouth was stuffed with cotton. And the nausea. That queasy, unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach and the burn of bile in your throat.

He regrets it. Every shot, every pitcher of beer he helped drain, every sip of scotch. And he wishes he’d never even agreed to ever go to that bar; option for a quiet night at home instead of all the noise and all those people. All that booze. It’s a blur; the crowd, too many conversations happening at once, the deafening music, the lights way too bright. And Millie’s teacher. Propositioning him at the bar. Making comments about his scars and asking about his job and assuming his marriage was in trouble and he was willing to ‘hook up’. THAT’S going to make trips to the school awkward. Parent/teacher interview night should be a lot more interesting and entertaining now, having to sit across from someone who is supposed to be educating your kid but weeks or months ago wanted your dick and you had to shoot them down.

It’s like a cocoon under the heavy, down filled blanket; a warm, confined, safe place. Quiet and relaxing. Secure. As if nothing exists outside of it. Just him and that soft body pressed tightly against his. The smell of her hair as he nestles his face against the back of her neck; the heat that radiates off her enough to soothe some of his aches and pains. He needs this time. The minutes. The hours. The moments were it’s just them. Where the world around them is silent and still and life seems as if it’s at a standstill. In less than two weeks, these moments will cease to exist. At least temporarily. He’ll be in Mumbai; in the stifling heat and the oppressive humidity, making his way through the list of names Anil had given him. Checking them off one by one if he has to. Leaving nothing but a trail of blood and broken bodies in his wake.

He pushes those thoughts away. It’s the last thing he wants to be thinking about. Mumbai. Mahajan and his people. How long he’ll actually be gone for. If he’ll even make it back. All he wants to do is concentrate on the next ten days. On their get away to The Kimberley; four days and three nights alone with his wife. No kids to worry about -although they will from afar- and no interruptions and time to actually talk and pay attention to what is being said. And Millie’s birthday party. Newly six with all her classmates and her new puppy; completely oblivious to the treats being made and the stress her parents are under. He’s no longer anxious about it; the nightmares of Austin taking her from them have stopped and the illogical fear of her waking up deathly ill is starting to subside. It’s still there; the inkling of worry that something could go wrong. But with each that passes where she’s healthy and happy and strong, that concern lessens.

Right now he focuses on what’s right in front of him. That soft, supple body pressed against him. Her back to his front and one of his legs draped over hers and the tip of his nose against the side of her neck. HE blindly searches for one of her hands; lacing his fingers with hers and then placing a series of feathery kisses along her jaw. And she stirs against him when he reaches the corner of her mouth; eyes never opening as she turns her face into his. The resulting kiss is long and slow. Lazy. Bare legs sliding against each other; her fingers tightening around his as she lays their joined hands against her stomach.

Esme pulls back to look at him; eyes half open, brow slightly furrowed. “Why do you smell so good all of a sudden? And why do I taste mint?”

“I got up in the middle of the night and took a shower. Brushed my teeth.”

“I told you that you smelled awful.You know it’s bad when you can’t stand your own stench.”

“I actually did it because I couldn’t sleep.”

“That drunk and you couldn’t sleep? That’s a first. It used to knock you out for at least eight hours.”

Tyler shrugs. “Slept for a couple hours, woke up, couldn’t go back.”

“Did the baby wake up?”

“She slept through.”

Frowning, she brings his hand up to check his watch. “It’s quarter after six. She’s been sleeping since eleven. That’s weird for her. Did you check on her?”

“Twice.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Okay, it was three times. I can’t help it. I worry. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the fifth. But she’s fine. Just not hungry. Doctor said to let her sleep if she doesn’t wake up to eat.”

“She’s tiny. VERY tiny. She needs to eat.”

“She’s tiny like her mom. She’s not going to be like the rest of them. She’s fine. Just let her sleep. The longer they all sleep the better.”

“I know why you’re saying that,” she says with a grin, and rolls over to face him. “You’re hopeful.”

“A little.”

“Just a little?” She pushes a hand through his hair, nails lightly digging into the back of his neck as she presses her lower body against his. “Feels like a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“I’m surprised you’re even coherent this morning. You were pretty trashed. Do you remember anything?”

“I remember you changed the lock on the door,” he teases.

“I did not change the lock. You just forgot how keys work.”

“And I know I didn’t get any.”

“And…”

“And I know I had a mental breakdown and cried like a little bitch.”

She scowls. “First off, you’re not a little bitch. Far from it. You wouldn’t have all those scars and had all those broken bones or concussions or all that time in the hospital if you were a little bitch. A little bitch is not capable of doing the things you can do. Second, you were emotional. So what? I like that side of you. The who isn’t afraid to cry. It’s very sexy. A man that shows emotion.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she presses a kiss to his lips. “ Beside, if you can’t be emotional in front of me, who can you be emotional in front of?”

“No one. There’s only you.”

“Exactly. So stop being so worried about it making you soft. Or weak. You are neither of those things. You never have been.”

“I don’t know. I distinctly remember you having to help me to the bathroom when I used to come home on the weekends from the rehab place.”

“You’d just gotten over being shot in the throat. Among other things. No one is going to fault you for needing some help. You used to do things like that for me. All the times I’ve been pregnant. You'd help me into the bathtub, you’d tie my shoes for me, you’d put up with my three am cravings.”

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” he says. “I’m the guy.”

“This is a two way street, buddy. We do things for each other. So I don’t want to hear any of your toxic masculinity bullshit. That’s your father talking.”

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You could NEVER be like him. You’d never let yourself get like that. I’D never let you get like that. You’re not your father, Tyler. You’re so far from it. You’re a good husband and you’re a great feather. Our kids love you. They don’t fear you.”

“Do you?”

“What? Fear you? No. And I never have. Why would you even ask that?”

“What about in Dhaka? When I grabbed your throat. Were you scared then?”

“Nope. You were angry. You reacted. Yes, you reacted BADLY. But I could see it in your eyes. You weren’t going to hurt me. It was the last thing you wanted to do. I wasn’t scared of you then, and I’m not scared of you now.”

“You’d tell me though, right? If I ever did? Scare you?”

“I wouldn’t just tell you. I’d probably throat punch you.”

He chuckles at that.

“You may intimate and scare the people you’re supposed to intimate and scare, but I’ve never felt that way with you. I know you in ways those people don’t. And I know you’re not capable of hurting me or the kid. You’re a good man. You’re a GREAT man. And I wish you’d realize that. I wish you’d see yourself the way I see you.”

He tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “How do you see me?”

“I see you as strong. Brave. Fiercely loyal and protective. I see you as the sexiest, most beautiful man in the world. I see you as an amazing father. As my best friend. My biggest supporter. My lover. My husband. I see you as all those things.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Well you’re a big man,” she reasons, and then smiles when he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. “You’re a big man with an even bigger heart. You just sometimes have to do bad things. To bad people.”

“It makes sense you know, that I’d end up with you. Someone that lived that life. That knows what it’s like. No one else would be able to deal with it. Accept it. Knowing that I’ve killed people. That I’m going to KEEP killing people.”

“It’s not all you do,” she reminds him. “The number of people you’ve helped is a lot higher than the people you’ve killed. But you’re right. Someone who’s never lived that life wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t be able to deal with it.”

“Guess I’m pretty lucky you showed up at my place that day.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty lucky too. After everything that I went through with Mark; all the things he did to me. All the damage he caused. You came along and you fixed all of that. You fixed ME. You came into my life when I’d given up on finding someone that would love me. I’d given up on MYSELF. He made me feel like nothing and you make me feel like something. Every time you look at me or touch me or kiss me or we make love. You make me feel beautiful and amazing and worthy. All the things I’d never felt before. All the things I never thought I could be.”

“You ARE all those things.”

“Because you’re the one that brought them out. Who makes me feel all of that. You talk about how lucky you are, but I’m just as lucky. If not more. You talk about how I saved you, but you never think about how you saved me.

