#speaking of room in his container does he even have a proper shower???? I have so many questions
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Sakusa's Babysitter
Ok so here's part 2 of the Sakusa fic! You guys really enjoyed it and it made me so so happy!!
Warning:smut, age gap, sir kink...
The next day, when you walked out of your room, everything was normal. The kids were still asleep, silence reigning in the luxurious house, nothing new. It's when you made your way downstairs, expecting the kitchen to be vacant as always, your typical nanny day was about to be disturbed. There's your boss, shirtless, sitting at the table, coffee in hand and sports journal in the other. You fixed your hair, tug down on your short sleeping shorts a little, if you knew he was here, you would've prepared yourself beforehand, and cleared your throat. As soon as eyes met your figure, a polite smiled reached your lips followed by a "Good morning sir. I didn't know you had the day off today, I would've gotten up earlier and made you your breakfast. Did you sleep well?"
His response was mortifying. Accusing tone with a hint of teasing. Putting his mug down, staring right into your eyes, penetrating to your soul "Would've slept better if my sheets didn't smell like cherry blossom.... You know I prefer more musky, deep smells right? Did you change our typical products perhaps? Or is it something else?" An eyebrow raised, a malice curve to his lips, did he know? From the way he's speaking to you, so condescending, you were sure that he caught you. And you weren't really wrong. Feigning innocence and ignorance, you apologized, promising to change the sheets right away, and to prove that you bolted out of the kitchen as soon as you finished your sentence, you wanted to escape this thick tension.
Finally in his dark room, you softly closed the door behind you, finally letting out a deep breath. But don't relax way too fast Y/n, you haven't even looked at his bed yet. It looked messier than usual, a weird smell in the room that you couldn't pinpoint, but you were sure it wasn't cherry blossom. Lifting the cover off, your mouth hung open... Did you leave that? In the middle of the wrinkled sheets, a pool of white substance could be found, you're not dumb, you knew exactly what it was, you just didn't know whose it is. And it's a dirty idea you're having tight now, really, you could've just chucked them in the washing machine and forget about it right? But your mind had a better plan, a naughtier one for sure. Your hand sliding along the mattress feeling the soft cotton, reaching destination, dipping a fingertip in the drying out liquid. Your heart was beating fast, loud, too loud ringing in your head. Your mind going haywire trying to convince yourself to get a grip and do what you were supposed to do, but your unconsciousness craving for more, what if you just...? And you should've thought twice before guiding your hand to your mouth, tongue swirling around your fingers, tastes so good it made your eyes roll back... It's his, you can tell.
Too preoccupied tasting your boss, you didn't even notice that he was in the room all along, until a chuckle resonated in the large room. Your eyes went wide, your body froze, and your cheeks turned red in embarrassment and humiliation. That's it, that's the end of your dream life! "Can't believe such a dirty girl was taking care of my children.... Tell me though, does it taste good? Do you want more?" What were you supposed to answer, to say to that. You took to long, in his opinion, your mind too busy trying to decipher what's going on to give him a proper response, but you didn't need to now anyway. In an instant he was right before you, bent down and face to face, a malicious smile on his lips and you wonder since when does he smile like that. "I think you do, I can tell!" And with that you were pushed back, landing on the puddle wetting your thin shirt, feeling it stick to your skin. It should've repulsed you, but it only made the heat in your core stronger. The tip of his fingers, rough from years and years of volleyball, brushing alongside your thighs, going up, up, till they reached the hem of your shorts and sliding under, his thumb resting right between your thigh and your heat "You're gonna stay quiet for sir little one? Don't want my sons to wake up mmm?" You couldn't talk, only nod as he slid your drenching panties to the side, chuckling at your arousal. The other hand fast to push his sweats down his legs, surprised that a man like him wasn't wearing any type of underwear underneath, but that thought didn't last too long, because you were more worried about something else. Standing tall and proud, pink tip already drooling pre, and a prominent vein that you knew will make you see stars. The only things that brought you from you daydream is the sound of spitting echoing in the room, a liquid hitting your sensitive spot that made you whimper slightly.
His eyes never once left yours as he sunk into you, observing your every emotion, from the wrinkle of your eyebrows, your lips parting to let out a soft whimper, a sigh of relief as he barely bottomed out, too much for you to handle all at once. He started with a slow pace, though already making you feel dizzy with all the passion he's pouring into it. Now that you think about it, you never once saw him with a woman, he always said he's too busy for silly rendezvous, that explains the zeal he's putting out. Gradually becoming faster, deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that made you saw stars. Your nails digging into his forearm for support, like your life depends on it. You broke your promise, a moan escaped you as you couldn't contain it in anymore, it's all too much it's all too good. Years of experience showing as he pounded into you, relentlessly to add, the man was showing off you can tell by the chuckle that left him when you struggled to breathe out his name as quietly as you can. The hand that was once on your hip moving up, lacing around your throat and giving it a good squeeze. Your eyes rolled back, your back arched, and the air hitting your hot wet back had you shiver with goosebumps, had you biting down your lips, but in vain, your screams had to be let out.
The man is smart, he knows how to use his brain, but also his mouth "Didn't you promise to keep quite? I don't like it when you disrespect your sir.... Apologize to me right now" He waited for two seconds, his hand teasingly getting tighter, too tight to speak properly, and when you took your time to actually answer him, he stopped all movements, pulling out and ready to walk away, but you couldn't let him slip like that. As soon as his fingers left the already bruising skin of your neck you spoke, you begged, you cried for him to stay, to not leave you, promising him that you were so so sorry, and it genuinely surprised you when you saw a smile on his face, a rare one as he came back. Relief washed over you, but you didn't have time to savor it, he slipped inside you in one swift movement, his thrust sloppier but more intense than before, how is that even possible? And to make sure you won't break your promise again, he leaned in, slowly, almost hesitantly. His eyes bore into yours for a second before fluttering shut, for the first time, he locked his lips with yours, making the whole experience much more intimate than it was before. And you couldn't complain. Not when your entire body was shaking, your soul trembling from within with excitement and pleasure. Not when the knot kept getting tighter and tighter, threatening to break at any moment now. It's when his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue massaged yours sensually, his hands caressing you so softly like you're as fragile as porcelain, contrasting with the movements of his hips, furious and goal-oriented, the goal of breaking you apart, that you finally reached your high. Your back creating a perfect curve again, arching into him, you chests collided, he could feel the fast beating of your heart. Your nails dagger on his back, sinking into his skin is what triggered his climax, he painted your walls a warm white, the same you saw earlier this morning on his sheets.
You wanted to stay a little longer, catch your breath again and melt into his touch, but your boss had different ideas, ones that broke your heart into thousands of pieces. When the words left his mouth you couldn't help but feel... empty? Disappointed? But what did you expect from Sakusa Kiyoomi other than "Go get a shower and dress properly, the kids are going to wake up soon"...
Tags: @iheartkuroorin @psychedelicwh0r3
#sakusa x reader#sakusa smut#sakusa kiyoomi#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#smut#haikyuu smut#Sakusa kiyoomi x reader
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Beauty and Her Beast: Summary and Ch.1
A Salvatore Moreau x Female!FishMutant!oc fic based on this idea I had the other day that a very specific subset of the fanfom went absolutely apeshit for, which I'm here for and decided to act on. I can't make any promises for consistent uploading or even a finishes product by the end of this, but so long as im still interested in working on it, I'll keep working on it, and if im not, then I wont, plain and simple. Anyways, here's the summary and chapter 1, please let me know what you think of the story so far, i hope you all enjoy (you'd better all enjoy), and I can't wait to see you all again for chapter 2. Bye! <333 (Link to ao3 posting will be in comments so check there if you want to read it there instead)
Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.
Summary:
Now, I’m sure everyone already knows the ancient tales that tell of a beautiful young woman slowly falling in love with a horrific monstrosity of a man. The pure and true love this innocent beauty comes to feel for him, despite his terrifying appearance, is the key that breaks the cruel and twisted curse under which he’d been kept prisoner. This allows the man behind the monster to not only return to his true human form, but then go on to live his Happily Ever After with the beauty who saved him. Everyone already knows of these tales, as well as the messages behind them, however that is not quite the way this particular tale plays out.
The tale I am about to tell bears many similarities to the one above, however there are also quite a few important differences. For while the original detailed a beauty falling for a monster because of the kind and loving man he was behind his hideous exterior, this is a tale of a beauty, with a few monstrous qualities of her own, falling in love with a kind and loving monster, not at all despite his grotesque appearance, but rather, in part, because of it.
This is a tale, where the Beast still falls for his Beauty first, but the Beauty is the one who will be pursuing her Beast.
Chapter 1: Mother's Gift
Few of those who lived isolated from the outer world, high up in the mountains of Romania, would expect anyone of reasonable sanity to be out traveling in this hellish sort of weather. The wind howling a demonic high pitched tune; snow, sleet, and hail pounding into the ground like an endless shower of bullets from the heavens; and hungry lycans still roaming the area, tirelessly looking for their next meal, would be enough to incentivize even the strongest of mortal men to seek shelter away from the deadly conditions of the outside.
A man by the name of Salvatore Moreau however, one of the 4 lords of this mountain region who lived in the reservoir just past the windmills, did not appear terribly concerned with what other people thought of the traveling conditions. Completely unbothered by the horrifying weather and threat of suddenly being ground into doggy food, the hooded man trudged his way through the dark and barely maintained snow paths. Starting at the reservoir and making his way toward the village, Salvatore moved as quickly as his deformed body would permit, an unusually chipper spring added to his lumbering hobble of a walk.
Mother had a gift for him.
Yes, a truly joyous day it was whenever Mother Miranda called upon him to join her and the other lords for a meeting. Miranda was usually so busy with her experiments that she rarely had time to visit her children outside of these ‘family meetings’ they’d been having recently. However, it would appear as though Mother has come up with a solution of some kind to this problem and wishes to share it with them in person. Whatever this solution is, the mutated man has no idea, as Mother Miranda had been quite vague in her message, however the fact that Salvatore was being given the chance to see his radiant mother AND receive a gift from her, all in one day, was more than enough to make up for how agonizingly lonely he’s been these last few months since winter set in, as well as how agonizing it was for him to walk in this weather.
Salvatore arrived at the usual meeting site just as the clock struck 8pm, precisely as Mother had instructed. However, much to the hooded man’s confusion, when he turned the handle on the large wooden door to enter the room, he quickly realized that he was currently the only one present. This was especially strange considering that, usually, at least one of his siblings was always present a little earlier than necessary, usually Alcina or Karl, but occasionally Donna with Angie in tow.
Mother had clearly said in her message that she wanted to start the meeting at 8pm sharply, so where on earth is everyone?
“Moreau” Mother Miranda’s voice called out, immediately pushing all thoughts from Salvatore’s brain as her powerful, yet lucious voice echoed against the halls of the room like a choir of angels.
“Y-yes! W-what… is it… M-mother Miranda? I-i-i came to you… j-just like you asked” Salvatore responds, bowing his head in reverence as he slowly crosses the room and approaches the otherworldly woman.
“So you did, though I suppose you coming exactly when I call makes the most sense. You always were the most obedient of my children” the woman remarks with casual disdain, her voice devoid of any sort of motherly affection or tenderness. Despite the clear disgust and disregard with which Miranda regards the hooded man standing before her, her words light Salvatore’s soul ablaze, filling his mangled body with intense feelings of heat and desire that melt his heart of the cold, icy frost that had frozen it over the course of the long winter.
“Y-y-yes, y-yes of c-course, Mother M-Miranda! I-i would… I would do any-anything... for y-you. A-anything you s-say... anything y-you n-need… I’d d-do it... f-for you. W-without question!” The deformed man says, practically getting on his hands and knees and crawling as he neared closer and closer to Miranda, stopping only when he’d arrived just in front of the steps the raven mother stood upon, his gaze trained at the ground as he knelt at her feet, awaiting his fate at his mother’s hands.
“I know you would, Moreau,” Miranda says cooly, gently brushing the palm of her hand against the black fabric that covers the top of Salvatore’s head, “which is why I’ve called you here today; to reward you for your loyalty and service to me thus far.”
Salvatore sinks sharp and jagged teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as he desperately tries to silence the needy whine that wanted to tear its way from the back of his throat. His body shivered and twitched in unimaginable delight from the sudden tender caress to his sensitive skin. How long had it been since someone had touched him so gently? How long since someone had spoken to him with such kind and soft words. Took the time to gather presents as a reward for years of faithful servitude? How long since someone had loved him like this?
‘Too long’ the disfigured man sighed to himself, reveling in the soft, gentle contact for as long as he is able.
“Moreau. Look at me” Miranda commanded firmly, and despite not wanting his beloved Mother to be forced to bear witness to his hideous face, he complied, lifting his head up and back to allow his gaze to lift from the floor and up at the glowing figure that was his Mother, his beautiful, incredible, intelligent, majestic mother.
The light shining down from above illuminates Miranda from behind. From Salvatore’s perspective on the floor, the light darkens her face and most of her torso and waist, giving a softened, almost ethereal glow around Miranda’s figure. This, along with the rest of her garb, makes Mother Miranda appear even more like the holy woman that Salvatore naively believes she still is. Despite her less than affectionate treatment of him thus far, Salvatore still stared up at the darkened face of Mother Miranda, his eyes shining with reverence, love, desire, and unending devotion.
“Y-yes... Mother?” Salvatore breathed, barely able to speak above a whisper as Miranda stepped away, gesturing for him to follow.
“Are you ready to collect your gift now?” The raven mother asks, speaking more softly than before and even holding her hand out to Salvatore, her pose and appearance mirroring that of a powerful god taking mercy upon her wretched follower, reaching out to reward the years of faithful servitude and worship.
Salvatore, barely able to keep himself calm as he stumbled to his feet, did not grace Mother Miranda’s question with a proper response, instead practically racing to take the woman’s outstretched hand in his own.
“I’m ready Mother… I-I’m ready for... my g-gift now… can I… c-can I have it n-now… p-please?” Salvatore begs, pulling at Miranda’s hand like an overly excited child, seemingly unaware of the disgusted twist of her face when the hooded man’s cold, slimy fingers firmly latched onto hers.
“Of course, my child” Mother Miranda says, pulling her hand back from Salvatore’s and instead placing it along the man’s hunched back, beginning to guide him to wherever it was the raven mother had hidden his gift.
As Salvatore limped next to Mother Miranda, the deformed man couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that Mother had gotten for him. Was it a new cloak, to replace the worn one he was currently wearing? Perhaps a new set of romance films so he didn’t have to rewatch the ones he already owned over and over again anymore? Or maybe it was something to help with his digestion?
It would be nice to get his chronic acid reflux under control again.
Regardless of what the gift actually turned out to be however, Salvatore was merely pleased that he was finally getting a chance to spend time with Mother Miranda all by himself for a change.
Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d even agree to hold him, just like she always did back when he was still undergoing cadou treatment.
Oh how wonderful that would be!
#salvatore moreau#resident evil#resident evil 8#resident evil 8 village#resident evil 8: village#mother miranda#beauty and her beast#fic#mine#chapter 1#re8#re8 village#re village#salvatore moreau x reader#moreau x reader#moreau x oc#salvatore moreau x oc
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On Illness and Recovery, or: Sickfic, Baby!
You know the drill! Please let me know if you liked it, and check my Twisted Wonderland fanfiction tag if you want other shit I’ve done.
Contains coarse language and emotional whiplash.
~*~*~*~
Some things stay true no matter where you are; the truest, right now? Schools are disgusting fucking petri dishes, as your miserable cold will tell you. Your cough had only been getting worse as the days went on, with it came exhaustion and a chill that wouldn't leave your bones. You should probably be holed up in your dorm instead of going to class, but that had it's own issues that you were struggling to solve.
"Are you done yet? I want to eat." Grimm's nose, and little else, poked out from a pile of blankets on your bed.
"Nowhere close. Shh." You taped the last bit of plastic over the balcony entryway, and swapped the roll of tape for a heavy duty stapler. "Hold that right there."
The skull-faced ghost held a packing blanket over the plastic as you stapled it in place. By the time you were done, you couldn't see much, which at least meant you could no longer see your own breath. Maybe now, you would be able to feel your own fingers.
Ah, they joys of your own rotten, ancient place - you wake up with frost on your bedsheets and your washbasin shattered from the ice within it. There were other rooms in the place, but most had holes in the ceiling or were too big to heat effectively. So now, you were going to live in one room, that you'd yet to figure out how to run electricity to, and only leave for class or the bathroom. Even if you were ill, could anyone blame you for still going to class when your own home had a nasty quirk of being even colder than outside?
Anywho, it was time to do some homework. By the light of an oil lamp. In five layers of clothing. Curled up so close to a tiny fire you might as well be inside of it. While your not-a-cat complained the whole time.
Yaaaaaaay.
~*~*~*~
"You really should be resting."
You scoffed. "You just feel bad because you're the one who got me sick."
"You can't prove that, everyone's had a cold the past few weeks."
"No one else has been exploring my tonsils, dude."
Idia clapped a hand on your mouth, which you did not lick solely because you were wearing a cloth mask. "Quiet! That's secret intel."
"What? No it's not, everyone knows."
"I don't want to advertise. Then I'm a raid boss and you're the rare loot drop."
You elbowed him in his boney ribs. "No one's going to kick your ass out of jealousy. Just because I'm the hottest bitch in this place doesn't mean I've got universal appeal."
"You're still the only girl and people are weird about it." He placed the back of his hand on your forehead and winced. "You're too warm."
"How can you tell? You've got gloves on."
"That's how bad it is. I'll make some tea."
"I'm not drinking anything out of the damned lab equipment."
He frowned. "I've never had anything bad happen, it's cleaned correctly."
"You're smarter than that. One of these days you're going to grow a tail due to residue in the glassware, and I'm going to haul you around in front of god and everyone by it, going 'I told you so' the entire time."
He blanched, knowing that that was not an idle threat, and someone laughed. "I think I should make that happen, just so we can see that."
"Jade, no. No magic mushrooms for my man, or any other concoctionary bullshit either."
Idia looked ready to die, so to take attention off of him you leaned over and poked Silver awake before he fell face first in the potion he was working on. Logically, you know his narcolepsy was debilitating. Right now, you wish you could have borrowed it last night. You don't remember walking up during the night, but you must have, because why else would you be so tired?
He started up, mumbled "thank you" and went back to stirring as if he hadn't been about to drown in dubious magichemicals. God, you wished that was you right now.
"Idia, deal. You help me get through this class, I'll grab some hot food and go home."
He made a show of hemming and hawing before saying, "Grimm needs to let me hold him when I drop you off, and I will."
Ordinarily, you would have just said "Ask him yourself and don't be weird about it," and Grimm would have simply told him no until sufficiently bribed. But Grimm was still in bed at home, saying you kept him up all night, so instead you bumped Idia with your hip and said "What, you can't think to ask for better pussy to fondle?"
Of course, you just had to say something crass at the moment where everyone went quiet. Even Crewel raised his head and both eyebrows at you. The only reason you didn't get a riding crop to the face and a week in horny detention (where, you assumed, they punished you for being a bad girl indeed) was Idia, rapidly going through every stage of confusion and grief, with a few currently unknown to man. You'd intended to tease him, but that sheer amount of confused, horny misery on his face was just too much, and you laughed so hard you bent over.
And coughed. In a short time, there was no laughter left, only miserable coughing from the depths of your chest that left you on the floor with your eyes watering. Someone thumped your back a few times, and when you yanked your mask off to catch a proper, if shallow breath, your mask was full of a red-streaked, pus coloured slime.
A fur coat was draped over your shoulders as everyone made various noises of disgust. "Class dismissed. Let's get you to the nurses."
~*~*~*~
"How in hell are you still mobile."
"Pettiness and a desire to not freeze to death."
Crewel narrowed his eyes at you. "Both lungs."
"That is what double pneumonia means, Professor."
You could see his whip fingers itching. "Yes, well. You can't come to class like that. And... Is it really that bad in Ramshackle?"
Idia raised a hand. "It was really cold the last time I was there."
"Ugh. I told Crowley we should have razed the place for an expansion on my dog run." He looked at you with a curious mix of genuine fondness and even more genuine disgust. "I'm not putting you up until your place gets fixed, you'll leak all over my furniture. Anyone here going to babysit?"
"I've done perfectly fine in my own dorm, I don't need to become the pet of another dorm."
"Those little fairies said that if you don't stay on bedrest and stay warm, you will die. I am not filling out that paperwork." He looked to you classmates. "Speak up or I'm docking a letter grade."
Silver raised a hand. "I think we could do it but I don't think D- Lilia would let me. Malleus would end up trying to play nurse and skip class."
"Oh god, no, we don't tell him I'm sick until I'm safely ensconced somewhere, he would lose his damn mind and I'd try to strangle him after a week of it."
"There are no spare rooms in Octanivelle. However, I could try some experimental medicines I've been-"
"Jade, no."
Idia was quiet, before speaking up. "I... I don't know if Ignihyde has a spare room, or would be good for healing."
He'd not left your side since your collapse, and gone so full of writhing, barely concealed anxiety he'd broke through the other side and simply shut off. You didn't get it, it wasn't actually anything serious. The nurses had pumped you full of medicine, you'd be up and about a week or two at the most, instead of the month's worth of hospital rooms and bad food it would have been.
Crewel sighed. "Time to start checking the files to see where you can be squeezed."
