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anjelicawrites · 6 months

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The winner takes it all

Chapter VII (I, II, III, IV, V, VI)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: inspired by the Æthelflæd and Erik's story line in The Last Kingdom. Might be spoilerish if you haven't seen it (go watch it!!!), even though I've just stolen the inspiration and went on with the story my way.

Warnings: Canon compliant violence, Aemond losing his eye, talk of murder and family annihilation, anxiety, rage.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns are used (they are called “lady” and “daughter of the North”). The only descriptor is that they have long hair.

A/N 1: this is an AU. Look at me taking the canon story of Westeros and yell “Parkhour!” as I jump out of the window clutching it in my hands.

When you wake up Aemond is nowhere to be seen. He’s disturbed the bed on his side to keep up the charade of sharing it with you and you are alarmed that you hadn’t even noticed him doing so. You turn your head in the general direction of the windows when you don’t hear the usual commotion in the courtyard: what is going on? As silently as possible you open one of the windows and see that the majority of the soldiers are nowhere to be found, only a small group of them remains to guard the castle.

As soon as your handmaiden arrives, you ask her and she responds curtly

“Everyone to battle”.

Your heart sinks and sings at the same time, you try as hard as you can to hide your excitement to the woman: with the castle mostly empty, will you have a chance to escape? Your personal guard hasn’t been depleted, following you around while you try to gauge your possibilities of an escape, horseless and in a part of the country that offers no hiding spots.

Your wandering is stopped by a group of women who address you in Valyrian, their tone urgent; the more you tell them you don’t understand, the more insistent they become, until one of the members of your guard, a boy with big eyes translates for you: you are supposed to organize their work, until everyone is back, since you are Aemond’s wife. This takes you aback: you are a foreigner, your people are fighting, still those Valyrian women look up to you for guidance. With a deep sigh you start working, using the guard as your translator, while plans upon plans marinate in the back of your mind, until it’s almost evening and you realize you have nowhere to go.

Your hand abandons the fork and you have to fight your stomach to keep the food down: you are not sure if the news of your marriage has reached your people, but something tells you that it did. If it didn’t, you’d still have to deal with your husband, after your fight in the cell; if you let him hit you until he’s satisfied, he’ll probably kill you, if you kill him, you need to be smart about it. This if your new status hadn’t reached your people, if it had, you are not sure anyone will ever welcome and help you: every avenue is blocked, because Aemond made you a de facto traitor.

In a fit of rage you grab the goblet and smash it against the wall, where is followed by the plate, the cutlery and the tray; the only reason you don’t flip the table is because it is too heavy. With a roar you open Aemond’s trunk and tear through all the clothes he’s left there, until only shreds remain and you are crying on the floor, knees to your chest.

When morning comes, the servants don’t say a word, they clean your mess while your handmaiden helps you dress for the day.

With a heavy heart you realized, during the night, that your best chance of survival is for the North to succumb or, at least, for the major Lords to die in order for you to seize power, as the Queen of a free North. The first option is, probably, the more likely to happen, because the remaining Houses would never accept a Queen, a traitor Queen and if a civil war were to break, the North would fall anyway and you are still in enemy territory, your chances of seizing power null.

If the North wins, you’ll still be a traitor, that you were forced to marry Aemond will weigh nothing in the scheme of things, not when your predicament can be used by other Houses to grab what belongs to you and your family.

The Gods are cruel, aren't they? They punished you two times for having followed your heart: the first time with an unhappy marriage, the second with becoming a stranger in your own Homeland or being exiled forever.

For the two days Aemond is away, you work until your body physically can’t take anymore and your handmaiden has to drag you to bed, where you fall in a dreamless sleep and wake up in tears.

You are angry at Aemond for what he did and you miss him, cursing your traitor heart when you are awake, because the pull you feel towards him is even stronger now that you know he is in battle and in danger. You should hope for his demise but tremble at the mere idea of having to go on and live your life without him. You feel no hate towards him, anger perhaps, so much that you feel like you’re drowning in it, but you know it will fade, eventually, leaving you defenseless against those feelings burning in the most hidden recesses of your heart.

The thundering of your thoughts breaks into pieces when you hear the commotion in the courtyard and the roar of the dragons: they are back.

Against your will your feet drag you outside, where you see the familiar sea of white haired Valyrians, until your eyes land on Aemond, who stands tall, shouting orders to the people around you, still in his armor. You have to move aside to make sure the people don’t crush you in their effort to… pack? You wonder, flabbergasted, turning around to follow the commotion. They are all packing the scant belongings left: what is going on? Have they lost? You ask yourself.

You jump out of your skin when a strong hand lands on your shoulder, on instinct you turn ready to punch, only to see Aemond’s face, specks of congealed blood on his face and hair.

“We need to go, ābrazȳrys, now” he says gently

“I am not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on!” you answer, dislodging his hand

“I will explain, later”

“I am sick and tired of having to wait for any explanation from you! You’d better start talking, now!” you spat, stomping your foot

“You can either come with me, dignity intact, or I can haul you on my shoulder and on Vhagar. Your choice, ābrazȳrys. Either way we are flying away from here”.

You can see the anger and tiredness under his gentle façade, the haste he is trying to hide from you.

“Fear not, dōna ābrazȳrys, we’ve won. We are occupying another castle”.

For a second you can’t breathe, black spots dancing in your vision. It’s only thanks to Aemond’s hands on your shoulders that you don’t fall on your ass, his grasp firm on the skin there as he ushers you towards the enormous form of Vhagar.

“Please don’t make me fly on her again” all your fight gone the moment you face the humongous beast again

“It’s the safest way for you to travel”

“Please Aemond” you beg, trying to find purchase on his armor: why can’t he have some pity and do as you ask?

“I can’t risk anything happening to you - as gently as he can he cups your cheeks - I know the first time was scary, but nothing bad happened, right? We will fly slowly and as close to the terrain as possible. Please, we need to go”.

It’s the gentleness in his voice that makes your resolve crumble, the light in his eye amidst the chaos around you two. Why is your heart still singing for him? Why do you care about a man who makes decisions in your life, without consulting you?

You hang your head in defeat and murmur your answer; out of nowhere your handmaiden arrives, a thick cloak in her hands and fastens it around your body.

This time you climb Vhagar’s enormous body on your own, Aemond is right behind you, ready to catch you if you fall and to chain you to the beast under you.

“I wish I didn’t have to subject you to all of this”

“Then you shouldn’t have kidnapped me”.

The ride on Vhagar is saddled with a heavy silence.

You recognize where you all are, thus understanding how much terrain the Valyrians have conquered against your people and your blood freezes cold: you thought the North would have fared better, yet they've managed to steal so much from you all!

You can hear Aemond following you, the heavy thuds of each step, still clad in his armor as he is. Both his squire and your handmaid precede you to prepare your room, someone else's room, for the night.

The fire is lit and you can see some servants carrying buckets of warm water for Aemond to use and the squire ready to help with the armor, your handmaiden helps you with your cloak and shows you a screen you can use to hide while changing clothes. When you emerge you are again in the dressing gown, Aemond in his breeches and undershirt, ready to finish undressing to enjoy the bath.

"You should ask the servants to bring you some food"

"As you can imagine, I am not hungry" you answer curtly.

Aemond can feel the physical abyss carved between the two of you and his own lack of knowledge on how to cross it. You are so close he fancies he can smell you, yet so far away, you might as well be in Essos.

"As you wish, ābrazȳrys" he says with a curt nod of his head, before entering the bathing room.

That very night, the distress sounds coming from the huge settee awaken you. In the confusion that is your half awake brain, you don't understand initially what's going on, until you manage to light some candles and you can see Aemond's body trashing on the settee, his head turning from side to side violently, his mouth open to let out howls of pain and his harms moving as if he’s trying to shield himself. He sounds so pitiful you can’t help but grab the candle and rush to his side, your hands trying to stop his flailing arms, your voice gently trying to wake him, until he shoves you away and he sits up, abruptly.

Aemond doesn’t know where he is for a second, his head whips around until he sees you on the floor, your eyes trained on his face.

“Oh Aemond” escapes your lips.

He doesn’t immediately understand, then he realizes he is not feeling the eyepatch snug on his face and notices it on the floor. He snags it with haste and wears it, even though the damage has already been done.

“What is going on?”

“It is not of your concern”.

Slowly you lift yourself up, shoulders squared you march towards him to stop between his splayed legs. He didn’t just scream his anguish during his nightmare, you could hear disjointed words of regret and fear and pain.

“What happened?”.

He has to crane his neck to look into your beautiful face. You have such an air of power around yourself, you are queenly, godly in the way you are staring at him, he feels compelled to talk, but he can’t if he looks into your eyes. He lets his head hang, arms braced on his thighs, ready to commence his story.

“We didn’t have a choice, never really. We were destined to fail the moment we were born, my siblings and I. You see, as much as New Valyria wasn’t ready for a Queen, our father had forced everyone’s hand in pledging for her. He had us, the spares, in his mind Rhaenyra was supposed to inherit though. She didn’t have everyone’s support, not with the way she conducted herself and the talks around her Velaryon children being bastards. - he spats the word - Still, many Lords were ready to back her up, promises and honor, against Aegon’s claim and Daemon knew, he made his plans to take care of the competition”.

Aemond stands, his face curtained by his long hair, forcing you to step back or he’ll crash against your frame. On unsteady feet he walks towards the window and stares into the night, hands on the windowsill.

“We were told of his plan. You see, Daemon had been the head of the City Watch years and years ago, the men were still loyal to him and they were ready to act upon his command. We beat them to it. - you notice his hands curl on the sill, the knuckles turning white - There was no other choice, not when there was a plan and a date picked to annihilate all of us”.

You are rooted where you are standing, chilled to the bone by his confession. You knew what he did, who didn’t, but to hear it from his own voice, to hear the way he’s forcing himself to keep a steady tone, hits you differently. Then another realization churns your stomach

“We are just a decoy, right? A way to shift the Lords’ attention to what you and your brother did, to ensure their loyalty with our riches”.

You can see his shoulders sag, his head falling forwards against the glass

“Conquering the North had always been in my House’s plans. My father was too much of a spineless man to act upon it. Daemon might have been capable of convincing Rhaenyra to wage war - he turns around, paler than you have ever seen him - this was going to happen under a future Targaryen ruler”

“It did now, though”

“Yes. All the pieces fell into place the moment we slaughtered my half-sister and her family. There was no other choice”.

You have to walk backwards until your legs hit the bed and you fall there, sitting ungracefully like a ragdoll, your cold fingers grabbing the bedding uselessly.

“Who is Luke?” you shoot.

This is the night of revelation, as horrifying as they have been.

Aemond audibly takes a deep, pained breath and you don’t care; he’s telling you everything and you deserve the truth, all of it, after all he’s put you through.

“One of Rhaenyra’s Strong bastards, my nephew Lucerys Velaryon - unconsciously his hand goes to the scar running down his face - he’s the one who took my eye and was never punished for what he did. His mother claimed self defense, I was never going to hurt him or his brother, I just wanted them to stop”.

The defeat in his voice forces you to look at him. His lilac eye is shot open, his mouth a thin line. You want to urge him, but you are afraid he’ll stop.

“They ganged against me, him, Jace, Jacaerys Velaryon and Daemon’s daughters. Four against one because I had claimed Vhagar before Rhaena did, because she believed a dragon could be inherited. I had to grab that rock and threaten them, they didn’t like it when I told them what they were: bastards”.

You can hear the effort he’s making at keeping his tone neutral but the emotions brimming under the surface are unmistakable: the pain and the rage you can feel, threatening to break his composure at any second.

You are not looking at him, your eyes following the weaving of the rug up to where the candles lighten it, your mind weighting all he’s told you. Slowly you understand why he’s saying that he and the King had no choice, how the pieces had fallen into their places the moment the late King Viserys had generated spare heirs. You have never believed in predestination, in the fact that one’s life has already been decided by the Gods that, even knowing the future, a person has no way to change it. You still do believe all of that but can see the domino effect the late King had caused, which landed you and Aemond in this room.

“Do you truly believe there was no other way?”

“Our mutual existence was a threat to the Kingdom. Sooner or later factions would have appeared, Daemon hiring these men just snowballed what was to come”

“Your brother could have rejected the crown in favor of Rhaenyra”

“He was still the male heir and our grandsire would have never backed down, he had invested too much in Aegon becoming King. He was the threat, he had legitimate children also, whilst everyone knew Jace wasn’t a true Velaryon, his and his mother’s position were already compromised from the start. In a way, she and Daemon had no other choice”.

You understand, the same way you did when he talked murder against your other husband, the same way a cornered animal understands fighting for its life. You are both cogs in a machine bigger than yourselves, your actions inevitable and set in motion by someone else: your hands bloody, the shame yours to carry, the true culprit as innocent as a dove.

“This is why you have to believe me when I say marrying you was not instigated by political reasons. I am a kinslayer, I am the most accursed of men. Leaving you for the wolves would have been easier and I still couldn’t. I killed Luke with my own two hands and you were supposed to be nothing more than a bounty”.

You silently stand up and walk towards him until you can gently grab his chin to look into his lonely eye.

“I understand - you murmur gently - now I understand”.

That morning the servants find you two asleep on the bed, you on your side, back facing Aemond, and him on his back, one of his hands curled around a lock of your hair.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen

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luimagines · 2 years

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HEY READER PAYING RAVIO TO GO ON A DATE WITH THEM AND HE TAKES IT FOR THE MONEY BUT ENDS UP ACTUALLY REALLY AND ENJOYING HIMSELF AND DISCOVERS HE LIKES THE READERS COMPANY A LOT ND REALIZES HES BIG INTO READER PLS PLS PLS PAID DATING SERVICE TURNED ROMCOM

🐰

....You know what? Yes. Let's do this.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a night.” Were the first words you said to him when you entered his house.

Confused, conflicted and a bit flattered, he makes a face.

You are undeterred. “I’ll give you thirty rupies.”

Well doesn’t that sweeten the deal. Ravio goes to open his mouth-

“I’ll double it if you don’t ask any questions.”

“Deal.” He grins and you both shake on it.

You came in your finery, dressed to the nine and Ravio suddenly feels that you are completely out of his league. Even though he’s a bit hot under the collar, he has you on his arm and you both walk into what appears to be a rather extravagant party.

“I know we agreed no questions.” He says slowly.

You seem tense, like you’re about to walk into a battle field or that you’re prey out in the open watching for any predator ready to strike. It doesn’t help Ravio’s confidence and he hold onto you tighter.

“It’s just two hours.” You reply. “We need to mingle pretend we’re dating and then we can both leave and I’ll give you agree amount.”

“That sounds shady.” Ravio mutters. “But alright. Fine. Two hours.”

You nod and squeeze his hand. He’s not prepared for the way it squeezes his heart as well. “Thank you Ravio.”

You say it so tenderly. His heart beats a bit faster. What’s happening to him? He thought he would be able to hold himself better than this.

You both walk in. You hand your invitation to the doorman and walk in like you own the place. Ravio tries to match your energy and no doubt you both command the attention once people see you hand in hand. Ravio turns to you, curious to your reaction to the people who stare at them both. He is not hiding from the their faces. Nope. That would be absurd.

You however, seem to have expected this and you walk in with a smile on your face. You turn to him, giving him the most doe eyed, smitten expression he’s ever seen on any one. He’s own face softens.

“We’re here to have a good time.” You say. “Don’t worry.”

Ravio is inclined to believe you.

Luckily for him, the people don’t really come to bother either of you. He knows they’re watching. He knows he’s there for appearances only. He knows you have your reasons for inviting him, for asking to play the charade and for keeping silent throughout the whole ordeal.

You both end up by the food table. You set yourself up with a plate and Ravio nibbles on what little he feels that he can actually stomach.

“You look beautiful.” He says in a hushed tone. It’s only barely heard over the music. To his utter delight and amusement, you flush with embarrassment.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You say, not quite meeting his eyes. “You clean up quite nicely.”

Ravio tilts his head and holds out his hand, abandoning his food. “Dance with me. You want to sell this act, right?”

You pause and look at your plate then at him and Ravio can feel his bundling nerves get tighter and tighter until-

“Alright.” You put your hand in his. It’s soft. “Lead the way, Bunny Boy.”

His nerves disappear like that. “Don’t call me that.”

“Stop wearing the hood.”

“Never.”

“Shame.” You tease. “I suppose only I get to see your handsome face.”

Ravio coughs and leads you to the dance floor.

The songs the play are pleasant enough. No one really starts dancing except for the two of you. Ravio wants to kick himself for this. He really doesn’t care for this much attention.

The songs stops before it slips into something faster. You get a playful gleam in your eyes, the only warning before you drag Ravio into a dance that matches the pace. Now Ravio has never been one to have graceful foot work but you make it seem effortless.