He doesn’t think about it. He’s never even considered it outside of the decisions he’d made to get her safely across the Sultana Kamal Bridge. And even now he questions those decisions from time to time; if there’d been a way he could have avoided sending her with Ovi and Saju, or anything he could have done differently to prevent the near catastrophic ending. But he’s never thought beyond those things. Never actually considering just how he was helping her heal and get over the trauma that Mark had caused. Just doing it. Just doing whatever he had to and hoping for the best.

“I don’t think you understand how loved you actually are,” she says “By me. By your children. We’d be pretty lost and miserable without you.”

Swallowing around the lump of emotion that sits square in his throat, he combs his fingers through her hair; pushing it off her forehead and placing a soft kiss against the smooth skin. It’s those little kisses that she often enjoys the most. The ones to the brow or the cheeks or temple or against ears or along her jaw. Even those repetitive pecks to the lips; the ones where you pull back and smile at each other between each one. Those small intimate moments...brief snippets...where they connect outside of simply raising a family together.

“We’ll go to Mumbai,” she tells him, as she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose; fingers racing the tattoo on his left shoulder. “IF you can get us a safe place to stay. IF you talk to Anil and he can help you find something. With people keeping an eye on things and armed guards or whatever else or whoever else needs to be there to keep Mahajan away.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Tyler promises. “I don’t think there’s much he CAN’T do.”

“You’ll have to tell him about the puppy. We can’t give Millie a puppy for her birthday and then expect her to be separated from him. That’s cruel.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll get everything worked out.”

“Because it would make me feel a lot better too if you weren’t so far away. Even being in the same county would be better. Not thousands of miles between us. I need that for my own piece of mind. If anything happens to you or any of the kids, it’s better if neither of us are too far away.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you or the kids,” he confidently assures her.

“I notice you didn’t put yourself in there.”

He gives a small, tight lipped smile.

“You’re going to be okay too,” she says, as her fingers move to the ink on his neck and the scar -one of many- left behind from Dhaka. “Like you said, you’ll be able to focus better if we’re close and you’re constantly worrying about what’s going on here. And you need to be focused. You need to be able to put all your attention into things and I know you’ll be able to if the kids and I are there.”

He lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her softly. “Thank you. I know it’s not easy for you to do this. Especially with the kids.”

“It’s just better this way. If we’re not far apart. What you said last night...if something did happen and you did die over there…” her voice cracks and tears well in her eyes. “...I mean, I know it’s not going to happen and I hate even thinking about it and I feel horrible for saying it and…”

“Calm down,” he gently implores. “Just breathe. Everything’s fine.”

“...and I know you’re going to be okay. But hypothetically speaking, if something did happen and you didn’t make it, I don’t want you being stuck there. If I’m already there, I can find you and bring you home. I don’t want you being left there. I’d want to bring you back where I know you’d be finally able to rest.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he pushes a hand through her hand and tightly grips the back of her head as he kisses her forehead. “Nothing like that’s going to happen.”

“I know. But it makes me feel better to know if something does, you won’t be left there.”

“I meant what I said you know. About you finding someone else. I will haunt him.”

She laughs at that, and he gently brushes her tears away with his fingertips. “There wouldn’t be anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. You’re it for me. Wherever it’s next month of fifty years down the road.

“I’m hoping for the fifty years.”

“Me too. You’re still going to love me when I’m wrinkled and gray and can barely hear anymore?”

“I’m going to love you always. No matter what.”

Smiling, she presses a kiss to his lips and then tucks her head snuggly under his chin; hands sliding around to the nape of his neck and up onto the back of his head.

“Everything’s going to work out.” he promises, as he drops a kiss on the top of her head and wraps both arms around her.

And he holds her, as tightly as she’ll allow, until the sounds of life...THEIR life...begin stirring in the rooms above.

****

“So do we tell the kids to call you Uncle Koen or Grandpa Koen?” Esme asks as they sit in the surf. Koen in a lawn chair with his feet in the water and her on the ground beside him’ Addie between her legs and resting back against her stomach.

He frowns down at her. “Grandpa? How old do you think I am?”

“According to Tyler, you were already wet behind the ears when the Pony Express was still delivering the man.”

“That little fucker,” Koen scoffs. “He’s starting to forget that he’s no spring chicken himself. Gonna hit the big four-one soon. You think he’d be starting to slow down, not getting ready to speed things back up again.”

“He’s not the type that can still for too long. He always has to be doing something.”

“Well you think having little ones to chase around and care for would give him ‘something’. He’s got five of them. How he’s not worn out from all of them rugrats, I certainly don’t understand.”

“It’s a different pace,” she reasons. “”He was used to something much more strenuous. Faster. Unpredictable.”

“Dangerous.” Koen offers.

She nods, then tightens the strap on Addie’s sunhat. “Unfortunately.”

“I don’t know if he told you or not, but when he came out to my place a couple weeks back, I gave him quite the talking to. About getting back into things. About becoming a merc again and starting his own business. Basically told him he’s a fucking dumb ass. Pardon my language around little ears.”

“Oh, she’s heard way worse already, trust me. Tyler has no filter. Millie already knows all the worst words and she doesn’t hesitate when it comes to using them. She’s got a month on her. And it’s all daddy’s fault.”

“He’s a good one, ain’t he,” Koen remarks, as he takes a pull from the bottle of beer in his hand. “A daddy.”

“He is. He’s an amazing dad.” There’s a smile on her face as she says it, and she scoops up a handful of water and sprinkles it along Addie’s legs. “He’s gentle and he’s loving but he doesn’t coddle them. Treats them like intelligent little beings instead of babying them all the time. He’s so good with them. And they adore him. They worship the ground he walks on, actually. Especially Millie. There’s no one on earth she loves like she loves her daddy. And God help anyone that tries to take him away from her. She will pitch a fit like no other. She will throw down with someone if they mess with daddy; no doubt in my mind.”

Koen grins. “So she’s basically her mom that way.”

“Yeah,” Esme laughs. “I’d throat punch someone if they hurt him or messed with him. I’ve seen him go through too much. No one is going to fuck with him on my watch. But he is. A good dad. He’s an incredible dad, honestly. I swear he has the patience of a saint. You know, it’s weird. When I first found out about Millie, I was so scared to tell him. We barely knew each other and he was in the hospital and in constant pain and trying to heal and going through all kinds of therapies and I thought the last he needed was something like that. And he was freaked out, but he wasn’t THAT freaked out, know what I mean?”

Koen nods.

“I think I was losing it more than he was,” she continues. “And I told him that I didn’t expect anything from him; if he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby, I’d leave and never contact him again. That things were so screwed up and I didn’t want to force him to be a dad. That was the last thing I wanted. Not when he already had so much on his plate.”

“Not surprised he didn’t go for that,” Koen remarks. “Knowing he had a kid on the way and having already lost one. He wasn’t letting the chance to to be a daddy again get away from him. Gave him something to live for. Made all the pain and suffering during the aftermath of that Dhaka bullshit worth it. He had something to look forward to; something to keep going. And I’m not talking about just the baby and you know it.”

She smiles.

“He was pretty crazy about you even then, even if it did scare him. He told me as much. That you scared him.”

Esme glances over her shoulder. “He said that about me?”

Koen nods. “He was pretty into it. Into you. Freaked him out; feeling things like that about someone he just met. Last girl who made him feel things like that...well that didn’t end so well, did it.”

��No. It didn’t. I only met her that one time. When his dad brought her to the hospital. What a disaster THAT was.”

“Could have throttled ‘em both,” Koen scowls. “Neither had a right to be there. That old man is better off dead. What he did to that boy when he was growing up? What he did to his mother? He should be in hell where he belongs. And that Sarah?” he scoffs. “What a train wreck THAT was. Don’t think there wasn’t around she wasn’t fucking around on him. I used to tell him to just let her go. Kick her ass out. But he wouldn’t do it. And then she got knocked up and that was that. Used to question if the kid was even his. Looked nothing alike and the kid didn’t look anything like his mother, either. But…” he swigs his beer. “...he stuck around. Felt he was doing the right thing, I suppose.”