There was a cough, from the fifth student so quiet despite his size. Everyone had honestly forgotten he was there.
When he spoke up, it was to you, and not anyone else. "There's an unoccupied room down the hall from me. I think the weather in the Savannahclaw dorms will be good for your health. You shouldn't have to stay where you won't be wanted, or get sicker. Would that work?"
You looked at him, assessing. You and him hadn't talked overmuch, and he didn't seem to mind. But as severe as he looked? You could see the sincerity in his offer.
"That should work. Jack, right?"
His ears flicked, and his tail twitched. "Yes."
"Thank you, Jack. You're very kind."
~*~*~*~
Easy to see why the room was empty. You suspected it might have been a storage room, or that there had been a monastic order in the dorm at one point. A single bed just fit the far wall, with a chair, a desk, a bureau, and little else. But the far wall had a large window, and the room felt... nice. And a hell of a lot warmer than than your room in Ramshackle.
"It'll make an excellent sickroom." You set your schoolbag and an entire case of tissues on the desk. "Thank you again, Jack. You sure it won't be any trouble?"
"I've already cleared it with our dorm leader, he said he doesn't care as long as you don't rub phlegm on his things." Jack was a solid block of frown and muscle in the corner. "The window does open, you should keep it that way for circulation. There's a bathroom down the hall, there's showers in there. If you need anything or anyone tries to bother you, please let me know."
"Will do." You were already unpacking the few things in your bag, trying to get them arranged before another coughing fit took you.
"I can help get your things, if you need?" For a dude who was very do-that-shit-yourself, he was being very helpful.
"Idia's grabbing Grimm and anything else I'll need. He'll know what I want."
"I see." Silence, and more interesting ear flicks. "So."
"So?"
"You and him are..." He made a guesture with interlaced fingers.
"Yeah. Jealous?"
He snorted. "No. Just curious. He's a bit..." Hand wiggle.
"I'm a bit too. It works. Would have been nice if he'd gotten the hint before I had a ghost turn me inside out in front of him and everyone else."
"You know that's why you're so sick, right?"
You made a noise that was hard to decipher, that he used as cue to continue. "You never smelled quite right after that happened. Even after the healing. You're always a little..." He moved his hands, trying to grasp the right simile. "Like when a flower's starting to drop petals. Overripe."
How in the hell were you supposed to take that. What do you even say to that? Does everyone know you smell? Does -
"Oh god, you all know when I'm on the rag."
A single, curt nod, and you put your head in your hands and groaned.
~*~*~*~
A knock on the door
"Who is it?"
"Your worst enemy."
"Get your ass in here, Vil."
Vil had on... good lord. Mask, gloves, face shield. An absurdly fashionable CDC agent. "You look like shit."
"Thanks, Vil. Means so much coming from you."
He stayed by the door, ready to flee if a spare germ came floating towards him. "Heard you're out of commission. Thank the seven, I'll get some peace in my life."
You flipped him the bird, but smiled as you did. "Don't say that. I'll made a sheet ladder and mix sputum in your cold cream."
"If you do that I will personally burn your clothes and replace them with something decent that you will hate."
"Try. Come to gloat?"
"Just a bit." He set a large cup with a straw at the very edge of the desk, straining at arm's length as he did. "This should unfuck your throat somewhat."
"Such language!" You waited until he retreated to the door before you took the smoothie. It was... very, very purple, and smelled minty. "Trying to poison me, finally?"
He rolled his eyes. "When I decide to poison you, it's not going to be through something that obvious. You will never see it coming, and then I'll sell your corpse to Floyd and everyone will just think he finally decided to go full crazy and Riddle is next."
You snorted. "Honestly? I think he'd shit his pants if I actually returned the affection. One time I saw Riddle give him a genuine smile and he had to go sit down because he started shaking so bad." That might have been because the smile was caused by Floyd cracking his head on a doorway and falling flat on his ass, but the point still stood.
When he stopped laughing, he turned to leave. "Take at least an extra week to get better, for my sanity. And don't give the creature any, it won't agree with him."
"Shh, I just got him down for his nap-"
Grimm made a horrible snort from your feet and say up. "Food?"
You made a look-what-you-did guesture at Vil, but he left instead of helping you deal with your beloved yowling idiot.
~*~*~*~
You woke up coughing in the dark. It took entirely too long for you to figure out where the hell you were, and why, and you took the offered tissue with great-
"JaySUS FUCKING CHRIST" You jumped back so much it was only Malleus's grip on your arm that kept you from going through the open window.
"People are sleeping, please do not yell."
"Don't yell my ass, how long have you been there?"
He shrugged. "Since before sunset. Ortho was here first."
You leaned around Mal, to see Ortho sitting on the desk, scritching the belly of a drowsing Grimm. "Hello, Yuu. Your fever has gone down half of a degree since I took over."
The audacity of these idiots, you swear. "Both of you go home and go to bed."
"No. You need watching." Mal had not blinked once since you'd woken up, and how about that? His eyes glowed in the dark, or he had very strong eyeshine; either way, there was no iris around the blown out pupil. "You are very ill and need taken care of. I can do that, I took care of Silver when he was ill."
"Mal."
"Yes?"
"Do we need another boundaries talk?"
He frowned. "But you are ill."
"Mal, I will call Lilia and tell him what you are doing right now. I will personally write your grandmother and tell her you're neglecting your studies. I will get Leona down here and he will call you a simp until you go outside and fight him on compulsion."
"Those all sound terrible!"
"Ortho, don't kiss up because you're next. Why are you here and not home charging?"
"Idia wouldn't go home to sleep until I said I would let him know if you got worse."
You opened your mouth, and shut it again. Why's he so worried? You had to physically shove him out the door to go to his next class, looking like his heart would break, and he'd still skipped board games to fidget miserably in the chair Mal now sat in, looking ready to burst into tears every time you coughed.
Ortho seemed to read your mind. "He gets worried when people get sick. I got sick once."
Ah. That explained a hell of a lot that you were too polite to ask.
"... Okay, you can stay."
Mal perked up.
"You go home. I'll never go back to sleep if you keep staring all night, and you do need to sleep some."
Mal's face fell.
"You can come back tomorrow, after class."
He perked back up. "Goodnight, Yuu. I will see you tomorrow!" A brief kiss against your sweating temple, and he was out the same window he most likely came in.
"Hey, Ortho?"
"Yes?"
"If you can dim your lights a little, you can come lie down with me."
~*~*~*~
You were rudely poked awake by a giant asshole.
"Why are you in my nap room." Leona hovered over you with obvious displeasure.
You blinked and sorted yourself. Ortho was crammed between you and the window, hopefully dreaming of electric sheep, and Grimm was still dead asleep, the little bastard. "Jack put me up here because my dorm's a block of ice and I can't stay there on doctor's orders." Crewel might have a doctorate, it's not a lie.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"I did." Jack was behind him, his own link in a chain of hovering displeasure. "You said it was fine as long as she didn't make a mess. I brought yogurt."
"Thank you-" More miserable coughing, with now everyone either rubbing your back or passing you tissues. Except Leona, who simply held back and watched. By the time you were done, he just nodded.
"I'm not moving you, but..."
"What."
"I'm calling in a favour next time Cheka gets pawned off on me. He likes you."
You'd argue that, but you liked the kid. "Aight. Everyone get out, there's too many fucking people in here and I'm discovering new and interesting depths of claustrophobia."
Leona didn't need to be told twice.
"I'll be back after class with your homework. Maybe at lunch with something. Not before then. Stay put."
"Oooo, oo. I'm going with you, big guy." Grimm scampered over. "I'll get bored here all day. You can just nap."
You rolled your eyes "I can just nap. Jack, if he sticks with you, he's going to want to eat everything you do."
"I'll manage."
"Would you like me to stay?" Ortho was finally up, or maybe you hadn't noticed him exiting screensaver mode.
"I'd like you to tell your brother that I'm not going anywhere. Use those exact words."
He nodded, a faint whirr as he did.
"I'll see you guys later, okay? I need more sleep."
~*~*~*~
Someone gently shook you awake, and said someone was leaning in the window.
"Hey, Kalim." Why'd you have to be the center of attention when sick, and therefore couldn't kiss anyone to thank them for said attention.
"Hi! I asked Jamil to make extra lunch for you!" He set a covered dish on your knees.
"Thank you. Was he okay with that?"
"He was when I said it was for you. Everyone's heard that you're laid up!"
"News travels fast. Am I about to get even more popular?"
"You're always popular because you're great. Feel better! Jamil said he'll have extras tomorrow too. See you!" And off he went.
You needed to tell Jamil thank you, but he would probably just tell you to just stop talking about abolishing the monarchy instead. (Not because he didn't support the idea, but because he didn't want to be punished for not keeping the idea from Kalim.) What did he make, anyway?
"Oh, curry. Sweet."
~*~*~*~
The days progressed roughly the same. Drowsing most of the morning, lunch, more drowsing in between laptop stuff, maybe actual sleep. Coughing up far less gunk as the days went on. And entertaining an absurd fucking amount of people. Everyone seemed determined to check on you, even people who you'd never seen before in your life; Ruggie made something like 10k madol charging people to try and see you through the window before you cursed him out. Your Heartslabyul boys dropped in every couple of days to relate shit that they hadn't simply texted you (along with a pile of pastries from Trey and handwritten instructions on recovery from Riddle, the latter far less appreciated than the former). Floyd dropped in once to mostly complain about how you weren't around to eat the mushrooms he picked out of his food, tried to convince you to let him carry you over to the Monstro Lounge himself, and when you refused, kissed the tips of your fingers and left pouting. Jack, true to his word, dropped in at least twice a day to deliver food and homework, and once spent forty-five minutes glowering at anyone approaching the bathrooms while you took a shower that ached on your oversensitive skin.
Some people were far more regular. Every day like clockwork, Malleus perched in your window and was the world's friendliest, most affectionate vulture. Twenty minutes after that, Idia would come in, sit in the chair, and exude such concentrated grief that you were at a loss for what to do beyond asking if he wanted to talk about it, to which he would shake his head and simply resume sitting there, tapping away at his screens until the next panicked flurry of activity every time you made a unhealthy noise.
"You are allowed to go home. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm much better than I was."
He just shook his head.
"I will come get you if something happens," Mal offered.
More head shaking, and a "no" from his tablet, before adding, "Never again."
"I'll call Ortho and make him tag you out."
"I said no. And Ortho is with Lilia."
Lilia, small, beloved pest, has what you like to think of as a compulsive need to parent. He was god knows how old, had raised at least three of your classmates that you know of, and seemed to consider you his newest fledgling. After hearing about what happened, he'd taken it into his own hands to fix Ramshackle to... well, not OSHA compliance, but you wouldn't be cold.
"Does he know how much I appreciate it? Appreciate all of you, really?"
"Of course he does. He loves talking about you. He wears that shirt you made all the time."
"Which one? I've made him seven so far."
"When do I get one?"
"When they make T shirts that'll fit over your horns." Something drooped in the corner of your eye, and you looked over to see Idia shaking himself upright. "Hey, babe. When was the last time you slept?"
He took an embarrassingly long time to lie through his teeth and say "Last night" through his tablet.
"Yeah, no. Get over here." You took a moment to drag Mal's hand down before he could just do a sleeping spell, or something equally well meaning but deeply inappropriate.
"No."
"Please?"
You held your arms out until he couldn't resist, and soon you'd arranged his head on your chest.
"You hear anything more sloshing around in there?"
He shook his head.
"I am on the mend. I... don't really know what happened before. And I sure as hell don't know what you did to get him back. But I'm not going anywhere. So rest."
He gave a faint nod.
"I will wake you, if need be?"
To both yours and Mal's surprise, Idia answered him with a pat on his leg.
"Thank you."
Idia was already asleep.
~*~*~*~
"Mal?"
"Yes?"
"Do you know what 'cyanosis' is?" You’d been stroking Idia's head for hours. Or minutes. Time flies, and you could not tell the difference.
"Not immediately, no."
"It's caused by a few different things. Hypoxia, hypothermia, that sort of thing. The blood in you doesn't have enough oxygen. So little that, instead of red, parts of your body turn blue or grey due to the lack of oxygen."
"I see." He looked intently, much as you did, at Idia's greyish nails and blue lips. "That doesn't seem survivable."
"Not if it's severe, no." The flames from Idia's head curled around your fingers, grasping at you even when he's not aware of it. "It's not something you see on someone as... lively as him. It's something I think about a lot. Whether it's to do with his magic, or that curse he won't elaborate on."
"I've heard rumours."
"Oh?"
"The Shroud family curse. Nothing concrete, for an origin. Madness, misfortune, and illness have plagued the family throughout history. Add in a trend of cousin marriage beyond the norm for upper-class families due to people not wanting to subject their loved ones to a cursed bloodline, and the tree is more of an notorious, ingrown shrub."
"That just sounds like shitty genetics and what happens to every family as the years go on, not a curse."
Mal shrugged. "is there a difference? Even in the sleeping curse my grandmother bestowed so easily, much of the power came for the fear of it. A girl grew up without her family because of the fear of it."
"True." You leaned down and kissed the top of Idia's head, feeling an unconscious smile as you did. "There must be a little hereditary something. He gets so anxious about this beautiful hair! He hates people looking at him, and he doesn't even realize it's because he's the most beautiful thing in any room he walks in."
"Thing?" Mal raised an amused eyebrow.
"Even the finest art in a museum doesn't have the benefit of being actually alive."
"Your capacity for love and beauty is enviable. Hunt would be jealous." He reached out and brushed a stray lock away from Idia's face, and you could feel another smile against your chest.
~*~*~*~
"Aight, so we've patched up holes in the walls, insulated the windows - Idia here," Lilia clapped Idia on the small of his back, causing him to make a distressed squeak - "smart boy, found some solar panels and we've got electricity up in your room, the kitchen and the bathroom by your room, not just the front room anymore! The rest we got the ghosts to help seal off to hold the heat in. I got you a space heater for your room, so you don't have to do a fire the whole time, and as long as you don't open the windows back up before spring, you won't freeze."
"Thanks, guys. One question."
"Yeah?"
"What did you do to my room."
Lilia smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're a walking prank and can't keep out of there, what did you do."
"Nothing this time! I promise!" He held his hands up. "At least you can stay home for the next few days, Crewel says you gotta be back Monday or he's going to start making funeral prep."
"I'm literally better, but if he does that I get to help. Always wanted to plan my funeral, I have very specific ideas about what flowers to use and preferred corpse disposal."
"Maybe you should go upstairs and not talk about funerals and their associated things."
"Sure thing, dear."
After settling in your room, most everyone cleared out, even Idia. The only person still there was Jack, looking this way and that with a stern look.
"Hey, Jack?"
He grunted in assent.
"So like, why'd you put me up and help take care of me? We've hardly talked before then."
He sighed. "You've been very nice to me."
"You sure? I'd remember you."
"Uh."
"Jack?"
~*~*~*~
It was a beautiful day, if chilly in the wind. The sun was warm, the trees turning, and you just came across one of your best friends.
"Hi buddy! Are you lost today?"
The very large dog shook it's head and pressed into your knees.
"Okay, you wanna walk with me? Come on."
You'd found this enormous white Malamute wandering campus the first time a few months ago, and after checking in with a few other students who kept laughing when you asked if he was their dog, simply decided to enjoy your new friend and run and play. He was very smart, and initially standoffish, but could not resist a friendly face and good ear scritches. Today, you and Buddy here simply ran around like a couple of idiots after a lost soccer ball until it was time to go eat.
"I'll see you later, buddy. Bye!" You held out a hand, and after a firm shake, kissed the point where his snout met the rest of his face. "Stay safe, I love you."
Buddy made a low grumble and rubbed his paws over his face, and you went off to supper.
~*~*~*~
"You couldn't have told me?"
"How do you explain that? 'Hey, I run around as a wolf sometimes and you mistook me for a lost dog so you lovebombed me and I was at a loss and by the second time it was too awkward to say anything'?"
"I've been playing with you for months! I let you run with Crewel's dalmatians!"
"I run with them as a person, too, that's nothing special."
You pinched your nose. "Everyone must think I'm an idiot."
"I'll deal with them. I'm sorry, Yuu."
"I know. You are my good boy, after all."
His tail started wagging in spite of itself, and you laughed.
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Trust and Security
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Word Count: 3460 words (I was aiming for 1000, but let’s just say - it got away from me)
Ratings/Warnings: SFW.
Summary: “Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs” @twdeadfanfic
It’s been over a month since the prison fell, and your group was weary. After one month of being out on the road, vulnerable and exhausted, your little family finds safety behind the tall walls of the Alexandria Safe Zone. Although, the walls do nothing to cease your skittishness.
The new folk behind the walls were kind and gracious, but at the same time, naive and inexperienced to what lays behind their safe haven and that worries you. It worries your group as well; everyone picking up on the credulous attitudes and their misty-eyed optimism and it just doesn’t sit right.
The first few days were difficult, a strange adjustment period. After being used to the wilderness and the danger it includes to now having a proper house to sleep in and call home, it felt, surreal. But after a few days, some of your people begin to relax and enjoy the safety of Alexandria.
You weren’t one of them, and neither was Daryl. The pair of you refused to believe in this wonderland, a shared acceptance in the belief that this place will fall just like the prison and just like any other ‘safe place’ that stood before. Perhaps you weren’t giving this place a chance? Perhaps it is easier to set yourself up for failure rather than have your hopes high? Regardless of the reasoning behind it, you just can’t get rid of the gnawing feeling of the false safety this place eludes.
Almost daily, Rick tries to convince you of Alexandria’s potential. He exemplifies the possibility of having a future here, a safe future for Carl and Judith to grow up in, a safe place where there isn’t fear about the dead or the dangers that stalk outside the walls. And almost daily, both you and Daryl turn him down, stubborn in your ways and between the false reality constructed and the abnormal kindness from the residents, you can’t help but feel unsafe.
You can’t lie, however, that Alexandria does have its perks. You have been here for 5 days already and you have not gone hungry once in that time. It is nice to have a healthy food supply, to have a blanket and a mattress that isn’t damaged or dirty and of course, it is nice to be clean. You have taken advantage of the running water system in the town, taking more showers in the last 5 days than you have in the month and it is a luxury that you allow yourself to indulge in.
The first time you had a shower you almost cried. Not one for the emotions normally, it couldn’t be helped that day when hot, running water cascading over you, temporarily washing away the trauma and pain of the apocalyptic world. For a moment, you could forget the ones you’ve lost, the agony and anguish every time you’ve had to take a life, the suffering and torture you’ve endured. For a moment, you could just be no-one.
- - -
Day six lingers, and the house is quiet. It had been decided yesterday that it’s possible to make Alexandria home and for that, houses were given to share. Rick, Carl, Judith and Michonne moved next door, never too far away from family but it gave them enough space to breathe. A large portion of the group, consisting of Abraham, Eugene, Sasha and Rosita, moved into another house on the same street. The remaining were quick to claim rooms; Maggie and Glenn taking a room as well as Carol stealing the spare. It left you and Daryl with a little bedroom on the ground floor and the lounge room. It didn’t matter, neither of you slept much nowadays and if you did, it was never at the same time. One always had to be on watch.
It was a silent arrangement, just like how your friendship blossomed. One day you were alone, despite being with the group, lingering to one side, keeping one eye on the wilderness around you as if you were ready to jump up and run into its clutches. But then one day, with no significant event as the catalyst, Daryl grew close, being drawn to your side every time a new camp was set up. Neither of you asked for the other to join, it just always happened. It became an unspoken rule that you were to always be partners. If you were to go hunting, so would Daryl. If you chose to set up your sleeping roll in the corner, Daryl would linger close. If you missed a meal, or gave your portion to someone else, then Daryl would give you some of his. It was unspoken, but it was law. You weren’t to be separated.
- - -
Summer had followed your group to Alexandria and the pair of you sat on the porch. Daryl was fiddling with his crossbow, nimble fingers twirling and unwinding certain pieces, tightening this and that, fixing up his bolts before giving the entire weapon a wipe down. He worked methodically, quietly, as if his actions were second nature to him. You shamelessly watched him periodically, fascinated by the sleek weapon and by the rugged man. He was your best friend, your partner and companion. You would die for him and he would die for you. It was simple. It was easy. And he was the single person that never failed to bring a smile to your lips.
Satisfied with your ogling, you return to your book. It wasn’t yours to begin with. It came with the furnished house and in a moment of boredom, you plucked it from its place with every intention to fill the small gap of monotony. What you hadn’t expected was to become engrossed with the novel, completely swept up in the mythical world it held.
“Yer almost finished that thing yet?”
Daryl breaks your train of thought, startling you back into the world of reality and you shrug.
“Got a few chapters to go,” you say, flicking ahead to see that you indeed have almost completed the fiction.
“You only started yesterday arvo’“ Daryl states, crooking an eyebrow in your direction, his hands continuing to work on the crossbow without a visual guide.
“What can I say, I’m a fast reader. You finished playing with that crossbow yet? You’ve been fiddling with that thing for the past 3 days now,” You are quick to shoot back at him, a smirk dancing across your lips in victory and Daryl scoffs, shaking his head in small amusement as he turns his gaze back to the item in his lap.
You finish your book just in time for Carol to leave the house, the older woman looking well dressed and holding a container of cookies. Both you and Daryl raise an eyebrow at her, silent questions being asked, and she pointedly ignores them.
“Have you even had a shower yet?” She asks sternly, giving the quiet man a stiff side glance that he shrugs off.