Ravio is entranced by the way you move your body. The way he seems to fit against your perfectly as you move in tandem. He gets lost in the moment. Enough so that he doesn’t realize when the next song starts- this one faster than the last.

You match the pace once more and this song only goes faster and faster until the end. You give up. You take his hand and just spin the two of you around with wild abandon, laughing and grinning and being the happiest Ravio has ever seen you.

You break up apart, gasping for air, both giggling and laughing like lunatics. You wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him. Ravio is... surprised.. by how nice it feels.

“That was fun.” You laugh some more and try to calm the bubbles of giggles that break free from your lips. Ravio’s gaze dips down somewhat and he gulps. They look soft. You look breathtaking. And he suddenly gets the urge to do something reckless.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” Someone else calls out.

Ravio sees you stiffen. Oh dear, Ravio grabs what appears to be a strong drink from a passing butler. Trouble.

“Hello Darling. I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight at all.” A sleazy looking man from just beyond Ravio’s pay grade walks up to you. He gets uncomfortably close.

Ravio can feel how you press yourself closer to him and his arm wraps itself around your waist instinctually. His other hand swirls his newly acquired drink.

“It was a mandated thing.” You reply, resting your head on Ravio’s shoulder. “I couldn’t have avoided it, even if I tried.”

“My name is Ravio.” He says in his business tone. “A pleasure. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“We wouldn’t have.” The man responds and give no other information. Ravio is put off by it. But he’s dealt with worse customers. Such is the life of retail.

“Come on Darling, I wanted to talk about our last fight-”

“No.” You say sternly. “I said what I said. And I’m done.”

Ravio’s grip on your tightens. The atmosphere turns a bit heavy and he’s never been a fighter. Actually if Ravio is being honest he’s always been one to run from a fight. So he has no idea how to disengage from this conversation.

“Look.” The man says stubbornly. “There’s no way your with this bootlicker-”

Excuse him? What did he just say?

“Let’s go talk and we can work it-”

Ravio throws the drink in the man’s face. Shocked by his own impulsive actions, he reaches down to grab your hand and begins to run away. You’re also too shocked to say anything in rebuttal and together you run away from the man, from the party and end up halfway down the street before either of think to even look back.

Ravio pants and looks around. The sun has already set and the night is cold. He looks at you and sees how your hands have landed on your bare arms. He takes off his coat and places it over you, still looking for any sign that the man decided to come after them.

“Are you crazy?” You hiss.

Ravio’s brain flatlines. “Uh-”

“Do you know not who he is? Do you not realize what you’ve done?” You step closer to him and get chest to chest with him once more.

“Um...” He says intelligently.

“Do you know not how long I’ve been wanting to do that?!” You yell and kiss him then and there.

Ravio’s breath leaves him for a second and it takes a minute longer for him to come back into the present. You’re still ranting, your hands holding his jacket around your frame.

“Oh my god! Did you see the look on his face?�� You beam and begin to double over with laughter. “He looked so pissed. Serves him right. God, what a creep. I knew he’d be here. I’m so happy I chose you. I know we had an agreement but that was better than anything I could have hoped for. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. You could ask for anything-”

“Even a second date?”

You pause in your tirade and look at him.

He’s blushes and scratches the back of his head. Once again he struggles to maintain eye contact but he sneaks hopeful glances every other second.

You also blush and begin to fluster. “Yes” You say. “Even a second date.”

Ravio beams. “No charge this time.”

Your laugh and Ravio is inclined to think the night’s only begun.

#legend of zelda #ravio x reader #linked between worlds #help #how do i tag this?#linked universe #?#maybe?#i don't know

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wolferess · 1 year

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Dec 10th - 🆂now 🅰︎ngels

Katsuki X Reader

Days have been a lot colder ever since it started snowing and you were starting to get bored inside the house. Staring out the window in your living room and from the reflection of the glass you can see your blonde hair lover on his phone, you continue to watch the little white balls of snowflakes as they descend from the clouds. Cars drive by on the icy roads carefully, a reason why he won't carry you anywhere, afraid of causing a car crash and losing you to which you were oblivious of guy reason. With your head nesting on your forearms, a deep exhale left you causing the glass to fog up before disappearing.

As you continue to watch outside like a cat unable to leave its home that's when a light bulb switches into your brain, when Katsuki goes into the bedroom that's when you'll make an escape to the outside. You've waited and waited and waited until you heard a deep grunt, his phone is about to die and he needs a charger which is in your shared bedroom taking the opportunity to leave quickly but quietly towards the front door, grabbing your coat, hat and gloves before opening the door ever so soundless but that wasn't the case.

Dating a pro hero has its perks and there he was standing arms crossed, brows curved down downwards and his left feet thumping against the board of the living room floor. "Mind explaining where you're going to?" He said posture is not changing and eyes are still semi dark. Biting the inside of your mouth from being caught you answered "Just going outside " an awkward smile displayed on your face, a quick 'no' was heard from him and you began to plead, "Oh please katsuki it's just right outside, I've always wanted to play in the snow". A couple more please and going up to him kissing his face, hugging him he finally gave in.

He tried so hard to keep up the charade of telling you 'no' but as always you won over his heart and he was compelled. Grabbing his coat if the rack and hat you handed it to him with and rushed the door, at first he was just there standing blankly before putting it on and seeing you standing out in the snow watching it fall from the clouds, he swore he saw a tail wagging from how excited you were. You bend down to the ground to explore and feel the snow even going as far as to take out your gloves to feel it on your palm and boy was it cold, taking in the cold air and watch it as it came out as smoke from your mouth and looked at your palm once again to see that the snow was melting onto a puddle on your hand.

Your knee dug into the snow before letting your back hit the snow. You took another breath, feeling the cold air tickle your nose efore exhaling, seeing it as it become visiblein the air, a figure came standing at your head looking down at you with spiky hair, which of course recognized as katuki. Smiling up at him, you beckoned him to join you on the ground. A tch left his mouth, but he joined you, nevertheless sitting down, not trusting the snow to be that clean. He reached his finger towards you and poked your cheek to which you reacted by sticking your tongue out together with a wink which caused a gruff chuckle to leave his lips, retracting his hand he faced forward.

You started to drag your feet outwards and inwards creating clump up snow and a flip was switched, putting space between you and him, keeping your arms and legs straight before dragging it up shoulder height and legs going as far as it can before coming back inwards and repeating. "Kat, join me!" You beckon, with red orbs and brow raised together with rolled eyes and looking around to make sure no one sees him throw away his dignity, he is compelled. Doing what you did as well.

And when the both of you were done, you got up easily hoping to not destroy the thing you were making and Katsuki followed in pursuit, looking down at the snow, your smuggly look at both of your artworks. Snow Angels were displayed on the snowy ground, running inside quickly to get your phone and snap a picture of course your boyfriend was there just looking at the size and height difference of you two. It was almost like he was in a trance but broke out of it when he heard the camera shutter, thus was his first time ever doing this with someone so close to him, closer than ever, this is his first time letting down his high castle walls and welcoming someone else that isn't him.

Gosh you were truly just that special.

What do you think?

Look out for the next one😉

- 🐾

#bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bnha #fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki fluff #katsuki bakugo my hero academia #Christmas Calender 🎄

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shyvioletcat · 3 years

Note

I have no idea if you’ve seen NCIS: LA, but they have an episode just like your fic Treacherous of two agents posing as a married couple in the suburbs!! It’s season 3 episode 22 for reference!

Prompt based on that: A comes home and sees blood, panics and follows the trail thinking B has been hurt/killed. Carefully pushes the door open and finds A has simply cut their foot and didn’t hear B

I have watched some and I did go looking for this episode but came up bust in my search. It could have provided some good inspiration I’m sure. We all love a good fake relationship.

*EDIT: TAGLIST DONE. Sorry if you’ve already seen it and are getting the notification.*

Treacherous Masterlist

~~~~~

Grabbing the shopping bags out of the boot of the car Rowan swept his foot under it to activate the automatic close, all the while suppressing a yawn. He was dead tired. Aelin had gotten her revenge after the pen incident, setting an alarm clock in his room to wake him up at exactly 3:47. The damned thing hadn’t been within reach so he had to get out of bed to turn it off. And from copious missions together Aelin knew once he was up, he was up so he’d hadn’t bothered to try and get back to sleep. Knowing her she might have set others up in the room anyway, even if he had tried to sleep again paranoia would have kept him awake. All the while she slept blissfully across the hall.

Being just the two of them in the house they hadn’t bothered to keep up the bed sharing part of the charade. They slept in separate rooms and thank the gods for that. If he didn’t have that space to himself he might have never been able to get away from her and have some quiet. Aelin seemed to fill every room she was in and it was suffocating for him… most of the time. She had a way with people he had admired at times, it was what made her such a good agent, especially when undercover. Not that he would ever tell her any of that. No need to inflate her already insufferable ego.

When he had grumpily asked her over his third cup of coffee why she’d chosen 3:47 exactly she’d smiled at him, bright and cheery as ever after sleeping in until 8 o’clock, and alluded to some lockeroom talk she’d heard about certain measurements—in millimetres. When he had rolled his eyes she had gone on to clarify she was talking about 30 and not just 3 he’d promptly left the room, well and truly done with her immaturity. Her laughter had chased him out.

Shifting the shopping bags so he could open the back door, Rowan entered the kitchen expecting to find Aelin in there preparing the food for the ridiculous party tomorrow while listening to some obnoxious music very loudly just to piss him off. But she wasn’t, in fact the house was silent.

“Aelin,” he called, stepping around the length of the counter.

That was when he saw the blood.

Rowan dropped the bags, things crushing on impact. The blood pooled in one spot, then splatters made a path across the tiles. He didn’t have a gun on him, but there were enough stashed around the house and he found one in a low kitchen drawer. It was pointed and ready in moments and Rowan made sure he didn’t disturb the blood on the linoleum floor.

“Aelin,” he called again. “Agent Galathynius.”

Still silence. He followed the trail of blood towards the small bathroom that was on the bottom level, his heart pounding in his ears. There wasn’t enough that the situation looked dire, but the assailant may have dragged her off to another location, hidden away from windows. Why hadn’t the team been alerted to anything? Where was the back-up? Panic started to fill him, but his training kept it under control. If something had happened to Aelin…

He shook his head to shake out the thought. She was a perfectly capable agent, one of the best. Rowan was overreacting and he needed to calm down. A deep breath in and he nudged the door, when there was no reaction he kicked it open, gun ready. Eyes darting around the room, his gun dropped to the side when he took in the scene before him.

Aelin was seated on the floor, holding wads of toilet paper on a wound on her foot, wincing from what he gathered to be pain. She hadn’t noticed his entrance and was still focused on her foot.

“Aelin,” Rowan said, but got no response, so he tried a little louder. “Aelin.”

She jumped looking up at him. “Why do you have a gun?”

“Did you not hear me calling out?” Rowan asked, putting the safety back on the gun.

Aelin took small earbuds out of her ears. “What?”

Rowan rubbed a hand over his face, panic turned to exasperation. “I called out to you and you didn’t answer.”

“Podcast,” she held up her earbuds in explanation. “But the gun?” Aelin then asked him, her attention going back to her foot.

“The blood trail…” he said but didn’t elaborate.

Aelin straightened where she sat and looked up at him, then laughed. “Did you think I’d been murdered in the bathtub?”

Rowan didn’t answer her question. “Would you mind telling me what happened exactly?”

Aelin sighed. “I was trying to cook and I knocked a knife off the counter and my hands were full so I couldn’t catch it. It nicked my foot and now here we are.”

“Okay,” Rowan said, the adrenaline finally settling and he knelt down to assess the injury.

“What are you doing?” Aelin brows were furrowed in confusion.

“Inspecting the cut, you can’t get at it from the right angle,” Rowan said, turning her foot and earning a hiss.

“I can do it myself,” Aelin said and tried to pull her foot away but Rowan held firm. She relented with an over dramatic sigh and leaned her back on the bathtub.

Aelin had already got down what he needed, so he cleaned the cut up and foot, putting a large bandaid on it to stop the bleeding. “There,” Rowan said succinctly, brushing a thumb unconsciously along Aelin’s arch before letting go, making her suppress a laugh. She was ticklish.

“Hmm,” Aelin said, looking at him curiously.

“What?” Rowan asked, standing and washing his hands. When he turned around to dry his hands on a towel she was still looking at him.

“Careful Whitethorn, someone might think you were concerned for my well-being if they found out about this.”

“Not likely,” Rowan scoffed. “It was the paperwork I was concerned about.”

Aelin snorted and walked past him, Rowan taking a moment before he followed. There had been a moment when… He shook his head. Concern for a partner was only natural, no matter the feelings of enmity between them. The two of them couldn’t stand each other, but that didn’t mean he wanted her hurt or dead. Rowan left the bathroom, headed for the kitchen to put away the groceries when he heard a frustrated exclamation.

“Are you serious, Rowan?”

Any concern he had felt evaporated at Aelin’s tone. Entering the kitchen he found her holding a carton of eggs, leaking yellow and clear goop. They must have cracked when he dropped the bags in his panic at the blood.

“You need to go get more,” she told him, dropping the ruined eggs in the trash.

“No, I am not,” Rowan groaned. He was tired, he didn’t want to take another trip to the grocery store across town.

“Oh, you are. I needed those eggs for the barbecue tomorrow, so because of your overreaction over a little bit of blood I am now eggless,” Aelin explained. There was no answer from him as Aelin unrolled some paper towel to clean up both egg and blood. “Off you go.”

Too tired to fight anymore Rowan just grabbed his keys and left to get more precious eggs.

~~~~~

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nyx-aira · 3 years

Text

Mine (part 2)

Summary: You and Wanda had been fighting for weeks and after another argument you moved to Agatha for a couple days. Will these couple days change your relationship for the better or worse?

A/N: fuck tumblr and their new rules.

Tag list: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @king-star @ynscrazylife @booklovinbi @mysticfalls01 @adorkwithaplan @nathaslosttheirshit @agathaharkness-simp @paulawand @sarahp-stan @amethyst-bitch

TW: yelling, alcohol, mentioned mind controll ( let me know if I need to add anything)

(Part 1)

After a very informative breakfast you went for a walk, assuring Agatha that you just needed time to process all this information. She looked like she expected you to run, to scream and to hate her. Sure it was a lot to take in, a witch from the 1600s telling you that your wife might possibly destroy the fabric of reality wasn't the typical small talk for breakfast. You always knew there was something more to Wanda's powers, you and Vision trying to figure out what that might be. The thought of him made your heart ache. This town was fake, all just a splinter of Wanda's reality-warping magic, he could have been there but he wasn't.

When Agatha told you that it was all fake you had asked about the twins. She had shook her head and you had started to sob, you loved them so much. She had pulled you into her arms and had held you there, her soothing voice whispering calming words, promising to find a way to safe them. Her presence had calmed you down, the feeling of her body close to yours giving you a feeling of home. Something you hadn't felt with Wanda in a long time.

That was the main reason why you needed to take a walk. You had initially thought the night with Agatha had just been that but when you thought about it you realised how wrong you were. When you and Wanda had started arguing she had always been there for you, offering you a safe place, someone to listen or just a loving embrace. Even before your problems started her presence had always made you feel at peace, her touches always lingering a bit too long, her hands on you as much as possible. And you hadn't even realised. How much you yearned for her touch and how much she was part of your life already.

As you walked through the streets of Westview you realised how much of a part of the family Agatha was. She had a key to your home and it was more often than not that you would find her make breakfast for the boys when you and Wanda had an argument, giving the two of you space and making sure the kids were okay. She was there most of the time, playing with Billy and Tommy, making dinner and helping around the house. She was part of your crazy family and you hadn't even realised.

Was Wanda aware of that? Or did she think this was just how 'Agnes' was supposed to act. The two of them had been close from the start, getting along perfectly. And no matter how much Agatha would insist that she was just there to look at what Wanda could do you knew that she had become fond of your red headed wife. No, girlfriend.

Westview was fake and as much as you loved your redhead and the perfect place she created you knew this had to stop. She was hurting innocent people and you couldn't stand by and watch them suffer as you lived your perfect life.

With that realisation you made your way back to Agatha’s house. You would need her for this, not just for the magical part of the conversation because whatever had been between the two of you had changed and as much as you loved her you couldn't give up on Wanda.

Agatha wasn't too fond of the idea of revealing herself but with one look at you she knew she needed to end her charade with Wanda sooner or later or the redhead wouldn't trust her anymore. Taking your hand she pulled you close, promising you everything would be alright.

She had fallen for you the minute she first saw you when you came home from work back in the 50s. She had been taken a back by your beauty and had been enchanted by your lovely personality when you had started growing closer. Agatha’s goal had been easy. Find the power source, get the power and dissappear. But with you thrown in the mix she had changed them, convincing herself that she needed to get closer until she could take Wanda's powers. Getting closer had turned out to her being at your house as often as possible and helping you with everything she could, in the process also getting closer with Wanda. The woman had a difficult past, just like her.