“Like he did with me?”

“He didn’t just stick around for the baby and you know it. Naw, he was pretty deep into it already. He didn’t say it, but I could see it. The way his eyes would light up the second you walked in the room. Even his voice would change when he talked about you. I hadn’t heard that or seen that in him in a hell of a long time. That’s when I knew you were a keeper. If you could make a man like THAT...a man with all that darkness and all those issues...actually smile and feel like life’s worth living? Well I’m glad you stuck around.”

She grins and nudges his leg with her elbow. “Koen, you big softie.”

“I know he ain’t the easiest of bastards to live with. You deserve some kind of award for putting up with the likes of him. I’m not married to him and even I want to kill him sometimes.”

“It seems like forever ago,” she says. “So much has happened since then. Since Dhaka. My family didn’t think we’d even make it past a year. It’s been seven since we met. We’ve been married for six and a half. We went from one kid to five. That’s surreal.”

“Fucking insane is what it is. You’re both right out of your damn minds. Repopulating the world all on your own.”

“He wants an even half dozen. I’m not too sure about that. I’m not quite sold on the idea yet.”

“He does realise he can have the fun of making babies not but not actually make any, yeah?”

Esme laughs at that. “He’s got in his head that he needs to leave a legacy behind. Some kind of proof that he did something good with his life. He doesn’t realize that he’s many good things. And he doesn’t need to prove that to anyone. Not even to himself.”

“Stubborn bastard that one,” Koen says, and then glances down the beach to where Ovi and Tyler are immersed in conversation while Declan stands at the edge of the water, tossing tennis balls into the ocean for Sadie and Mac to fetch. “He’s pretty fond of that kid, ain’t he.”

Esme uses her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looks over at what’s caught his attention. “Ovi’s pretty fond of him, too. He always has been. Even in Dhaka. Especially near the end. He looks up to Tyler. Respects him. Wants to emulate him. We’ve both spent five and a half years trying to get him out of that, but…” she shrugs and turns her attention back to Addie. “...it didn’t work. He adores Tyler. He’s the dad Ovi should have had. The one I wish he COULD have had. He even calls him dad. Not to his face, but he refers to him as his dad. When he was still in school and would talk about his dad, people would be so confused when Tyler would show up to things. He was NOT what they were expecting. But Ovi’s ours. We look at him like he is. We love him like he is.”

Koen nods slowly, considering her words. “Think we can trust him?”

“Who? Ovi? Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“He’s been in contact with his old man, hasn’t he?”

“Not by choice. He’s still terrified of him. That man is a monster. He’s ruined so many lives. Even his own son’s. I hate thinking about what would have happened to Ovi if we’d left him in Mumbai.”

“Kid seems pretty torn up every time someone mentions doing away with the old man.”

“It’s not easy to hear. That people want to kill your father. That they ARE going to kill him. Even if the old man is Satan himself, he’s still his father.”

“What about his mother? Does he have one?”

“She died when he was three. I don’t know how. He doesn’t like to talk about it and I don’t pressure him. I don’t even know if Tyler knows. I have my suspicions about what happened to her, but that’s all they are. Suspicions.”

“You think the old man had something to do with it?”

“It’s possible. I mean, he’s a horrible person. Look what he did to Saju; who’d been nothing but loyal to him. It wouldn’t surprise me if his wife didn’t tow the line and he got rid of her.”

“Think he’d tell him? That we’re coming?”

“I doubt it. Ovi wants this nightmare over just as much as any of us do. Why?” she glances up at him. “You don’t trust him?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea that the kid comes along is all.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea that ANY of you are going,” she says. “But I hardly have a say in it. I can’t stop Tyler from doing this. No one can. He’s doing it to protect me. And our kids. You don’t fuck with his family. He’s fiercely protective; sometimes to a fault. But I trust when he says he’s going to end this. He won’t stop until every one of those men on the list are dead. And to be honest, I don’t want him to.”

“So you’re okay with this? This whole idea? Mumbai?”

“No. But if Tyler says this is what has to be done, it needs to be done. I trust him. He’s the one person I DO trust. Especially when it comes to my kids.”

“What about getting back into the job? Being a merc okay? You’re okay with that?”

“I told him if that’s what he needed to do...if he needs that escape so badly and it would keep him sane and happy...that he should go back. And having the business means he won’t have to be so hard core into it. He won’t have to be away from home so much. Because I need him here. So do the kids. He’ll be in the job, but not right in it. And I’m good with that.”

Koen frowns. “He should be home all the damn time. With you. With his kids. None of this job shit. He needs to let that go. That part of him. He needs to walk away from it and never look back.”

“But he can’t,” Esme says. “It won’t let him rest. Not yet. And I need it to. I need it to let him go. And it’s not going to. I don’t know if it ever will.”

“And if it doesn’t? Let him go?”

“We make it work, I guess. We have to somehow make it work and cope with it. I know it doesn’t make much sense; that I’m doing all of this. But I love him. So much it physically hurts sometimes. And if it’s the only thing that’s going to keep him sane and functioning, I have to give him that.”

“You’re a lot more understanding than I would be. I’d be kicking his ass out. Making stupid decisions like that.”

“You know as well as I do that when Tyler’s mind is set on something, you can’t change it. Things will be better this time. Different. Now that he’s the boss, he can stay behind the scenes and let everyone else get their hands dirty. And this will be good for him; it’ll give him something to do. A sense of purpose. He doesn’t feel like he has that right now.”

“That’s bullshit,” Koen snarls. “He’s got all kinds of purpose. He’s got you, the kids…”

“It doesn’t make sense, I know. But that’s how his brain is working. It makes sense to Tyler and that’s what matters. And I’m worried about him and I need you to keep an eye on him. Because he’s been struggling, Koen. Badly. With the PTSD and the depression and the anxiety.”

“And the drinking.”

She sighs. “And the drinking. Six months. He was sober for half a year. He was doing so good. And then all this started and it went to hell and now look where we are. Look how drunk he was last night. He was a mess. And I’m pissed off that none of you tried to stop him. You just let him do it. Get that out of control. When you saw him getting that bad, why didn’t any of you step in?”

“I have no excuse for that,” Koen admits. ”No reasons. I should have. Stepped in and got him to stop when things got out of hand. But he’s not an easy man to control and…”

“If I can stop him, any of you can. I’m five foot nothing. He’s six three. He has a hundred pounds on me, if not more. If I can talk sense into him, there’s no reason why you couldn’t have done it. And then you bring him home like THAT? So I can deal with him. So I can be the one that takes care of a grown ass man AND five kids.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I’m…”

“And now he’s going to Mumbai. On a job. And I’m supposed to trust him with you guys. I’m supposed to trust that you’ll have his back and that you won’t let him do anything stupid. And I’m not just talking about drinking. I’m talking about the job. If guys don’t have his back, he might as well be going there alone.”

“We have his back,” Koen assures her. “One hundred percent,”

“I hope so. I really do. Because I need him to come home, Koen. Alive. I need my husband and my kids need their father. And I need you guys to watch over him. To make sure he comes back. I need to know that he’s going alone out there. That he has people he can trust.”

“He’s got us,” Koen says. “We’ve got him. We’ll make sure he comes home. He’s smart. He’s tough. Resilient. Nothing’s going to stop him from getting the job done and hauling ass back here. He knows he’s got a good thing. May not always say it or show it, but he knows. And if he ever forgets, you just call me and I’ll come here and beat his ass into the middle of next week.”

“Whose ass are you beating now?” Tyler asks, as he and Ovi join them, the latter wading out into the water with Declan on his hip.