“I’ll hose you down when you sleep,” she threatens, “you are filthy Daryl, just take a goddamn shower”.
You stifle a giggle, biting down on your lip to hide your growing smile but you fail miserably, and a chuckle escapes you. Daryl hears it, glancing over at you with a bored expression but when he sees you smiling, he can’t fight back a little smirk of his own.
“You enjoy watching Carol take the piss out of me, ay?” he questions gruffly, and you laugh at that openly, throwing your head back to revel in the moment.
“Hell yeah I do. Who wouldn’t?” you tease, poking your tongue out when Daryl rolls his eyes.
With your book done, you throw it onto the table beside you and stand up, stretching out your arms as you unfold from your previous position. Your shoulders pop loudly as you rotate them and you groan with satisfaction, eyes closed as you continue to move your body. You miss how Daryl’s eyes selfishly gawk at the sliver of skin that is revealed as you stretch, your shirt just riding up to show the smoothness of your skin and he wonders how soft your body would be beneath his hands.
His eyes quickly snap back to his crossbow when he hears you hum, stretching complete and body limber.
“You off then?” he questions, not looking up at you as he speaks, fear that his eyes will reveal things he refuses to say.
“Yeah, might have a lie-down or somethin’“
“Gonna take one of yer ten million showers?” he teases you and a warm flutter erupts in his chest when his words make you laugh.
“Showers aren’t the enemy, Daryl” you remind him, a smile easy on your lips, but your tone is firm.
He grunts, explicitly refusing to respond and you sigh.
“Come shower with me,”
Those words catch his attention. His head whips up to look at you, eyes wide and stunned. You admire his surprised expression, noticing how his lips part ever so slightly and how he sucks in a shallow breath as he processes your words and intentions.
“Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs,” you joke, but your eyes convey understanding.
Daryl remains frozen for another moment or two, waiting for the punchline or the taunt but it never comes. Of course, it wouldn’t. He knows you. You aren’t like that, not to him. So, when it clicks that this isn’t an immoral joke and he allows himself to believe your gentleness, he nods, flustered but agreeing.
You give him a small smile, jerking your head in the direction of the front door before you turn to walk through it, not waiting for Daryl to move. You know he would follow, he has always followed you and he would follow you to the end of the earth.
By the time he reaches the bathroom, you already have the shower turned on. You have your hand beneath the stream, testing it, determined to have the perfect temperature and it is so unlike you, but at the same time, it is. He has seen you kill walkers with your bare hands, he has seen your unfiltered rage and your grief, and he has seen the special compassion you reserve for Carl and Judith. But it is rare for him to see you this gentle, this soft, this caring.
You know he is there, standing in the doorway watching you. You felt the heaviness of his gaze the moment he reached the second floor. But you don’t mention it, instead, you hum as you adjust the water before turning around to rifle through the cabinets for soap. The house is a treasure-trove of good items and the luxury of having a shower also extends to bathroom products. There are different types of soaps and shampoo to choose from and Daryl sees you fish out two items; a creamy soap bar and a green bottle. You set them both inside the shower before stepping back.
“Go on, get in” you gesture to the shower.
“Thought you were havin’ the first one?”
“And leave you with an opportunity to escape hygiene? Not a chance,” you retort
You know him too well, he thinks fondly. But an uneasiness sets in and you can see apprehension flit across his face.
“Daryl, you can shower. I won’t be leaving, I’ll be right here” you say tenderly, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid to prove your point. You weren’t going to leave him alone.
It’s reassuring, as much as Daryl hates to admit it. He isn’t used to having someone stand by him unwaveringly like you do. He hates to admit that he has come to lean on you, come to let you in. You have never pressured him, never forced his hand and for that, you unknowingly have his eternal gratitude.
“I won’t even look, so hurry up otherwise the water will run cold,” you announce, making a big show of closing your eyes and slapping a hand across your face for good measure.
Daryl cracks a smile at your theatrics, relief rolling off him in waves and slowly he begins to unbutton his shirt. Your ears strain to listen, to catch a sound so you can guess what he is doing. The rustle of a shirt confirms that he hasn’t bolted, and it makes you smile. What you don’t see is how Daryl’s fingers shake slightly as he works his belt undone as well as his jeans. He is stripping off his layers, both literally and metaphorically, and he hasn’t ever felt this bare, even with your eyes closed. He keeps his eyes trained on you as he edges towards the shower, his back never turning to reveal the ugly past that is marked into his skin and he only feels relief when he has the shower curtain drawn, letting it act as a barrier in all senses.
He has to admit; the hot water does feel heavenly. His sigh is, thankfully, masked by the sound of the shower and Daryl closes his eyes, tipping his head back and completely embraces the water. He stands there for a few moments, relishing in the luxury and the feeling of his muscles slowly unwinding, and he almost hates himself for putting this off for so long. He is so lost in heaven that he almost forgets that you are still sitting in the bathroom with him.
He pokes his head out, eyes falling on you and he smiles when he sees that you haven’t moved from your seated position, hands still covering your face but to keep you occupied, you bounce your leg.
It’s almost as if you know he is staring at you because you speak up,
“How’s the shower?” you ask
“Are ya comin’ in or what?” he ignores your question, now smugly watching your surprised reaction.
Gobsmacked, your hands fall from your face, mouth hanging open and your eyebrows raised in disbelief. This is the first time he ever hears you stutter.
“Wh- what?”
“Are ya gettin’ in or not? Ya expect me to leave you sittin’ and waitin’ for me?”
You nod, “Daryl Dixon, I didn’t expect you to invite me to shower with you”
“Sunshine, you did the invitin’ first”
“I never specified if I was to be in the same shower as you at the same time” you respond, shock fading quickly as your confidence returns and Daryl enjoys the transformation.
“Get in” he mutters and drops the curtain, standing back to leave you some room for when you come in.
You are quicker to strip than he was and although he knows you are coming, he can’t help but jump when you step into the cubicle. You notice, of course you notice, but as always, you don’t comment. Instead, you smile up at him with such a warm gaze, Daryl feels his heart clench. Silently, you grab the soap bar and lift it up, expressing your question through your look and he nods. You are gentle as you run the bar over his shoulders and down his arms, taking your time to sudd up your hands so you can run your fingers over each individual digit, cleaning them of the dirt and the grime that had accumulated. Daryl was silent during your endeavour but by the quickness of the rise and fall of his chest depicted his nervousness.
“Tell me if it gets too much” you murmur, eyes flicking to meet his and it amazes him how you don’t pressure him, letting him control his limits. It is his blind trust in you that allows you to be this close to him and you know how hard it is for the redneck to open up to you, to let you close to his turmoil.
“Nah, s’okay” he mutters breathlessly.
You continue on to his torso, rubbing the bar in circular motions and its satisfying to watch the water run dirty, revealing more of the gorgeous man in front of him. Daryl fears it will get awkward when you kneel down in front of him, eyes closed as he wills himself not to make a fool out of himself. Either or not you pick up on his anxious, you don’t say, but you avert your eyes from his lax cock, focusing on cleaning his strong legs. When you are finished Daryl offers you a hand, holding it firmly as he pulls you to your feet and once steady, he doesn’t let go.
“I can leave your back” you offer. The story of the scars isn’t new to you, but their appearance is. He hasn’t let you cast your eyes upon the monstrosities, barely able to look at them himself.
He is torn, gnawing at his lip as he tries to decide on an answer, but his silence is one you will accept. With a fond smile you shrug, reassuring him to the best of your ability.
“That’s okay, tilt your head forward, hun” you are quick to move on, distracting him from the dangerous thoughts that threaten to surface, and it works, the pet name is a pleasant sound falling from your lips.
He obeys, tilting his head forward and closing his eyes as the water runs down his cheekbones. The pop of the shampoo bottle alerts him to your intentions and a sprig of mint fills the steamy air. Your fingers massage his scalp as you clean the brown tresses and Daryl bows beneath your touch. He slumps forward, head resting upon your shoulder in full submission and you pressed a lingering kiss to his temple, fingers never ceasing their ministrations until they begin to cramp a while later. You don’t want to move him, savouring the weight of his body against yours but the suds need to be washed out, so you tap his shoulder. Daryl washes out the remaining suds himself before he looks down at you, guilt suddenly creeping upon him.
“Do yer want me... to, ya know”
Bashfully, he gestures to you, but you shake your head laughing.
“No Daryl, it’s fine, but thank you” you say sincerely, “now, let’s get you out of here and into clean clothes, hey”.
The shower gets switched off and the pair of you emerge from the stuffy cubicle. Daryl grabs the towels first, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. There is no third towel to cover his back and he is painfully aware of that fact, tensing up as he realises that he is closest to the door and will have to turn around to walk out. Once again you amaze him, slipping by to walk out first and Daryl lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
When Daryl appears, he finds you in the small bedroom, stretched out on the bed with your eyes closed.
“Tired?”
“Warm showers make me sleepy” you confess, opening your eyes to look up at the man sheepishly.
He hums and remains standing at the end of the bed, hands tucked into the pockets of the old sweatpants that hang from his hips and takes his time to admire you. He doesn’t admire your clothes, although the sight of you in snug clothes makes the fluttering in his chest go faster; but he soaks in your comfortableness, your trust.
He doesn’t ask if you could move and make room for him, wordlessly you do it anyway when Daryl begins to climb onto the bed. He flops onto the mattress once he reaches the pillow, heaving a sigh as his body melts into the softness of the mattress. He rarely allows himself to sleep on it, leaving it for you to use while he takes the couch or the chair outside on the porch. And just like the shower, he realises how much he has been missing out on. And he is sick of it.
“Yer too good to me, Y/N” he mumbles, and you chuckle, shaking your head before you roll onto your side to face him.
“Nah, just doing what is right”. What you deserve.
You both fall silent, letting the post-shower haze settle over you and allowing your bodies to relax.
You are on the cusp of sleep when you feel Daryl’s hand slip into yours, calloused skin brushing against yours and instinctively you tighten your grip, Daryl squeezing back.
“Thank you” he murmurs.
You don’t say anything, fighting the pull of sleep and with a last-ditch effort you curl into Daryl, his arms sweeping you closer to his chest and cocooned in his security, you allow yourself to drift to sleep.
Alexandria may be weak, but it’s given you a safe haven, and maybe it isn’t all that bad.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x oc#twd#the walking dead#the walking dead imagines#daryl dixon imagines#twd imagine#daryl dixon/reader#twd imagines#daryl dixon fanfic#twd fanfiction#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead imagine#ly-canthropewrites#fluff#sfw
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Love of my Life - (5) Don't play games with me
Summary: Game night ends with a surprise
Warnings: N/A. Let me know if you find any that I should be listing!
A/N: I know Jody isn't a big player at this point in the show, and that Donna hasn't even been introduced. But I love them and we're just going to pretend for the sake of the story!
Series Masterlist
It was your turn to make treats for game night, so after you had showered and dressed, you pulled together ingredients for cookies and preheated the oven. Sam, Bobby and Nick were in the living room and Dean had just joined.
“Of course, you show up after we’ve cleaned the place.” Bobby remarked as Dean sat down. The boys all talked and laughed for a while, and you were glad to see that Dean was finally warming up to Nick. Once you put the cookies in the oven, you began to clean up.
“I’ll wash if you dry.” A deep voice offered. You looked up to find Nick holding out a dish towel to you, which you accepted.
“I’m glad to see Dean is finally speaking to you.” You gave Nick a side glance.
“Yeah, me too. He’s a really cool guy, I’d love to pick his brain sometime.”
The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine and were done with the dishes in no time. Dean couldn’t help but watch from the living room.
“Dean, are you even listening?” Sam snapped his fingers and frowned. He knew exactly what Dean was watching.
“Yeah, sorry. What’d you ask?” Dean blinked a few times, bringing himself back to reality.
“What games should we play tonight?” Sam opened up an old cupboard full of card and board games.
“I’m always down for a little poker.” Dean said as he grabbed a few decks of playing cards.
Jody filed in soon after and brought Donna with them, who had been visiting. You yelled hello from the kitchen and pulled the cookies from the oven.
“Smells amazing.” Nick leaned over the tray and inhaled, then reached for a cookie. You quickly slapped his hand.
“You gotta wait until the games start.” Nick gave you an exaggerated puppy dog look. “Sorry, not buying it. Sam’s been giving me that look for years. I’m immune to it.” Nick huffed in defeat and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead.
Jody couldn’t help but notice the new hunter who was strangely close to you. She approached Sam with a headful of questions. “Sam, did I just see some guy give Y/N a kiss on the forehead?”
“Yeah, that’s Nick. He’s been hanging around here for a few weeks while he heals up from saving Bobby’s bacon. He’s a decent guy, and he’s got it real bad for Y/N.”
“Uh huh…” Jody paused to think. “I guess what I’m really wondering is why hasn’t Dean ripped Nick’s throat out for even standing 5 feet from Y/N?”
“I’m sure he wants to. But Dean made his choice, and I reminded him that. I hated seeing Dean lead Y/N on like he might eventually get back with her someday.”
“But we all know Lisa’s just a temporary thing, right?” Jody looked to Sam for assurance, but he stayed silent. “Right?!” She emphasized.
“I don’t know anymore. I don’t think she’s right for Dean, but he hasn’t given any signs of leaving her. Maybe it’s permanent.” Sam took a drink of his beer.
“Oh.” Jody looked back over into the kitchen to see Nick leaning against the counter watching you with adoring eyes as you moved the cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack. “She does seem happy with him, and hell she deserves to be happy. But I gotta admit, Dean and Y/N seemed like they were perfect for each other. Like a match made in heaven.” She scanned the room to find Dean sitting on a chair in the corner next to Donna, trying his best to look invested in their conversation, but stealing occasional glances into the kitchen. Jody excused herself from her conversation with Sam and placed her hand on Dean’s arm, interrupting Donna mid-sentence. “Can I steal Dean for a sec?” Donna nodded and smiled, and Jody signaled for Dean to follow her out of the room. She sat down on the bottom step of the staircase. Dean followed suit.
“Everything ok, Jody?” Dean asked with concern in his eyes.
“I should be asking you that.”
Dean looked taken aback by her question and simply responded, “Well I’m just peachy,” before finishing off his beer.
“Dean, you don’t seem happy. Maybe it’s none of my business, but I think you and I know each other well enough that I can ask… What the hell are you doing?”
“What?” A confused Dean looked at Jody with questioning eyes.
“I’ll say it once and then drop it, because I’m not one to nag.” Jody took a deep breath and exhaled. “You belong with Y/N, Dean. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. You were literally made for each other. The first time that I saw you with Y/N, I knew that she was the one for you. I saw it in your eyes, and how you spoke with her, how you touched her. It was straight out of a crappy romance novel.” Jody looked at Dean, who was avoiding eye contact. “So, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, or between Y/N and Nick, or between you and Lisa. But I know what I know, and I know that Y/N is the girl for you. You’re not really you when you’re not with her.”
Dean played with the label on his beer bottle and remained silent for a few moments, as did Jody. She wanted to give him the chance to talk if he wanted to.
“I’m still in love with her.” Jody could feel the pain dripping from his words. “I wake up every morning wishing that she and Sam had just rang the stupid doorbell instead of leaving for a year the night they came back. I would have left with them and I’m know I would still be with Y/N now. But I made a commitment that I can’t bring myself to break.”
“To Lisa?” Jody placed her hand on Dean’s back. He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to contain his emotions.
“To Ben.” He answered and clenched his jaw. “I don’t love Lisa and I would have left the second I knew Y/N was back. But when Ben looked me in the eyes and told me that he thinks of me as his Dad, his real Dad, I knew I had to stick around for the long haul. I know firsthand how an absentee father can screw you up, and I can’t do that to him. But I can’t keep pretending that everything is all right.”
“I see.” Jody nodded. “Have you told anyone else about this? Sam or Bobby?” Dean shook his head. “Well, I can’t tell you what you do in this situation, but I do know that you’re a good man, Dean Winchester, and I’m here if you ever need to talk through things.” Dean nodded and Jody stood up, pulling him up by the arm. “Let’s go play some games.” She smiled and led him into the living room where the furniture had been pushed to the sides of the room to make room for the poker table.
“There you are!” You greeted as Dean and Jody joined your group. You could tell Dean was off as he sat down across from you. His eyes met yours and you immediately recognized the pain in his expression. Dean took a deep breath, picked up the cards he had been dealt, and put on a fake smile. At this point in his life, he was an expert at putting on a happy face, but you knew him too well and saw right through it. You were pulled back to reality by Nick putting his hand on your knee, signaling it was your turn. You gave him a sheepish smile and played your cards.
Your felt your heart being torn in 2 ways. For a long time, you thought Dean would be your forever, and you knew a part of you would always love him no matter what. But he was with someone else and showed no signs of wanting you anymore. Nick, on the other hand, was caring and had opened his heart to you quickly. He was handsome and funny and sweet, and any girl would be lucky to have him. You felt in the wrong because you knew that even if you pursued a relationship with Nick, you wouldn’t be able to give him all of you. Dean Winchester would always own a piece of your heart, a big one at that, and you were reminded of that every time you looked at him.
Hours had passed and it was getting late. You had all had fun, but people were filing out the door. You organized the cards into their proper decks and put them away. Sam helped you fold the table up and Nick and Bobby were picking up bottles and cans and clearing plates. You didn’t see Dean and assumed he must have left with the group but thought it was odd that he didn’t say goodbye. You said goodnight to the boys and headed up to your room. Dean had been off all night and you were worried. Your hand reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You scrolled down to Dean’s name and debated whether or not to call him. As you pushed your door open, you were startled to find someone sitting on your bed. You immediately went into defense mode, grabbing a knife from the top of your dresser.
“Dean?” You asked softly, putting down the knife and joining him on the edge of the bed. He was looking through an old photo album that you kept in the drawer of your nightstand.
“I remember when we took this. Sam was so mad that we stopped in the middle of the desert for one stupid picture.” Dean held up a picture of you sitting on top of his shoulders, pointing to the “Welcome to New Mexico” state sign. Dean was wearing a grey t-shirt and sunglasses and you had your hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. This was one of your favorite pictures. You made the boys stop so you could take a picture anytime you passed one of those state signs and were determined to get a picture with all 50 of them. Dean thought it was stupid at first, but he saw how happy it made you. Eventually he joined in, and the two of you would make silly poses next to each sign, leaving Sam to be the photographer.
“There’s still a few states that I need pictures of.” You took the book from Dean and slowly flipped through the pages. This album was one of your most cherished belongings, but you hadn’t looked through it for almost a year and a half. The memories that these pictures brought back were always happy at first but following closely behind was the pain of knowing that you and Dean would never be that close again.
“How many? Maybe we can take a few road trips and hit the ones you don’t have. Could be fun.” Dean suggested, raising his eyebrows.
You wanted to say yes, pack a bag, and leave right that minute. That’s the kind of thing the two of you used to do. But things were different now. Your smile faded, and instead of accepting his invitation, all you managed to say was, “Are you sure Lisa would be okay with that?”
Dean pursed his lips and nodded, silently agreeing that you had a point. He turned to look at you with desperation in his eyes and opened his mouth to say something before Sam walked in, breaking the tension.
“Hey, man, I thought you left. Thanks for helping clean up.” Sam said sarcastically as he flopped down on your bed. “Oh, man, I remember these pictures.” He took the book from your hands and scanned the pictures. “I miss these times. The three of us out on the road.”
“Me too.” You and Dean agreed in unison.
It was already late, but you and the brothers stayed up for at least another hour remembering stories about your past. You could hear Nick’s boot heavy on the stairs as he walked towards your room.
“Nick!” Sam yelled to get his attention.
Nick stopped and peaked his head in the door. “This must be the afterparty.” He smiled and you signaled for him to come in.
“Alright, you gotta tell us your craziest hunting story.” Sam demanded.
“Hmm…” Nick pondered and scratched his head. “Twin falls, Idaho, 2010. Four vamps, two werewolves, one ghoul, and two idiot hunters who thought they could handle it by themselves.”
“Sounds like the start of a crappy joke.” Dean chimed in.
Nick laughed and continued with his story. You all exchanged hunting tales until you grew tired and gave a big yawn.
“You know, my buddy found a case in Virginia. We could head out in the morning and help him if you guys feel up to it?” Nick suggested. “I’m dying to get back out there, even if I am limited.” He lifted his leg with the boot on it.
“I’m game!” Sam hopped off the bed. “I’ll go pack. Night guys.”
“Y/N?” Nick looked for your answer.
“Hell yes. I’m itching for a good fight.” You said sleepily.
“Sweet. See you in the morning.” Nick winked at you as he left.
“I’d offer for you to come, but…” You trailed off; your words directed at Dean.
“I know.” Dean nodded in acceptance. He readjusted himself to lay back on your bed, hands behind his head. “I miss hunting.”
“Hunting misses you.” You laid down next to him. “I mean, you’re Dean freaking Winchester. I’ve been told by a reliable source that some people call you The Ultimate Hunter.” You exaggerated your words and chuckled to yourself.
“More like the ultimate retiree now.”
You studied the ceiling and looked over to Dean, who had his eyes closed. It was at least 2 AM and you figured he was tired. “So, what were you doing in here tonight, anyway?” You figured you deserved an answer since he almost gave you a heart attack.
Dean’s breathing was slow and steady. “I don’t know. I just started walking and this is where I ended up.”