When you and Wanda told her that she was pregnant Agatha had been surprised but that feeling had soon turned into giddiness as Wanda told her that only she knew and that the should keep it in the family for now. That was when Agatha realised that she needed to change her goal completely.

Throughout Wanda's more then unusual pregnancy she had always been there, going shopping with you as Wanda rested on the couch or looking after the house when both of you were too tired to clean up.

When the boys were born she immediately loved them and promised herself that she would do everything in her power to keep them safe. When the arguing had started they had come to her and asked her if she could fix the family, Billy insisting she could do it. That was the first time she openly cried in front of them. She had pulled them close and promised she would do anything for their family.

That's why she stood here now, on the front porch of the Maximoff residence, her hand intertwined with yours as she gave you and encouraging nod and you opened the door.

You were nervous when you stepped through the door, everything was silent and although you knew this wasn't unusual as it was still early and the weekend it made you rather nervous. Stepping closer to Agatha you were unsure what to do next, the hand around your waist calming your racing thoughts. You both turned around at the sound of footsteps.

"Wanda we need to talk." You broke the silence, looking at the woman on the stairs. Her hair was messy and she looked like she hadn't slept that well.

"Without shouting at each other." You added, catching the guilty look on her face.

"The twins are still asleep." She said as she walked down the stairs, making her way into the kitchen as she made herself a cup of coffee.

You sat down on the couch, Agatha directly next to you as you anxiously waited for Wanda to join you. She sat down in the arm chair and prompted you to go on. Giving Agatha an encouraging nod you let her take over.

"I haven't been honest with you Wanda and for that I apologise." She started, uncertainty clearly present in her voice.

"Agnes..."

"It's Agatha dear..."

With that she let her glamour dissappear. Eyes turning purple for a moment, a colour you started to loved, and her fingertips reverting to their original colour.

"What's going on!" Wanda asked, her Sokovian accent slipping as she was getting confused, her powers acting up as she dropped her mug and got into a fighting position.

Agatha had gotten up as well, pushing you behind her as purple magic swirled around her hands.

"I'm a witch Wanda, just like you."

You were starting to panic. This wasn't how this was supposed to go down. You were supposed to talk it all out, not getting ready to fight for your life. You looked between the two women. Wanda had growled at Agatha, refusing to believe a word the other woman was saying as Agatha tried to explain Wanda what was going on. When she mentioned the kids you could see the realisation in Wanda's eyes, she started sobbing, sinking to the floor. Any traces of hostility gone as Agatha knelt next to her and gently stirred her towards the couch.

You pulled her into a hug as she practically fell into your arms, soothing the redhead as the brunette sat down on your other side, giving you a moment.

"You said you could safe them." Was the first thing you said in this whole conversation, addressing Agatha.

Wanda looked up at these words, her eyes darting between you and the other witch.

"You were aware all this time?"

You took a deep breath and started explaining how you had always felt there was something wrong with Westview, something was never quite right but you never managed to find out what. No memories of your previous life until yesterday.

Looking at Agatha she gave you an encouraging smile as you explained what happened.

Sometime along your explanation she had started to hug herself, tears threatening to run down her cheeks. Then something happened that surprised not just you.

"Thank you." Wanda whispered as she pulled Agatha into a hug, akwardly sitting on your lap as she pulled the other woman closer, "for taking care of her when I didn't."

She then turned to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along. The three of you hugging as you sat on the couch and processed all the new information.

"I'm sorry." Wanda whispered, not expecting anyone to hear it but two sets of hands brushed her tears away and soothed her guilty as she sat amidst the women that were most important to her.

She had been heartbroken when you left with Agatha, thinking that was it. That you would leave her for the brunette and she could understand it. Agatha was wonderful, always there when she needed a hand or someone to listen to. She hadn't realised it but she had shaped her perfect reality after the time she had in Scotland, not one loved one but two, Agatha playing along because she needed to gather information but now Wanda realised she didn't just play along. How she cared for you was real, as real as her love for the boys and Wanda hoped that the woman with the blue eyes and captivated smile felt the same way for her as she did for you.

Wanda must have been reminiscing her perfect life longer then she thought because when she snapped out of it again she realised that you were gone. Shifting in Agatha’s arms she looked around trying to find you.

"She wanted to see the boys."

Wanda was surprised as she heard the velvet voice speak, holding so much love for her not-quite-wife and her boys. She grabbed the hands that were slung around her waist and looked at her lap, not daring to look up as she spoke her next words quietly.

"Would you teach me please? I know I messed up and I know this fake reality is hurting people.."

"Wanda..."

"N-no.. please let me finish..I-Im not sure if I can do this twice. "

Agatha gently lifted her head up, making her look at her.

"I'm all ears, buttercup."

Wanda's breath hitched at the nickname, her cheeks turning scarlet as a hand caressed her face. The young witch realised how close they were, noses almost touching. She could feel Agatha’s hot breath and the way her fingers danced across her face. Screw it, she thought as she pressed her lips against Agatha’s, closing the little space that was still left between them.

She melted into the kiss. Agatha tasted like herbs and chocolate ensnaring her senses as she felt her soft lips move against hers. The butterflies in her stomach gave a happy flutter as Wanda realised she wasn't pushed away but Agatha was also kissing her back. She sighed contently as she thought about all the times she wanted to do exactly that, never acting upon her feelings as a small part of her brain told her 'Agnes' was just playing the part she assigned her to play. But Agnes wasn't Agatha and Agatha sat on her couch, hands tangled in her hair as she kissed her passionately. Wanda felt her move so she could pull her into her lap, holding her closer as Agatha deepened the kiss. Burying her hands in the long, dark tresses of her neighbour, Wanda felt at peace, God she loved this woman. She wished they could stay like that forever but the need for air had her reluctantly pull away, resting her head against Agatha’s.

"I love you too, angel"

She opened her eyes at that, shocked at the statement. The smile on Agatha’s face made her grin as well, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Your thoughts are very loud for a telepath." The older witch supplied with a sly smirk.

Wanda turned red at that. Agatha had heard every single one of her thoughts, knowing exactly how she felt.

"Don't worry doll, mind controll and how to shield your thoughts will simply be our first lesson then."

A smile formed on Wanda's face at the sound of Agatha’s words, she was willing to teach her and the fact the she still sat in her lap wasn't a bad bonus.

Wanda leaned in to give her another kiss as she heard a cough from behind, turning around she saw you leaning against the wall, happy smile on your face.

You walked over to the two witches, giving both of them a short peck on the lips as you sat next to them, getting pulled into the cuddle puddle the moment you sat down.

"I was planning on going downstairs soon but Billy said I should give you both some privacy. I think his vision scared him for life." You chuckled, the two witches blushing at your statement.

"Is it safe?" Came a shout from upstairs that belonged to Tommy.

"Yes." You yelled back, laughing at the way Wanda buried her head in Agatha’s shoulder, the woman in question groaning as she massaged her temples.

They were quickly wrapped in a hug as Tommy ran down the stairs, his brother clinging to him as they were nothing but a blur of silver and blue.

"Mommy!" They both exclaimed as the wrapped Wanda in a bone crushing hug. She laughed as she held her boys close, glad they weren't too traumatised.

Agatha got up from the couch and pulled you along, giving them some space but the two of you didn't come far as Billy and Tommy wrapped you both in a hug.

"I'm glad you're back Mom."

"Yeah we missed you."

"I missed you too boys." You said, glad that you were with your whole family again.

"Is Mama staying with us forever now?" Billy asked you and Wanda.

You heard Agatha gasp, clearly not expecting them to call her Mama. You could see tears running down her face and by the looks of it Wanda couldn't stop the tears from falling either.

"Yeah, she's already part of the family." Tommy exclaimed, grabbing Agatha’s hand as Billy grabbed yours.

"Please Mommy." They begged, looking at Wanda and also at you.

You looked around the room. Wanda was sitting on the couch, a genuine smile on her face, her magic happily dancing around her as you and Agatha were standing next to her Agatha’s hand around your waist as her other held Tommy at her side, ruffling his hair. Billy giving you a short smile as he held your hand.

It was the picture of a perfect family.

"Yes." Wanda said, "She'll stay."

At this the boys cheered, jumping on the couch to hug Wanda, pulling you and Agatha along.

As you all sat crammed together on the couch to watch TV you snuggled closer to Agatha and Wanda, grabbing their hands from where you sat sandwiched in between the two of them, happy it had turned out the way it did.

#wandavision #agatha harkness #agnes #wanda maximoff #agatha harkness x reader #wanda maximoff & reader #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #billy and tommy #fluff

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Note

I’ve been rewatching CM and god, what I wouldn’t give for them to bring TG back for this revival. I haven’t even watched seasons 12-15 yet because I’m in denial about him being gone 😭😭😩

omg I haven't watched it either xD I've been holding off watching s11e22, The Storm, for like a month I swear. Which, I know is going to be amazing but I also have heard it's the beginning of the end and I'm not readyyyyyyy.

I would give anything for TG to come back. A n y t h i n g. But idk what CBS feels is the appropriate amount of time to be blacklisted or whatever the hell they did 🤷‍♀️ despite how it would be so easy to write him back in, and the missed opportunities is already making my skin crawl.

Okay. This was going to be a quick answer, but I've been THINKING about this way more than I should lately, without ever having watched 12-15 but I feel like I know enough, and with all the projects I'm going to be finishing/starting soon I know I won’t have time to do anything with my ideas. So I'm just going to type this little beginning I have plotted out and maybe one day I'll make it into the fic I want it to be:

(I know you didn't ask for a hc/blurb thing but surprise you get one xD)

CW: Spoilers for season 11-15 that are probably inaccurate af, fighting, violence, bit of blood and injuries talk, some profanity.

((I legit have this all plotted out like a full season, and picture everything as shots and scenes and I know exactly how I would want to bring Hotch back.))

It would start in a small suburban town in Indiana, legit white-picket fence, middle of nowhere, off the grid town. With the most pedestrian name ever, we might as well call it Mayberry. Typical weekend morning, bright green grass and trees and summer sunshine lighting it all up, they still get papers delivered it’s that picturesque. And it’ll pan to all sorts of people on this street of nice, two-story houses, and finally zero in on not the man picking up his paper from his front porch, but the jogger slowing down that the man calls to next door, calling him a name we’ve never heard before -- but the jogger answers with that dark eyed squint and a nod... and it is Aaron Hotchner. Or the man who used to be Aaron Hotchner. He hasn’t gone by that name in years, WITSEC provided him and Jack with new ones.

His house isn’t even really decorated like a home, he’s been in enough over the years to know tell-tale signs of what a happy home should entail. Photographs, memorabilia, nostalgia tucked away in corners -- they don’t have that. He has a couple of photographs he keeps in his office, the only two in inconspicuous view being a photo of Haley and Jack when he was two years old, and a photo of his team the day he completed the FBI triathlon and they all showed up to support him. Everything else of their old life is in boxes in a storage facility in downtown D.C., under another false name that can never be linked back to them.

Mr. Scratch was a poor excuse for why he and Jack were still under WITSEC, but he hopes near daily that it was enough of a reason that no one would question why he didn’t return once that monster was dead. That no one smart enough to read between the lines would go digging for more reasons, or worse -- try to find him -- and they pictured him living a happy retirement very similar to the charade he is living now.

But Aaron Hotchner was never meant for retirement. No matter how easy and simple his days have been the past few years. It was only a matter of time.

He walks through his home that looks more like the insides of a Home Living magazine, to his kitchen which is bright and spacious and tiled white that he knows Haley would have loved, getting a glass of water from the sink and chugging it all in one go. It isn’t until he’s getting a second glass that he hears it. The faucet was supposed to have masked any disturbance, they were careful in when they moved, how they placed their feet, the slowness of the their approach -- but not enough.

Hotch keeps his shoulders relaxed, his spine still ram-rod straight but that’s just how he stands and it keeps tension ready at a moment’s notice. Keeps him on alert, which he needs as he takes slower sips of water and lets all his other sense shift to a heightened awareness. Knows this house like the back of his hand, even if he’s never allowed himself to consider it home, so he knows which floorboards creak and where all the furniture is strategically placed. Always prepared for something like this to happen, even if he never imagined someone would be so bold.

Their mistake.

With a careful tick of his head, peripherals his only guidance, he strikes before the intruder gets to. An iron grip and momentum that propels their face into the metal of the sink basin, shocking them that what their file was so misleading about their target. Retired FBI agent, almost 60 years old, living in Pleasantville with a picket fence and a vegetable garden. This should have been easy. The intruder is stunned by the blow, attempts a quick recovery where they lash out and get a few good body shots into the older man -- but he’s built like a brick wall, can take a blow and give it back twice as hard -- a few more precise hits and another crack of their face to the sink that shatters the bridge of their nose leaves the attacker slumping to the floor.

“You didn’t do your research,” Hotch tells them, breathing a little heavy, opening up a drawer usually deemed for junk and pulls out zipties and an ancient looking cell phone buried deep at the back. “Sloppy. I expected more from him.”

The attacker kicks out Hotch’s knees in a fit of rage (at having his skill set insulted so), leaving them both crashing to the floor. They grapple and fight a bit more, knocking dishes from the counters and pots and pans to the floor from the grill top island, but Hotch is so well-trained in take downs he gets the slighter man pinned with only a split lip and a single hitch in breath. He barely broke a sweat. Knocks the guy out clean, two solid punches to his face, and he stops because he knows better. Has been there before, and they need to question whoever was sent to his house to kill him.

He’s barely off the floor, the intruder binded and stuck in a corner when Jack walks in from early morning soccer practice. Takes one look at the kitchen, his dad with blood in the corner of his mouth, and the guy all in black bound by zipties and already knows what happened. Sixteen, nearly as tall as his father now, he looks only mildly worried for all of two seconds until he sees that his dad has an old flip cell phone held up to his good ear, awaiting a connection with their handler in Indianapolis.

“... Does this mean we get to go home?”

The shot would pan back to Hotch, and he wouldn’t answer him, just tells the person on the phone to ‘patch him through, they have a situation’, and there would be no very obvious look in answer to Jack’s question. But all of us who know him, know the subtle changes in expression and the slight softening to that stern frown, knows what his reply would have been.

The very next scene would be the BAU. JJ and Emily walking at a brisk pace covering a debrief, since they basically run the department now. Everyone has been called in, everyone, retired and moved away and even the ones who cut all ties have been contacted. JJ has just gotten off the phone with Elle, who is working as a liaison in Rome and assured her that if anyone showed up in her home to attack her that they would be leaving in a body bag. But she appreciated the heads up.

In the bullpen it’s more like a family reunion than anything. Garcia has just gotten off the elevators, a flurry of color and blonde curls and bright as ever, Morgan and Savannah are trying to corral Hank and the twins (both girls and pure chaos now that they can walk) while still making introductions with the new team and their families, and asking if Reid or Rossi know anything about what’s going on as JJ gets there and asks for everyone’s attention.

“Not everyone is here yet, Kate and her family are on their way from upstate, Will’s getting the boys from school, and Alex and her husband are on a plane, but we need to get started as soon as possible.”

“What’s is going on, JJ?” Morgan asks, passing off one of the twins to Penelope who is in full baby fever mode despite what is obviously a very bad circumstance that has brought them all together. It’s a juxtaposition that has put everyone on edge. It doesn’t help when JJ and Emily look at each other as if in confirmation, trying to decide who is going to tell them.

“Okay, that doesn’t inspire confidence,” Rossi points out. “What happened?”

Emily sighs and makes a gesture for JJ to take the floor, since she has been on point for most of this.

The bull pen is silent in anticipation.

“Earlier this morning, Hotch was attacked in his home in Indiana,” she says, and whatever anyone thought was going on -- that wasn’t it. The shock across the room is like a bomb has detonated.

Rossi curses something out in Italian, looking down, and JJ immediately realizes how this all sounds. But doesn’t even get to backtrack as Reid looks completely devastated and Garcia like she’s about to cry and everyone else starts shouting questions at her.

“What happened to Jack?”

“How did they even find him? What the fuck is wrong with WITSEC?!”

“Is he okay?” asks Tara, the only intellectual who can see the panic now blooming on JJ’s face.

“Yes, yes! He’s okay, sorry, no -- Hotch is fine. The guy who tried to kill him... not so much, but he should be conscious soon so they can question him.”

“Jesus Christ, JJ,” Morgan says looking like he just aged ten years in the past 30 seconds. “Lead with that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. He’s okay, Jack is okay, they’ve been picked up. But... there’s a lot we need to be filled in on,” she admits, which quiets the room once more. “Apparently, the WITSEC had nothing to do with Mr. Scratch. There’s something much bigger and more dangerous going on, and he went under to keep us all safe. As well as himself, and Jack.”