“Yours,” Koen directs a kick at his friend’s back side before he can take a seat in the sand. “If you’ve been hurting for a good ass kicking for a long time, I reckon. Surprise this little thing hasn’t brought you to your knees yet.”

“Oh she has. She’s brought me to them many times. Just not the way you’re thinking.”

Esme snorts and digs an elbow into her husband’s side.

“He knows we have sex,” Tyler reasons. “It’s not a secret. We have five kids.”

“I was telling her that if you didn’t treat her right, I’m going to come here and beat your ass,” Koen says. “And then I’m gonna steal her away and let her see what a real man can do for her.”

Tyler smirks. “Where you gonna find a real man?”

“You cheeky fucker. How do you put up with him, kid? How do you tolerate his shit?”

“He puts up with me,” Esme says. “I’m not the easiest person to live with. But he’s still here. For some reason.”

“Trust me when I say it’s NOT her cooking,” Tyler says, and then leans into her with his shoulder; giving her a playful wink and a kiss on the cheek before taking Addie from her. Laying the baby along both forearms, her head in his palms as he carefully lowers her into the water. “And you have to kill me old man. To get her away from me. That really the hill you want to die on?”

“I think the two are made for each other,” Koen grumbles.

“Yeah…” Tyler grins at her. “I think we are too.”

****

Dinner with Anil and Allison had gone well. Both extremely pleased -and grateful- with the deal that had been quickly reached. The former had offered up his own home in Mumbai for Esme and the kids (and the new puppy, once he’d heard what the name was); an extremely well guarded and safe estate within its own locked and secure five acre compound. He immediately understood Tyler’s need to have his family close and Esme’s fear of being too far away if the worst case scenario came to fruition. The thought of a body not being returned home would be far more distressing than the actual death itself. Every job holds the possibility of not coming back; that is something you come to expect and learn to live with. But the thought of not having your loved one come back to you at all, is a bitter and horrible pill to try and swallow. It’s happened with many mercs; gruesome deaths and the inability of anyone to go and recover the body. Another reason why many die single; no spouse, girlfriend, or significant other willing to deal with such a high price.

Everything will be handled by Anil and his people; twenty four house staff and heavily armed guards and an elaborate security system. Bedrooms for all the children and everything needed properly to care for a baby; toys and bikes and whatever the kids need to keep them occupied and happy, even an offer of tutors to come in and work on school tasks. No expense being spared. For Tyler it makes the stress and the worry easier to bear; knowing that not only will he not be separated from his family by thousands of miles, every effort will be put into keeping them safe. They’ll arrive two days after him, and he’ll be staying at a different location; bouncing from hotel to hotel with Nathan, Ovi, Koen, and Anil. It’s far safer to keep moving then to settle down in one spot; staying at the house would only bring unnecessary attention to Esme and the kids. When deemed safe by the security, visits -including overnight- would be allowed. It isn’t the best arrangement, but a necessary one.

Tyler stands in the kitchen doorway and watches as she moves around the room; finishing the kids’ school lunches, mixing bottles of formula (to give Koen and Ovi at least a couple days head start) and dropping three frozen waffles into the toaster. She’s still clad in the dress she’d work to dinner. Classic black and off the shoulder; fitting like a second skin and reaching just below the knee. He’d been rendered speechless when she’d first walked out of the bedroom hours earlier; not remembering the last time he’d seen her like THAT. She’s always beautiful in his eyes. Whether it’s fresh out of the shower or when she first wakes up in the morning and her eyes are still puffy and blurry from sleep and her hair is a mess. Or even she’s been up for two days caring for a colicky baby. But that...with her hair up and make up and that dress showing off every curve that carrying five children has graced her with...is a beauty that surpasses all.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, as she glances up while buttering the waffles. “Kids asleep?”

“All five.”

“I don’t know how Ovi does it. He’s got that magic touch or something. Every time he watches them, they’re all asleep when we get home. Not one of them is awake. How? How does he do it? We put them to bed and we spend two hours fetching drinks of water and herding them back to their rooms.”

“Maybe he drugs them. Maybe THAT’S his secret. It’s not magic. He puts tranqs in that water.”

“Maybe he can give me some, then. I could use a couple right now. Or half a dozen. At least dinner went well. Anil’s pretty reasonable, don’t you think?” She takes a bite out of one of the waffles. “There wasn’t one thing he didn’t agree with. About me and the kids coming to Mumbai.”

“He’s a businessman. He knows what people want to hear and he knows how to give them what they want. And he’s got all the money in the world apparently.”

“How does a guy like him get so rich? What did he do before what he does now?”

“He was special forces. Same as Saju.”

“And in only seven years he’s become THAT rich?”

“Have you seen what he charges people for his services. He charges twice as much...if not more...than he pays his employees. You think it hurt him to give us what he did? That’s probably pocket change to him. Even AFTER he pays us and our mercs, it doesn’t start to scratch the surface.”

“Just seems weird. For it to happen THAT quick.”

“Look how quick we got money. Not just from him. Look what happened in Ireland. Five million for ten minutes of work.”

“You and I remember Ireland very differently.”

“It wasn’t THAT bad.” He grabs two bottles of water from the fridge, a jar of vegemite from the cupboard, and a knife from the drainboard by the sink, then joins her at the island.

“Says the guy who got hit in the head with a metal shovel. You and your fetish for garden tools.” She frowns when he opens the jar of vegemite and reaches for one of the waffles. “Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Please don’t eat that stuff in front of me. You know I hate that stuff.”

“It’s good shit.”

“It is not good shit. Oh my God…” she dramatically gags when he spreads vegemite on the waffle. “...Tyler James...ughhh...you’re gross.”

“You used to eat peanut butter sandwiches with onions AND hot peppers on it and you call me gross?”

“I was pregnant with Declan,” Esme argues. “I had weird ass cravings with him. None of my cravings with the other ones were that bad.”

“I don’t know. I remember you putting strawberry jelly on pizza when you were having the twins. Remember the ice cream when you were having Millie? Rocky road and I’d have to melt peanut butter and put that AND chocolate sauce on it.”

“Oh my god that was so good. You even liked it.”

“I swear I put on twenty five sympathy pounds.”

“You needed to. You lost a lot of weight after Dhaka. And now look at you. All thick and muscley and a whole week's worth of snacks. With your massive forearms and big thighs and your cute butt that sticks out.”

Tyler grins. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe. Is it working? Do you like it? If we were in a bar and I started chatting you up, would you let me pick you up?”

“I would definitely nail you in the bathroom.”

“That’s it? What if I complimented your big forearms and hands and called your eyes pretty?”

“I would have let you take me home. For sure.”

“Would you have called me the next day?”

“Yup. I know how good your head game is.”

“So THAT’S why you stick around. You don’t want the long hunt funding someone who does it just right.”

“That’s one of the reasons.”

“What are the other ones?”

“I love you. You’ve given me five beautiful children. And a reason to live.”

She smiles at that, and he leans in to kiss her. “Ewww,” she grimaces. “Vegemite.”

“Try a little bit,” he implores.

“I’ve tried it. I hate it.”

“Just a bit. You might not like it now.”

“I’m never going to like it. Don’t!” she pushes his hand away when he holds the waffle near her mouth. “Get it away from me.”

“It’s not THAT bad.”

“I will puke on you,” she warns. “And not even apologize.”

“Here.” He grabs a hold of the back of her head with one hand and presses the food to her lips with the other.

“You fucker!” She playfully shoves him away, then vigorously wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh god. I can taste it. I’m never going to get rid of that taste.”

“You’ve had worse things in your mouth.”

“You’re gross,” she grumbles, and grabs one of the bottles of water. “You’re gross and a pig and I don’t know how I put up with you. That is so nasty. YOU’RE nasty. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are?” he grins. “Friends?”

“With benefits. Which you’re getting any of for a while doing shit like that.”

“Come here…” He reaches out and tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into him.

“I’m not kissing you when you’re eating that stuff. No way.”