“Going through my stuff? You’re lucky I didn’t throw my knife at you. You scared the crap out of me when I first walked in.”
Dean smiled. “That’s what you get for beating me in poker tonight.”
“You mean kicking your ass in poker tonight?”
“Same difference.” He pushed you with his elbow a bit. The two of you lay in silence for a few minutes.
“You seemed off tonight.” You glanced at him.
“Just tired. Bobby’s couch wasn’t the most comfortable last night.”
“No, that’s not it. Are you feeling okay lately? You’ve been over here more in the past few weeks than you have in the past few months.”
Dean shrugged. “I guess it just sucks knowing that I’m being replaced.”
“Replaced?”
“Yeah. With Nick.”
“Uh, Nick isn’t replacing you.” Dean sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.
“Sure feels like it. Sam has become fast friends with him, Bobby trusts the guy, and now the gang is going out on a hunt without me.”
“Dean, you know we’d love it if you came hunting with us, but you got out of the life and Sam and I are just trying to respect that.”
Dean rubbed his hands over his face. “But worst of all, I see the way he looks at you. I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.” You looked down at the floor, searching for the right words. “Hell, I still do, Y/N/N.”
Chapter 6
Tags:
@vicmc624
#dean winchester#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean x you#supernatural#spn#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fandom
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Making Moves ➳ S. Reid
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word count: 2,5k
Warnings: none, Spencer likes being called doctor but what else is new
Spencer and you have been floating around in your own bubble for a while now. Maybe it’s time to let other people in on it as well.
After a long day of lectures and studying, your shower’s steady stream of warm water felt heavenly.
With a happy sigh you leaned further into the stream, when suddenly a pair of arms snuck around your naked waist.
You jumped up in shock for a second, and only then remembered that you had given your boyfriend the spare key to your apartment.
“Hi.”
You giggled breathlessly, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin of yours.
Instead of returning your greeting, Spencer just buried his head in the crook of your neck.
“Long day?”
While waiting for him to answer you reached back to play with his curls.
“Hhm.”
He groaned.
“The worst.”
It was only then that you decided to turn around, cupping his face in your hands to take a proper look at him.
The shadows underneath his eyes looked darker and his cheekbones stood out even more than usual.
You placed an innocent kiss on his lips.
“Take as long as you need, I’ll go ahead and make us dinner, okay?”His eyes softened, and for a moment the tiredness in his face was gone.
Spencer nodded and made room for you to leave the shower, but only after pressing a kiss to your hand.
“So, what you’re saying is that theoretically, a TARDIS is possible?”
Spencer threw his head back in a laugh.
“That’s not what I said!”
You faked a pout, poking at his ribs.
“Well, explain it to me then wonder boy!”
The two of you were cuddled up on your tiny couch, a soft blanket thrown over you and a doctor who marathon playing on the tv. The only way you could both fit on the sofa was when you were basically laying on top of each other, but you couldn’t really find it in you to complain about that.
Your boyfriend didn’t seem to mind, either.
He slightly sat up and lifted your chin with his fingers, capturing your lips in a kiss that made your insides melt.
“You still didn’t explain!”
You mumbled into the kiss, coaxing another smile from his lips.
In your living room’s dim lightning his eyes looked like honey and there was a warmth to them you didn’t get to witness every day.
“Can you… shut up and let me kiss you?”
He almost shyly asked, trapped between two of his favourite things in the world: geeking out without being judged for it and making out with his girlfriend. Today, he seemed to be in the mood for the latter.You hummed, leaning into him.
“I can do that, I guess.”
Unfortunately, evenings like these weren’t the standard for the two of you. Spencer worked an incredibly demanding job, and even though your university didn’t send you to crime scenes with a gun strapped to your hip it still wasn’t exactly easy, either.
You were a law student, in the middle of specialising on criminal law to hopefully one day go into law enforcement. It was only ironic that your own boyfriend had turned out to be an FBI-Agent a few dates in.
But then again, you were a firm believer that everything happened for a reason.
You had walked into that bar during orientation week last year for a reason, and the first thing your eyes had fallen upon had been Spencer for a reason.
“I bet I can destroy you in that game.”
You had boldly told the handsome stranger while sitting down across from him.
He had looked at you in confusion for a moment, his mouth slightly open, but then seemed to catch himself.
“That is highly unlikely.”
He had stated, is if it were a fact.
You had looked him directly in the eyes, encouraged by the gin tonic coursing through your veins.
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
Somehow, one round of rummy had turned into four, and somehow, you had actually managed to win two times, one of which with a glorious full house.
At some point the conversation between you two had began to flow freely, and you could still remember feeling so incredibly fascinated over everything this man had said.
Something about his way of speaking, the way he chose his words, the intelligence in his eyes, had pulled you in to a point of no return.
You had kissed him on the cheek that very night, not knowing how else to thank him for walking you home.
He had even insisted on it, not expecting the short walk to your apartment off campus to turn into a full-blown mini hike.
Afterwards the two of you had stood in front of your door, his cheeks red and his hands inexplicably trembling.
Spencer had later told you that he had never felt the way he had felt around you before, and that in that moment his biggest fear had been to never see you again.
But even though you had exchanged numbers before saying goodbye you had run into each other again much, much earlier than expected.
The very next morning, to be precise.
When you had innocently walked into your forensic linguistics elective class and met eyes with one certain Doctor Spencer Reid, the day’s guest lecturer.
“Maybe if you didn’t drink so much coffee and ate more breakfast you wouldn’t basically pass out whenever I take you running with me.”
You playfully scolded your boyfriend the next morning, shoving a croissant in his direction.
He barely even looked up from his notes, blindly reaching for the piece of pastry.
After breakfast you watched him getting ready for work.
Spencer long had his own drawer of clothes in your apartment, his own ties and jackets hanging in your closet.
The transition from barely sleeping at each other’s places to basically living with each other had happened so slowly and naturally that one day you had just woken up in his arms and decided that neither of you wanted it any other way anymore.
You were probably once and for all going to officially move in with each other soon as well, but before you did that you still needed to sort out some things in your relationship.
“Let me help you, Doctor Reid.”
You smiled seductively after seeing him struggle with the knot of his tie.
He chuckled nervously, a slight blush blooming over his cheeks.
“Honey, you know I’m trying to get going to work, not get going in another way.”
Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his nose.
“Whatever, Doctor Reid.”
Behind closed doors you loved teasing him, riling him up just to see him get all smiley and flustered. You had been in love before, but in comparison to the way you felt about Spencer all the ones that had been there before him faded into a dull grey. A part of you was convinced that you had been in love with someone before but had never really loved them. In a way, you liked to think of Spencer as your first and hopefully last love.
Trying to seize every moment you had with him you even accompanied him to your door, childishly trying to keep him from leaving by placing kisses all over his face.
“Baby, I have to go.”
Your rational side knew he was right, but it was very hard to let that side come to light when your emotional side was looking at Spencer with an empty head and heart eyes.
“I love you.”
He murmured and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.
You beamed at him.
“I love you more. I’ll see you later in your lecture?”
He nodded, and with one last kiss he was out the door.
Technically, you had long collected all the credits you could in forensic linguistics.
But that didn’t stop you from still visiting your boyfriend whenever he guest lectured for a friend, silently giving him the support he was always so grateful for.
Knowing you were there in the audience always gave him an insane boost in confidence, up to a point where now a whole group of girls in the class swooned over him on the regular.
You loved telling him about them and loved even more how shy he got over it, forever trying to help him feel surer of himself and his skills.
“JJ, you got something to do right now?”
Morgan asked with a grin, leaning over her desk.
“Loads. Why?”
She asked with a suspicious tone to her voice.
“We want to go visit pretty boy at his lecture, see how he does as a professor. Even Hotch is coming.”
With a heavy sigh, JJ closed the file she had been looking into.
Goddamnit, if she wasn’t interested in seeing Reid in action.
“Let’s go.”
She just said, getting up to join the rest of the team in the bullpen.
They all carpooled to the lecture hall, surprised over how many people and especially girls were there in the audience to watch Reid.
“Looks like Reid’s got some fans.”
Hotch murmured, the tiniest of smiles playing around his lips.
At the end of the lecture you packed your things and walked up to Spencer, politely waiting for the people in front of you to finish asking their questions.
You noticed the way your boyfriend’s glance kept on distractedly landing on you only to refocus on his students again and couldn’t help the smile on your face.
What were you supposed to do? You loved him, after all.
“Doctor Reid.”
You finally greeted him once he was done answering questions.
He visibly straightened up upon hearing his title, giving you a contained smile.
Even though you weren’t technically his student the two of you still preferred to not openly flaunt your relationship on campus, just to avoid getting into any form of trouble.
“Did you like today’s lecture, Ms. (Y/L/N)?”
He asked while shoving his things into the old leather satchel he always carried with him.
You grinned.
“I loved it. But it was terribly difficult to concentrate today.”
Spencer just nodded in mocked thoughtfulness.
“And why is that?”
Looking at the two of you from afar must have just looked like an overly nice student asking her professor some questions, but something about the way Reid smiled at this girl set something off in Morgan.
The usually so awkward genius seemed oddly comfortable around the pretty girl standing in front of him, something that didn’t really happen often.
Never, actually, now that he thought of it.
“Guys, do you think that’s his girlfriend?”
He hushed.
The rest of his team whipped their heads around to look at him.
“His what?!”
Emily asked.
“Come on, think about it. We’ve all noticed that he’s been feeling himself more than usual lately. He even comes into work looking well rested sometimes, when has that ever happened before?”
Garcia’s chin dropped in realisation.
“I saw him drive the opposite way of his apartment after work sometimes. I just thought he’s taking a detour or something…”
Before any of them could continue to speculate about Spencer Reid’s private life, Morgan had already made his way down the stairs to the lecturer’s podium.
“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Derek Morgan.”
A handsome tall man suddenly interrupted yours and Spencer’s banter.
You took his hand in confusion, looking over to your boyfriend for an answer to this situation.
He just stood there frozen in place, eyes wandering between you and the stranger.
So, he did know the man?
“I’m (Y/N).”
You hesitantly introduced yourself.
That seemed to shake Spencer out of his stupor.“(Y/N), this is Morgan, part of the team at the BAU. Morgan, this is (Y/N), my uh…”
He took a deep breath.
“My girlfriend.”
A wide grin spread across his colleague’s face, and a bright blush across yours.
“I knew it!”
He chuckled, clapping a hand against Spencer’s shoulder.
“It is so nice to meet you.”
After that the rest of his team suddenly joined the three of you at the bottom of the stairs, attacking you with questions about their ‘pretty boy’. You set yourself a mental reminder to tease him about that later.
“I hope you know that it’s our obligation to take the two of you to lunch now.”
The extravagantly dressed woman that had introduced herself to you as Penelope told you determinedly.
You grinned, your glance landing on Spencer.
He looked like he had accepted his fate already and returned your gaze defeatedly.
You had known that his team was close, a bond forged through danger and long nights of working on cases together, but you frankly hadn’t expected a bunch of professional fbi agents to be this close and warm.
“So, how did the two of you meet?”
JJ, who was sitting across from you in the small Italian restaurant asked while cutting her saltimbocca romana.
You looked down at your spaghetti shyly, feeling your ears grow hot under all the attention that was on you ever since Spencer’s team had basically ambushed the two of you.
“I, uh… I tipsily thought I could beat him in rummy.”
Morgan started laughing incredulously.
“Okay, you’ve got balls. I respect that. Did he at least let you win once?”
“I didn’t need to.”
Spencer suddenly spoke up, slowly warming up to the situation.
He liked how somehow, you seemed to fit right in with his team, and couldn’t help but wonder what it was going to be like when you one day joined the fbi yourself.
“She won. Twice. One of which with the meanest full house I’ve ever seen.”
His eyes met yours, and the look of respect and pure love in them made you feel all warm on the inside.
A round of ‘oohs’ went through the team assembled around the table.
From there on the ice seemed to be once and for all broken, and the more time passed the more comfortably you started sinking into your seat.
You felt like maybe, this had been that one last step you had needed to go all the way in your relationship.
Watching Spencer letting his guard down around his team, seeing him so happy around the people he loved, gave you an idea.
You secretly started looking through your bag for a pen, scribbling a tiny note onto your napkin and shoving it to where he was sitting across from you.
He didn’t even notice it at first, he only saw it laying in front of him after you shoved your foot against his under the table.
You watched him read it in nervous anticipation, taking in the way his expression changed from confused to shocked to… happy?
He leaned over the table to snatch the pen from you with a tiny smile, scribbled something onto the napkin and handed it back to you while mouthing ‘I love you’.
With a beating heart you unfolded the note and felt the tiniest amount of happy tears prick at your eyes.
Move in with me?
Stood there in your writing, and underneath that in his:
Yes :)
#requested#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer x reader#BAU#BAU Team#BAU x Reader#criminal minds#Matthew gray gubler#Matthew gray gubler x reader
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chapter six.
⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader
⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst
⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity
⇥ word count: 4.6k (may have gotten a bit *cough* carried away)
⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, general chaotic energy, poly relationships, switch!reader, jungkook being a lovable idiot, bad driving, taehyung trying (and failing) to catfish the reader, bar bathroom smut, oral (m receiving), light choking
© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.
characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine
Chapter Six
Habitat Worksite – 11:25am
The rest of the morning goes by pretty smoothly much to my surprise. The group that I help Eddie orient is from a pub in the neighboring town. They’re so much nicer than the last scarring group I had to deal with, and they’re actually listening to my directions.
I’m pretty sure I have tears in my eyes as I supervise them cutting plywood like professionals – but that could just be the sawdust.
When I become confident that no one is going to injure themselves with the power saw, I recruit some other volunteers to help me transfer the cut wood inside.
As we walk into the house, I almost drop the plywood onto my foot. Jungkook is shirtless, mixing cement together. When had he even arrived? I stare unabashedly at him – The height. The build. The broad shoulders. The veined forearms. The ridged stomach. The tattoos…
Tay, the middle-aged mother of two helping me, follows my line of vision, “Oh my... please tell me you’re hitting that, darling.”
“Tay!” I hiss, my eyes darting around to see if anyone heard her. Sure enough, Jungkook is looking at us and smirking like he was just crowned king of the fucking universe. “I am not hitting anything, thank you very much.”
She makes a derisive noise, “I might be old, but I'm not blind. He’s looking at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”
Jungkook hands off his mixing duties to Matt and saunters over to us, “Hey, noona. You look nice today. Do you need any help?”
“Not hitting that, my ass,” Tay mutters and shoots me a triumphant look as she walks back outside.
I roll my eyes at her antics and turn to Jungkook, “Hi, Kookie. What happened to your shirt?”
Jungkook blushes, “I may have taken it off, and then it may have fallen into the cement.”
My eyes wander around the room until they fall on a sad lump of fabric and semi-dried cement in the corner. My lips twitch.
“Noona-a,” Jungkook whines, “Don’t laugh!”
My body doubles over, shaking with laughter. Tears stream down my face as I try in vain to catch my breath.
“Is she okay?” I vaguely hear Hobi ask before I feel his hand run soothing circles on my back, “(y/n), are you crying?”
I straighten, wiping my tears, “H-he… cemen-nt… sh-shirt…” My cackles resume.
“She’s lost it, hasn’t she?” Yoongi enters the house with eyebrows raised, “It was only a matter of time. Jungkook has that effect on people.”
“Hyung!” Jungkook punches Yoongi in the arm.
"Am I wrong, Hobi?" Yoongi turns to the other boy, who's hand is still firmly on my back.
Hoseok shoots Yoongi a dirty look, "Don't drag me into this. The last time I tried to argue with the two of you I almost got a concussion."
Jungkook smirks, looking way too pleased to receive such an accusation, "I seem to recall you liking it, Hobi-hyung. What was it you were screaming?"
Yoongi snickers as he leans into Jungkook, effectively teaming up on poor Hobi, "I believe the phrase was 'harder, oh my god, harder!'" He and Jungkook collapse onto each other in fits of laughter as Hoseok turns an amusing shade of magenta.
I turn to face Hobi. "Is that how you like it?" I murmur, tilting my head to stare up at him, "You like it hard? Rough?"
Hobi swallows as his pupils dilate. His hand on my lower back suddenly clenches, crumpling my shirt within his fist. "Yes," his voice comes out deeper than I had ever heard it.
Vaguely, I notice the other two boys have stopped laughing. Good. No one would tease my sweet Hobi in front of me and get away with it.
My decision solidifies. "Well," I say, "Then that's how I'll give it to you."
"No one will be giving anything to anyone until we finish this project," Namjoon's voice booms, breaking up your little moment with Hoseok.
The four of you swing to face him, blinking owlishly.
Namjoon's eyes are shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, "Jeon Jungkook, for the love of god, where is your shirt?"
An hour later, I found myself stuck in the backseat of Jungkook's black Range Rover. After Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook had loudly voiced their opinion in front of the entire worksite that it was their turn to drive me, I had quickly jumped into the car to avoid further humiliation.
Now, I sat wedged in between Hobi and Yoongi who both refused to sit in the front next to Jungkook and also forbade me from doing so. I only agreed because I was not one to miss an opportunity to be pressed up between two hot guys. Sue me.
Glancing down at my thighs, I marvel at the way both of the boys have placed possessive hands on them. "This is so lame," Jungkook complains for the hundredth time as he glances at the three of us in the rearview mirror. "I want to touch noona, too!"
We ignore him.
Yoongi's slim fingers dig in slightly into the softness of my inner thigh, "(y/n)," his hushed words ghost over my neck, "Come home with us?"
"Please," Hobi echoes from my other side. His hand is more brazen in its placement. His pinky just a fraction away from the apex of my thighs.
Perhaps I could close my legs like the proper lady my grandma wanted me to be... but fuck that. I would woman-spread however I damn well please. "Hmm," I pretend to think about it, "No."
"But why?" Hobi pouts, making puppy-dog eyes in my direction, "You said you were going to give it to me."
I shrug, noncommittally, "I never said when."
Jungkook sighs from the driver's seat, "Ah, I love it when noona is evil."
"We fucking know, Jungkook," Yoongi groans, "You only bring it up a thousand times a day."
"Hey!" Jungkook whirls around in his seat, "Stop exposing me, hyung!"
"Eyes on the damn road, JK!" Hobi grips the 'oh shit' bar as the car begins to veer into the bike lane. Jungkook whips back around and quickly rights the car. Meanwhile, Yoongi smirks like the little shit starter he is.
"Looks like I'm not the only evil one here," I roll my eyes, "You're a menace, Min Yoongi."
"Yes, I am," the boy puffs up his chest and grins that gummy smile that he knows makes me melt, "But I'm your menace."
"Ah, gross!"
"Ew!"
Jungkook and Hobi yell as I try not to smile at Yoongi's rare display of cuteness and fail miserably.
"Stop trying to butter me up so that I'll come home with you, Yoongs," I smile and thread my fingers through his.
"Why?" He leans into me, "Is it working?"
"Not at all," I breathe, eyes darting to his lips as his tongue slips out to wet them.
"Liar," Yoongi moves in closer. My eyelids lower in anticipation.
Jungkook slams on the breaks and jolts the three of us forward, "We're here!" Grumbling, I pull my seatbelt away from its death grip on my body.
"Well played, Jungkook, well played," Yoongi comments from beside me.
"Tell that to my fucking neck," Hobi moans as he massages the front of his neck where his seatbelt must have dug in.
"Aw," I take pity on the poor boy and offer half-jokingly, "Want me to kiss it better?"
"YES!" Hobi's hand flies off his neck at the speed of light and thrusts his neck out in my direction.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he is adorable.
I place the lightest of kisses against the growing pink mark on his skin and revel in the shudder his body emits.
"Bye, Hobi," I place one last kiss on him and slide out of the car, using the door that Yoongi vacated from.
"Bye, angel!" Hobi cries out after me, waving furiously. So damn adorable.
Once I exit the car fully, I am faced with a pouting Jungkook and an annoyed-looking Yoongi.
"What now?" I eye them warily.
Yoongi gives Jungkook a dark look, and the younger boy backs off slightly. Turning back to me, Yoongi steps forward. "Bye, (y/n)," he says lowly, brushing a fallen strand of hair behind my ear. A light dusting of pink floods his cheeks at his own soft actions. I bite the inside of my cheek to contain my innate reaction to shower him with affection.
That time would come later, I'm sure.
"Bye, Yoongi," I press my mouth his cheek, "Keep your menacing ways to a minimum while I'm not around, would you?"
"No promises," Yoongi drawls, before hopping back into the car.
And just like that I'm left with one tall bashful boy.
"Oh, Jungkook..." I walk towards where he is propped up against the front of his car. His lean body slouches against the hood as his left leg props itself up on front tire. He still has yet to put another shirt on.
"I'm sorry, noona," he speaks to the pavement in the tiniest voice, "I got jealous that I wasn't getting to be that close to you."
I lift his chin up with my finger, "Baby, you were the only one who had my nipples in your mouth last night, and you're jealous of them?"
He swallows hard before grinning, "Well, when you put it like that..."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," I give into the urge to trace the muscles of his stomach. They bunch up under my touch and I smile at his responsiveness. "You know," I continue, "You're going to have to get over this jealousy thing if I do decide to date you all."
"I know, noona," the pout returns, and this time it's paired with a devastating pair of imploring doe eyes. "I just like you. A lot.”
"Well," I smile, "It's a good thing that I also happen to like you. A lot."