“What is it?”

JJ makes a gesture with her hands splayed as she looks a little lost. “I only know bare bones, we have to wait to hear the specifics and get everyone somewhere safe.”

“You think we’re going to trust WICSEC after this?!”

Emily intervenes this time, “We have a plan, or... Hotch has a plan, I think. We’re just learning about everything as we go, he’s really the one that knows the most about it.”

“Then where is he?” Morgan speaks up again. “If he’s been pulled out, and we’re all in danger, why isn’t he here explaining this to us himself?”

It’s a good question, and everyone looks expectantly at the two women leading the informal briefing.

“Will he come back at all?” Reid asks, speaking up for the first time. It’s been years, that’s a long time to rethink a life like the BAU, and everything it entails.

JJ takes a deep breath. “He’s... in--”

“Out-processing.”

Hotch is at the back of the room. Everyone turns to him, even JJ and Emily look surprised to see him so soon. ((But we all know the CM cinematography love that kind of return shot, so I’m catering to it. For situational parallels if nothing else. Imagine the gif sets.))

“I pushed it as fast as they could go, but WITSEC always drags their feet.” The familiar drone, dry barely-there-humor, breaks whatever spell that had been over the room at the sight of the old Unit Chief. Disbelief and relief and stunned surprise litter every expression, and although Penelope looks like the first to say something, her words change course just as she opens her mouth. Because Hotch is still in civilian clothes, a duffle-bag over his shoulder he used as a go-bag for decades, and beside him with a bag of his own with messy dirty blonde hair is--

“Oh my God, is that Jack!?” she near sobs, the teenager smiling at her in a way that looks so much like Haley, and she goes to hug him first with the boy meeting her halfway. “You’re so tall! And so grown up, look at you!” There’s definitely tears and the team converges on the Hotchners all at once. Reid hugs Hotch first, as tight and bone-crushing as that night in Atlanta all those years ago, followed soon after by Rossi who looks like he might shake the man but just hugs him tight and plants an absurdly embarrassing kiss on his cheek that finally cracks Hotch’s expression into something like a smile. Everyone hugs, everyone, Savannah calls him Aaron instead of Hotch because that was how he’d introduced himself all those years ago, the twins wave shyly and he shakes hands with the newer members that never got to meet him but have heard very tall tales about him for years and years.

(And y’all, it would be the best damn scene and I would sob like a baby watching it.)

Morgan would be the one that would hold back and let the others go first, but it would also be the most profound when Hotch goes to shake his hand and the other man uses that to pull him into a tight hug of his own.

“I’m glad you can still hold your own,” he’ll tease with nearly no heat behind it. Hotch hears it for the caring that it is.

“Like hell I would let that happen twice in my own home,” he assures him.

Everyone settles down, and Emily leads some finer points of what’s going to happen with everyone in the next few hours. Days. Weeks, even, because there’s no knowing what is going to happen next. Hotch observes her, and there HAS to be a shot where she glances over to him and they share a look of understanding -- because she is Unit Chief now, and he approves of what he sees.

But she turns the floor over to him, and Hotch explains what’s going on.

((I’m going to leave the finer points out about the case and the unsub, mostly because I haven’t finished ironing them out yet and I hope once I watch the remaining season I will be able to much more easily))

But at SOME POINT in the briefing, when Hotch is explaining what happened with the assassin in his home and how he apprehended him, and Emily maybe interjects with the injuries sustained and that they are still waiting for the man to regain consciousness. Penelope will 100% lean over to where Jack is sitting beside her and say without flinching, “Your dad is such a bad ass.”

((I also plan on bringing up Reid was in prison in this scene but it will be more humorous than anything because of Hotch’s reaction, stay tuned on that one. Again I’m not there yet))

((and where I’m taking them is also a secret because I need to do research and it will be so damn cool, but Hotch has everything completely planned out -- like he does. Goes as far as asking the few who question him “Secure enough for you?” when he drops where they will be staying and the protection they will have. Full blown mic drop moment.))

“So gather all of your belongings that you have here. Secure pets and homes, call the kid’s schools, whatever you need to do,” Hotch informs them, stepping back into his old shoes as team leader without even meaning to. But no one tells him to stop. “We need to be in the air ASAP, the jet is being prepped as we speak so we need to move on this.”

He leaves it at that, and everyone doesn’t move. Watching, waiting, smirking a little bit (Penelope, maybe even Reid), until he gives in.

“Wheels up in 30.”

Garcia giggles so much she near cackles with it. “Oh, I just got goosebumps!” And by Emily’s smirk and Morgan’s shared grin with Reid, a million watts between them, everyone is up and moving and pulling out cell phones to get their affairs in order.

Rossi sidles up to Hotch at that point, also openly smirking that they got him to say those four time-honored words. “Welcome back, Aaron.”

And Hotch, well -- he looks around the room at the family he had to leave behind without any hope of seeing them again, and feels every hardened edge in his face and demeanor soften. Before he looks to Dave and tells him what’s been going through his head ever since he walked back through the doors of the BAU.

“It’s good to be home.”

((END SCENE))

#CM SPOILERS #If only I could write fic full time xD #GOD I've been dying to write all that down for weeks #and then you my beautiful anon sent that ask and I jumped at the opportunity #sorry I used you for this but I'm so glad I did #I hope you enjoy it if you don't mind all the spoilers #also if anything doesn't line up with canon I am SO SORRY I legit haven't finished season 11 #and I haven't met any of the new team. Not even Luke #But they would all be there #full cast. chaos. It would be awesome #katyswriting #criminal minds fanfiction #no pairings #Aaron Hotchner

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Note

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling.

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

#tma #tma fanfic #jmart #timsasha #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonmartin #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #cw alcohol #new years eve #new years eve party

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berriusagi · 3 years

Text

Stomach Bug Ch2

Dinner Announcement

Should I be writing my geology essay? Yes. Am I going to write it right now? No. Am I instead going to write a new chapter to this fic? Absolutely. Thank you everyone who showed interest in this story it means a lot that people actually like this and to everyone asking to be tagged I’d take a bullet for you. You are all the best.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The calm collected tone Bruce had during his call did well to hide the absolute madhouse that was Wayne Manor. While he was trying to subtly interrogate his youngest son over the phone his other three were playing the world's worst game of charades. Dick’s arms were flailing around as he made exaggerated motions trying to get a read on what Damian was saying through Bruce’s stony features. Jason was seemed to be working his eyebrows as much as humanly possible seeing if he could get even a hint of a reaction from Bruce. Tim, however, was just patiently waiting too tired to do any of the over the top actions of his brothers.

“Okay son, if you’re sure I’ll speak with Alfred.” Bruce nodded before hanging up and took a moment to compose himself before his sons launched into their own interrogation.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked, “Is little D okay?”

“What’s up with Demon Spawn I’ve never heard him have an emotion other than anger before,” Jason asked leaning forward.

“Why was he at Ivy and Harley’s?” Tim asked sipping his coffee.

“He didn’t say much.” Bruce sighed rubbing his eyes, “he told me he’ll be out for the rest of the day but that he’ll be here at dinner to explain what happened. He’s also bringing a few guests though he wouldn’t give any names.”

The three boys all shared looks before flying out of the room and scrambling through the halls towards the Batcave. Alfred stepping out of the way as they flew past him all shoving each other away or jumping over the other to try and be in the lead.

“They are quite lively this morning.” Alfred hummed walking over to Bruce with a raised eyebrow, “What did I miss?”

“Damian ran out during breakfast after a phone call and won’t be back until dinner he’s bringing three guests. He didn’t tell me more than that.” Bruce sighed leaning back in his seat, “How am I not grey yet Alfred?” he asked

“Must be favorable genetics as it can’t be from your tranquil life.” Alfred mused as he cleaned up the table and headed off to wash the dishes leaving Bruce alone to listen to the distant shouts of his sons fight their way into the Batcave.

~.~.~.~

“Angel, you need to eat something.” Damian said rubbing Marinette's back as she covered her nose turning away from the food set out in front of her, “I know it makes you nauseous but at least eat some toast.” he coaxed grabbing some dry toast and held it up to her.

“Eating is the last thing I want to do right now.” Marinette groaned still a little green from her last round of sickness.

“I know but the baby needs you to eat.” he soothed looking in her eyes, “you need to eat so the baby can be fed.”

Marinette groaned and pushed the plate stacked meats and eggs away from her and leaned back further to get away from the smell. Once her stomach seemed to settle she gingerly took the toast Damian kept insisting upon her eating and took small bites slowly working through it. Her stomach settled further the more she ate allowing her to relax a bit more and a healthier color to finally come to her face.

“Think she’ll be a vegetarian during this pregnancy,” Harley chuckled taking the plate away and deposited the food in the doggy bowls by the door for the two hyenas to come rip through later, “probably for the best for her to not have any meats though might really mess with her stomach.”

Ivy hummed looking through the pamphlets reading up on the different options, “Marigold we should set up an appointment with the OB-GYN Dr. Beau recommended. We should also grab some prenatal vitamins too since you’re not going to be getting enough nutrients from eating like a little bird.”

“I’ll go buy some,” Damian said standing quickly only to get shoved down in his seat a second later by Harley.

“Yeah no,” Harley said grabbing her brag, “That’s just what we need you on the front page, ‘ Wayne Heir spotted buying prenatal vitamins ’ this whole city would be in an uproar trying to figure out who you knocked up. You stay here and keep our little bug comfy we’ll go do the shopping.”

“You��re just going to leave your daughter alone with her boyfriend unsupervised?” Damian asked raising an eyebrow.

“What are ya goin to do? Knock her up?” Harley chuckled raising an eyebrow at the two blushing teens at the dining table. “You two talk, cuddle, be teens and red and I will do the shopping then later we’ll all go to Wayne Manor and act as buffers for marigold here so she doesn’t go catatonic.”

“Thank you,” Marinette mumbled looking up at the two women who so kindly took her into their home and wanted nothing more than for her to grow and be happy, “for everything I can’t thank you enough.” she sniffled scrubbing at her face.

Ivy and Harley both smiled and wrapped her up in another tight hug showering her in love and affection until her sniffles died down once more. The two women pulled back giving Mari kisses all over her face until she was giggling and pushing them away her face flushed with laughter instead of tears. Only once she was smiling brightly again did they finally pull away and leave the two teens alone.

“She’s going to be okay.” Harley smiled slinging her arm around Ivy’s shoulder, “our little marigold is gonna be just fine.” she sighed as they made their way out of the apartment building.

Marinette finished her dry toast sipping on some warm tea to soothe her throat from the torture it had gone through that morning with her stomach issues. Damian cleaned up the discarded dishes and helped Marinette up walking her over to the couch keeping a firm hold on her so she wouldn’t trip over the stray toys littering the floor. “Dami I can walk just fine.” she giggled softly as Damian helped her to sit.

“You’re pregnant I don’t want you to fall.” He said sitting down beside her, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Walking around the apartment isn’t going to hurt me or the baby.” She sighed leaning on his side, “I might be a klutz but I’m not going to fall that easily. I was Ladybug for three years have some faith in me.” she mumbled closing her eyes all the stress and tension from the morning finally easing off now that she had Damian by her side.

Damian sighed wrapping an arm around her hugging her gently, “I have so much faith in you,” he whispered leaning down to kiss the crown of her head, “I’m just worried about what could all go wrong.”

Marinette sighed sitting up and turned to face him looking up into his emerald eyes, “I don’t want you to worry, I’m already scared I just want you to be the one to tell me everything is going to be okay. That we’re going to be okay.” she said moving forward to bury her face in his chest, “I want to act like this wasn’t an accident and that we’re not two stupid teens.”

Damian wrapped her up in a tight hug pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, “Okay angel,” he mumbled, “I’ll be your rock, we’ll get through this and we’ll be the best parents we can be.”

“That’s all I want.” she sniffled nuzzling closer using Damian's relaxed state to shove him back to lay on the couch quickly climbing up to cuddle up onto his chest burying her face into his neck, “I love you Dami,” she mumbled.

“I love you to angel.” he smiled softly gently running his fingers through her hair to help her relax as she began to slip away into a quiet sleep. He waited until she was fully asleep to allow himself to fully relax and take his time to process just what was happening. “I’m going to be a father.” he mumbled rubbing a hand down his face a soft laugh bubbling up from his chest as he smiled at the ceiling, “Todd’s going to have a stoke.”

~.~.~.~

“How is there nothing?” Dick asked staring at the screen of the bat computer, “That’s impossible there isn’t anything you can’t find.” he said turning to look down at Tim as he tapped away at the keyboard staring intently at the screen.

All three of the eldest Wayne boys had been down in the Batcave for hours scrubbing through phone logs, security feeds, anything and everything to get even a hint of what was to come for dinner. The longer they searched the more interested they got at the sheer lack of anything involving Damian and anyone else that would prompt him to act how he did.

“Doesn’t make sense Demon Spawn doesn’t just change overnight so either he’s just really good at covering his tracks or he’s a clone,” Jason said stretching out in his chair propping his feet up on the desk.

The other two made a humming noise as they continued to search through the documents for what felt like the hundredth time. “Wait!” Dick shouted jolting Tim and Jason nearly out of their seats as he pulled the keyboard from Tim’s grasp and started typing away, “We’re going about this all wrong.”

“And how, pray tell, should we be doing this?” Jason deadpanned looking over at Dick with a raised brow, “We should just go ask Demon Spawn and let him feed us a load of bullshit?”

“I mean clearly he doesn’t want us knowing anything because he buried it so deep but maybe asking him will give us some answers?” Dick said smiling in the face of his two brothers thoroughly unimpressed looks. “Oh come on it’s worth a shot.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred hummed walking down into the Batcave, “Master Timothy and Master Jason.” he nodded looking at the three men, “Our guests will be arriving for dinner soon please head up to the main house to clean up and get ready.”

“It’s time for dinner already?” Tim muttered turning to look at the clock noticing just how long they had been down there looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

“Yes so if you three will make your way to the manor proper.” Alfred nodded turning on his heels and headed back up the stairs so that he could continue with the dinner preparations.

The three men sat in silence for a moment longer before slowly making their way up the stairs. “Well, maybe we’ll get some answers during this dinner?” Dick asked looking at the other two only to receive shrugs in response.

Reaching the top landing they all split and went their separate ways to get ready for dinner taking their time to do their own thing. Soon enough a hard knock was heard through the manor signaling their mystery guests arrival. The three ran down once again shoving and tripping up each other to try and be the first in to see who would come through just narrowly avoiding crashing into Bruce’s back as they slid to a stop behind him.

Alfred calmly walked past them and opened the door, “Good evening Miss. Quinn, Miss. Ivy.” he said stepping aside allowing the two women to enter, “Welcome home Master Damian.” he said bowing his head to him, “and good evening miss?”

“You can call me Marinette.” she smiled softly up at the older gentleman, “I brought dessert,” she added holding out the large pastry box to Alfred trying to hide her nerves.

“Thank you, Miss. Marinette I’ll go put this away now. Dinner will be served shortly I hope you enjoy your stay.” he smiled softly nodding to the three women as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Damian you had us all quite worried when you ran out of here this morning.” Bruce said looking at his youngest and taking a moment to look over the three women before him, “Would you care to explain what happened?”

Marinette started to fidget keeping her eyes on anything but the Wayne’s before her, the soft pressure from Tikki in her purse doing little to keep her heart from beating out of her chest as her mind filled with everything that could go wrong. She managed to relax just a little as she felt the calm warm pressure of Damian's arm settling around her waist gently squeezing her hip to help ground her.

“Father, this is Marinette Isley-Quinzel,” Damian started his features cold and unreadable as he stared his family down, “she is my girlfriend.”

A pin could drop and sound like a gunshot in the silence that followed, the Wayne patriarch did well to hide his shock keeping a blank face as the three sons behind him ticked down to their own detonation.

“How much is he paying you?” Tim shot out.

“Where did you meet?” Dick grinned leaning forward.

“Blink twice if he’s holding you hostage.” Jason cut in.

Ivy and Harley stifled their laughs as they watched the three Wayne boys continue to throw outlandish theories and questions at poor Marinette. She seemed to calm down a small smile beginning to show on her face as she giggled at the two thinking she’d been coerced and the one trying to find out her life story. “He isn’t paying me or forcing me to be his girlfriend.” she smiled as Tim and Jason looked completely unconvinced, “and we met through a penpal assignment when I was thirteen but we didn’t start dating until I was fifteen,” she added on to answer Dick’s question.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you Marinette it’s not often my youngest shows interest in anyone.” Bruce smiled stepping forward to take her hand, “shall we move to the living room while we wait for dinner?”