“Not even if I tell you that you looked amazing tonight? Not even if I tell you that you were the most beautiful woman there and that I was so fucking proud that you were there with me? Will you kiss me then?”

“I suppose,” she dramatically sighs, and then lays her hand on the side of his face as he covers her lips with his in a long, slow, deep kiss. The tip of his tongue skimming along the rough of her mouth before he draws away. “By the way,” she says. “You clean up pretty good. You haven’t worn one of these…” she tugs on the tie -now worn loosely- around his neck. “...since we got married.”

“You like it?”

“I do. It’s handsome and it’s distinguished and very sexy. But I think I prefer the way you usually dress. More casual. Jeans and t-shirts with holes in them and baseball hats. And board shorts. We can’t forget your board shorts. All thirty pairs of them.”

“It’s really only twenty eight, but…”

She grins as he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “That’s the Tyler I know. And I can’t lie. The thought of seeing you in a tactical vest again...all sweaty and dirty...it kind of turns me on. Just a bit.”

“Just a bit, huh?”

“Just a tiny bit. Like a lot. Like a lot, lot.”

“I’ll have to make conjugal visits. Leave the vest on when I come over.”

“I might not be able to control myself. I might throw you down and have my way with you.”

“I wouldn’t put up a fight. Just saying.”

“I know why you can’t stay with us. I totally get it. But it still kind of sucks.”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “It does. But at least we’re in the same country. Hopefully in the same city. Or close by.”

“I’ll feel better knowing you’re THAT close. The kids won’t understand why they can’t see you.”

“We’ll figure something out to tell them. At least they’ll know that I’m not far away and I can get to them pretty quick if I have to.”

She nods.

“It’s all going to work out,” he promises, and lays a hand on the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple. “I have something for you.”

“You do, do you?”

“One of your surprises from the other day. From the kids. They asked me to give it to you so you could have it while we’re away.”

“From the kids?”

He nods.

“Something tells me it’s actually from you.”

“The other one is from me. You’ll get that one WHILE we’re away. It’s from the kids.” He opens the cupboard below the island and pulls out a small gift bag; adorned with unicorns and rainbows and glitter. “Millie picked that out by the way. In case you can’t tell.”

“That girl loves her glitter. And this from them? The kids?”

“Yup.”

“You’re lying, but okay…” She takes the bag from him and sets it on the counter. “What did you do?” she asks, as she pulls out a long, rectangular jewellery box.

“Just a little something. From the kids.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Okay, it’s from me too. I’m the one who had to pay for it. But it was their idea.”

“You know I’m not good at surprises.”

“I know. You’re the worst person to buy stuff for. But it’s from your kids. They thought it up and they wanted you to have something pretty.”

She smiles. “They said that?”

He nods. “They said that mommy deserves pretty things and I agreed. So open it.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” she says, but snaps open the lid on the box. A piece of purple beach glass encased in an intricate cage of rose gold, and dangling from a chain of the same.

“Millie found it and wanted me to do something with it for you,” Tyler explains. “So I did.”

“It’s beautiful,” she turns her tear filled eyes towards him. “I love it. Thank you.”

He kisses her softly, face cradled in his palms. Her soft skin a striking contrast to the rough calluses on his palms and the tips of his fingers.

“You’re too good to me,” she declares.

“Sometimes I think I’m not good enough,” he admits.

“You’ve always been way more than someone like me deserves.”

“You’re full of shit,” he says, then kisses her forehead and takes the necklace from the box; stepping behind her to clasp it around her neck. “You like it?”

“I love it. It’s perfect. Our kids are perfect. YOU’RE perfect.”

“That last part? I dunno about that.”

“You’re perfect for me,” she says. “And that’s all that matters.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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themurphyzone · 4 years

Text

PatB Oneshot: Broken

Summary: Pinky’s just trying to help, but he may have unwittingly driven a wedge between himself and his best friend in the whole wide world.

AN: Inspiration comes from skimmingsurface’s 100 Ways to Feel. Specifically, #52 Broken.

FFN Link

So many pretty dizzy swirling stars! Pinky giggled, his entire body swaying like one of those spinny tops he could never get to spin for more than a few seconds. Brain really outdid himself on this plan with the Hip-Hop Scooper Austria Protractor, even though it went kaplooey and threw them off the building.

Still, it was fun pretending to be a champion skydiver while it lasted!

“Oh that was jolly good fun!” Pinky exclaimed. The dizziness let him go, but Pinky knew it would be back soon enough. Next time, they’d play tilt-a-whirl together for sure! Pinky always forgot to suggest that game. “Do they have medals for skydiving? I think my triple doozy cartwheel was worth a bronze. What do you think, Brain? Brain?”

Pinky looked around, but there was only the burnt metal of Brain’s creation and several chipped bricks around him.

“Are you playing Marco Polo, Brain?” Pinky massaged his temple in the same way Brain often did when he pondered deep ponderings. He could really use those little invisible beings that helped Brain come up with his plans right now. “Great idea! Marco!”

“HELP!”

Oh dear. Brain needed lessons on how to play Marco Polo. It was the one of the most important games of the day alongside Chase Me and Candyland after all.

“Marco!” Pinky called again.

A nearby brick shifted onto its side, revealing part of a pink, crooked tail underneath.

Pinky gasped, rushing to the other side of the brick, where Brain laid flat on his stomach with his limbs splayed out. “Brain, are you okay? Did the fall make you forget about Marco Polo?”

Brain gritted his teeth so hard Pinky thought they’d break. The Tooth Fairy would never visit him again if he didn’t have teeth!

“Of course I know who Marco Polo is, you…you imbecile,” Brain ground out, trying to push himself up. Pinky grabbed Brain’s arm to be helpful, but Brain drew a shuddering breath and yanked his arm away. “Get this brick off my tail at once.”

Pinky’s tail tingled, like it was smooshed under a brick too. It didn’t feel nearly as good as one of Brain’s bops though.

“Okay, Brain,” Pinky said. He pushed his entire body against the brick, taking extra care to avoid stepping on Brain’s tail. Since the brick was already lopsided, he only had to push slightly harder than he normally pushed a pencil until it landed on a different side. “All clear!”

Brain groaned and stood up, reaching behind his back and bringing his tail closer to inspect it. The break closest to his body made a small clicking noise, and Brain winced as he carefully felt the area the brick had unkindly smashed.

Pinky flicked his own tail, feeling the wavy and waggy sweeps he could make that Brain’s stiff tail never seemed to do. Now that he thought about it, Brain really only used his tail to open the cage. It wasn’t good for jumping rope or a pretend wand that magically made his voice louder.

It was the saddest tale of a mouse’s tail he’d ever heard. Well, except for the movie with the little Russian mouse who got separated from his parents. That was even sadder.

“Another failure,” Brain sighed, finally letting go of his tail. It snapped back into place, the tip bent at an odd angle. “No portion of the Hyperscopic Astral Projector can be salvaged. Come, Pinky. We should head back to the lab and recuperate for tomorrow night.”

“What are we gonna do tomorrow night, Brain?” Pinky asked, following Brain out of the rubble. “Besides making cheese cube and chunky peanut butter sandwiches, of course.”

Brain whipped around, his fists clenching against his sides. His scowl deepened, even though Brain always scowled. But somehow it looked deeper.

“Brain, you’re all coily like a spring,” Pinky said. Nothing a quick massage wouldn’t fix though. “Not good for your shoulders. Nope. Not at all.”

He reached for Brain’s shoulders, but his hands were slapped away with a sharp smack.

“Not in the mood, Pinky!” Brain snarled, his entire body wracked with tension. “Keep your absurd comments to yourself!”

Brain stomped far ahead of Pinky, and although he never remained out of sight for long, the distance was just too much for them to talk normally.

“Poit…” Pinky murmured to a faded poster of David Hasselhoff as he passed a Blockbuster store.