"Really?" Jungkook's neck snaps up at an alarming rate, "You do?"
"Yes, you giant idiot," I grip the back of his neck, "Now, kiss me goodbye."
He kisses me. His teeth pull at my bottom lip in a faint bite, and goosebumps spread across my body. I bite him harder in retaliation, but it only seems to urge him closer against me, body hard, warming me everywhere we connect. His fingertips drag down my skin until they reach my waist. His hands slide up under my shirt, and he rests his palms against my skin, fingers splayed down over my hips.
His hold is undeniably possessive. And that would not do.
I lean up and kiss him harder, digging my nails into his back as I tug him against me, feeling every inch of his body respond to my touch. A groan rumbles deep from within his chest.
“Do you think they’re going to come up for air soon?” An amused voice cuts through our make-out session.
Jungkook rips his mouth from mine, “Fuck off, Hobi.”
I open my eyes and blink a couple times before focusing on the smirking faces of Hobi and Yoongi. Their heads are sticking out of the open back window of the Range Rover as they cackle in amusement.
"Hobi," I say sweetly, "Do you need another mark on your neck today?" My hand flexes tauntingly in his direction.
Hoseok's eyes widen, "N-no! Bye again, (y/n)!" He retreats back into the car as Yoongi continues to chuckle before rolling up the window once more.
"You can mark my neck, (y/n)-noona." Jungkook's voice jolts me from my second thoughts on not going home with them.
This boy really is shameless, I think to myself as I shake my head.
"Maybe next time, Kook," I grin at him, "It'll give you something to look forward to."
"For as long as there are next times with you, noona, I will look forward to them."
My heart swells. "You're such a sweetheart, baby boy." The nickname has its desired effect as Jungkook's cheeks blush and his smile widens.
"I'm baby," he nods.
"Yes, you dork, you are," I place a swift peck to his cheek and head into my apartment before I get any more tempted to jump back in his car and initiate a foursome.
God, what were these boys doing to me?
(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 4:15pm
A few hours later, I am deep in an argument with Luna over who the best Queer Eye guy is when my phone buzzes.
[Unsaved Number]
2 New Messages
Luna notices my confusion. "Who is it?" she asks, leaning over to look at my screen.
"No fucking clue," I reply, swiping open the messages.
[Unsaved Number]
4:15pm: “Hey, babe! It's me! Namjoon!”
4:15pm: “Want to meet at Hannigan's tonight? Just the two of us!?”
"What the everliving fuck?" My eyebrows rise at the completely obvious way that someone was poorly attempting to impersonate Namjoon.
"That's how Namjoon texts?" Luna sits back, "What a letdown."
"I don't think this is even Namjoon," I mutter and save the contact before swiping over to SnapChat. "Let's see if I have this person's Snap."
"Oh, your mind!" Luna exclaims, running to go grab a bag of pretzels from our tiny kitchen adjacent to our also tiny living room, "That is some top sleuthing right there."
"Why thank you, my good sir," I nod at her playfully before focusing back on my screen. Opening the 'Add Friends' tab, my eyes immediately hone in on the imposter.
"Oh, that little shit," I cry, chucking my phone onto the other end of the couch.
"What? Who is it?" Pretzel crumbs spew out of Luna's mouth as she ambles over to where I had just thrown my phone. She picks it up, turns it over, and lets out a long whistle. "Oh, fuck. What are you going to do?"
Luna hands my phone back to me, and I reopen the messages to respond.
Me
4:21pm: "Hi, Namjoon. I'll meet you there."
4:21pm: "9pm."
It'S mE! nAmJoOn!
4:22pm: “Yay! It's a date!”
4:22pm: “See you at 9!!!”
"Well," I lock my phone and set it down on the coffee table, "It looks I’ll finally get the chance to teach Kim Taehyung a lesson."
Luna springs up from the couch, "I'm calling Jenni. Let's do this."
Hannigan’s - 9:09pm
I'm nervous with anticipation.
Why?
Oh, that’s right – motherfucking Kim Taehyung thought he could pull one over me by impersonating Namjoon, and, so far, he's nowhere to be found.
I grasp my beer tightly as I slouch lower on my barstool. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, I had set up camp in the corner of the bar. Luna and Jenni had immediately ditched me upon arrival, claiming that they were meeting friends.
I would have believed them if I hadn’t noticed that they just relocated to a table within vision of me and were scouring the room for any signs of Taehyung. I pull out my phone and once again debate texting him.
Fuck it. I'm just about to construct a text when my phone pings with messages from the group chat:
Bee Gang
9:10pm, Luna: “HE'S HERE”
9:10pm, Jenni: “HE LOOKS SOOOO GOOD KSKSKS”
9:11pm, Luna: “HOLY SHIT I THINK HE JUST SAW YOU”
9:11pm, Jenni: “TAEHYUNG IS LOOKING AT YOU LIKE YOU'RE THE HOTTEST THING HE'S EVER SEEN. HE'S GONNA FUCK YOUR SHIT UP I’D BET GOOD MONEY!!!”
9:11pm, Luna: “NAH DUDE *SHE* IS GONNA FUCK UP *HIS* SHIT”
9:12pm, Jenni: “OMG U RIGHT”
9:12pm, (y/n): “1) YOU BOTH SUCK AT HIDING, 2) NO ONE IS FUCKING ANYONE UP, 3) MAYBE THE SECOND THING IS A LIE”
I lock my phone and place it face down on the bar.
Looking up to see where Taehyung is, I immediately lock eyes on him. He's slowly making his way towards me with people constantly pausing him to chat. Taehyung’s all smiles, but I can tell he is a bit annoyed. That strikes me as odd – I thought he loved the attention?
The boy emerges free from the crowd, and I finally get to take him in.
Damn, he does look so good. His tight white t-shirt emphasizes his toned stomach while his overlying black leather jacket makes his shoulders look a mile wide. My gaze drops lower and take in his black pants with a black belt cinching the waist. I have to fight the urge to grab it and use it to pull him into me.
He’s almost to me when he turns his gaze to the bartender and flicks up two fingers. And just like that two beers and an annoying but hot-as-sin man appear in front of me.
“You don't look surprised to see me,” he says as his greeting, sliding me one of the new beers. He shoots a look at the group of boys occupying the stools next to me and they immediately make themselves scarce.
I arch an eyebrow, “You do realize I had all of your SnapChats to double check the number with, right?”
"God-fucking-damn," Taehyung plops down in the barstool next to mine, "No wonder it was so easy to convince Joon to let me do this." He shakes his head and glances up at me beneath his blue fringe, “You still came? Even though you knew it was me?”
I roll my eyes at his cute actions, "Yes, I figured you had something important to say if you went through all that to get me here."
He blinks, clearly still caught off guard that I wasn't surprised to see him. "I do," His voice cracks and he flushes deliciously, "I mean, yes, I have something to say."
"Okay," I nod and sip from my beer, "So, tell me."
His fingers fiddle with the label on his beer bottle as he begins, "I know I'm not your favorite person... I'm loud. I'm bratty. I know that. But I just have to know if you felt anything that night last semester; because, I did, and I can't stop thinking about it. I know that you probably haven't. It's been killing me to see you with everyone else that I love, and I just need to know if there's a chance you might want to be with me like that, too, and-"
I clamp a hand over his mouth. His eyes snap to mine.
"Baby," I sigh, "Is this what's been making you act out?"
Taehyung's head bobs as he nods swiftly.
"Now, that just won't do," I murmur, my mind whirring as I think of all the times I had thought he wanted to annoy me when all he really wanted was my attention.
"Listen," I continue, pulling my hand from his mouth, "I don't know where you got those ideas stuck in your head from, but they're wrong. I do think about that night last semester. All the fucking time, Tae. And, yes, you're loud, and you have a tendency to be a brat... But, it only makes me more interested."
Taehyung's eyes burn into mine as I lean closer, "It only makes me want to teach you some discipline."
I watch as Taehyung’s knuckles go white as he clenches his beer. Concerned that the glass might shatter in his grip and hurt him, I slowly place my hand over his, “Relax, baby.”
"You can't just say things like that, noona!" Taehyung moans, shifting in his seat.
"And why not?" I tease as he takes a long sip of his beer with his head tilted back and his throat muscles moving in a way that made me want to do bad things.
I blink, "You know what? Forget it. Let's just start over, okay?"
Taehyung bites his lip, “Okay, sure.” He gestures to the bartender for another round, “Let’s play a game.”
My response is automatic. “Alright, Jigsaw. What kind of game?”
“Just a nice harmless game of ‘Never Have I Ever’, (y/n). Nothing untoward, I promise.”
My eyes narrow at his way-too-innocent smile and his archaic use of ‘untoward’. “Fine,” I arch an eyebrow, “But I have a few stipulations.”
“I would be disappointed if you didn’t, noona,” he scoots his stool closer to me, “Lay ‘em on me.”
Oh, I will, my inner hoe responds.
Out loud, I reply, “The game can be stopped at any time, and you have to explain your answers if the other person asks.”
“Done,” he grins, “Never have I ever gotten my nipples pierced.”
“That’s targeting!” I exclaim indignantly, “You’ve seen them, you prick.”
“I haven't tasted them. At least, not yet,” his eyes squint at my boobs which are currently well-covered by a jean jacket. “Jungkook has… That fucker,” he mumbles under his breath.
These boys and their jealousy... I shake my head. How had they managed to stay in a relationship with all of this possessiveness they clearly had going on? It's truly a mystery.
"My turn," I grin, "Never have I ever dyed my hair blue."
"This is really more of a teal-ish green, noona!" Taehyung tries to argue, and I scoff.
"Fine," he relents and mumbles under his breath, "Should have brought my paint swatches." After taking a sip of his drink, he switches gears, “Never have I ever wanted to date a frat boy?”
I sip my drink. He immediately demands clarification. I grin, “Those EXO boys are fine.”
His jaw clenches. Ooh, he does not like that answer.
“EXO?” he snarls, "Over my dead body."
My eyebrow quirks up, “Well, that's a bit dramatic. They seem like nice boys.”
"Nice boys?" Taehyung cocks his head, "Noona, those aren't your type."
He's right. I push him further, “And what is my type then, Tae?”
“Boys that challenge you.”
He’s right again, but I’d rather not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. His ego is already inflated enough. I smile inwardly and say, “You think you have me all figured out, Kim.”
Taehyung surprises me as he breaks into a loud laugh, “No, not even close. But I’m a persistent boy so maybe I’ll get there one day.”
Just then I realize how close to one another we’ve gotten. Our sides are touching, and his hand has apparently been gripping my thigh for who knows how long. I stare at it, examining the adorning rings on his pointer and index fingers.
Are those fucking Gucci?
He must notice my gaze on his hand because he squeezes my thigh, and I smily at him. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
Taehyung looks at me like I’m something precious, something divine. I want to shatter that image. I want to ruin it. I want to ruin him.
“Taehyung?”
“Yes, noona?”
“Kiss me.” And he does.
Taehyung kisses me over and over. I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed it. His mouth is tender on mine, and with every exhale, he lets out the slightest moan, which almost seems like a plea for more.
He’s gentler than I remember. His mouth is warm and soft; his caresses are leisurely and unhurried.
I pull back slightly to look him in his eyes. They are dazed, unfocused.
My lips brush his ear as I whisper, “Be a good boy and meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”
With that, I saunter away towards the back bathroom which usually tends to be cleaner due to its slightly hidden nature.
Knocking on the door, I strain my ears for any sign of a reply. Nothing. I enter the dim room and immediately catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
My hair is everywhere, and I immediately grab the hair-tie around my wrist.
I pause, a sinful idea coming to mind.
A knock sounds. “Noona?” A deep voice calls, and I open the door, grab Tae by the collar, and tug him inside.
“Noona, you’re feisty tonight I-” I cut him off with my mouth.
I don’t hesitate as my mouth consumes his and my body presses him against the wall. My tongue finds his as my hips grind into him. He whimpers, and it’s such a beautiful sound.
After feeling him throb through his clothes, the thought I had earlier returns.
Stepping back, I grab my hair-tie and tug my hair up into a ponytail. Taehyung whines as I slowly sink to my knees before him, “Jesus, fuck.”
“Is this okay?” I question, gazing up at the beautiful boy above me, “Do you want my mouth, baby?”
“Shit, yeah,” Taehyung wraps my ponytail in his hand and lightly pulls me closer.
Does he think he’s suddenly in charge?
I flick open his belt before tugging his pants down. His cock strains against his silky black boxers and I give into the temptation to suck on it through the fabric.
“F-fuck, please, noona,” the stuttered curse comes from above, and I smile.
I pull his boxers down, grasping his cock and stroking lightly.
And, without warning, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck. “Goddamn,” Tae hisses, fingers sliding into my hair. He pulls my hair-tie out and replaces its hold with his fist.
I take him as far as I can, blowing him and stroking the parts of his cock I can’t get to with my mouth.
“Shit, fuck, please,” he begs, looking down at me with wild eyes and a fucked out expression, “Don’t stop, (y/n).”
Stop? Never. The power trip is too delicious.
My mouth bobs on his cock as he bucks, trying to fuck my mouth. My hands grab his ass to control his movements as I slide my mouth off of him.
“Do you want to come in my mouth, baby?” I tilt my head to the side as one of my hands resumes its ministrations.
“Y-yes,” The boy gasps above me, his breath coming in pants, “Please, I’m so close, noona.”
“Hmm, are you going to be my good boy, Taehyung-ie?” My hand halts, and he whines, his hips straining to keep moving in my hand. I squeeze him, “Well?”
“Yes!” He moans, repeating, “I’m your good boy. I’m noona’s good boy.”
“That’s what I thought.” My mouth closes around his cock again and sucks him hard.
“Fuck.” I watch enraptured as Taehyung’s head falls back against the wall, and then he’s coming.
His body convulses above me as I swallow ever last bit of him. After he finishes, I pull my mouth away to kiss the underside of his cock, his balls, the insides of his thighs. Above me, he’s muttering my name like a prayer.
“You can let go of my hair now, Tae,” I laugh, my voice slightly hoarse. Reaching up, I lightly tug his hold from me and slide my discarded hair-tie off of his wrist. Standing, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and turn to face him.
He’s tugging his pants up and staring at me with a darkening expression, his nostrils flared. “Let me taste you, noona. Ride my face.” The tenor of his voice washes over me, tempting me with its rough words.
“You haven’t earned that yet.” I start towards the door, but Taehyung darts in front of it, effectively cutting me off.
“I just want to please you, babe. Come on,” his begging only solidifies my resolve.
“You already have pleased me, Tae,” I swipe a thumb across his cheek as he pouts.
“But I could please you even more with my mouth!”
This boy. I grab his neck lightly, “Listen, baby, I’m going to say this once. When I ride your face, you’ll be tied up across my bed at my mercy. Got it?”
His body becomes pliant under my words and my light grip. I gently shift him out of the way of the exit. “Now, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon, my good boy.”
The parting smile I send him is absolutely lethal, and it only grows bigger when I hear him blurt out a grumbled “holy fuck” as I strut away from him.
a/n: yeeeeeee things are really heating up *fans self* hope y’all liked it!! ALSO, s/o to tay aka @loveejoon for being featured UWU
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An Unintended Side Effect, Part 2/?
This time when Luke woke up his mind was clear and the Force came readily when he called. He breathed deeply, savoring the clear connection to the energy of the universe for a moment before drawing shields tight around himself, ensuring Vader couldn’t reach him. He sat up, scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, and sighed, looking out over the room.
He really was stuck on the Executor with his father, wasn’t he?
Well. Nothing for it. He would have to find a way to escape, as soon as possible. He had friends and a Rebellion to get back to, after all, and he would not turn to the dark side.
Luke stood and stretched, again noting the lush carpet and wondering just how out of it he’d been the previous day to not have noticed where he was immediately. Now able to actually process things, he took in the room properly. Deep red carpet, grey durasteel walls, no closet that he could see but three doors broke up the monotony of the walls, along with...was that…
Luke crossed the room in wonder, staring open-mouthed at the view of the stars outside his viewport. A viewport, in starship quarters!
After admiring the view for an indeterminate amount of time, Luke mentally shook himself and went to explore the rest of the room. On a small nightstand by the bed he hadn’t noticed before was a chrono, brightly declaring the time and date on its face. Luke grimaced. Two days since he’d seen his friends, what they must be thinking about his disappearance… Had they seen Vader take him? Or did they think something else happened to him?
One of the doors led to ‘fresher, fully stocked with anything he could need, plus water settings in the shower. He looked critically at the long handle on the shower door; could he rip that off and use it as a weapon? Something to come back to later. Maybe the mirror shards would make good improvised weapons as well, if it came to that.
The second door led to the closet he’d been looking for yesterday, but of course instead of Rebel fatigues it was filled with black outfits, both with and without the Imperial cog stitched to a sleeve or breast pocket. From here Luke took a pair of boots - new ones were hard to come by, in the Rebellion, best to take them whenever you can - and a belt with weapons holsters.
The third led into a hallway, which ended in another door. Luke looked back to the door he came from; looked like it could be locked from the outside. Lovely. He tucked that piece of information away, resolving to escape the ship before it became something he had to work around.
The door at the end of the hallway opened as he approached, into a larger room containing a couch and desk, lots of open floor space, and another door with a large keypad next to it, the small light on top glowing firmly red. He couldn’t quite get that open on his own, it was too complex a mechanism to tease open with the Force without knowing anything about how it was supposed to work - likely Vader had deeply considered the place he was going to stash his son - but he could sense the energy of two Stormtroopers just outside it.
Banging on the door, using the Force to make each blow as loud as possible, Luke shouted, “Hey! Please, I need help!”
“Quiet in there,” came the reply.
“Please!”
Luke could only hope Vader had given them instructions to keep him not just alive but well, otherwise this wouldn’t work and he’d have to try something else.
His suspicions were confirmed moments later when the door slid open to show two Stormtroopers as expected. He smiled.
Perfect.
---------
Vader kneeled before a hologram of the Emperor in his private chambers.
“And the boy is cooperative?” the Emperor asked.
“Yes, master. At the very least, he has not yet opposed me.”
“Hmm. Ensure that he does not. Remember that you have already failed to bring him to heel once; I will not be so forgiving of another failure. Next time, the boy will come straight to me, and I will put him to rights.”
Vader strengthened his shields and held himself still, even as Palpatine’s words brought a most unwelcome image to his mind. His anger blazed, and he fed the flames behind his shields, vowing to never let Luke near Palpatine if he could help it. In this the son would not follow the father; he wouldn’t allow it.
“I understand, my master.”
“Good. I’ve allowed you to keep the boy, but you must not neglect your duty to wipe out the rest of that pathetic rebellion.”
“They shall not be a plague on our galaxy for much longer, master.”
“See that they aren’t, Lord Vader. Dismissed.”
The hologram winked out and Vader stood, wincing at the strain holding such a position for long periods of time caused his prosthetics. He ached for the day he could give the empire he’d built to his son, but they were in no position to attack Palpatine yet. That day would have to wait until he could find a way to train his son without the Emperor finding out, for he had no doubt that as soon as they began Palpatine would find an excuse to spirit Luke away from him, preventing them from joining together to defeat him.
Stalking out of his rooms into the hallways of the Executor proper, Vader found Piett and said, “Admiral, report.”
Admiral Piett snapped a salute and fell into step with his commander. “My lord, we will be arriving at Tarra soon to refuel. All aspects of the ship are running smoothly, and after refueling we should be en-route to Coruscant within the cycle.”
“And what of my...guest?”
“The last report I saw some fifteen minutes ago said all was quiet on that front, my lord. He’s not been an issue.”
As soon as Piett finished speaking, the hum of stun shots echoed down the corridor along with aborted screams. Vader threw his awareness out in the Force, seeking his son’s bright energy, but it was like looking at the surface of a lake in the sunlight; the image shimmered and flickered away from him, impossible to make out. He cursed and began moving quickly - not running, Sith Lords did not run - towards the quarters his son was housed in. The boy could hardly have been awake much longer than an hour, how could he already be causing trouble?
By the time Vader arrived at the door outside his son’s quarters, the boy was already gone, leaving both troopers who had been posted outside collapsed on the floor in his wake, presumably the recipients of the stun shots he’d heard. He growled low, the vocoder in his suit picking it up as crackling static, and tried to reach for his son again. This time, he was able to pick up a sense of the boy in the vague direction of the hangars. Of course he would immediately try to reach the ships.
Suddenly Vader remembered the ship was about to dock at a planet, and his heart seized in fear. If Luke was still loose when that happened, he would actually stand a chance of getting off the ship.
“Lock down all hangars, no one will leave this ship until I give the order,” Vader said into his comlink, moving to follow the faint light of his son’s Force signature.
There is no escape, my son, he sent along their fledgling bond. He felt Luke flinch in response, and smiled in satisfaction under his mask. The boy’s shields had slipped just enough in that flinch to give him a better location.
“Send a detachment of troops to Hangar Bay Three, and have them set their weapons to stun. A prisoner is loose; he cannot be allowed to escape.”
Vader strolled into the aforementioned hangar bay, casting his awareness out, scanning the room for his wayward son. The boy’s shields deflected his senses, but it was that refraction of light that gave him away, a distortion in the Force in a corner of the hangar.
“It is no use hiding, young one,” he boomed. “Come out before I am forced to stun you.”
The spot of refracted light in the weave of the Force shifted, drawing tighter about itself, but it was no use. Vader had already located it.