“That sounds just lovely Brucie.” Harley smiled stepping through them grabbing Marinette's arm and dragging her along out of Damian’s hold depositing her on a large armchair. Ivy shook her head smiling and followed her as she shrugged at Bruce taking a seat beside Harley on the loveseat as the Wayne’s made their way in. Once everyone was settled in and Damian got Marinette resettled on another loveseat so he could be beside her Harley decided it was a great time to drop the bomb, “So who’s gonna tell him?”

“Harls,” Ivy warned giving her a stern look.

“What? They need to know,” she said looking far too innocent for the chaos she was about to start.

“Tell me what?” Bruce asked looking at the two women carefully.

“Father,” Damian said drawing the attention of his family, “I know you just met Marinette but we feel you should know.” he said wrapping an arm around her to help keep her grounded, “Marinette’s pregnant.”

Silence doesn’t even begin to describe the absence of noise that followed, it was like a cold void swallowed the room as the Wayne’s collectively shut down at the news. Bruce’s face was unreadable as he took in the latest bit of news. Dick was practically vibrating out of his seat his eyes filled with glee. Tim looked as if his own brain was blue screening like a cheap laptop. Jason was the one to break the silence.

“Demon Spawn fucks.” Jason deadpanned

“JASON!” the room erupted from there Harley and Ivy cackling, Dick asking a million and one questions, Tim trying and failing to keep a straight face, and Jason roaring with laughter.

“What?! You’re going to look at me and tell me that I’m wrong?” Jason laughed, “the only thing I’m wrong about is that Demon Spawn would lighten up if he got laid.” he pointed at Marinette grinning wide, “She’s proof that he can fuck and still have a stick up his ass!”

“How long have you known?” Bruce asked his voice calm and collected effectively shutting down all conversation.

“I...” Marinette started her face a little pale from fear as she looked at Bruce’s emotionless face, “I found out this morning. I’ve had morning sickness for the past week.”

“You’re positive it’s Damian's?” he asked

“Father!” Damian glared moving to stand only to be held down by Marinette's small hand on his shoulder.

“I expected this,” she whispered urging him to remain seated before taking a deep breath and looked at Bruce, “I’ve only been with Damian since we began dating. If it’s not him then it’s Jesus coming back.”

Jason snorted getting a wide grin at the joke as he eyed Bruce trying to gauge his reaction.

Bruce seemed to take in everything he’d learned before a small spark lit up his eyes, “I’m going to be a grandfather.” he whispered tension starting to leave the room as he looked at Damian and Marinette pride and joy filling his eyes as he smiled wide, “I’m going to be a grandfather.”

“I call dibs on best uncle!” Dick shouted hopping up racing over to Marinette only to be tripped up by Jason.

“Like hell!” Jason shouted jumping over Dick, “I’m the best uncle for Pixie Pops kid.”

“Pixie pop?” Marinette asked letting out a yelp as Jason got right up to her practically throwing her up in the air as he lifted her from Damian's grasp.

“Hell yeah you’re small like a little fairy.” he grinned holding her as he jumped away from Damian's reach and Dick’s attempts to grab her, “so you’re Pixie Pop.” he chuckled.

The chaos began to unfold as Marinette finally relaxed all the stress bleeding away as she was welcomed into the crazy Wayne household. Ivy and Harley chuckled watching the two eldest and the youngest Wayne’s fight to grab hold of Marinette while Tim and Bruce seemed to quietly come to terms with all that was happening.

“So when’s the baby shower?” Ivy asked grinning wide.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter

#daminette #damianette #damidad #mominette #maribat #maridami #ml x dc #teen pregnancy #Stomach Bug

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peterspideyy · 3 years

Text

a very merry christmas | day twelve

12 days of christmas masterlist

summary- christmas day with tom and his friends, which ends up being the most stressful one ever

warnings- fluff, swearing, tom being a div

————

“how you feeling, tom?” harrison questioned his hyperventilating friend, while patting his back, before harry burst out laughing.

“he looks like he's about to pass out." harry commented between laughs.

"oh piss off," tom mumbled, sitting down on the couch to try and calm his nerves, "i'm fine. it's christmas day after all!"

sam walked in, glancing at his older brother, who's face was pale, "is he having second thoughts?"

"no, god, no." tom shouted, looking at them all.

"i'm going to do it, i-i just-"

"you’re just shitting yourself?" harrison finished.

tom nodded, "basically yeah."

“mate,” harry stated, “she loves you. and you love her. she will say yes.”

tuwaine walked in then, looking at tom and then the others, “is he backing out?”

tom rolled his eyes, but soon the nerves took over.

he’s been planning to propose for months. and as cliche as it sounds, has been aiming to do it on christmas day.

you’ve been dating for three years. tom has never had a longer and stronger relationship with anyone that isn’t you. and for the longest time, he’s felt like he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. by having a family of your own. and eventually grow old together.

but, as much as tom loves you, he’s still nervous.

“i-i just want it to go perfect, you know?” he mumbled, but the sound of the front door opening, with your laugh erupting through the house, pulled tom out of his thoughts.

“hello? i’m back!” you shouted, walking into the living room to see lots of eyes on you.

“right, z i’ve got to go, have a nice christmas.” you said to your phone, ending the call with zendaya before putting it in your back pocket.

“h-hi darling!” tom squeaked, causing you to furrow your brows, walking towards him and kissing his cheek softly.

“hi? you okay?”

tom gulped, “y-yeah perfect, how was work?”

“busy, but i’m glad to be back now.”

tom smiled, kissing your lips, making the boys gag.

“you do realise we’re still here?” harry complained.

“why do you all want a kiss?” you teased.

“no, they don’t.” tom replied, causing you to chuckle at his protectiveness.

“right, i’m going to go and get changed, and then we’ll have dinner!” you spoke, before leaving to room to go to upstairs.

tom looked away from the doorway which you just walked out of, to see his mates smiling at him.

“you’re so wipped.”

tom put his middle finger up at that.

————

“when are you doing it?” harrison whispered to tom, after having a christmas dinner.

tom coughed on his drink, looking at you across the room who was playing with tuwaine and sam on the xbox, while harry chanted random curses. tom smiled at you. he loves how well you got on with his friends.

“could you of said it any louder?” tom replied, starring at harrison.

he chuckled, “just trying to help you do it, holland.”

tom glanced at you, blushing at how adorable you looked, before turning fully to face his best friend.

“i’m planning to do it in our annual game of charades.”

“she won’t get it.”

tom scoffed, “how do you know that?”

“you’ll probably spoil it or just think of the most random action to do with ‘will’ and ‘you’ and ‘marry’ and ‘me.’ don’t deny it.”

harrison is probably right.

a couple of seconds of silence went by, before harrison spoke again.

“can i see it?”

“see what?” tom inquired.

“your hand.”

“what?”

“the ring you div. can i see it?”

“ohh,” tom nodded, brining his hand up to his inside jacket pocket, “it’s just-“

tom’s heart dropped.

“shit.”

“what’s happened now?” harrison asked, sipping his drink, as tom’s hands started to shake.

“t-the ring.”

harrison glanced at his panicking friend, laughing, “is it broke? or have you lost it or something?”

“yes.”

harrison spat his drink out, “WHAT?!”

“i’ve lost it.”

“you’re shitting me-“

“everything okay?” you asked, gesturing to the scared boys.

“e-everything is fine sweetheart, go back to playing the game! harry come here now!” tom replied, as harry groaned.

“no! i don’t want to go and not watch the-“

“harry i swear to god, come here right now!” tom shouted, glaring harshly at his brother.

“sorry.” harry smiled at you, leaving the room.

“you better have a good reason that i’m here-“

“tom’s lost the ring.” harrison spat out.

harry dropped his drink.

“you’re kidding me, right? what are you going to do? i can’t believe you tom!”

tom looked at the floor, “harry clean that up right now.”

harrison and harry’s eyes went wide.

“is the only thing you got from that is that i bloody dropped my drink?!”

tom brought his head into his hands, “i-i don’t know what to do! i’m such a bad boyfriend. i can’t even keep a ring safe!”

the two boys glanced at each other.

“right, erm, we’ll help you look. we just have to re-trace your footsteps.”

tom nodded, standing up, “let’s find it.”

————

“it’s gone, isn’t it?” tom mumbled into his hands.

“we just have to keep looking, it has to be here somewhere-“

“we’ve been looking for an hour! it’s nowhere!” tom shouted, brining his hands up to his hair, as he paced the room.

tom, harrison and harry eventually told tuwaine and sam, and after a mini argument between them all, they’ve distracted you with tessa while they all looked for the ‘bloody’ ring.

and it’s nowhere.

they’ve all re-traced tom’s steps. from the living room. to the kitchen. even to the garden. but, it’s nowhere.

“do you even need a ring to prop-“

sam never finished his sentence without tuwaine punching him in the arm.

“i’m sorry, mate.” harrison mumbled, while everyone else areeged.

tom stopped pacing, turning to face them all, smiling slightly, “it’s okay. i’ll just have to wait till next christmas to propose.”

“what.”

tom wiped his head around at the small voice, eyes wide as he met yours.

you heard what he said.

“i-i...”

“right, good luck.” harry smirked, patting his brother on the back while they all left the room, leaving a tom who had his mouth wide open.

“you were going to propose?” you questioned, brining a hand up to your mouth, in shock, tears welling up in your eyes.

“no, i mean y-yes i was. but, i’ve gone and lost the ring. i had this whole plan as well love, i was going to do it while we were playing charades. but, i haven’t even got a-“

you cut him off, by planting his lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him impossibly more closer to you. tom smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, and rubbing his thumb gently across your hip. after a couple, of minutes you grinned up at tom, while he returned the gesture.

“not that i’m complaining or anything,” he cooed, “but, what was that for?”

you chuckled, “what? am i not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?”

“n-no,” he stuttered, “i didn’t mean it like that-“

“i’m kidding, tommy.” you cut him off.

“why then?”

“i-i just...yes.”

“yes?”

“i’ll marry you.”

“even without a ring?”

you laughed, “oh tom. i don’t need a ring to prove how much i love you. even if you are a div who looses stuff, i still love you a lot. and i want to spend my life with you.”

“funny that, i want to spend the rest of my life with you too.” tom smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours again.

the boys came in again, confused at why it suddenly went quiet, but soon groaned at the sight of you both.

“oh my god, my eyes!” harry screamed, running behind sam.

“get a room!” tuwaine shouted.

you pulled away, laughing at their comments while tom put his middle finger at them all, again.

“congrats anyway!” harrison smiled, hugging you both.

“yeah, but i don’t want to see mini tom and y/n’s running around anytime soon.” sam warned, as eveyone erupted into laughter.

tom pulled you into his side, kissing your forehead, “i can’t make any promises.”

“keep it pg, thomas.” you giggled, patting his chest.

“right, can we play charades now?” harry asked, making everyone roll their eyes, before nodding and walking to the living room.

you smiled up at tom, kissing his cheek one more time before wrapping your arms around him.

but, you suddenly froze, as you felt something strange in tom’s back pocket.

pulling away from his embrace, you put your hand it in, pulling out the object to inspect.

you laughed.

tom sighed.

it was the ring.

“i’m such a div, aren’t i?” tom whispered, rubbing his forehead at the fact he had it on him all this time.

“yes, well you’re my div.”

tom beamed down at you, “merry christmas, my love.”

“merry christmas.”

————

a/n- let’s pretend i posted this yesterday instead of today like i said i would ahah but merry christmas! even if you don’t celebrate it, i hope you have a lovely day <3

————

christmas masterlist-

@parkersbliss @liberty-barnes @lilacsnid @potentialhappiness @eternal-maniac

#tom holland #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #spiderman #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #harrison osterfield #harry holland #sam holland #tuwaine barrett #hollands #tom holland oneshots

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mymoonagedaydream · 3 years

Text

Home (Part 1)

Summary: Two years ago, you’d left behind your hometown and the love of your life to pursue your dream career, but returning for Christmas really made you start to second-guess that decision.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: A Christmassy one for ya’ll! This story is inspired by the requests above from @shawnie--jo, thank you for those and for the inspo! I couldn’t fit everything into a oneshot, so this may end up being three or four parts.

---

You stuffed your bag into the overhead locker and collapsed into your seat, completely exhausted.

Some chaos was to be expected when travelling so close to Christmas, but still, you really could've done without the three hour check-in queues and the chorus of screaming babies.

Leaning back in your chair and pulling on your headphones, you squeezed your eyes shut and just tried to think about all the things that would make this journey worth it, all the things you’d missed about Christmas with your parents.

The excitement on their faces as they greet you at the airport, your mother’s incredible home-cooking, your father’s insistence on playing charades three or more times a day. It was your first time visiting home since moving away two years ago, and you wanted the whole cosy, corny nine yards.

There was just one teensy little caveat to your relaxing family holiday- two years away from home meant two years since you'd seen Bucky.

You were childhood sweethearts, head over heels in love with each other for as long as you could remember and best friends for even longer. When you were offered a job across the country, you wanted so much for him to move with you, but he’d already promised his father that he’d take over the family car-repair business.

It was the most difficult decision of your life, but eventually the two of you agreed there was no choice but to separate.

Being away from him tore you apart for the first few months, but now you'd finally gotten back on your feet, and you were ready to come face to face with your past again.

Or so you thought.

---

Your parents pulled you into a tight bear-hug as soon as you walked through arrivals, taking your bags, talking your ear off and quickly ushering you to the car.

Amongst all the excited babbling, you just about managed to discern that they’d planned a welcome home party for you that night with half the neighbourhood, an announcement which triggered a mix of dread and excitement to begin churning in your stomach.

You were looking forward to seeing your oldest friend again, you just hoped to god that things wouldn’t be weird or awkward between the two of you.

After a short drive, the car pulled up outside your childhood home. Just seeing it from the outside made you feel all warm and cosy but, as soon as you glanced through the door, those feelings were amplified off the charts.

The place looked incredible. Your mother had obviously put so much effort into making it look cosy and festive, you even felt yourself tearing up a little when you stepped inside. It was so elaborate, you had half a mind to interrogate her about a possible Christmas with the Kranks scenario going down prior to your arrival, but you decided it was probably best to just keep your mouth shut.

After you’d looked around properly and unpacked, it was only a matter of hours before the first guests started arriving.

You downed two beers to loosen yourself up a little. Each time the bell went, your eyes snapped towards the door, the sound making your heart leap out of your chest. It felt like you were waiting to find out whether that hard mass in the bottom of your stocking was a big-ass diamond or a lump of coal.

When Bucky finally appeared in the doorway, your jaw almost hit the shag carpet. The last two years had been unreasonably good to him, he looked like James Dean but somehow even more buff.

The boy you'd left behind had become a man in your absence and sweet Jesus it was really making you feel some kind of way.

His eyes were frantically scanning the room but he hadn't spotted you yet, so you took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, stranger.’

He swivelled round, his eyes lighting up when they met yours. Before he said a word, you were pulled into a tight hug, audibly gasping when you were lifted clean off the ground.

‘Where the hell you been, Lilypad?’

You burst out laughing, remembering falling into a pond on your seventh birthday and him never, ever letting you live down. A wave of happy memories flooded your mind, making you smile widely as he set you down.

‘Still the same old Yucky.’

‘Hey, we agreed you wouldn't call me that anymore.’

‘I'll stop calling you Yucky when you stop calling me Lilypad.’

The corners of his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘Never.’

And just like that, it felt as though you'd never left.

You were excited to be with your old friend again, you were happy that there seemed to be no awkwardness between the two of you, and you were really doing your very best to suppress all the other intense feelings that had surfaced as soon as he’d walked through the door.

‘Come on, I'll get you a drink.’ You grabbed his arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge while he leant against the counter next to you. ‘Are you still working for your dad?’

‘Yep. He's hoping to retire in the next few years, so I'll finally be taking over.’

‘That's so great, you're pretty much set for life with that place.’

He nodded faintly, burying his hands in his pockets and flicking his gaze down to the floor. ‘So how, uh- how long are you back for?’

‘I'm flying back early on the 31st.’

‘You’re not even staying for New Year?’ The hint of disappointment in his voice made you immediately stop what you were doing and look over to him, his face going a little red as he shifted around awkwardly. ‘Ah, I bet you got loads of invites to big, crazy city parties.’

‘If you call staring at a computer screen until 3am and slowly spiralling into madness a party.’

You passed him a beer, his eyes staying fixed on the bottle as he mumbled. ‘All the work will be worth it one day though, right?’

‘I hope so.’

Your eyes locked, a heavy silence falling between you. This was exactly the kind of uncomfortable atmosphere you were dreading.

Panicking a little, you vaguely gestured towards the living room. ‘I should probably, y’know, mingle.’

‘Sure. I'll find you later though Lilypad, we gotta catch up some more.’

You gave him a warm smile and nodded, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

The next couple of hours seemed to blur together. You made meaningless small-talk with people you barely knew, all the time just thinking about Bucky, about how quickly things had gone from fun and light-hearted to incredibly tense.