It just seemed like the only thing he could say, and Mr. Hasselhoff didn’t really offer any useful advice.

o-o-o-o-o

As soon as they got back to the lab, Pinky brought out the shared first aid kit. He hoped that a little TLC would help bring Brain’s super extra grumblyness down to normal grumblyness.

Brain scribbled angry red marks in his notebook with an equally angry red pen, slashing out a bunch of numbers arranged in a pattern that vaguely reminded Pinky of a goose. Or was it a rutabaga? Either way, Brain’s tail needed all the dinosaur bandages it could hold.

Dinosaur band-aids were happy. So were Disney Princess band-aids and superhero band-aids cause they gave him hugs on his owies and they’d stay there until it didn’t hurt anymore. But Pinky didn’t like removing them much cause that meant goodbye and the bandages never wanted to let go of his fur. So he let the bandages keep the fur they never meant to rip out as a going away gift.

Pinky opened the first aid kit, bringing out the magic salve that soothed all their aches and bumps and bruises and the dinosaur band-aids. Now if only he could pick a band-aid. That was always a toughie.

Sharpteeth’s arms were too tiny for a good hug, and longnecks and threehorns didn’t have arms at all. Flyers had wings they could wrap you in, and Pinky almost picked that, but then his hand brushed against the blue band-aid with a smiling mama swimmer and happy little baby swimmers.

A happy band-aid would give happier hugs! It was more obviouser than string cheese and chocolate pudding!

Pinky tucked the swimmer band-aid under his arm and walked over to Brain, who muttered furiously to himself as he slammed his hand against the calculator keys. Even the clacking was frantic and couldn’t be good for Brain’s palm at all.

“Impossible! I couldn’t have miscalculated the distance. There was enough range in the Projector to circle the globe two times over,” Brain growled, pacing in front of the number display, wincing with every step he took. But his feet continued to make the angry pitter-patter sounds. After about three or eight rounds of pacing across the counter, he finally looked up with a scowl. “What do you want, Pinky?”

“Oh, I filled up on cheese and food pellets before we left,” Pinky said as he unwrapped the swimmer band-aid. “My stomach doesn’t want anything right now. But your owies look like they could use a little something. Narf!”

Brain glanced at his tailtip, which was still hanging at an odd angle. “It hardly matters in the grand scheme of things, Pinky. A slight injury won’t incapacitate me. Whatever poor imitations of thoughts you have in your cotton-filled head are entirely unwarranted.”

“Oh no, Brain. I don’t have cotton in my head.” Pinky shook his head just to be certain. Nope. No cotton here. “It’s more like gum, actually.”

“Even worse,” Brain sighed.

Pinky waited a moment or two, but Brain made no move to fix himself up. Maybe he needed directions?

“So…” Pinky rocked on his heels. “You gonna apply the band-aid or-“

“I will if you’ll stop pestering me about it!” Brain snapped. He cast the swimmer band-aid aside and stomped past Pinky, pulling out a plain brown roll of bandages and a small bottle of water-that-didn’t-taste-like-water from the first-aid kit. With a small huff, Brain turned his back to Pinky and tried to reach around for his tail, only to find that it was a lot harder to bring it to the front since he’d waited too long to treat it.

“Do you need help?” Pinky asked.

“No,” Brain said curtly. But his tail just wasn’t recuperating. And that wasn’t right. It was hurting Brain, so it was being a very bad tail right now.

He uncapped the bottle and squeezed it to get a little of the not-water out, then brushed his tailtip against the nozzle, managing to get a little of the not-water on the achy-breaky area.

Then Brain fidgeted for a while, turning every way he could to try and hold his tail and the bandages at the same time, but nothing seemed to work. He tried to straighten one of the bends in his tail, but his frown grew frownier and his foot stomped angrily. Then he tried to hold the bandages in place with his foot, but the roll…well, rolled away.

Pinky ran after the roll of plain bandages that didn’t have the swimmer band-aid’s happy colors, but if they still gave good hugs then it was alright if they didn’t have happy colors he could see. He caught the bandages before they could roll off the counter.

“Bad band-aids!” Pinky scolded the bundle in his arms as he carried them back to his bestest friend. “You’re supposed to be helping Brain!”

“They’re inanimate objects subject to the laws of physics, annoying as it may be,” Brain said, keeping both hands on his tail so it didn’t escape again. “Bring that roll over here and stay a considerable distance away from me while I wrap this up.”

Pinky set the roll next to Brain and backed up a few steps. “Is considerable more or less than an inch?”

Or maybe that was milliliters. Distances could be awfully confusing.

“Do I dare grace that with a response?” Brain muttered.

Pinky wondered what they were going to dare Grace to do, maybe lick a broom or quack like a horse.

Brain tried to wrap his tailtip again, but neither the bandages or tail were following instructions. He sat down, leaning forward to avoid hurting the other breaks in his tail, yet he got nowhere and Pinky was starting to have a very bad ache in his chest cause Brain wasn’t getting any closer to feeling better.

If the not-water helped Brain’s tail, maybe it would help Pinky’s ache too? Pinky squeezed the bottle, but he put his face too close to the nozzle and several drops of not-water splashed onto his nose instead. Giggling at his slight mishap, Pinky tried to touch his nose to his chest to get the dampness into the right place.

Except his nose didn’t want to touch his achy chest. Like how he couldn’t lick his elbow. Unless there was a mirror. Then he could lick the mirror Pinky’s elbow.

“Pinky! Stop grooming yourself in such a primitive manner!” Brain scolded. “If you’re truly a genetically spliced mouse, then act like it!”

“Zort! Okay, Brain,” Pinky nodded, rubbing his damp nose with one hand. “How’s your achy-breaky tail?”

Brain rolled his eyes. “At a most unfortunate and unreachable area for me to attempt alone, as much as I detest admitting it. Since you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful and“- his shoulders stiffened- “hold my tail while I wrap it.”

Oh, how he loved being useful! It was one of the best fuls out there! Pinky skipped over to Brain, tripping over himself with one hoppy foot and smacking his jaw against the counter.

“Be grateful I’m in far too much pain to hurt you right now,” Brain said, his jaw jutting out in a little pout.

Pinky recovered from his fall and sat up, hiding a chortle behind his hands. Brain’s pouty and squinty face was just too funny.

“A neon sign is far more subtle than you,” Brain grumbled.

“I love looking at the pretty neon signs!” Pinky exclaimed. “Especially if they have arrows on them. All arrows lead to yummy cheese!”

Pinky carefully took hold of Brain’s crooked tail, one hand near the tip and his other hand next to a sharp break. Brain took a deep breath, his ears flattening ever so slightly. But he wasn’t letting go of his tail.

“Brain, aren’t you gonna put the band-aids on?” Pinky asked.

His bestest friend was acting funny, and not the good sort of funny either. Brain’s entire body was tense, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Y-yes. Of course I’m wrapping it,” Brain said. He snatched up the bandages, frowning at the messy bundle. “It would be far easier if this was rolled properly.”

Once Brain finally found a loose end, he tore off a small strip of band-aid from the roll and folded it over his tail. His hands flicked against Pinky’s while he wrapped his tail and Pinky couldn’t help smiling cause it felt like softer bops for his fingers.

“Hold still, Pinky,” Brain ordered. He pushed Pinky’s hand closer to the tip so he could check the area underneath.

But Pinky was holding still. He was being more stiller than a statue!

Then Pinky looked behind him. His tail was swishy-sweepy all over the place! It wasn’t obeying Brain at all!

“Bad tail!” Pinky scolded, leaning back a little to catch his very naughty tail. “Stay still or I’ll put you on a seventeen second timeout, mistah! Narf!”

Then he realized he’d leaned back too much.

Snap.

It was only a quiet crick, barely louder than the hum of the lab, but now Brain’s tailtip felt stiff and crooked and bent, the nearby bandage pointing sharply to the ceiling.