He motioned to a small group of troopers, directing them to surround the crate that Luke was hidden behind, and they took up positions in a loose semi-circle, guns aimed at the crate.
After a moment, Luke emerged, scowling, his hands behind his head. Without a word, two troopers surged forward and none too gently dragged his hands down behind his back, clasping his wrists in binders. He purposefully avoided his father’s gaze as he was marched back to his quarters. Vader watched him go.
----
Luke broke out of his quarters twice more, managing to disable the lock on his door, and after the sickening way the boy’s head hit the durasteel floor collapsing from a stun shot the second time, Vader decided he couldn’t take any more risks.
His son was a lot quieter and easy to contain with a drug tailor-designed for Jedi coursing through his veins, living in Vader’s quarters.
-------
Luke was falling asleep again, leaning against his father on the couch as various Imperial servants flitted about the room taking his measurements, proposing outfit and fabric ideas. He tuned them out. Vader was just going to choose what he felt was best anyway, and Palpatine got final say. Luke had picked out several of the main fabrics. That was enough.
Without realizing it, he had fallen completely asleep. When he woke, it was to Vader gently pulling him into a sitting position and beginning to apply a thick white powder to his face. Luke blearily looked down at the table filled with cosmetics, then tried to lean his head on one hand, but he was prevented from doing so by Vader pushing him back up.
“You’ll smear the Nubian makeup, Luke,” he chided.
Luke made a face at him. “I wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t keep drugging me, father. Either let me sleep or let me think clearly.”
“It’s this or giving you to Palpatine for training, my son, and neither of us want that for you. Especially in light of your many failed escape attempts.”
Luke made another face, then an effort to sit up straight and stay awake. At least being paraded around as the Imperial Prince sounded like a cushy job…
“Why am I being styled after the Naboo, anyway?” he asked, hoping a conversation would help him stay awake. Vader paused, frozen, and Luke could just pick up the edge of a maelstrom of emotion from his father before the Force slipped from his grasp again and he sighed quietly.
“It was your...mother’s home planet.” Vader said carefully. “As well as Palpatine’s. He believes using the style will serve to endear him to the galaxy, and use you to evoke his own image.”
Luke hummed, closing his eyes for a minute. Vader prodded him gently with a tendril of the Force and as he opened his eyes again Luke thought longingly of being able to do more than passively sense it, himself. He would throw all this finery about the room and steal a ship, return to Han and Leia and Chewie, R2 and 3PO.
Deciding he definitely needed something to focus on to keep himself awake, Luke tried to reach out to the Force himself, clumsily brushing against his father’s signature. He felt the edge of his father’s amusement and Vader reaching back to him in response, like holding their hands up to opposite sides of glass.
“My Lord, you are needed in a meeting about introducing the Imperial Prince,” Piett said, shattering Luke’s meager focus. He sighed and gave up, leaning his head on a hand while Vader too distracted to tell him not to.
“Why?” Vader demanded, standing. “He is to be announced in a few hours, what more is there to discuss?”
“There are some last minute security concerns they want to go over, my Lord.”
Vader scoffed, then looked down at his son for a long moment, thinking. Looking back at Piett, he said, “I leave you in charge of the boy, Admiral. Stay here with him and ensure he does not attempt another escape.” Piett seemed like he very much doubted that would be a concern, but nodded anyway. To Luke, Vader said “I will return as soon as I can and help you finish getting ready, my son.”
“Whatever,” Luke said.
With a sigh, Vader swept out of the room.
#my writing star wars fanfic fanfiction luke skywalker darth vader admiral piett palpatine#an unintended side effect#no beta we die like men
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The Frog Princess. Chapter 1
1
“You can all bloody kiss my ass!”, I growled at the men standing around me. “There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”.
“Breathe, Y/N”, Eist tried calmingly. “This is what’s best for everyone”.
“Best for you and your bloody war!”, I snarled.
In the corner of the great hall stood a mess of cases, containing most of my earthly goods. None of it had any importance to me; except for the small chest of knickknacks I’d gathered while on trips around the smaller islands of Skellige, and the one time Eist had brought me to Cintra Capital with him.
“Y/N, you’re not a child. Stop acting like one”. I smacked him across the face. A murmur of stifled laughter rose among the leather clad men surrounding me and Eist.
King Eist Tuirseach. The great leader of our lands; and my pain in the ass older cousin; who was getting ready to ship me of to a place far away – that I had no intention of going to.
“What you’re really trying to say, is that I’ve gotten too old to marry of to someone worth while; so now you’re using me as payoff to a sweaty sister-fucker!”. I picked up a goblet, and threw it at the wall; mead dripping down from where I’d hit.
“You don’t know that he’s sweaty”, Eist smiled.
“Eist…”, I said, trying for sweetness.
He looked at me pointedly.
“When we are in public, you’ll address me as is fit my title”.
“My liege”, I sneered. “Great majestic cousin, and king of these isles. I am merely trying to explain to you, that if you intend to proceed with this plan of shipping me off to Temeria; there is a great chance that I might burn this whole fucking castle to the ground, and piss on the ashes!”.
I heard a gruff chuckle from a dark alcove connected to the hall.
Eist sighed.
“Well, we’ll just have to keep you away from fire until you’ve boarded the ship”.
Rage boiling inside me, I stomped my foot into the ground, and screamed.
Eist closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows; shaking his head.
“You can scream all you want, my dear. This is happening”, he said calmly.
“No!”, I yelled.
“Yes”, he answered. “You are going to Temeria. You are marrying Foltest. You’ll bear him whatever children he wishes to produce. And you’ll do it all with a smile”.
A stranger stepped into the light from the alcove. He was tall, and built like a boulder – muscled and strong. His eyes shone a strange shade of amber, and his hair was grey- verging on white.
“Why does he even want me? I have no real title…”, I said.
“You’re my cousin. That is title enough”, Eist interrupted. He sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a new goblet of mead. Apparently the one I had thrown was his.
“Foltest needs a queen. You are a highborn woman; with a dowry that goes with it”. He took a sip from the goblet. “You also happen to be a bloody pain in the ass; with the reputation that goes with that as well. You are lucky Foltest has agreed to this union. You weren’t exactly an easy sell”.
I laughed out loud, and sat at the table, a few seats from him; worried that I might stab him with a fork if I got too close.
“There it is. A sell. I’m a commodity to be traded with”.
“You will do as you’re told, woman!”, Eist said, patience clearly running thin. I wasn’t having it.
“Would you say that to Calanthe?”.
Eist slammed both his fists into the table.
“Enough!”, he roared. I froze in place. He breathed deeply, collecting himself. “Y/N; you are my favorite cousin. A fact that has unfortunately let you to run wild and do as you’ve wished for much too long. I cannot allow that to continue anymore”. His pained but resolute eyes met mine. “I know you won’t believe this, but I am doing this for your sake as well. You can no longer call Skellige your home”.
“You’re right”, I said, swallowing tears. “I don’t believe you”.
He looked down, clenched his fists, and sighed.
“We’ll speak later. I have to finish planning your travel arrangements”, he said; and stood up, walking in the direction of the whitehaired stranger; who’d been watching our exchange with a smirk on his face.
“Geralt, I wish to discuss something with you”, Eist said, before turning to his men. “Take her to her room. Make sure there are no ropes for climbing out the window; cut up her sheets if you must”. He and the man walked towards the door leading to his private chancery.
“And hide the matches”.
---
I stood in front of a mirror in my now barren room. Thrude – my nanny turned hand matron, and dear friend – was desperately trying to cheer me up.
“Chin up. You’ll be a queen, m’lady”, she said smilingly.
“I’ll be a puppet”, I answered.
She raised a sponge to cover my face in powder.
“Don’t”, I said. “Let them see that I’ve been crying”.
She sighed.
“At least brush your hair”. She handed me the hairbrush; and went to get my dress for the feast.
It was a ridiculous thing; nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. Black velvet with puffed sleeves, white laced trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. They’re dressing me up as the Temerian fucking flag, I thought.
I brushed my hair; and allowed Thrude’s old hands to run through it, braiding it into and intricate crown on the top of my head. When she was finished, I grabbed her hand, and put it to my cheek.
“Tootie”. She smiled at my use of the nickname I’d given her as a child. “I could go with you! I could live with you in your cabin. You could continue to train me as a vöelve!”.
“I never trained you to become any such thing”, Thrude said indignantly.
I smirked at her.
“Teaching me about herbs, healing and monsters? That’s a proper lady’s education?”.
“You’d do best to forget those things where you are going”, she said. She put her hands on either side of my face; and looked at me kindly but sternly.
“Listen to me, girl”. I hadn’t been a girl for quite a few years; but her age and the respect I held for her made me accept her choice of words. “Skellige is not the place for you anymore. You are off to a better future than you could ever have here... or anywhere else”.
I snorted in a quite undignified way.
“A future as the wife of someone who is only taking me, for the money my cousin will pay him to do so… as a stepmother of a girl conceived through incest; and whose age I am closer to, than I am her fathers!”. I swallowed bile. “I’m going to be sick”.
I put my head between my knees; my nose touching the velvet of the dress. She patted my head comfortingly.
“You must leave this place behind”, she said. “Become what is expected of you”.
“Instead of…?”. I looked up at her.
She looked down and shook her head. “That’s for another time”. She shuffled her old body in the direction of my bed – the bare mattress reminding me of my cousins’ heartless elimination of my escape plan.
“But there won’t be another time”. I stood up. “I leave tomorrow”.
“Then cherish tonight”, she said.
From under the bed, she pulled out a small pouch; and handed it to me.
“My own mother gave me this on my wedding night”, she said; tears in her eyes. “I was saving it for you; for when you’d finally stop being a little imp, and settle down with a good man”. She shook her head. “At least he’s a king…”.
I chuckled through my tears, and took the pouch in my hands, opening it. Inside was a silver chain, adorned with an appendage shaped as a small frog.
“Ma’ told me that sometimes you get a frog; but shower it with enough kisses, and it might turn in to a prince”. She helped me put it on. “In your case; I believe it’s the other way around. You are stubborn, you act before you think, and you jump around too much”. She kissed my forehead. “But you can be something more”.
She took both my hands into hers and squeezed them gently.
“You can be a queen. And one to be reckoned with!”.
I sniffled.
“All I have to do is let a man I don’t know and don’t want, kiss me… and touch me… and…”. I heaved. “I really think I’m going to throw up!”.
She chortled.
“He managed to bed his own sister. He must have some charms”. She winked at me. “Might even have a good enough cock to go with them”.
“Tootie!”, I cried out.
“Oh, calm yourself, girl! You know your way around a mands body. We both know that”.
She wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of an answer. In stead I rolled my eyes at her.
“There we are, dearie. Now I recognize you”, she smiled. “Remember, it is not unheard of, for queens to take lovers other than their husbands. You might not even have to bed him that often”.
I sighed.
“What am I going to do without you?”.
She patted my cheek.
“You are going to grow up”.
---
The great hall was filled with laughter and dancing.
A bard from the continent was playing his lute; surrounded by red-cheeked girls, all vying for his attention. He seemed to me to be an absolute windbag; but I could understand the effect he had on them; blue eyed and brightly smiling.
As I stepped into the room; the music stopped, and the crowd turned to look at me. A roar of cheers and well wishes from all sides; and my strongest impulse was to turn around, and run back up the stairs.
Thrude took a firm hold of my hand, and pushed me forward.
“Go on, girl. This is your night”.
The bard began his music again, leading the room into a singalong of a gay tune; about a selkie and her lover. Dancing continued, and drinks were flowing. This was a joyous event – and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock; and die.
We were stopped in our tracks by a tall man, I had not met before.
“Lady Y/N”, he said haughtily. “Let me congratulate you on this glorious occasion of your engagement and upcoming marriage. I must admit that my master had hoped a different arrangement could have been made. But, alas, here we are”.
“I’m sorry”, I said, caught off guard. “Who is your master?”.
“My apologies, my lady”, the man bowed. “I am a representative of Nilfgaard; Gaunter O’Dimm. Loyal servant of the true emperor of the fore mentioned lands”.
“Usurper”, Thrude said, and spat at the floor. She pulled at my hand.
“I am sorry, sir, but I must take my leave. I must see my cousin”, I smiled, voice shaking.
“Of course, my lady. I wish you good health”, O’Dimm said, and stepped aside for us to pass.
“Who was he?”, I asked Thrude.
“No one good”, she answered quietly.
I sat down at the head table, watching the festivities; completely numb. The small silver frog rested between my breasts, cold against my skin.
“You look beautiful”; Eist said from next to me.
“I look like a pig for market”, I answered, pulling at the uncomfortable corset Thrude had squeezed me in to.
“Well; a lovely pig none the less”, he said.
I spent most of the night staring into space; not touching any of the food placed in front of me. The mead and schnapps on the other hand; I had my fair share of.
“You must eat”, Eist grumbled.
“Not fat enough for slaughter yet?”, I sneered.
“You’re not being slaughtered. You’re getting married”, he answered.
“What’s the difference?”, I mumbled.
A fight broke out in front of the table. Well; not so much a fight as a beating.
A drunk distant cousin of Crach an Craite’s new wife, had apparently taken a disliking to the bard reciting a sonnet to his fiancée; and was now dragging him by the nose to the floor in front of us.
“Witcher!”, the drunkard growled. “Control your pet!”.
The whitehaired stranger was leaning against a pillar; staring into a mug of ale.
“He’s not my pet”, he muttered with a gruff voice. It sounded like it came from somewhere deep within his chest.
“Well, I don’t know how you do it on the continent”, the drunkard said, “but here in Skellige, if a mutt is acting wild; we cut of his balls!”.
The bard looked terrified.
“Geralt!”, he pleaded. “Do something!”.
The angry man pulled out his dagger and started waving it in front of him; swaying from side to side – obviously having trouble focusing through his drunken haze.
“Ger… Geralt!”, the bard shrieked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.
Eist looked at me.
“Rognir! You’ve made the lady smile! Thank you!”, he laughed. “Now let the poor lad go”.
The man burped.
“Bugger that”, he said, and stepped forward, dagger raised.
A hand grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back. The stranger was holding the drunkard in an armlock.
“That’s enough”, he said. “Leave the bard, drink some water; and go remind your woman why she chose you in the first place”.
The bard ran to safety behind a group of girls; who all began to fuss over him.
The stranger let go of Rognir; who shuffled away into a dark corner; where a plump girl was waiting for him.
“Wolf”, Eist said. “Join us”.
He sat down on the opposite side of the table from us; accepting a new mug of ale from a servant.
“Y/N; this is Geralt of Rivia”, Eist said.
My eyes met the strangers; who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Geralt, let me formally introduce you to my cousin; Y/N. The future queen of Temeria”.
“Princess”, the man nodded at me.
“I’m not a princess”, I answered, and drained my fourth serving of mead that evening.
“She’s right”, Eist said, and took away my goblet. “Princesses don’t usually drink like sailors”.
The stranger chuckled.
“Y/N; Geralt is a witcher”, Eist continued. “I have asked him to accompany you on your journey to your new home”.
The witcher looked at me again, his eyes narrowed.
“Him?”, I asked. “What happened to me being a future queen? Don’t I get a dozen soldiers on white horses?”, I snorted, and grabbed my glass of schnapps to replace the mead.
“No, you don’t. Mostly because I know you’d either annoy them until they leave you on the side of the road; or try to seduce some of them into letting you run away”, Eist said. I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t give me that, Y/N; I’m not stupid. Poor Eyrick’s heart is still broken after your tryst last spring”.
Eyrick – firm, handsome… dumb as rocks. I’d made it clear I was in it for one thing. He’d taken that as a sign that I was playing hard to get; and sold his only goat to buy an engagement ring.
“Did he ever get his goat back?”, I smirked.
“I bought him two new ones”, Eist answered. “The other one had already been made into dinner”.
I laughed heartily.
“Poor Eyrick”.
“Poor goat”, the witcher said. I caught his gaze. Had the situation been different, I might have flirted with him; handsome as he was… in his own rugged, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-I’m-wearing-as-long-as-it’s-clean way. I corrected myself as I saw a black stain on his sleeve.
“Nekker”, he said, studying my expression. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, and returned to my glass.
A sudden rush of blood to my head reminded me that Eist had probably been right about me eating. I was well and drunk.
“So”, I said, “Eist has asked you, but you’ve not accepted? Coin not good enough?”.
“I don’t make it a habit to meddle in politics”, he rumbled, and took a sip from his mug.
“See, cousin?”, I smirked. “Even the witcher knows a livestock trade when he sees one”.
“Not the time, Y/N”, Eist muttered, and put a chunk of bread on my plate. I took a resentful bite of it.
“Geralt”, Eist said. “I am not asking you to take a side in the war. I am asking you, as a friend, to keep my cousin safe until she is in the arms of her new husband. Nilfgaard has been making moves north of their boarders, and I worry she will be in danger from kidnapping on her journey”.
The witcher sighed. Eist leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You are many things, wolf, but you are not heartless. You’ve already shown me this once. You know what might happen, if they get to her before she reaches her destination”.
“And what is that?”, I interrupted.
Eist sat back.
“You won’t have to worry about that, if the witcher agrees to my proposition”. He smiled solemnly; before looking back at the witcher. “I will pay what you ask”.
They were both quiet for a long minute. Something unspoken passed between them, before finally the witcher grunted; and nodded. He took another sip of his ale.
“How is the child?”, he asked.
“Last I heard, still growing in its mothers’ belly”, Eist answered. “She’s well, and will – along with the child – have the best care both during and after the birth. You know I would not lie about this”.
The witcher nodded again.
“So, you will do it?”, Eist asked.
“I will. On my terms”.
“Of course”, Eist answered, seeming relieved. “Anything. I have the ship ready for tomorrow afternoon, and will send any men with you that you might need. The lady’s belongings have already been packed, and horses will be waiting for you in Cintra Capital once you make land. Nilfgaard will be relentless in their search for her. They want nothing more right now, than to stop this wedding”.
“No”, the whitehaired man said. “We leave tonight. She packs light; and we take a fisherman’s ship to Attre; travelling on from there. Just her and myself”. A giggle was heard from behind a pillar; where the bard was charming one of the maidens from his fan-club. “And him. If he stays here longer, I’m afraid he’ll become a gelding in no time”, he said, glancing at a stout and angry looking old man; who was probably the girl’s father.
Eist nodded.
My head was beginning to clear, as I was realizing what was happening.
“You’re sending me with him? On a fisherman’s boat across the ocean; to then traipse across the continent in nothing but my plain dress and boots?”.
“You can bring your sgian-dubh”, the witcher chuckled gruffly. I was surprised he knew the word for my hidden knife.
“I don’t have one”, I said, and looked at him defiantly.
“Yes you do; you’ve strapped it to your leg”, he said in a bored voice. Eist bit his lip to stop from laughing at my affronted face.
“Calm yourself, girl. I haven’t been looking up your skirts. The velvet in your dress gave away the shape of the knife against your thigh”.
I scoffed at him.
“Well, you were looking at something, since you noticed my thigh”, I said.
“You’d be better of slipping it into your boot. Makes it easier to reach when needed”, he smirked.
I did not like this man.
“Eist…” I began.
“It’s done”, Eist answered.
“I’m begging you…”, I pleaded, “in the name of the love I know you have for me – please. Don’t make me do this. I can fight. Make me a shield maiden!”.
“That would require that you actually were a maiden, dear heart”, he said. “Y/N, I do love you. That is why I am doing this”.
My heart dropped, and tears began to well up in my eyes, as I desperately tried to control my panicked breath.
“Wolf; I’ll send the ship to Cintra tomorrow afternoon, as planned, packed with men and the lady’s luggage. They will travel to Temeria; pretending to be transporting her – but the carriage will be empty”.
“That will give us some extra days before they come looking for us”, the witcher answered. He turned to look at me.
“Princess, finish your meal calmly, then make your way to the courtyard. Pretend to be going to relieve yourself. I will meet you there”.
I was breathing heavily.
“No…”, I whimpered. “Not yet. Let me have tonight. Let me sleep in my own bed. I want to say goodbye”.
Eist was pretending to smile, his eyes miserable.
“This is goodbye, Y/N”, he said, and took my hand to kiss. “I wish I could have made things different for you, child. You have my heart and my brotherly love; always”. He stroked my cheek.
“Now go!”. He turned away from me.
From behind me, Thrude put her hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. Not breathing, I grabbed it, and we walked briskly towards the door nearest our table.
---
We hurried down some stairs. Going in to the courtyard, I halted; making Thrude turn to look at me.
“Come along, dearie. We must haste”.
“Tootie… will I ever see you again?”.
She looked down.
“I hope so, child”. She kissed my cheek.
“Princess!”, someone hissed from the shadows. The whitehaired witcher stepped into the moonlight. “Follow me”. He walked towards the stables.
Thrude let go of my hand, and patted my back to follow him.
“Go on!”, she whispered.
I walked into the stable, where the witcher and the bard were waiting.
“My lady!”, the young man said, and bowed in reverence. “It has been a great honor to perform at this extraordinary event, but unfortunately my friend here insists that we must leave”. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, beaming at me.
“She’s coming with us”, the witcher said; readying his horse – a beautiful red mare.
The bard looked from me to his friend.
“She’s… the package?”, he asked in disbelief.
“Yes”, the other man answered.
“Geralt… are you sure this is a good idea?”; the bard said below his breath.