You just hoped you could get things back on a good track before you had to leave, losing him completely was the very last thing you wanted.

Shuffling into the kitchen to grab yourself another drink, you noticed him duck out the back door. He must've hit his socialisation limit. The two of you used to reach that point around the same time at parties, so you'd slink out together and share a cheap cigarette.

Abandoning your freshly opened beer on the counter, you followed him out, finding him tucked away around the side of the house.

‘Right on time.’

His head snapped towards you, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth as he shot you a wide smile. ‘Am I that predictable?’

‘I just know you too well.’

You leant against the wall next to him, hugging your arms tight as you felt yourself start to shiver, cause you were the kind of idiot that went outside in December wearing short-sleeves. Bucky noticed straight away, letting out a gruff chuckle as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it round you.

‘That cushy city life has made you soft.’ He rubbed your arms a little, trying to warm you up, before eventually bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders and fixing his gaze to yours. ‘I'm really glad you're here, Lilypad. I've missed you.’

‘I've missed you too, Buck. I've missed a lot of things about this place.’

‘So why don’t you stay longer?’

‘Believe me, I was lucky to get this much time off.’

His eyes narrowed slightly, a concerned frown spreading over his face as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is everything alright? I haven't heard much about this job but so far it's pretty much been all negative.’

‘Oh, I do love it, honestly I-’

‘Why would you even try lying to me? You know I can always tell.’

You couldn’t help cracking a slight smile at his smug expression. He was right, the last time you’d managed to successfully lie to him was in first grade when you told him you didn’t know where his crayon sharpener had gone, knowing full well it was stashed in your pocket.

‘It's just a lot.’ You rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. ‘Apart from the few hours of sleep I get each night, I'm pretty much constantly working. You asked earlier if it was worth it and, to be honest, I really don’t know.’

He nodded faintly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, before opening his arms towards you.

‘C'mere.’

You didn't hesitate. Launching yourself towards him, you let him enclose you, squeezing your eyes shut and wrapping your arms around his neck.

‘You'll figure it out.’ He mumbled into your neck. ‘You always do.’

‘Thank you, Buck.’

After a minute or so, you both pulled away slightly, stopping when you came face to face. A lot of things about home had slipped your mind whilst you’d been away, but you’d never forgotten how gazing into Bucky’s piercing blue eyes made you feel.

That feeling had never changed, and you were sure it never would.

You dropped your hands to rest on his shoulders, your eyebrows shooting up when you noticed how rock-hard they were. ‘Jesus, Buck. I’ve only been gone for two years, have you been at the gym that whole time?’

‘Nope, just been working hard at the garage.’ What absolute bullshit. ‘But feel free to keep the compliments coming.’

You smirked and feebly shoved him away, turning to head back inside but stopping suddenly before taking a step. ‘Oh, you better pick that cigarette butt up or my mom will go ape shit.’

‘Good call.’

You slipped through the back door, passing his jacket back when he followed you in. The two of you couldn’t have been out there for more than a few minutes, but it seemed as though the crowd inside had really started thinning out.

Bucky’s parents strolled over when they spotted him, informing him of their intent to leave pretty soon too, so he gave you a long hug goodbye and made you promise that you'd see each other again before the end of the holidays.

The two of you had parted on a good note, which was all you’d wanted going into the party, but now you found that you were pretty keen to squeeze as many more good notes out of these next few days as you could.

It was probably best not to delve too deeply into the feelings behind that sentiment. So you didn’t.

You helped your parents tidy up, your eyelids drooping as the exhaustion from a long day of travelling and socialising finally set in. Just as you were about to head upstairs, your mother piped up, using her expertly crafted trying to appear casual despite being really very invested in what I’m asking tone.

‘It must've been nice seeing Bucky again.’

‘Oh yeah, definitely.’

‘He must've changed quite a bit since you were here last.’

You chuckled to yourself. ‘Physically, yeah, but he's still the same goofy dumbass he's always been.’

‘It's always a treat when he pops round, he's such a nice boy.’ A suspicious eyebrow crept up your forehead. ‘And he's still single y'know, he hasn't-’

‘Alright. That's my cue to go to bed.’

Your dad strolled over and gave you a firm pat on the back. ‘Good idea, sweetheart. Get out while you still can.’

‘Thank you. It's nice having one sane parent.’

‘Although, I do have to say, he has been very good to us since-’

‘Dad!’ He raised his arms in surrender, using one hand to zip up his mouth. ‘Lord help me. Goodnight, crazies.’

You quickly escaped up the stairs. Stumbling into your room and pulling on your pyjamas, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows and letting out a long, exhausted sign.

As you drifted off to sleep, all the stress of the day melted away, leaving a single thought to echo around your mind.

You’d really overestimated how over Bucky you were.

---

Part 2

---

Permanent Taglist: @nnuree @tcc-gizmachine @somewhatasoftbaddie @emmabarnes @juenenfeu @linkpk88 @ddowii

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---

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

“Can I See You?” ch 4 || Modern!Thomas

HEAVY trigger warnings for gore in this one. Don't read if you're really not into the cannibalistic portion. Butchering and shit. And eye stuff and yeah. It's somewhat heavy on the gore.

“Tommyyyyy… I’m bored.”, he shoves you off, probably for the fourth time in just ten minutes. You’ve been leaning over his bulky back for the good part of those ten minutes, getting on his nerves.

It’s been around four weeks since you’d gotten stranded in the middle of nowhere in Texas, ending up in the Hewitt’s household. Slowly, slowly, you’d gotten more comfortable with them, and them with you. You’d contacted your work, telling them you wouldn’t show up for a while due to an accident, explaining everything, except where you were currently staying. You’d gotten chores that could be done sitting down, and best of all; you’d grown closer to Thomas.

You’d had a lot of trouble adjusting to their way of living, however. Many dinners you resorted to not eating, or only eating pieces you saw weren’t meat. But after about a week of doing this, you couldn’t stand the pain in your empty stomach anymore, and you caved. You had to eat, the small amounts of potato and the occasional vegetable not enough to fill you. But you did stay away from Thomas when guests or trespassers came to the house. You knew what it meant, and even if you knew what kind of meat you were eating. You never wanted to see how it was made.

Right now, however, you were bored. And since Thomas was the one who was pretty much around you, or closed by every waking moment of your day, he was also the poor person who had to deal with your boredom. During these weeks, he’d taught you a few words and phrases in sign language. Mostly ones he felt were the most necessary, together with the alphabet. Today, he had transported you up to his upstairs bedroom because he was going to work on touching up one of his masks that had gotten ripped at a recent scuffle with a particularly feisty dinner guest. Apparently, he didn’t trust you to be alone for more than five minutes. He was sitting at the foot of his bed, with you laying next to him, supporting yourself on your elbows.

Pushing you off did nothing to keep you from poking him at his side with your good foot. “Tommyyy…”, he slowly turned his head to glare at you, and you gave him an innocent smile, trying your best to look like an angel who would definitely not do everything in her power to get on his nerves.

‘What’

His hand was slow as he spelled the word out. He was getting annoyed.

“I’m bored.”, you whine.

All he does is shrug and give you a sarcastic thumbs up. You groan and proceed to just lay flat on your back.

The only ones at home today were you, Thomas, and uncle Monty who were probably snoring on the porch. Charlie was out doing god knows what and Luda Mae was tending to the gas station she worked in. So, here you were, harassing Thomas. You pout behind him, fingers tapping on your stomach as you try to figure out what to do. Then an idea strikes.

You shoot up, thankful for the fact that your leg isn't as painful anymore, making it way easier to move around, even if you couldn’t fully support your weight on it yet.

Another attack on Thomas had you grabbing the mask out of his hands and carefully throwing it on the floor. You giggle as you see him just staring at his empty hands, trying to figure out what had just happened. The action was fast enough to shock him before he lifts his head to look at you. You grin like the devil at him and bursts out in laughter when he glares at you, eyes filled with annoyance, but one eyebrow raised in slight amusement. Again signing slow letters towards you. One at a time.

'W' 'H' 'A' 'T'

With his attention, your plan is set into motion . You knew he was really careful with you, meaning he would never hurt you or barely even use any strength towards you. You clumsily climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, making him tense like a statue, hands hovering and fingers twitching nervously making you laugh before attacking his sides with your own. His reaction is immediate and he bursts out in a barking and deep laugh, a wheezing sound sometimes escaping his lungs and he falls down to lay on his back.

Bingo. You thought.

As quickly as you can, you grab hold of his wrists and pin them down under your thighs, making sure they’re trapped between you and his abdomen. Previous knowledge dancing in your mind that despite his strength, he’s a gentleman, and never has he shown any violence towards you, especially not in your current condition. So pinning him in a way that at first glance looks sexual, would make him lose any and all strength.

And you’re correct. You watch him as his eyes shoot open, lips pressed into a thin line, at the realization where his hands are and he squirms. Another devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in close, making eye contact with him before you utter one simple word.

“Talk.”

His eyebrow furrow and his lips turn down and you feel him tug on his arms, trying to get them free to well… talk to you before he shrugs. “No, nonono, big man.”. You sit back up and clench your thighs hard around his hands.

You want to hear his voice. The idea being that if you pinned him hard enough or long enough that he would cave and actually speak to you. You’d heard him laugh just now, so you knew his vocal cords worked. Besides, he’d told you that himself. He can talk, he just chose one day to never do it anymore. So why not take advantage of your boredom and torture him into speaking. It wasn’t like you had any place to be.

“I want you to hear your voice.”, he raises one eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut. “I want to talk to you.”, again, he tugs at his arms. And again, you clench your thighs hard. Thanking whatever power there was that you had good thigh muscles, his response to this action, however, is a firmer tug and you see his biceps flex. But still, he refused to use his full strength, and you knew he was having fun halfway roughhousing with you.

“Can you stop? You’re not getting your hands for this!”, you laughed at him as he pouted up at you. Leaning forward, you poked his lips the pad of your index finger. “All you have to do is speak to me, nothing more.”, he playfully snapped his teeth at you and you nearly didn’t have time to pull back before your finger got caught and he laughed heartily at your reaction, looking really proud of himself at nearly biting your finger off. “THOMAS!”, you slapped his upper arm but laughed with him before you felt a pain in your cast up leg making you slump down next to him to relax it. “You’re no fun.”, you mumble up at him as he just turns his head to look at your own pouting form next to him.

A yawn escaped you, boredom had transformed into sleepiness.

“Hey, dummy.”, you say jokingly and pokes his masked cheek. He makes a face at you that screams “really?” and you giggle. “Nap with me?”, you continue. He shakes his head and spells out “mask” with his left hand, pointing out that it still needed those repairs. “Oh, come on. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, Tommy.”, he still shakes his and you relent. “Fine! Don’t then,” closing your eyes, you only feel the bed shift as he carefully climbs over you before falling into slumber.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas lands rather wobbly on the floor after climbing over you. He pulls the thin duvet cover over you before he - as discreetly as he can - clears his throat and leans in close to your ear. His voice is just above a whisper. Deep, like distant thunder, as he says two words.

“Sleep tight.”

He picks the mask up that you had thrown down to the floor next to the bed and trudges over to his desk, slumping down into the chair to fiddle with it. Occasionally he glances over to your sleeping form with your back turned to him. He shakes his head at your persistence to make him speak to you. He didn’t understand your sudden fascination with his voice, but he shrugged, and honestly? It was kind of endearing that you wanted to hear him speak so badly. It was also a plus to have someone to roughhouse with, so he would keep this charade up and keep his mouth shut for a little while longer.

Checking that you had truly fallen asleep, curled up on his bed, he sneaks down to the basement. He had the rest of a body to cut up together with some cleaning to do. Plus sort a few stray pieces into a scrap pile of usable meat. Tying his apron around his waist, he docked his phone into a small shoddy speaker system he was lucky enough to snag from some travelers a while back. Not long after, music streamed through the basement.

He unhooks the most recent victim and grunts as the man is laid down on the table. Thomas looks over the parts he had yet to cut up to inspect for damages, finding none, he hums in delight, this meant there would be more meat for food. He starts the process by cleaning the body, scrubbing away dirt, and caked blood.

It’s a fast process, and it was a joy for Thomas to cut this man up, he had a good ratio of fat, and it had marbled really well. He nods as he inspects the meat, and makes sure to put this man in the “ special occasions ”-pile. He knew mama would love to have this man for special dinners. He did get disappointed though, as this poor victim didn’t have much around his ribs. Sadly, there wasn't much of a grillable rib on this man, he did save them of course, but they would most likely join the pieces for ground beef in the end.

He wrapped the pieces he got off of the body in packaging paper and wrote the day's date on them, and what parts they were from, and put the packages in the freezer box. Even if the poor man’s face was too beat up to make a mask off, Thomas did find joy in the fact that he could get some, nice and long pieces from the legs. Finishing his work, he picked up a slightly sharpened spoon. Despite his big fingers he gingerly stuck the edge of it under the man’s eyelids. Careful, as not to pop the eyes, he scooped them out, letting them both hang by their respective optical nerves. After snipping both optic nerves off with a pair of sharp scissors, he carefully rinsed them under some cold water and put them in an airtight container. His mother had perfected pickled eyes over the years and he loved them, that, and her beef jerky.

He cleaned up and tossed the leftovers of the body into a crawlspace he’d constructed that led out into the forest, knowing scavengers came to clean the remains he put there so he thought of it as killing two birds with one stone. Returning to the table he tossed a bowl of water onto the bloodied table and wiped it off.

When he finally felt he could end today’s work, he climbed the stairs and headed straight into the kitchen, fingers moving in the air, deep in thought, stomach rumbling. The munchies always hit him hard when working, and he always tries to push them aside. On the rare occasions where he was mostly home alone, he broke the “ no snacking ”-rule his mama had made for him.

Hence, Thomas goes on a hunt through the kitchen. Opening the biggest pantry, he grabs the first box of crackers he can find and basically inhales the entire box. Unsatisfied, he attacks the fridge and finds something he’s been craving for a long time; the beef jerky. Something he also devours like a ravenous animal, he took a few with him into the living room, munching as he went to slump down on the couch.

He loved being alone like this. It was quiet. No Charlie to pick on him, mama wasn’t constantly on his ass for something he had yet to do. Even with uncle Monty home, he didn’t make a sound, probably dead on the porch but most likely not. Knowing no one is there to scream at him for it, he props his feet up on the coffee table and basically lays down across the table and half of the couch, and lets out a deep sigh, almost deflating like a tire. Leaning his head back to rest at the back of the couch, he looks up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, his left fingers tapping slightly at his phone in thought, thoughts that seem to slowly topple over to the forbidden kind.

Fuck it. He thought to himself. And pulled his phone out of his pocket only to head straight for his gallery, he did feel gross for saving that one specific video you'd sent him though, he never asked if he was allowed to or not. He just did it. Looking over his shoulder out to the rest of the house he made sure he was really alone, listening for any movement from you upstairs, or any sign of Monty coming back in.

He quickly swipes for the video, his other hand coming to just rest over his crotch at first. Finally finding the video he was searching for, he presses play and sinks down a bit lower in his seat. It doesn't take long for him to grow and harden under his palm and jeans. His eyes raked over your form in the video. He hasn't watched it since you came here, nor has he touched himself since you sent it. His pants quickly became uncomfortable and let out a sigh of relief as he unzipped and let his erection spring free. Your voice sent chills down his spine, as it rings out from the phone’s speaker, he'd forgotten just how nice you sounded, and he wrapped his free hand around his swollen dick.

A shaky breath escapes him as he slowly drags his hand down himself.

Watching when you pump the toy in and out of you in a steady rhythm made a tinge of jealousy spike through him, his fist gripping harder, a finger dragging over the swollen, angry tip to gather a stray drop of precum. A choked groan escaped him as he nudged his barbell. His eyes went out of focus from his phone screen as he looked up in the general direction of his room. Where you were. Thoughts wandering to how your pussy would feel around him, moving his hand as far up as he could without letting go, he squeezed it as he slowly dragged the hand down. A desperate attempt at imitating how tight you must feel around him. His eyes fluttered shut as a particularly lewd moan from you echoed from his phone.

Thomas was desperate. It was so warm. He'd put his phone down as he let his fantasy take hold. Bucking into one hand, the other massaging his balls.

Glancing down at his lewd activity, he imagined your lips around his cock. Your eyes locking on to him as you let his dick spring free with a 'pop' and how your tongue would dance over his head. It was all so sudden. He tensed up, hand slowing down slightly when he came hard as he heard your climax echo from where his phone lay on the couch with a low moan that transferred to a whine, a slight wheeze escaping his lungs. His cum coated his thighs and hand. He just sat there. Hand still around his cock, hectic pumping exchanged for a slow, lazy stroking motion as he caught his breath.

Eyes half-lidded, the post-orgasm grin on his lips slowly fading into a frown as the realization that he now has laundry to do came to the front of his mind.