Brain’s pink eyes were wide, the widest Pinky had ever seen them. But it wasn’t the wide eyes that came when something went unexpectedly right in his plans. His mouth opened in surprise, his big ears hung limply.

It was Brain’s pained cry that reminded Pinky to let go of the crooked tail. Slowly, Pinky slipped the tip into Brain’s palm and scooted back.

“I’m s-sorry…I didn’t…I really…” Pinky stammered.

But Brain’s fearful expression made Pinky’s chest ache worse. Wasn’t the not-water supposed to help? Instead it made Pinky’s heart drop into his tummy.

“It appears I was mistaken,” Brain said, his voice so soft that Pinky had to strain both ears to pick up on it.

“Mistaken?” Pinky asked.

“Yes,” Brain nodded, but it wasn’t a happy yes. Pinky’s ears dropped. Brain’s yeses were supposed to be happy. “I never should’ve entrusted you with any important task.”

“You don’t trust me, Brain?” Pinky didn’t know what the n sound at the beginning of trust was, but he knew he trusted Brain with everything important like food pellets and wheels and scented markers. “It’s alright. I trust you.”

“That’s not how it works, you naïve dolt!” Brain shouted, leaping to his feet. He scowled and turned away from Pinky. “If I can’t expect you to follow the simplest instructions, then clearly I have no business trusting you.”

He couldn’t see Brain’s face anymore.

“I’m sorry for breaking your tail,” Pinky whispered.

Brain turned slightly, only one pink eye visible beneath his brow. Pinky didn’t know what Brain was thinking, but it definitely had to be something supersmart. Pinky tried to make his face look really truly sorry, but he didn’t know what sorry looked like on a face, so he took his best guess.

Then Brain walked into the cage without another word.

Cleaning the counter was a lonely job without Brain to scold him for making a mess of things. When everything was stored in the first-aid kit, Pinky yawned, ready to cuddle up next to Brain in their twin straw beds.

Only to find Brain had shifted his entire bed to another corner.

Pinky nuzzled his lonely straw bed. Brain settled in the darkest part of the cage, away from the sliver of starlight that spilled from their window. The broken, bandaged tail was hidden from view, where it couldn’t be hurt for the next few hours.

Straw rustled as Brain tossed and turned in his corner. And no matter how many horses Pinky counted, he couldn’t sleep either.

o-o-o-o-o

The next morning, a techie plucked Pinky out of his wheel. Pinky waved goodbye to Brain, but he just mumbled a big word to himself and stayed out of reach from the techie’s buddy, who was making a funny face as she tried to grab Brain with a double gloved hand.

Early morning exercise was so fun! Pinky giggled as he dangled and swung around in the air, the techie’s fingers pinching his tail to keep him from falling. Of course, his wheel was great too. He couldn’t leave his poor wheel out of the fun!

The techie set Pinky in a covered maze full of twisty turns and turny twists. He pressed a button on a nearby camera, and left Pinky alone once he was through setting everything up.

“Poor man.” Pinky shook his head as the techie dashed into the breakroom for coffee and donuts. “Narf! He really shouldn’t skip breakfast. What kind of donuts do you think they’ve got in there, Brain? I could go for some powdered sugar donut holes myself.”

The camera swiveled, the only light blinkedy-blinking on its side. Every path was pitch-black, the vague outlines of high walls surrounding him.

“I don’t want any bla-bla big word sugar cause I’m a big ol’ grouch, Pinky.”

Oh, that was Brain alright.

“But wouldn’t you just be a lil’ grouch, Brain? Only your head is big and chubby. The rest of you is ittier-bittier than a mouse!”

“Don’t use that word, you icicle.”

“Poit. Sorry, Brain. Which way to the yummy cheese?” Pinky rubbed his tummy, which was growling very Brain-like growls.

“We’ll hug the left wall. So simple even a something-something like you can do it.”

A left wall then! Brilliant!

“Whatever you say, Brain!” Pinky saluted and skipped over to what he guessed was the left wall, though it was a little hard to tell which was left since it was so dark. Then he threw his arms around the wall and hugged it.

Since walls couldn’t hug back, Pinky hugged twice as hard, only releasing his embrace when Brain cleared his throat. Pinky kept a hand along the wall as he skipped further into the dark maze.

“Just like nighttime, except without the stars. Where’d the stars go, Brain? I thought they only slept during the day.”

The left wall disappeared under his hand, and no matter how much Pinky tried to convince it to stay, it wouldn’t come with him. He grasped at empty, black space instead.

“I can’t find the left wall, Brain. Help me look?”

Brain didn’t reply.

“Okay, you can think about your plan thingies. Um…Mom always said if I get lost, I should find my way with echoes! Just like a hummingbird!” Pinky inhaled and picked a random direction, though it was awfully confusing when he couldn’t tell which direction he was facing. Maybe southeast? “ZORT!”

Zort! Zort! Zort!

“Five echoes deep!” Pinky exclaimed as he charged down the corridor. “Shouldn’t be too far to the cheese now, Brain!”

Except he couldn’t smell cheese or pellets or any kind of food. And he couldn’t see his own hand anymore.

Nor did he hear Brain’s footsteps.

“Brain? Where’d you go?” Pinky called.

He ran after his bestest friend, his chest aching deeply. But he pushed past the bad pain, which was sore and raw and not at all like the tingly feelings Brain’s smacks often gave him.

Pinky’s nose smashed into a wall or two as he tried to find Brain, his tail tripping him several times. But he kept running, cause if he didn’t, he’d get lost and never see Brain again.

“I don’t know where I’m going, Brain. Am I close?”

Pinky wrung his tail, the tip pressed against his chest. If he let go, the scary monsters would snatch it.

“Are you still here, Brain?”

Pinky’s lip trembled, a tear slipping down his cheek and splashing on his hand.

“I’m sorry I broke your tail! If you wa…wanna go…I don’t mind. P-p-poit,” Pinky whimpered. He reached out, only to touch a wall. He turned in another direction. Another wall. “Can…can you just show me the way out? Before you leave.”

Brain wouldn’t let the walls stop him. He was smart enough to figure out the way through. Where Pinky couldn’t follow cause he was just a dum-dum who couldn’t pass through walls.

It was dark and wet and dark all over again. He didn’t know where he was. He just wanted to see again.

Pinky curled himself against the wall. But the wall wasn’t a good hugger. Good huggers have arms, and walls don’t have arms.

He didn’t deserve huggy arms though.

He broke Brain’s tail just like he broke Mom and Sis and Dad’s hearts.

What would his family think of him now? Sis would be heartbroken. He just wanted to be a good brother for her, though he didn’t know how he could be a good brother if he wasn’t there to teach her how to play Chase Me or eat food pellets.

Mom would cry cause she had such a dum-dum for a son. Dad would be mad cause he made Mom cry.

Brain could take over the world cause he wouldn’t be there to break his plans, his things, his tail.

And who could blame them?

He didn’t want anything to do with himself either.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Pinky’s ears flicked.

The scary monster was coming.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The taps kept coming, and Pinky curled up tighter.

“Sorry. You’ll have to come back some other time. I’m too stringy and blue right now,” Pinky whispered. “Blue tastes icky and sad.”

The taps stopped, and a thin beam of light flashed in the corner of Pinky’s vision.

“Pinky, what are you babbling about?”

The mad-worry-more mad voice.

Brain.

“Guess you found me after all, Brain.” Pinky tried to smile, but his lips wouldn’t turn up like they were supposed to. “Thought you’d made it to the end with your magic maze solving skills.”

“It’s called deduction, Pinky.”

“Oh.”

Neither spoke. For a while, there was nothing except the nervous tapping of fingers against metal.

“What are you doing, Brain? Aren’t you busy?”

Brain was a busybee. He was always grumping, always pondering, always scribbling.

“…don’t know where the wheel oil is. I can’t concentrate while the wheel is incessantly squeaking.”