“No”, the witcher grumbled, and looked at me indifferently. “Change”, he said, and threw a satchel on the ground in front of me.
I was getting tired of being bossed around.
“Why?”, I asked.
“Because I said so”.
“Go to Hel”, I said. The bard gasped at my words.
“Bad-mannered words for a lady!”, he proclaimed.
“Go fuck yourself, milksop”, I sneered.
“Geralt!”, the bard cried out.
“Shut up, Jaskier. Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re doing?”, the witcher said; and walked towards me, picking up the satchel.
“Put on the clothes in the bag. I’m not asking you again”. I smirked at him defiantly.
He grabbed my arm, and looked at me; dormant rage in his eyes. His hold on me was strong, but not painful.
“I will strip you down myself if needed”, he said.
I ripped the satchel from his hands, and went behind a wall to change. Inside the bag was a simple white chemise; and a blue, sleeveless peasant dress, which could lace up in the front, making me able to put it on myself.
I reluctantly removed my sgian-dubh from my thigh, and slipped it into my boot.
From behind the wall I hear muffled talking.
“Geralt, this is madness. You can’t drag the future queen of Temeria across the continent on horseback”, the bard – Jaskier – said. “She needs pomp and… spectacle and ceremony; and everything else that goes with the title. Not to mention that she is rude; and will probably get in the way when we are fighting monsters!”.
“You don’t fight Jaskier. You moan and whine, and run away at any sign of danger”, the witcher answered.
“That’s not the point, Geralt… Geralt… Look at me when I’m talking to you!”.
“What are you; my wife?”.
“Gods forbid. I’m quite sure I’d be able to make a better match!”.
“Well, if you come all the way to Temeria with us, maybe Foltest will choose you in stead of the princess. He does have strange tastes”.
“I’m not a princess!”, I thundered, and stomped out to face them.
The witcher looked at me, clearly about to roar for me to shut up. At the same moment, Thrude stepped in to the stable, carrying a gray cloak.
“Are you all ready to leave then?”, she said, and put the cloak around my shoulders, tying it under my chin.
“Yes”, the witcher answered, and climbed onto his horse. “Come”, he said, and reached his hand out to me.
“She gets to ride?”, Jaskier asked woundedly.
I put my hand into the witchers, and he pulled me into the saddle in a swift and strong move; to sit in front of him, my back to his chest. He smelled like fresh dirt; musky herbs and metal.
“Pomp and spectacle, Jaskier”, his voice rumbled behind me. “Hood up, girl”, he demanded, and I did as asked.
I looked at the bard.
“The grey stallion”, I said earnestly. “It’s mine. You can bring it as far as the ship”. Thrude smirked, and shook her head at me.
“Witcher; you will take care of her”, she said. A command; not a question.
The witcher grunted behind me.
“As promised”, he said. Thrude nodded.
With a last look towards my beloved old friend; I kissed the frog still hanging around my neck; and we we’re off.
---
We rode through the night, reaching a small harbor when the moon was at its highest. A fisherman was waiting for us, standing on the dock by an old boat; just large enough to transport all of us, and the witchers horse.
After Jaskier had gotten of the grey stallion, I smacked it’s behind, making it run of into the trees.
“Eist won’t like it when his favorite horse is gone from the stables”, the witcher said.
Jaskier looked from him to me with horror on his face.
“I’m a dead man!”, he whimpered.
The witcher chuckled silently, and handed me the satchel that had held my “new” dress.
“Your name is Zaba. You are an herbalist in training, on your way to Lyria; to learn from your new master there”.
I looked at him confused.
“Zaba?”
“It means frog”, he added, and turned to lead his horse onto the boat.
I frowned, and looked down at my necklace.
Frog.
Opening the satchel, I found in it some dried herbs, and a small book; filled out with what I recognized to be Thrude’s handwriting.
There were recipes for draughts against headaches and simple stomach pains. Most of them I already knew; as Thrude had been diligent in her training of me as a non-vöelve. I had never been able to see the future, or predict next year’s crop; but I did know my way around simple healing of wounds and the occasional childbirth.
I’d also managed to avoid pregnancy with the few lovers I’d had.
Along with my herbalist gear, there were fresh undergarments and stockings; and a few copper coins.
The fisherman giving me a hand; I stepped onto the boat; almost forgetting that this might be the last time my feet would be touching Skellige soil.
The witchers horse brayed.
“I don’t like it any more than you do, Roach. But we’ll be in Attre before you know it.”, the witcher said to it.
I looked on in wonder.
“He talks to his horse. You best get used to it”, Jaskier said, stepping onto the boat after me. He didn’t look like he’d forgiven me for making him a horse-thief just yet.
I walked up to the mare, standing on the other side of it than the witcher.
“Her name is Roach?”, I asked.
“Yes”, he said, not meeting my eyes.
I put my hands on the horse’s muzzle, and blew gently at it; the horse responding in kind. The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes.
“Hello, Roach”, I said, and scratched a spot behind its ear. “Thanks for the ride”.
I went to sit at the stern.
“Wouldn’t the lady be more comfortable below deck?”, the fisherman asked.
“She’ll be fine”, the witcher rumbled in response; and sat down to lean against a barrel.
We set off; the wind in our favor. It wasn’t long before my home islands became dots in the distance behind us.
I might not have a home there anymore, I thought. But no one is going to tell me where I will make a new one!
---
Thanks for reading.
Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.
- no lady
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Let's get lit
Nat on fire
____________
At the end of the day, Nat goes to put her folded uniform in her locker and retrieve her purse and coat. She's just opened the slatted metal door in front of her when a shadow appears behind her back, and she practically jumps out of her skin. She doesn't have a weapon on her at the moment, so she drops the pile of fabric and leather and spins on her heel to prepare to melee.
"Whoa, hey." Steve puts up his hands and takes a step back. "It's just me."
The just is a little much. SHIELD went liberally modern about 18 months ago and did away with men's and women's separate facilities. Now the locker rooms are shared, and every toilet and shower has a full European style floor-to-ceiling door. Clint likes it; he can locker beside her, talk her ear off, and elbow her in the face as he puts on deodorant. Maria likes it too, but for different reasons. Nat's feelings are generally ambiguous. She likes team togetherness. Hates making out in shower stalls. And definitely dislikes being snuck up on when her bag, and therefore her weapon, is still locked up.
"Hey," Nat forces out, dropping her raised fists and turning, trying to remember where she was in the locker's combination code. She can't recall, so she spins it once and starts over. "What do you want?"
It's probably overly gruff, but Nat wants to go home. Well, that's not true. Her tiny, grungy apartment does nothing for her, but there is vodka in the fridge. She'd prefer heroin, but it's June, and the "random" biannual staff physical and drug test is coming up. Nat's worked here long enough to expect it. Come to think of it, she should probably buy a box of doughnuts and start drinking the recommended amount of water every day, just to be sure she weighs enough to be deemed "healthy" for her age and height.
"Well, I," Steve falters. "You're the last one here. I just wanted to be sure you felt comfortable alone in the parking garage."
Nat walks alone into the parking garage practically every day. She squints at Steve. Waits a moment. He doesn't budge, but Nat still says, "Gotta get a better story than that, Rogers. If you want to get me alone--"
"No, no, that's not what I meant." Steve's face goes red.
It wouldn't be the first time she fucked a coworker. She and Clint are over and done with. She and Maria... probably ought to be.
"Then throw it down, Steve." Nat pulls her keys from her bag. "I'm..." She shrugs and flattens her mouth into a hard line.
"Honestly?" Steve knits his brows a little, looking worried that he'll offend her, and maybe worried about something else, too.
"Sure." Nat starts for the door, Steve on her heels.
"I, uh..." Steve starts. "You don't seem like you should be alone right now."
"Huh?" Nat blinks at him. Alone? That's exactly where she ought to be. Drinking. Maybe eating. Maybe barfing it all back up. Testing which instincts are too strong for her to control.
"You're not feeling good," Steve says in a rush. "Are you?"
"We just had a mission. I'm tired." Nat feels her forehead crease; she can't wipe off her look of confusion.
"Like, I mean..." Steve seems to be struggling for words. Finally he sighs and says, "I've read the pamphlets, and they do a really bad job of describing what it looks like, or what to do, or how to help, but I want you to...be ok."
Nat gapes at him for a second. Then she can't keep from blurting out, "Oh my god." She almost laughs, but manages to keep it in. "You think I'm going to kill myself or something? Because you took the equivalent of a junior high health class?"
"It was taught by a SHIELD agent," Steve informs her, as if this makes it more legitimate. "And they talked about self-harm, and drug abuse, and--"
"Ok, ok," Nat cuts him off. They've reached the end of the hall, and the parking garage stretches on the other side of the storm door. "You've... refreshed my education." She forces a smile. "Thank you."
"Nat, I." Steve shakes his head. "I didn't want to make you feel bad. Let me buy you dinner. Let me... make tonight better, if you've been having a hard time."
"Nope." Nat pushes open the heavy door. She beeps her keys, and the lights on her black sedan flash to welcome her.
"Hey, I'm sorry--"
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Nat gets into her car, turns the key, and slowly backs out of her spot. Steve still stands there, watching her, looking concerned and maybe a little sad himself.
Nat shakes her head. Not because it was a close call, which it was, but because she needs the cravings to go away long enough to work through satisfying them. The last few moments of talking to Steve, when he'd mentioned drug abuse, her veins had practically ached with the desire for the needle. Her throat stings for alcohol, and what's in the fridge will never be enough.
Nat exits the garage and drives down one of the spokes that takes her out of the wheel of DC proper and into a smaller neighborhood. It's not exactly near her apartment, but that's not the point. She pulls up to the curb, gets out her phone, and scrolls through her contacts until she finds the one she's looking for.
Nat places the phone to her ear, then gets out and hikes through the overgrown landscaping to the corner mart half a block down. They won't sell the good stuff, but they will sell the stuff. Beer, at least.
The person on the other end of Nat's phone call picks up, but doesn't speak. Not that she expects him to. Their relationship is not one of cordiality. "A number one, please," Nat murmurs, speaking quickly and quietly, even though the message is bland and fairly indecipherable. "No sides."
"Pickup or delivery?"
"Pickup." Nat always picks up. She can't imagine the fallout of having someone seen popping in and out of her apartment, and then having to explain their relationship to whomever has her under surveillance. Because god knows someone does.
The voice on the other end of the line provides the address. Nat memorizes it, says "thanks," and hangs up. Then she puts the street name and house number into her GPS app and proceeds into the store to pick out a bottle of low-quality whiskey. She pays cash, then returns to the car, clutching the paper bag tightly in her hand.
Nat winds through the streets, taking a roundabout route to throw off anyone who might be tailing her. She takes specific care to look for Steve's bike, but that thing would be impossible to disguise. It takes her almost an hour of using her good judgement and best behavior not to tear open the paper bag in the passenger seat and start gulping, egging on the fuzzy lightness she knows she'll get if she carries on.
The house the GPS leads her to looks deserted. The lights are off, but once Nat's headlights bounce off the front porch, she sees a white plastic bag wrapped around the flat cube shape of a standard takeout box. Nat doesn't even turn off the car. She just opens the door and hurries up to grab the loot.
Nat focuses on getting the fuck out of there, so she doesn't rip open the bag and pop the lid on the container until she's at the red light at the end of the street. Inside is a baggie of white powder, a handful of clean needles, and a handwritten bill for what she owes.
Nat will wire the money later, after she's had her night of blissful high. She'll have to do a lot of things later, like tip off Maria that she should probably use last time's blood sample, which they both know is clean, in place of whatever they pull this time. She'll owe there, too, but Nat knows how to pay.
Then there's Steve. Nat doesn't know what to do about him. She'll sure as fuck have a hangover tomorrow, so she hopes they don't get called for a mission. Nat supposes the best she can hope for is to have her fun tonight, then give it a few days to slowly come back to her regular, normal, unquestionable self.
Whatever that means.
#nat on fire#drug use tw#alcohol tw#marvel#mcu#fanfic#fanfics#black widow#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#avengers#angst#hurt no comfort
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Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 16
Just as Tim predicted, a week later, Bruce Wayne requested to meet him at work. While the request itself - sent through proper channels that is Tim's secretary - it specifically requested Tim by name. It had made a little stir with the other members of the company's Board of Directors, as they all thought that 'little Timmy' shouldn't be meeting the 'big and scary' Bruce Wayne by himself. "What if he manipulated Tim into a merger??" some had asked. It wasn't until Tim assured them that he would not make any corporate decisions without prior consulting - and stating that he 'doesn't like Bruce Wayne at all. He's a doof,' - that the rest of the BOD relented.
Bruce came in accompanied by Alfred Pennyworth, the family's butler. Bane, Tim knew, was accompanying Dr. Thomas and Mrs on a trip overseas. For some reason, the Waynes did not promptly send Bane away, even after he literally and physically got tossed out of the Wayne Manor's living room's bay windows - courtesy of Jason - when he tried to attack Damian.
"If this is a business meeting, Bruce, I would appreciate it if you wait for the rest of my BOD members to come up here," Tim hinted.
"No, no, no it's not..." Bruce seemed a little thinner than when Tim last saw him in person, a little disheveled and worse for wear, which would be odd given the fact that Alfred was right by his side. No self-respecting butler would have allowed their masters to leave the house looking like Bruce then - Tim knew, his dad had one since Tim was very young. Tim might not opt to keep the butler when his parents passed, but he knew the tenets fairly well.
Yet, Alfred just looked mildly disapproving but had walked into the office in the same eager speed as Bruce did.
Tim briefly wondered to whom Alfred's loyalty lies.
"I need... I need to know that there are no recording devices in here," Bruce stated.
Tim took a few blinks to choose an answer, "I'm not of the habit of having recording devices in my office. You, however, came with a tracking device," Tim pointed out.
"What?? I've left my cellphone in the car! Is it... can it listen? Record?" The shock on Bruce's face was more prevalent than when Damian came out of nowhere and called him 'father.'
Tim checked his monitoring system, courtesy of Harper Row, which can detect the type and model and broadcast type of any gadget and displayed it on Tim's cellphone. "No, it just tracks your location and is GPS-based. Why...?"
"Oh thank god..." Bruce slumped in his seat. "Alfred, can you make sure that no one would come here until I'm... until we're done?"
"Certainly, Master Bruce," Alfred bowed lightly and walked out the door.
"Wow, okay... whatever this is has got to be... better be important. I mean, you sent your butler out the door..." Tim commented.
"It is. It's about..." Bruce still hesitated. "Look, I don't usually do this. I don't know why. But you, your work-- your company and its line of business would make you-- would get you in touch with your end-clients, right? The common people who used social security benefits to get their meds, Doc Leslie Thompkins' patients and all that..."
He paused, so Tim shrugged. "I do try to personally meet my end-client to figure out what kind of medications they would need more; and Dr. Thompkins is one of my clients, too, whose assessment I can quite trust. You're not planning to get into the generic meds business also, are you?"
"No, no, no... This has nothing to do with WE. I mean... it should be, in the long run. But in the short run... Look, this would sound odd. But when you talk to your clients, have you ever hear of the Birds of Prey?" Bruce asked. Tim studied the man before him for a good long while. Before he could answer, Bruce continued, "my cousin Kate... she has just gotten kicked out of the military academy. She said she thought of donning a costume and joined the Birds of Prey to fight crime, so she could feel useful again, you know? I told her they're criminals, vigilantes. She said I should go down to meet the common people of Gotham and ask them what they think of the Birds of Prey. And then I thought of you."
"Yeeea... I'm not following..." Tim feigned - but only partially. He could already tell where the direction of Bruce's conversation was trying to take.
"Do you think they're criminals or heroes? I mean, does anybody ever mention them doing like, extortion, murder, stuff like that...?" Bruce insisted.
"Are you like, worried for your cousin Kate or... is there anything of significance that I should know about?" Tim finally decided to just bite the bullet and ask right out. There is no recording device in his office, all right. But his tiepin doubles as a camera that would send to Barbara as soon as Tim turned it on. And he had turned it on the instant Bruce walked in.
"As far as I've heard, the Birds of Prey -- ooh, I hate the pun, but it's right there-- preyed on criminals. Those who take advantage of the weak and all that jazz. I've experienced their... service if you will; when my delivery trucks were hijacked by some supposedly-metahuman group. They stopped the hijacking and arrested the group. They even found out that the group had an inside man right here." he elaborated.
The case was widely publicized, after all, when three trucks in succession that contained generic medications to be delivered to Gotham General and several free clinics were hijacked. The short version was the Birds of Prey stopped the hijacking as it was happening, then the glorious GCPD arrested those men, and they also discovered the inside man within Drake Industries - one of the Directors who had planned to jump ship while sinking DI along with it.
In reality, it had been Tim's work. The Birds - Dinah and Helena - helped with physically stopping the hijacking; while Tim dug out the paperwork and discovered the traitor. Barbara had then sent the evidence to the police, along with video footage of the man talking to a competitor of the company.
"Oh yeah, I've heard of the case. So you don't think they're bad people?"
Tim slow-shrug, just for the sake of dramatization. "I won't say they're totally good people - I mean, them hijackers looked like they've gone 12 rounds with Ted Grant the boxer. And they supposedly have like, superpowers or something. But I'm not gonna say they're bad people - they knew exactly where those shipments were going and who'd be using them, and they worked hard to stop the hijacking, you know. Financially speaking, DI might be able to weather like, a dozen hijacking. But for those people who needed the meds..." he let the sentence trailed for Bruce to fill in the blanks. He knew that the man has the same metaphorical bleeding heart as Martha Wayne, his mother.
"Okay..." Bruce actually looked a little more alive after the explanation. "Do you know how to contact them? I need to ask them for help."
"Oh, wow... Heh. It's not like I have them on my speed-dial... I think they maybe have an inside man in GCPD? They showed up right after I made the report of the third hijacking." Tim hedged, internally cursing himself for not finishing his project of the Birdcall app. The cellphone app would have made it easier for anyone to call the Birds or to alert the Birds of crimes. Alas, the whole issue with Jason and Damian's appearance has delayed its development. Tim made a mental note to assign Harper on it.
Bruce looked disappointed. "I see... then I will need you to relay this to the GCPD for me, Tim, can I trust you? I mean, it's... crucial," he said.
"What is this about, the kid and his guards?" Tim tested, just for kicks.
"Oh, no. The kid... Damian and his guards were actually a kind of reprieve in the household. They made sure that everything would be... proper and in order." Bruce smiled thinly. "It's about Bane. I have evidence that he has murdered a lot of people."
"Oh my," Tim gasped earnestly, really. Jason and Dick, and even Damian, have reported that aside from Bane's obvious animosity against them, he had tried nothing - yet. They were also the ones who told Tim that Bane has placed nanotech trackers on all three Waynes' clothing. Unfortunately, they were not able to actually snoop around - as there would always be one of the Waynes in the house.
Bruce handed him a small USB drive. "It's all here. Please, Tim. I mean, before this, I couldn't care less if that brute would leech all of the family's fortune. But now I have a son to think of... Talia might have made sure he's physically well-guarded. But Bane is a long-con kind of person and is really patient. He came to Gotham specifically for us after so many years. He..." he paused. "I believed my father when he told me that he had not betrayed my mother. But without a shred of physical evidence, there is nothing either of us can do. And how are you going to ask for a DNA sample from someone like Bane?"
"Spoon? Toothbrush? Hairbrush?"
"He's bald," Bruce replied dryly. "I'm not even sure he'd showered. Alfred said his bathroom has always remained tidy."
"Ew. No. Okay. Uh... I can't promise you that any bird would come your way, but I'll figure out a way to let this fall to the right hands, yeah?" Tim replied, putting the USB drive into his suit jacket - where Barbara could remotely access it through the circuitry in said pocket.
"Okay," Bruce looked relieved. "And now, since Bane is tracking me and I'm sure he knows what this building is, how about we come up with a stupid cover story?"
A proposal landed in Tim's sight just as Bruce finished talking. He grinned mischievously. "How about we collaborate to expand Leslie Thompkins' Free Clinic? Everybody's happy, and neither of us won't lose sleep over it."
"You'd have made a great corporate spy, do you know that?" Bruce grinned back, looking a thousand times happier than when he walked in.
"Oh yeah, but I already have my own ways to get secrets," Tim winked as he handed the proposal over. "Have a look at this, and let me know what you think. I think we can spend the discussion over lunch. Would Alfred mind if we ask him to acquire our lunches?"
"I'm sure he would be delighted if he hasn't already..." Bruce replied, getting up and opened the door. Alfred stood there with several paper bags in his hands. "He has already, it seemed," Bruce reported.
"Indeed, sirs. It is most rude to visit an associate without bringing anything. I daresay a quick lunch is sufficient for you, Master Timothy?" Alfred replied as he entered and set up the contents of the bags - several types of sandwiches and salad mixes.
"Oooh, more than sufficient, thank you, Alfred!"
"Not a problem, Sir. Please indulge, gentlemen." Alfred smiled. "Might I remind you, Master Bruce, that the Doctor and Mrs. Wayne shall return in two hours? It would be prudent to conclude your discussion by then." he hinted.
"Definitely, Alfred. We're just talking about what needs to be done to expand a hospital." Bruce grinned triumphantly at him, showing him the proposal. "Mother would be delighted at this."