God damn it.

--------------------------------------------

You slowly turned over to your back and stretched, a tired sound escaping your lips, sitting up, you noticed you’re alone in the room. Looking around you search for the old, shabby clock on the wall across from the bed.

Whoops… two-hour nap, you grimaced as your nap had become longer than you planned.

“Tommy?”, you called out. No reply. You groaned as you knew that meant he wasn’t in earshot and not having your phone with you upstairs, preventing you from texting him or calling him, meant you had to either support yourself against the walls and closest furniture to get down to the main floor, or to scoot on your ass. “Stupid… fucking… dumdum…”, you muttered as you scooted on your ass out to the hallway. Finally reaching the stairs landing you clung to the railing and hauled yourself halfway up it. “TOMMY!”, you screamed and pouted at him when you saw him poking his head out from the kitchen, you just hung over the railing and glared at the big figure who started to emerge around the corner and stalk towards the stairs, his whole demeanor screaming sarcasm and smart-ass, as he sauntered closer. Your pout growing more and more as you saw his shoulders bouncing in what you could only assume was laughter. “Can you just help me?”, you raised your voice and started flailing with your hands that were hanging over the railing, your eyes went wide as he shook his head before that familiar male voice rang out through his phone.

Get your own ass down

That’s the point where you burst out in laughter.

“Fine!”, you burst out between laughs and proceed to sit down flat on your butt again, preparing to just scoot your way down the stairs. You shot Thomas a look that clearly said “watch this”, as you started thumping down the stairs. One at a time, while Thomas just proceeded to stand in the same spot, now leaning on the door frame just shaking his head at your antics.

Thump Thump Thumpthumpthump Thump

And there you were, now laying on your side on the floor at his feet, rubbing your now sore behind with your hand, crocodile tears clear as you look for sympathy he clearly wasn’t giving you as he just took a step over you. Seeing your opportunity, you grabbed one of his legs the second it landed on the floor, your whole body jolting towards him as he stopped suddenly. You laughed hard as you hugged his leg. He turned halfway and looked down at you, a sigh heavy enough you almost felt your hair moving, you looked up at the giant and just grinned at him.

‘Let go’ he signed, but you could see his own grin even if it was hidden behind his mask and you shook your head.

“Let yourself go”, you joked. A yelp escaped you as you felt him lift his leg just like you weighed absolutely nothing and started shaking it to get you off his leg. Your laugh echoed in the house. An action that just caused you to clamp on to his leg even harder. It wasn’t until the main door opened and you both heard Charlie’s angry voice ring out that you finally did let go. The atmosphere changed straight away. “What the fuck is goin’ on?” You didn’t meet his eyes.

During these weeks, Luda Mae had warmed up to you. Her view of you had changed during the period, and by now, you were one of them. At least to her. Charlie still viewed you as a literal piece of meat. Cattle. The next one up on the dinner table. “I was sitting on the stairs to rest.”, you mumbled as you took a hand Thomas had reached out to you to help you stand and you leaned upon him as he helped you walk over to sit down on a chair in the kitchen.

Charlie just grumbled and waved Thomas over to him, saying something low you couldn’t hear. However, you usually knew what that meant; unwelcomed company. Something that was confirmed by Thomas as he visibly tensed up. Hands clenched into fists.

He was getting himself ready. Your Tommy was gone. Replaced by a guard dog ready to attack, he turned to you and you couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze. His whole appearance had changed in your eyes. You knew it was time to go up to his room and lock the door, and you nodded to him. As you stood he swiped you up in a bridal carry and headed towards the stairs. You gulped. You hated when this happened. No matter how well you knew they ate people, or… how you ate people, you never wanted to see nor hear it. It was easier to eat and continue surviving if you just pretended. Pushing that part away and hiding it behind the good times with Tommy.

But every time, you worried. You worried for Thomas, worried something might go wrong, worried that these people might be the ones who take him away from you. You’d had nightmares about that a few times. How you wake up alone in the house one morning, the entire family gone, taken by the police, or just plain dead. Those nights were always horrible. Those nights, you always called Thomas asking him to come down to the basement bedroom. Because those nights, you just needed to feel him close to you. Those were nights you curled up and cuddled around his arm.

Since you’d seen who Thomas really was, since you’d seen the ugly truth about him, you’d deny your feelings. Strictly holding it on a platonic level. But you couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to admit, not only to yourself but also to him.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas stopped suddenly as he felt your hands tug at the neckline of his t-shirt as he went to set you down on his bed. He grunted slightly and took a soft hold of your wrists to try and pull your hands off. You didn’t move. He pulled his body again, no reaction. At least not more than his body going further downward. His brows furrowed as he started to get annoyed. He didn’t have time for this, not now. There were people coming, which meant he had to go to work. Not play your stupid games.

His grip got harder, but when he heard his name being uttered every so slightly by your small voice, he relaxed.

“Tommy…”, your voice was so low. You sounded so small, so… different. A tinge of worry tugged in his heart and he knelt down in front of you, he reached out a shaky hand to cup your cheek and lifted your head up so he could look you in the face. What meets him has his heart do a double-take. You're glossy-eyed, tears too close to be welling over for comfort. A stray strand of hair that had fallen forward is tucked behind your ear, and he looks at you with questioning eyes.

He slowly raises and spells out "yes", wanting you to continue, knowing he doesn't have much time to stay.

Your breathing sounds as shaky as he feels. "I…", he follows your eyes with his own, desperate for you to look him in his eyes. After avoiding his gaze, he relaxes slightly as you finally relent and meet him. But the next two words make him tense up, in a different way. Just as low as before, you whisper them out. "Kiss me." His breathing becomes ragged, still, as a statue, he looks at you as you lean towards him, but stop just inches from the hole in his mask. Breathing hot against his lips. He's nervous, scared, anxious… in love, but his body won’t move. It’s not listening to him. "Please…", the word a mere breath on him. He gulps, and just as he feels the feathery touch of your lips only brushing against his; he's up on his feet.

Footsteps are heavy and hurried. He closes the door to his room and locks it from the outside, something he only does when there are guests coming to the house. Afraid they’ll find you.

His heart is beating so fast, he’s shaky and sweaty. Suddenly his t-shirt feels even more clingy and cramped. He knows he can’t stay like this any longer. He got work to do. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he steps out of his body to let it do what needs to be done. Gone is Tommy, and all that’s left is the shell of a deranged butcherer. A maniac with a chainsaw.

He still has time to change. When he still had his job at the slaughterhouse, he had a green and red striped shirt. A shirt he still chose when they had guests over. With heavy footsteps, he heads down into the basement. After buttoning the shirt up he looked into the mirror, eyes dark and brows furrowed. When things were bad, he never even recognized himself when he looked it, during these bad days his arm guards were the heaviest things he had to wear. His apron was slung over his neck and tied neatly behind his back and the mask he mostly used during these events snugly pulled over his head. The killing mask, as he liked to call it. The one he had to use to distance himself from this.

While waiting for his signal from the main floor, he sat down at his desk. Making sure everything is secured, making sure nothing will get in the way. And most importantly; making sure his chainsaw is in working condition. Which, of course, it is. He took great pride in how he managed it. Always giving it a good clean after every dinner party. He’d memorized every video he’d found on the internet on chainsaw maintenance, since he knew they couldn’t afford a new one if this one happened to be damaged, one time coming close to it. But that was no concern of him at this moment of time.

Suddenly, he heard voices from the floor above him, voices and footsteps. And he figured; it’s almost time. His grip on the chainsaw hardened as he rose to slowly and carefully ascend the stairs, sneaking and making a conscious choice to skip the parts that he knew made creaking noises. Stopping at the top, he peered into the eye hole, installed at one point, to check how many he could see.

Two… two here. Charlie said at least three.

These ones look scrawny, not much to make use of. Shame, he really did want some nice ribs one evening, making him hope the third one had more. But maybe these had enough to make ground beef for burgers… He snapped out of his food-driven daydream as he heard his uncle Monty screaming for him from outside the sliding door. Three hard knocks on the floor were his call sign. And only seconds after the third one had echoed, he burst out. Chainsaw roaring, drowning out any other sound in the house.

At that, the chase began.

He managed to get one of them in the leg at one point, and she went down like a tree. Screeching high enough to pierce the mechanical roar, making his ears hurt enough for him to land a fist on her face to make her shut up.

One down, two to go.

Hauling her inside, he just threw her down the stairs to the basement, where she would have an abrupt awakening at some point, he’d learn that it was best to take care of them as fast as possible. It did taste better in his opinion. And so, he went off to get the other two.

Adrenaline is shooting through him. He’s hungry and wants dinner. And if a man wants to feed, a man has to hunt.

--------------------------------------------

You heard screaming and clamped your hands over your ears. Your own screaming desperate to shut it out. It didn’t help. Putting your head under the pillow and squeezing it around your head didn’t help either. Nothing helps. They were still there. That screaming… That roaring. And the running.

You jumped when, suddenly, someone collided with the door. Desperately tugging the handle, making the door rattle. You had you press your hands over your mouth to keep quiet, to not scream, to not alert them you were in here. Some sick part of you never wanted to leave Thomas. You couldn’t leave. And especially not this way. When you heard his heavy footsteps stomping towards the poor person trying to get away, you started crying. When you heard a squelching, mushy sound, you wanted to puke. And you actually viciously gagged when you saw a crimson stream under the door into the room.

You didn’t want to think about what he had done to the person outside. You didn’t. You closed your eyes hard enough to see white spots dance across blackness and scooted further up onto the bed, hiding behind the pillow, in pure hope that you would disappear from this madness.

It really did feel like days… months, even before you heard the door make a sound. It sounded like a key was pushed into place, and then it clicked open. Lifting your head towards it, you saw him. Thomas. At least it had his body and his eyes. But it wasn’t him. Not Tommy. You started breathing harder, heavier.

Was he really going to see you? Or was he going to see… cattle?

He was drenched in blood, pieces of skin and flesh hanging off belts and buckles around his arms. His face… Not his own. This was not Tommy. This was the monster you’d imagined when you first woke up in the basement. The murderer. The butcher of Texas. And for the first time since you’d woken up bolted down on a table, you were scared. You didn’t want to look at him like this, didn’t want to see this.

“Please…”, you started and followed his eyes as they flicked all over the room, he was looking around. At nothing, and everything at once. Breathing heavy. Hands twitching at his sides before they clenched and unclenched. You tried again, tried connecting to him. “Tommy, please.”, his nickname seemed to make the eyes of someone else snap towards you. “Come back to me.”, even if you were shaking like a leaf, you needed Tommy right now. He looked directly at you before shaking his head, and a dark rumble erupted from him. “No.”, and with that. He left again. Bloody boot prints trailing after him. “Tommy, wait!”, you yelled after him, hoping to once again connect to him, to get him to come back to you.

But to no avail.

-------------------------------------------- It had been an easy fight for him, barely even any fighting back. They seemingly had just given up as they realized what was going to happen. Something Thomas was grateful for. He wasn’t in the mood for fist fighting or getting stabbed again.

His movements were slow and methodical as he cut them up. Loud music echoed through the basement. He was alone, and the cattle dead. So he seized the opportunity to work without his mask. He wanted to breathe free air. It was really rare of him to actually do anything except shower without his mask, even with the one that only covered half his face, but sometimes. Just sometimes, he wanted to.

His prayers were answered though, as the third one did have more to work with. Meaning; he would get those ribs he wanted one night. By the time he started to feel done for the evening, he’d managed to get a whole heap of good meat from the third victim. He wrapped them neatly in package paper, wrote today’s date on them, and put them at the bottom of the freezer box.

After working for the most part of the night, having three dinner guests to take care of, meant it was late. Really late. His mama had come down a few times, reminding him he had to eat, telling him she had checked on you. At one point, she had come down and told him you’d fallen asleep. But you hadn’t touched your food, and she told him she was worried. All Thomas did was tell her not to worry. Hours later, he was done. And finally, he could relax. Finally, he could let go of this persona. He could return to himself again. Very few things made him feel this happy. Every piece of his working attire that came off him felt like a stone leaving his shoulders. He was the only one who could keep the entire family floating, and he knew that.

After hanging the apron upon its hook, after he’d put the armguards down on their table, and after putting his mask back on, he ascended the stairs with heavy steps. He was tired.

And he missed you.

His mama had been a true angel and cleaned the puddle of blood up from under his bedroom door and the whole upper floor smelled of lemon. Just as he reached his door, his brain wandered back to what you had told him earlier. What you had done. What you wanted from him.

And when that thought came back, Tommy was thrown back into his body again, and he opened the bedroom door. His mama was right, you were sleeping, curled up with your broken leg sticking out from under the blanket . You, hugging his pillow with your face buried in it. Usually, when there's been a dinner party, you would sleep in his upstairs bedroom and he in the basement.

But now, things felt different for him.

He checked the time, you'd slept through supper, he just didn’t eat more than a few snacks while working, so he decided it was time for bed. Maybe he could gather enough courage to do what you wanted him to do earlier. Closing the door silently, the lock clicked. Boots were kicked off, jeans were left to fall as they were unbuttoned. The heavy clinking seemed to make you stir, and he saw you slightly opening your eyes. "Come here…", your voice was low, and it held something he'd never heard from you before, causing a small shiver to run through him, but he obliged and shuffled forward.

--------------------------------------------

Here he was, Tommy. Your sweet, sweet giant. His body loomed over yours, his hair tickled your face as it fell forward making you giggle, something that was met by a dark chuckle as he wiggled more hair on your face. “Tommy, stoop!”, you laughed out quietly, but he shook his head in a mocking “no” and just continued swiping his dark locks over you if only for a few seconds more. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dorky behavior. All traces of the terrifying man you saw earlier, blown out to sea. When he finally did stop, your left hand reached out and cupped his right cheek as you tucked some hairs behind his ear. When you saw how he leaned into your hand and let his eyes flutter close, your heart did a double-take.

He stayed like that, seemingly relishing the feeling of your hand on his masked cheek and the way your finger brushed behind his ear, before he finally opened his blue eyes again, meeting yours. You saw how his eyes quickly flickered down to your lips. Where a small smile tugged, and you repeated the same words you had done earlier when he had left you. Voice low, whispering, words only meant for him to hear;

“Kiss me.”, this time, however, he didn’t run away. Your heart picked up in rhythm as you saw him lean in closer to you, his forehead resting against yours. Eyes intense, yet soft. He acted like he was scared, you could feel how his breathing was slightly ragged, you guessed he was nervous. Craning your neck towards him, to reach, he leaned back slightly. Yeah, he was definitely nervous all of a sudden, the thought of this big giant man, who the same day had killed people being nervous about a kiss, was nothing short of adorable. Again, you stopped just short of your lips meeting his, and breathed out that same word; “Please…”

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, how his own slowly closed, and then you felt his lips land on yours through the mask. It was soft, not rushed nor forced. You ignored the chappy parts of his lips and relished in just feeling them on yours. Wrapping a hand around his neck, you pulled him down with you so you could both be more comfortable as the kiss deepened. You could easily tell that he was inexperienced, but he did seem eager to learn more, to feel more, and to taste more.

You caressed his neck and back of the head with one hand, the other carded through his hair.

Suddenly, he seemed to have gathered enough courage to take risks, and you felt the tip of his tongue graze your lips, kindly asking for an invitation. An invitation you gladly accepted, a moan escaping you as you finally felt his tongue meet yours. You couldn’t focus on how he tasted, he just tasted like Tommy. He was masculine, and dominant in nature when he wanted to be, and right now? It seemed like he wanted to be, his tongue strong and demanding against yours as he mimicked your movements.

--------------------------------------------

Tommy happily drank in every moan that came down his throat as he danced his tongue over you. He loved this, he loved this so much. The way you reacted to only feeling his tongue against yours, made him braver. His right hand moved from its place by your head and started traveling over your left arm with featherlight touches. He gently grabbed your hand, pulling it up and over your head, opening up for easier access to your side, from where he slowly moved it upwards, he knew where to go, but then his body stopped listening to him. You whined slightly as his hand stopped just right under your breast, hand pulling back again as his thumb grazed the soft plump underside.

His brain caught up to him and he pulled away from your lips and sat up. Face warm and blushed, and he knew you could see it over the edge of his mask and down his neck because you giggled.

“Tommy, c’mere.”, you whispered to him and he saw how you reached out for his hands, he let you take them, but when he saw that you pulled them towards your breasts again he tugged them out of your grip and shook his head. He wanted to, dear god how he wanted to touch you. He wanted to hear your voice sing for him.

But he was scared. Nervous. The only sexual experience being a halfhearted blowjob from one of Charlie’s ugly hookers out of pity, something he figured she’d done because Charlie had talked about him in his drunken state.