“It’s by the wheel. I always keep them together.”

“Yes…of course,” Brain said, an odd flicker in his voice. “You’ll just have to show me then. Let’s go.”

Yet Pinky didn’t get up.

“You don’t need me,” Pinky forced out. It hurt to think it, to speak it, but it was true. “I’ll just break the wheel like I broke your tail. I broke your tail, Brain. I’ll break everything.”

A sob clawed its way out of his throat, and Pinky shushed it, his breath hitching.

It was dark, it was dingy, and Pinky just wanted out. He wanted to see so badly.

“Turn around and lift your head, Pinky.”

Pinky wiped a few tears and obeyed, pressing his back to the wall as he pushed himself up.

The thin beam from the mini flashlight illuminated Brain’s face for the briefest moment before the flashlight was set down, the beam pointing to the wall. Then Brain turned around, picking up a long, thin plastic tube and dragging it over to Pinky.

“The employees are unprofessional and always leave their cheap party favors lying around,” Brain said. He looped the plastic tube around Pinky’s neck. “But I know more efficient uses for these chemicals.”

Both ends clicked together, a blue glow working its way through the tubing until Pinky had a neon blue ring around his neck.

“A glowstick?” Pinky asked. Not that he wasn’t appreciative. Things were much less scary now, thanks to Brain and the glowstick. He loved it. He really truly honestly did. But he’d broken Brain’s tail, and now Brain was giving him pretty things? “I love it, but-“

“I don’t need a reminder,” Brain snapped. He sighed heavily and sat down, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I’d like to pose a hypothesis for you.”

A glowstick and a hippo? It was so much, and Pinky wasn’t sure if he deserved either one. “Thanks, but I don’t think an entire hippopotamus would fit in here. And there’s definitely not enough light for a photoshoot.”

“A hypothesis is a question. Evidently I was wrong that you’d learn something from the childish poster of the scientific method next to our cage.”

If all he wanted to do was ask a question, he could’ve just asked! Brain was so confused sometimes.

The glowstick’s blue light shone right on Brain’s head, and Pinky pushed and pulled on the tubing, making the light dance in pretty patterns.

“Why did you apologize when you didn’t bend my tail on purpose?” Brain asked. With some difficulty, he brought his tail around and gingerly touched the broken tip.

“I hurt you, Brain,” Pinky sniffed, unable to stop the tear from rolling down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I really am sorry. Honest.”

“As several failed plans have proven, you’re incapable of deception. I’ll try to remember that,” Brain said quietly. His hand reached out before stopping an inch away from the tear, then dropped down again. Brain looked away.

Pinky’s smile still wasn’t working. He had Brain and the pretty glowstick. Something was still missing.

“Brain? How many sorries should I say to make you feel better? Am I not saying it enough?” Pinky trembled and cried onto the glowstick.

No matter how many sorries it took, he’d say however many he needed to!

“Pinky, your lacrimal ducts are the ones leaking, not mine. Apologies aren’t necessary.” Brain ducked his head, avoiding Pinky’s gaze. “There’s…a method you haven’t tried yet. I suppose an excessively needy being such as yourself requires it. I’m usually above these displays of course, but I can make an allowance for this occasion and this won’t become a habit in the future so don’t get any ideas in your lack of a mind or-“

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Brain,” Pinky said. He’d never seen Brain so nervous-grumpy before.

“I’m asking if you require a hug, Pinky!” Brain scowled.

Pinky’s jaw dropped, and he was sure it was on the ground somewhere. He’d have to crawl around on his hands and knees to find it again.

“Egad, a hug?” Pinky breathed.

A fresh wave of tears sprung up, but these felt…different. They were relieving tears. Happy tears. Joyful tears.

“I can still rescind my offer,” Brain warned, his ears flattening.

Pinky laughed, and it was the most wonderful laugh he’d had all day. “I’d love a hug, Brain,” he said when Brain’s foot tapped in annoyance.

Brain took a deep breath, slowly leaning his head against Pinky’s chest. His cheek smushed against Pinky’s fur, and Pinky smiled cause Brain looked adorable in his grumbly-stormy way.

“I apologize too, Pinky,” Brain murmured as he pushed the glowstick out of the way and laid his arms across Pinky’s belly. “I can trust you to a certain extent. You just…caught me off-guard when you bent my tail.”

The achy feeling was gone, only leaving a warm pool of butterflies in its place. Pinky hummed in delight and wrapped his arms around Brain. His bestest friend deserved the bestest hugs!

“How so, Brain?” Pinky asked, relaxing his arms when Brain’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

“Your expression. You were regretful from the moment you heard the snap. I suppose it was just easier to be furious,” Brain said, his shoulders relaxing. “It’s always simpler.”

“More simple than me, Brain?”

Brain rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s more simple than you, Pinky.”

They sat in comfy silence for a while longer, the darkness no longer bothering them. The glowstick scared all those hungry maze monsters away.

Then Pinky’s tummy tingled and tickled, a loud giggle escaping him. Brain’s fingers lightly dug into Pinky’s tummy, though Brain’s eyes were blissfully closed. He must’ve been tired from all the tossing and turning last night.

Pinky’s tummy growled softly and Brain jolted awake, blinking down at his fingers. He stood up quickly and hid his hands behind his back.

“Ah, I was just pondering,” Brain said hastily. “What transpired in this maze must remain in this maze. Understand?”

Pinky nodded, wagging his finger at Glowstick to keep him quiet too. “Narf! Glowstick and I won’t tell a soul!”

Brain picked up his mini flashlight, then turned and faced Pinky so quickly that he nearly blinded himself with the light beam. “That’s it! Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Excitement laced his voice.

“I think so, Brain. But blackbirds in pies wouldn’t be a popular choice in a bake sale,” Pinky wrinkled his nose as Brain grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

“Fortunately for you, there’s blackberry pie in the fridge. I suppose that’s more suitable for your palate?”

Pinky’s tummy growled even louder, and his mouth watered at the thought of sweet blackberries. “Oh no, Brain. I want to eat the blackberries, not paint with them.”

Brain sighed a long sigh, vaguely reminding Pinky of a leaky tire. “After we’re satiated, I’ll work on a plan that will ensure our successful conquest of the world. I’ll need some time to come up with the exact number of glowsticks we’ll need per capita, so you’ll have to be inane elsewhere for a while.”

Pinky smiled and cheered, and Brain even bopped him with his little flashlight. His bestest friend knew how to make him happy, and happiness was the loveliest feeling of all.

o-o-o-o-o

The glowstick plan failed, and so did all the following plans. While Pinky didn’t mind healing and resting for the next tomorrow night, it didn’t take long before Brain’s tail suffered another bruise after a fancy lady’s high heel stepped on it.

Brain’s nose scrunched up as Pinky gently dribbled a few drops of sanitizer onto the bruise. It wasn’t called not-water like he’d originally thought. He never would’ve known if it hadn’t been for Brain.

Pinky hummed and measured out a bandage, then stopped humming cause he needed to concentrate on Brain’s tail, which needed extra care and gentleness since it didn’t heal as fast as the rest of him.

“You can be swishy later, tail,” Pinky scolded his own tail, which fell back to the cage floor. His tail was getting really good at obeying now.

Pinky wrapped the bandage around the bent and bruised tail, concentrating super hard. Once the bandage was snug like a pug in a mug, Pinky pressed his fingers against his lips and tapped them against the bandage for extra encouragement.

“Thank you, Pinky,” Brain said, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

Pinky smiled back. He loved making Brain happy too.

AN: I like to think this story is set early in Pinky and Brain’s partnership. As a result, Snowball’s departure is still fairly fresh in Brain’s mind.

I am not sorry for butchering the English language. English? I know not of whom you speak.

This story’s a bit more unpolished than I would like, mostly because Pinky’s a tough POV to write, especially if you’re trying to dig deep. I still like the end result though.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction

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