#Batless!AU#Tim Drake#Stray!Tim#Bruce Wayne#Alfred Pennyworth#Birds Of Prey#JayTim#Jason Todd#RedGhost!Jason#Talon!Dick#Dick Grayson#Damian Wayne
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Once Newt and Hermann finally move in together, Newt accidentally stumbles upon Hermann's vibrator. Newt gets hard immediately just imagining his beautiful sexy husband using it on himself. Newt wants to see that. Newt wants to do that. Newt wants to see Hermann fuck himself with his vibrator, and fuck Hermann with his vibrator. Hermann's all adorably flustered when Newt brings it up, and then he sees just how turned on Newt is by the idea.
well uh. this is (as you might expect) kind of a hard 18+/not safe for work
———————-
“Need help with that?” Newt says.
Hermann heaves a small cardboard box up to his bad hip with a groan; Hermann Gottlieb is written on the side in Sharpie, in Hermann’s neat, tidy hand. All of his boxes are marked similarly. It’s kind of cute, really, that he even bothers–half of his stuff is Newt’s now anyway, and vice-versa, and truthfully has been since the lab. Odds are it’s stuffed with their shared mugs or papers Newt co-authored. “No, no,” he says. “I can manage.”
The box doesn’t look particularly heavy, but Hermann’s been quite insistent on not leaving all the heavy lifting to Newt all day, and he’s wincing in a way that means he might’ve strained himself a bit too much. Newt shoots him a small smile and places a hand on the box. “Hey, look, why don’t you take a break?” he says. “We only have a few things left. It’ll take me, like, ten minutes. Go test out the new couch. Better yet, find us some fucking dinner. I’m starving.”
The previous renter left behind a drawer full of take-out menus (which Newt discovered as he attempted to unpack their mis-matched collection of utensils earlier), and Newt’s sure at least one of them will be promising. Hermann returns the smile gratefully and relinquishes his hold on the box. Newt was right–it’s not very heavy. Pretty light, in fact. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Hermann presses a kiss to the corner of Newt’s mouth. “Is there anything you’re particularly in the mood for?”
“Nah,” Newt says, and then catches Hermann’s sleeve with his free hand to reel him in for a much filthier kiss. “Something quick. I have plans.” Those plans involve spending plenty of time breaking in their nice big, new, soft bed, before the exhaustion of the day inevitably catches up to them.
“I see,” Hermann says, and adds wryly, “Perhaps I ought to take a nap, too.”
Newt gives him another kiss for his troubles, enjoying the small sound Hermann makes into his mouth when he flicks his tongue against the seam of his lips. But when Newt pulls away, Hermann’s all business. “Do be careful with that,” he says, eyeing the box Newt took from him warily. “Its contents are–er–rather delicate.”
Mugs after all, then. Or maybe family photographs. “Kitchen?” Newt says, already headed down the hallway.
“Bedroom,” Hermann says. Oh. Newt does a one-eighty in the opposite direction. “Er–just leave it on the bureau. I’ll deal with it…later.”
Now, Newt’s no snoop, and he would certainly never go through Hermann’s possessions without permission–mutual trust, respecting boundaries, all that shit that healthy couples need–but accidents happen. He’s only trying to be helpful. He puts the box on the bureau, as Hermann instructed, but he must do it a little too hard, because its contents roll around and clatter and thud, and then–bewilderingly–begin to vibrate.
Newt shakes the box. It doesn’t stop.
He peels off the packing tape.
He’s not really sure what he expects to find in it besides the obvious: there are very few things a vibrating box deposited into a bedroom can contain, after all. Sure enough, when Newt opens the flaps, he finds himself staring down at a pretty high-end bottle of lubricant and the most expensive-looking vibrator in existence. A vibrator that’s currently buzzing. Newt flicks it off quickly, then–before he can help himself–picks it up.
Hermann has a vibrator. Hermann has a nice vibrator. It’s long, and curved, and made of a dark material that is fucking amazing to the touch. Another glance in the box reveals a small remote control, with settings in speed and rhythm all the way from one to ten, and a few bonus ones labelled with things like Pleasure Overload.
Hermann uses a vibrator that has settings for things like Pleasure Overload.
“Hol-lee shit,” Newt whistles.
Newt can picture it now: Hermann, stripped bare, face down on his bed, writhing and gasping in pleasure as he crams the vibrator into himself over and over. Begging aloud for it to go faster. Coming, untouched, all over his pasty chest, his rumpled sheets, wailing into his pillow as he fucks himself through it, not even stopping–
“Newton?” Hermann calls.
Newt throws the vibrator back into the box and tapes it messily back shut. There’s nothing to be done about his raging boner, but maybe Hermann will be too distracted by the Thai or Italian or whatever takeout to notice it. He pokes his head out of the bedroom. “Yeah, babe?” he says, heart thudding.
No Hermann in sight. Hermann’s voice comes from the living room when he speaks again. “What on Earth is keeping you?” he says. “I need to know what you want on your pizza.”
Hermann uses a vibrator. Hermann uses settings like Pleasure Overload.
“Mushrooms,” Newt croaks.
“What’s that?”
Newt swallows thickly and steps into the living room. Hermann is sprawled out on the new couch, his cane settled against one of the armrests. Luckily, he’s too engrossed in the pizza menu to look up and catch sight of Newt’s little problem. “You ought to look this over,” he says in a hum. “They have some very interesting combinations. This one has shrimp, and onions–and this one is called the Athenian, with feta cheese, black olives–oh, I forgot, you don’t like olives. Too salty, anyway. Though I suppose we could order it without if we wanted to, but that doesn’t seem to quite fit the spirit, does it…”
It isn’t like Hermann doesn’t have sex. Hermann has sex plenty, Newt as his enthusiastic witness. Hermann fucks Newt. Newt fucks Hermann. Hermann sucks Newt’s dick, and jerks him off in the shower, and moans like a whore when Newt gets his tongue in him. But a vibrator’s different, isn’t it? A vibrator isn’t just sex, and it isn’t even just jerking off–it’s a very certain kind of jerking off. A certain kind of jerking off he hasn’t even let Newt be privy to. They haven’t even used dildos together.
It’s hard to imagine the Hermann sitting in front of him now, in a moth-eaten sweater vest and smudged librarian glasses on a chain, jamming a vibe up his ass on the reg.
“Are you even listening to me?” Hermann says.
“No,” Newt admits.
Hermann scowls, but he doesn’t push Newt away when Newt plops next to him on the sofa, nor when he starts pawing at the hem of his sweater. “Newton,” Hermann says, “I thought you wanted–dinner–” Newt mouths at his neck, and Hermann gasps. The menu slips to the floor. “Newton. We haven’t finished moving everything from–”
“I don’t give a shit,” Newt says.
He pulls Hermann’s hand down and presses it at the tented front of his jeans; Hermann’s eyebrows jump. “What has gotten into you?”
“Honey,” Newt mumbles against the skin of Hermann’s neck, “can I fuck you with your vibrator?”
Hermann’s whole body tenses. He rips his hand away in the middle of what had been a pretty nice feel-around of Newt’s junk. “My what?” he echoes shrilly.
“Your vibrator,” Newt says. Oh, right, he wasn’t supposed to know about that, was he? It’s hard to think straight when he’s horny. He grins sheepishly. “I kinda accidentally looked inside the box. You could use it on yourself instead, if you want, and I could watch.” Actually, that’s kinda hotter–no effort required for Newt, and Hermann would probably be so carried away he wouldn’t mind if Newt jerked off on his chest or something. Hot, hot, hot.
Hermann isn’t a very good sport about it. “That’s,” Hermann splutters, “that’s a very personal object, Newton! And expensive! I told you–if you hadn’t been careful–I don’t go snooping through your belongings, do I?”
“It was an accident,” Newt says, and then, in a snort, “Expensive. How expensive?”
“If you must know, I saved up a month of paychecks for it,” Hermann snaps. “And it was bloody worth it. Dealing with the you day in and day out–I was tense as anything. I would’ve cracked years ago without it, and then where would we be?”
Newt sits back against the opposite arm rest with a pout. “It was a waste of money, is what it was,” he says. “Why didn’t you just ask me to lend a little hand? Or, you know.” He leers at Hermann, parting his legs slightly. Truthfully, he is a little offended, even though they didn’t start their thing until a few months after their drift–Hermann would’ve rather dropped several hundred bucks on a piece of plastic when he had a living, breathing, and very available lab partner at the ready who would’ve done anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. Give Newt a few cans of Red Bull, hide his Ritalin, Hermann wouldn’t have remembered his own name. It’s a crying fucking shame.
“Yes, but unlike you,” Hermann says, “it wasn’t a walking breeding ground for extraterrestrial bacteria.” He makes a face. “Who knows what I might’ve caught from you. Urgh.”
That one stings a little, even though Newt firmly believes that proper lab protocol is for losers, and he was completely justified in his lackadaisical approach to…well, everything. “Hey, dude, no fair,” he says, weakly. “My tests all came back clean!”
“This argument is ridiculous,” Hermann says. “We’re not using it, and that’s final.”
Twenty minutes later, Hermann is lying on their new bed with Newt’s fingers and a decent amount of that high-end lube up his ass. Hermann, despite his posturing, is a pushover when it comes to the promise of sex. “You’re going too slowly,” he complains, wriggling and pushing back against Newt’s hands.
“I’m going perfect,” Newt says. “It’s not my fault you’re impatient.” The lube feels awesome on his skin, kinda warm and tingly, and he can’t help but be a little disappointed he won’t get to feel it on his dick tonight. And that Hermann’s never broken it out before now. Hermann buys the lubricant they use in bulk, generic as hell and in these massive gallon-size jugs with a little soap-dispenser hand pump on top. Totally stupid. He can’t imagine what the Shatterdome delivery guy thought of them. “Hey, how come you don’t let us use the fancy stuff, dude?”
“You wouldn’t appreciate it,” Hermann says. “To the left, darling. Yes.” He sighs happily, melting against his mound of pillows, and gives his dick a few languid strokes. Newt withdraws his fingers.
“I think you’re good,” he declares. “What do you mean I wouldn’t appreciate it?”
Hermann gives him a look over his glasses. Newt understands his point, though he’s not ever going to admit it out loud; he gets a little carried away with how awesome everything is when he tops, sometimes, and Hermann gets carried away with it too. He’s not sure he’d even notice if they were using fancy lube. “Whatever,” he says, and hands over the vibe. “C’mon, I want to watch you already.”
“Impatient,” Hermann echoes with an eyeroll.
The vibe is switched on (on setting 5, to Newt’s disappointment, no pleasure overload yet) and after that, everything is all business.
“Often, if I’m–er–feeling up to it, I start–” Hermann presses the end of the vibe against his nipple, and his whole body shudders. “Ah. Oh. That’s–what I’d do, if you’d been–” The other nipple; another shudder. “Particularly–particularly dreadful one day.”
“Would you think of me?” Newt says with a grin.
“Absolutely not,” Hermann snaps.
He trails the vibe down his abdomen, stopping in the messy patch of dark pubic hair just above his dick–which, Newt notices happily, is fully hard and already wet at the tip. “Mm, maybe sometimes. I would now. Only I haven’t used it since we…”
“Yeah?” Newt says. He watches Hermann move the vibe in little circles over the thatch of hair, just avoiding his dick each time. “That’s hot.” All if it’s hot: Hermann thinking of Newt while he masturbates, Hermann masturbating, Hermann admitting that Newt is just so awesome in bed he hasn’t had to masturbate in months.
Hermann grazes the vibe down one thigh, shivering this time. “Most of the time I’d just–”
He pushes half the vibrator into himself in one sharp motion; his dick gives an equally sharp jerk. Newt and Hermann, meanwhile, moan in unison. “Goddamn, Hermann,” Newt whines, eyes glued to Hermann’s stretched, red rim, the sleek little bit of machine it twitches around. “That’s really hot.”
But Hermann’s eyes are screwed up tight in concentration behind his lopsided glasses, and he pays Newt no mind as he grips the base of the vibe and continues to push it deeper, breath coming out in a series of short, needy puffs. “How’s it feel?” Newt says. “Tell me, I want–”
“Very–very good.” Hermann grips his dick, tugging on it as he works the vibe in and out of himself in perfect tandem. He’s going nice and slow. Slower than Newt would go. Newt’s not surprised–Hermann told him it was meant to be stress relief, after all. (Maybe that’s why Hermann was always a bit more cheerful the morning after they’d had a nasty fight in the lab.) “Newton,” he groans.
Newt can’t help it: he bends down and kisses him. Hermann’s just too fucking sexy for him not to. Hermann groans a little louder into his mouth. “Hermann, Hermann,” Newt pants, “dude, can I–”
“You can do whatever you bloody want,” Hermann says, his voice high and breathy.
Newt takes that to heart. It’s a bit of an effort to fit his dick in alongside the vibe, but holy shit, is it worth it. Between the vibrations and Hermann clamping down impossibly tight around both Newt and the toy, he’s surprised he doesn’t pass out from just sitting there. Hermann, meanwhile–Hermann’s eyes roll back into his head, he writhes on the bed, and he grips wildly at Newt’s shoulders, and for a second Newt thinks Hermann might pass out too.
“Ah, ah–!”
“How’s’it feel?” Newt manages to croak out.
Hermann kisses him messily.
Once he’s sure he’s not about to blow it then and there, Newt reaches down and nudges the vibe in to the hilt. He knows at once when he hits Hermann’s prostate: Hermann’s whole body seizes, and shakes, and his mouth falls open in a wordless cry against Newt’s. After that, it’s over for both of them.
They lay in a sweaty, sticky heap for a little while, Hermann breathing like he’s just run a marathon, Newt already threatening to doze off like he always does after an awesome round of sex. The vibrator lays innocently between them. Finally Hermann prods at Newt’s shoulder and rouses him from his self-congratulatory afterglow. “You still have two boxes to carry in,” he says.
“Dude,” Newt whines.
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Hello! I hope you’re doing well and not too busy. If you wouldn’t mind, I was wondering if I could make a request for Chuuya with a fem s/o in Port Mafia who hasn’t been coping with stress well (she doesn’t want to upset Mori so she does all the missions even though she’s exhausting herself), just a fluffy scenario of her coming back practically crawling on the ground and Chuuya helping her out. (And canceling all of her missions for the future cause she needs sleep! Haha) Please and Thank you!
//This isn’t so much stress, more just physical exhaustion. Hope you enjoy!
Letting out a long and heavy, but silent yawn, you tightened your grip on your gun, blinking back tears formed by the yawn so your vision was clear. Forty-eight hours- no, make that forty-nine hours without any sleep. You’ve barely sat down since you woke up the other day. You had gotten up, after sleeping for maybe five hours, got ready, received a call from a subordinate of yours and headed straight to your boss’ office to receive your new orders. Now here you were, forty-nine hours later, back against a large sea container as you tried to keep yourself focussed on the task at hand. You could hear footsteps creeping towards you, almost silent but by holding your breath and paying close attention, you could hear them, how close they were, how fast they were moving, male or female. You were trained well enough to be able to pick it all out.
The footsteps were slow, calm. They didn’t know you were there, most likely on patrol. The footfalls were heavy, they were most likely male and judging by the faint clicking you could hear, they were armed. Just as you had expected them to be. You stood close to the corner of the sea container, gun in one hand and the other hand ready to strike out. The moment you saw the weapon of the other, you grabbed it, pulling them around the corner before quickly disarming them. They hardly had a chance to let out a yell before a bullet was lodged into their brain. Thank god for silencers, you didn’t need too many people on your ass right now. The body dropped to the floor like a sack of shit and you quickly looked around the corner to see if anyone else was in sight or had heard the small amount of sound you had made. No one.
With the coast clear, you continued on with your job, making your way into the facility undetected. So far that is. Your legs ached; you haven’t sat down for more than a couple minutes at a time since you woke up forty-nine hours ago. You neck also hurt, beyond belief, as about five hours ago, you spent a whole hour, stuck inside an air vent, listening into a conversation to find this place. God you needed to hot bath, a massage and a much-needed sleep. But you just knew, when you got back, Mori would have another job for you. You almost wanted to drag this on a little longer, maybe take a nap on your way back, just so you could take a break, but you knew what would happen if Mori found out. He’d work you even harder, right down to the point you were unable to lift your own gun.
You shuddered at the thought, shaking your head to try remaining focused. You couldn’t afford to get caught now. You didn’t know the building well enough to escape if someone saw you and set off an alarm. Seemed you had no choice in the matter however, as you didn’t notice the censor hidden in the corner of the doorway you just walked through. There was no alarm, no rushing of footsteps, nothing. You didn’t know you were in trouble until you were met with a wall of people, all pointing lethal weapons in your direction. Why couldn’t you have been an ability user?
-
Beaten, bruised, bleeding and struggling to hold yourself up, you sat in the train, head tilted back as you tried to relax your tense muscles. What a rodeo that had all been. First you were captured, pushed for information, beaten to a pulp and given some adrenaline to keep you awake right when you were about to pass out from exhaustion. Lifting your arm, so your wrist was above your face, you stared at your watch, trying to work out how long it had been since you last slept. Seventy-four hours. A little over three days of no sleep and even now, you still had to get back to the base, which was about half an hour away, shower and patch yourself up which could take up to an hour and then report back to Mori, an extra twenty to thirty minutes. God you were so tired.
Weary eyes were on you, some concerned over your condition, others fearful of the reason you were so beaten up. Were you bad or had bad people gotten to you? What they didn’t know, was that technically, you were both. You dropped your arm over your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh, followed by a yawn. You could feel your eyes becoming heavy, sleep calling your name now that the adrenaline had worn off. Not wanting to fall asleep on the train and miss your stop however, you jumped to your feet, startling some people with your sudden movement. You reached up and held on to a bar above your head to remain steady and kept your eyes focused straight at the doors, eager to get the hell home.
When you got off the train, you were left to walk to the base. Not only had Mori forgotten to send someone to pick you up, no taxis would stop for you, considering the state you were in. So, as you finally walked through the doors of the building’s elevator and then through Mori’s office door without knocking, you were about ready to drop- wait. No. You did drop. Exhaustion finally grasped onto you completely, practically squeezing the life out of you as your legs gave out from under you. The men in the room cringed as you toppled to the floor. Even Elise’s eyes widened in surprise and she likes watching people suffer! Mori, who was sitting at his desk, watching with raised eyebrows while the other man, one of his executives, quickly made his way over to make sure you were okay.
A gloved hand was offered to you, which you took, so he could help you to your unsteady feet.
“Thank you Chuuya,” you murmured, catching sight of his ginger hair before actually seeing his face. When you were able to make eye contact, you could see concern written all over his face. Straightening up the best you could, you looked to your boss. “Boss, with all due respect, I’ll report back to you when I’m able to stand on me own,” you spoke, a look of amusement crossing Mori’s face at your words. Chuuya wrapped your arm around his shoulders to hold you up so you weren’t supporting your full weight on your legs.
“Very well. Chuuya, we’ll continue this talk later, please assist Miss (Y/N) for now,” the man responded calmly, earning a nod from the hot-headed executive before you were escorted out of the office and towards the medical bay.
“No… Chuuya, just take me home. Please. I have what I need there, I just want to go home…” you sighed out, holding onto him tightly, fearful you would drop back to the ground if you let go of him any time soon. The mafia executive was about to argue, insisting that you needed proper treatment, but the look on your face said it all. You needed to go home. So, he turned to the elevator and took you down to the underground parking lot where he got you into his car and drove you to your apartment, just like you had asked of him. He didn’t speak to you, only keeping an eye on you from time to time, making sure you didn’t suddenly stop breathing or some shit like that. You were beat up pretty bad.
When you arrived, you tried to get out of the car on your own, only to almost fall out, cueing him to come around and assist you into your apartment, where he insisted he clean your wounds before you took a shower. It took a moment to find your keys and get into the apartment itself, but once you were seated at the kitchen table, Chuuya went straight to your first aid kit- he’s patched you up before- and got to work on cleaning you up the best he could for now. He would do a better job once you had showered.
“The boss has been wearing you pretty thin huh?” he finally spoke, cleaning up a deep cut on your collarbone.
“It’s just part of being in the mafia…” you responded with a small shrug, wincing a little at the pain it brought you.
“I hate to say it, but the boss runs you around a little more than some of the others. I’ll ask him to lay off for a while, at least until you’ve healed and regained your strength,” he claimed, looking up at you from where he was slouched over.
A soft smile crawled to your lips at his words, thankful that he would do something like that for you.
“Thank you Chuuya.” After he had cleaned up your not so pretty wounds, you went to take a shower, sitting on a stool to prevent further injury. The water pooled at your feet, brown and red in colour for a little while before running clear again. After that, you just enjoyed the feeling of the water on your skin, almost falling asleep in there, if it wasn’t for Chuuya calling out to you, making sure you hadn’t slipped or something.
You wrapped a towel around yourself, carefully making your way out of the bathroom and coming to sit on the couch. You didn’t bother dressing just yet. For now, this made it easier for Chuuya to finish what he was doing before.
“Take it easy for the next couple of days. We don’t need you coming in if you’re just going to pass out on us, okay? I’ll come around tomorrow to check on you, so if you’re planning on sleeping all day, put a key somewhere I can find it,” he explained to you as he placed bandages over your wounds. When he didn’t get a response, he looked up from what he was doing with a small frown, only to chuckle and shake his head when he saw why. You were fast asleep.
#bungou stray dogs#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya nakahara#bsd x reader#bsd#bungou stray dogs x reader#stressed reader#fluff
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