But here you were. He just looked at you shyly. His breath hitched, however, when you suddenly rose up and pulled your shirt off. Bed bouncing lightly as you let your body fall down back on to the bed. Tommy’s eyes went wide as he saw your breasts jiggle softly as you lay back down. You were so beautiful, and he was just a big giant blushy mess who didn’t know what or how or why, if he spoke, he would probably just be a blubbering mess as well.

Again, he saw you reach for his hands, but this time, he shakily let you take them to their rightful place. He gulps as his hands are planted right under your breasts, your own hands helping him cup them gently, yet firmly. His eyes shot up to your face as he heard you sigh deeply at his touch. Your head lolled back, exposing your neck, the sight making him wet his lips with his tongue, an urge to hear more from you hit him.

Leaning down to where your neck met your shoulder he tested his waters and slowly dragged his tongue over your skin, his mask making so he couldn’t envelop his entire mouth over your skin as he wanted. The response he got from you, however, made him truly desperate.

Sitting up, his hand flew to the back of his mask but stopped right as he was about to unbuckle it. Anxiety hitting him hard. You seemed to notice it, though, as you followed him up into a sitting position.

--------------------------------------------

His nervousness was clear as ice. But you could see in him that he wanted this. So you took his hands in yours and brought them down from the back of his head. “You don’t have to remove it.”, you whispered to him, you saw one of his hands come up, guessing he would spell something, you turned your head towards it.

‘Want’

You hummed at it and smiled. Turning back to look into his eyes, you asked;

“Want me to do it?” You dragged your fingers tenderly through his hair until you felt the buckles. You knew that taking the mask off to snap a photo must have been hard enough for him, so now? Taking it off in front of you? It has to be a real-life nightmare. He sighed deeply, then exhale being ragged and shaky. Yet still, he nodded. You felt his hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay…” You said before carefully and slowly unbuckling it. His eyes were closed during the whole removal. Finally getting it off, you cupped his naked and scarred cheeks, kissing the worst parts. Giving him the love he deserved, the one he most likely never got. His lips met yours again and you pulled him down with you. It seemed like he had gathered up more courage as you felt his big hands wander over your body, still shaking, they returned to cup your breasts. As one of his thumbs gently grazed over a nipple you lolled your head back at the sudden contact.

That’s when his attack came.

Lips and tongue made contact with your neck and you moaned . A sound that seemed to awaken something in him as he even bit down where your neck met your shoulder. He continued his adventure on your neck until your sounds had begun to die down only so slightly, but it seemed enough for him to go on a quest to hear more.

His mouth found one of your hardened nipples and decided to give it attention, in between gasping and your eyes falling close, you found and took his hand not occupied with anything and led it down… down across your body.

When it seemed he felt where you had led it, his eyes came up to your face to look into your own. His eyes filled with lust, and want, pupils were blown out, the blue of his irises a stark contrast.

--------------------------------------------

“Tommy… Please.”, you sounded so desperate to him, so needy for someone like him. Who looked like him.

He brought his face back up to yours and as he gingerly pushed his hand down into your shorts, he himself made a needy sound as he felt how wet you’ve become because of him, he pressed his lips to yours the same moment his fingers made contact with your wet slit.

A way to cover up the now loud sounds you made as to not wake his family, and because of hunger, he didn’t know he had to swallow every bit of moan you made.

Burying his fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbed massaging circles on your clit, he panted against your neck, the other hand clamped over your mouth to make sure you didn’t make too much noise, as he moved his fingers in and out of you. At the same time, he slowly ground his erection against your thigh. He wanted to feel you climax around his fingers, he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he needed to. He’d seen you do it to yourself, and a part of him wanted to replace any memory of your fingers with his own.

He grinned when he saw a shaky hand come up in the corner of his eye and he guessed you wanted to tell him something, but the hand he held over your mouth hindered you, so using your hand would suffice. When he saw you couldn’t fully concentrate, he pulled his fingers from you to give you time. Hand dragging your own slick over your breast to mess with you as he cocked an eyebrow in question.

Your breathing relaxed as you used the alphabet to give your word;

‘clit'

It was simple, a request, guidance, and Thomas were more than happy to please. You looked sweaty, but he happily obliged as his hand gingerly returned to massage gentle, but firm and methodical circles around your most sensitive part.

--------------------------------------------

You pant into the palm of his hand as you felt your stomach clench, the muscles in your broken leg tense up. You were close, oh so close, and you wondered if he really was new to this, or if he was just lucky and really curious about everything.

Grasping at the arm wedged between your breasts that held the hand over your mouth, you opened your eyes, only to find his burning gaze locked on your face. He was looking at you like a hungry animal. His eyes sent full body shivers running through you. The familiar pulsing around your clit became worse as his lips parted slightly, his tongue running over his dry lips, removing his hand from your mouth, he captured your lower lip between his teeth lightly and pulled. A deep but raspy rumble came from his throat as he pushed two fingers into you while still rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub, your eyes went wide and all it took for you to snap completely was one single, vibrating word coming from his throat;

“Cum.”, and you did. You came hard. Your whole body shaking under his. Arching off the bed. You tensed so hard, no word could escape. The only sound being wheezing breathing from your lungs. You went limp, but you knew that this wasn’t the end. You felt his broad hands slide over your thighs in a calming motion, a finger tapping on you got your attention and you opened your eyes.

He just smiled down on you, raised a hand, and signed;

'U ok'

You breathed out a laugh.

"Yeah… yeah I'm alright.", you reached out for him and he happily put his own cheeks into your hands and nuzzled into one of them. You pulled him close to whisper; "I want you, Tommy.", he sighed softly as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I've wanted you for so long." You kissed your way to one of his ears, gingerly biting down on his earlobe, he shivered at it. "Please, fuck me, Tommy.", you said in a sultry voice and he groaned.

You cursed your leg since it hindered you from climbing on top of him. You wanted to trail your lips down his muscles, over his abdomen, and to explore the wonderful trail of hair that ventured down from his belly button into his boxers. Pushing him off the bed so he could stand in front of you, however, worked. The angle was perfect. His height putting your face just above the edge of his boxers. Your hands ventured from his thighs, slowly up his abdomen, a small almost unnoticed gasp left his lips as your fingers brushed over his nipples as you reached his pectorals.

Sitting up, your hands groped over his pectorals. You're stunned at his physique. He was soft where you liked it, muscles strong and firm where it mattered the most. You felt a finger under your chin as he lifted your head up to look at him, a grin danced in the corner of his lips, seeing it almost made you forget how to breathe. His grin made you braver and you let your hands travel downwards again while looking into his eyes. He made one sharp inhale as you slowly run your palm over his clothed erection.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you left a trail of kisses across his happy trail, leading downwards until you felt the part of him that seemed to silently beg for you. Neither photos nor videos did him any justice, and you moaned around his dick as his fingers tangled in your hair. His breathing was heavy, snarls and growls emanating from above you the deeper you managed to push his enormous cock down your throat.

Hollowing your cheeks as you drag your lips and tongue up and off of him, your tongue pressing on the underside massaging lightly at his silver jewelry, something that made him practically pull your mouth off of him with a pop. A clear snarl escaped him when you looked up at him with lips wet and swollen, and you couldn’t help but grin like the devil at him . He snarled at how you looked up at him, lips wet and swollen, and you couldn't help but grin like the devil at him.

--------------------------------------------

Pushing you back down into the bed, he helped you off with your shorts before carefully putting your damaged leg up on his shoulder, something he had seen on the internet. Looking down at you, you looked so small and innocent, compared to him. An angel; undressed, needy, wet. And all of that for him. His heart was a drum, dangerously close to escaping his chest.

He felt like such a creep, a pervert who just stared down at your naked form. Hands groping your thighs and giving each of them a delicious squeeze before caressing your abdomen. One part of him was scared that he would damage you, the other part of him, laying over your mound and throbbing in pure need, wanted nothing more than to imprint himself into you. He jolted out of his reverence as he felt your hands wrap around his length, slowly moving over his head, making it wet with precum before you said the words he wanted to hear;

"It's okay, Tommy… I want you.", he nodded and pulled back slightly, letting you help guide him home.

A whine and a haggard groan came from him as he felt you slowly wrap around him, and his head fell backward. Warm, wet, and tight. All he wanted at this moment was to keep pushing until all of him was hilted inside you , but a small whimper from you pulled him out of his trance and he was quick to pull out before you stopped him.

"No! It's okay!", Thomas looked down at you with worry in his eyes, but a few reassuring “okay"s and "it's fine"s managed to convince him, and slowly he pushed further in.

Thomas was soaring at this point. Your walls hugging him in all the right places, your moans and gasps sending shivers down his spine and exploding in his cock. A groan left him as he felt your walls clench when his tongue entered your mouth. Slowly, he started thrusting.

The first one had you gasping into his mouth. At the second, you broke the kiss. The third, a particularly loud moan left you, making him have to clamp his hand over your mouth again. When the fourth thrust hit, he saw your eyes roll back and you arching off the bed, and he took that as his sign to go to town.

--------------------------------------------

You were a total mess. Your head was bleary, your eyes blurry with joyful tears. Your ass is moist from your own arousal that streamed down your thighs as Thomas' fucked into you as a man starved.

He had hurt first, his dick big enough to split you in two if you were unlucky. But as soon as the pain had subsided, you begged for more.

For "harder" and "faster", words that only spurred him on, his thrusts became deeper, hitting parts inside you you didn’t know could feel good. Making you a blubbering mess, his name tumbling out from behind his hand every time the lewd sound of his hips hitting your wet thighs reached your ears. So here you were, a hand tightly clamped over your mouth to keep you from alerting the family of your activity with tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

Suddenly, you felt even more pleasure as he started rubbing your clit with his other thumb. All you could do was look down at the mess he had made of you and up to his eyes.

Him, just as much of a mess as you, huffing and puffing, hair sticking to his forehead, chest coated in sweat, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed, face contorted in pleasure. The sight made your cunt clench around him, squeezing a wheezing sound from his throat.

His attention to your clit quickly brought the familiar feelings of your orgasm. Wiggling your upper teeth free you to bite down on his hand as you looked into his eyes, your own pleading for release. One hard press and a few circles with his thumb made you snap. One hand gripping the sheet until your knuckles turned white, the other clawing at his arm, you had to force yourself not to scream behind his hand as you came on his dick. His hips started moving in pure desperation, and you figured he was close. He leaned in, and you felt his lips and tongue brush against your neck before that deep, baritone voice of his came out in your ear again; "Haaahhh… fuck." How he managed to make one word feel so filthy, you had no idea. What you did know was that you wanted to hear it again. And again. And again . Wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand entangling in his hair and grabbing a fist full of his dark locks to pull at it to pull his face to yours, your action earning you a delicious sound from him. Tommy is an absolute mess, he’s trembling above you.

And you can’t help but smile at him.

“Are you close, baby?”, you whisper to his lips and he nods fervently as he desperately chases his release. Pulling his hair again, you expose his neck to you. The neck you’ve wanted to taste since you saw his face for the first time. Whimpers begin to tumble from him, adorable desperate sounds of pleasure escaping as you slowly drag your tongue over his neck.

But it’s when your teeth sink into him that he breaks down.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas pushes himself as far as he can as his release crashes into him like a tidal way, pushing you further up the bed. His groaning voice loud but choked, doing his best to swallow the sounds he makes when his cock finally fills you. The pain from the bite shooting through his body and mixing with the euphoric feeling of your walls clenching around his pulsing cock. He shivers as he feels your tongue lap over the bite mark. Somewhere inside of him, he hopes it won’t leave a mark, though right at this moment where he’s in the process of marking you as his, he doesn’t really care if it does leave a mark.

He’s shaking as he looks down at your equally exhausted form. He gives you a tired smile, an exhausted one, and leans his forehead against yours, your breathing a cold refreshing gust of air at his sweaty face. He could stay in this position his entire life. Pure bliss. But his muscles start complaining, and he hisses as he pulls himself out to collapse next to you, chuckling as you bounce slightly because of his weight dropping all at once.

Poking your cheek to get you to open your eyes, seeing as you’re well on your way to a night of deep sleep, he spells out a question;

‘U ok?’’

He lets out a sigh of relief as you nod tiredly. Even if he had just fucked every drop of energy out of both you and himself, he’s surprised to see you cuddle up into his sweaty chest. Unsure of what to do, he relaxes just a tiny bit as you laugh before taking his arms and wrapping them around yourself. It takes a while for Thomas to relax to the point of falling asleep, but as his brain is slowly registering that you’re not leaving him, and that you actually have fallen asleep in his arms, he lets sleep take him, with his face buried in your hair.

#CICU #Can I See You #modern!thomas #modern thomas fanfiction #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction #modern au

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Morning lovin'

This is for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge.

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- Ransom doesn't want you to go to work.

Warnings- smut, edging, ransom being an ass

Pairing- Ransom Drysdale x reader

Word count- 1.1k

Masterlist

You woke up to the ear-piercing sound of your alarm. Moaning you switched it off, the bold numbers reading 7:00 am. You huffed kicking the comforter off of you. It was always a struggle to get up after a long night of intense loving (if you could call it that)

You frowned looking at the asshole laying on his back next to you. Sprawled out over your bed as if he owns it. His naked chest moving while he snores softly without a care in the world.

You shivered when your naked feet touched the cold ground. Looking out the floor to ceiling window of your Boston penthouse. You never failed to appreciate it. You had worked hard for it. One of the reasons you refused to move in with Ransom. And you weren’t looking forward to the long commute.

Speaking of, the asshole practically begged you to accompany him to his grandfathers house for a dinner party. You drove out for over an hour only to leave in like thirty minutes because he didn’t want to share your attention with them.

However, you knew the real reason. His family were making snide comments as they usually do. They were oh so surprised that Ransom actually managed to get a woman like you. Or why would someone like you be with Ransom.

You, being a rational individual, chose to ignore it. You didn’t care about their opinions. Ransom however indulged them, fired back at them, only ended up making himself angry and agitated.

Instead of letting you talk to him about it, to give you a chance to explain that he’s it for you, he edged you, fucked you in every way possible until four in the morning (not that you didn’t enjoy every second of it) Most days sex seemed to be his solution for all your problems.

You gasped at your reflection in your vanity mirror. Hair still wet from your shower and water dripping off of your body. There was hickeys and love marks everywhere. Your wrists were bruised from the scarf, he used to tie to you a bit too harshly. Your ass was a bright shade of red. Your hips bruised.

You could deal with all of that later on, right now you had to get ready. You used a good amount of concealer to cover up the bite marks on your neck.

It took over an hour but you were ready for the day. You put on a charcoal black pantsuit with a white blouse. That would be the best way to hide the marks. You went back to your bedroom expecting to see Ransom lounging on your bed.

He was nowhere to be seen, your bed a wreck with your clothes littered across the room. You sighed already tired, it’ll take a while to clean up. Unlike ransom you didn’t have a maid at your beck and call.

You jumped when you felt his arms pulling you into his chest hugging you from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he bent down to bite your ear.

“Ransom come on I have to go to work let me go” You tap at his hand. When he doesn’t let up you struggle to shake yourself off of him. Trying and failing to free yourself of his hold. All those hours spent at the gym really paid off for him.

“You don’t need to work. I can take care of you” He rutted into your ass letting you know just how aroused and naked he was. He started trailing kisses down your neck sucking and nibbling here and there.

“We’ve talked about this a million times! That’s not happening” You clenched your thighs trying your best to hold in your moan.

“Call in sick then” He snaked a hand up your blouse cupping your breast through your bra. He knew just how to pull at your strings to make you bend to his will.

“I can’t” You yelped as he picked you up, carrying you to your bed in his arms.

You half-heartedly tried to fight him off while he unzipped your pants and pulled them down along with your panties. When he got his mouth on you, you couldn’t keep up the charade anymore. You moaned and whined pulling on his hair while pushing him deeper into your cunt.

You were still raw and sore from the previous night, it didn’t take him long to bring you to the edge “Oh I’m gonna cum” you cried. Fuck work. Fuck everything else in the whole world that isn’t him and you.

But...he pulled away. You should’ve known. You groaned looking down to see him smirking at you. He climbed up above you taking off your blouse followed by your bra.

You smacked his shoulder making him frown. But he went back to fondling and squeezing your breasts. “I’m sore from last night” you snapped still frustrated over your ruined orgasm.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll be gentle” He promised.

You gave in. You were too worked up to ask him to stop now. His broad shoulders never failed to make you swoon. You held onto them as he pushed into you. Your overworked sensitive cunt burning in a way that had you moaning and whining under him.

You looked up to him staring down at you, his lips pressed in a firm line while he kept rutting into you slowly. You shrinked under his tense gaze. He bottomed out rolling his pelvis against your clit. You whimpered throwing your head back.

“You want to cum?” You nodded miserably.

“Say that you’ll never leave me” He commanded but there was a hint of desperation brimming in his tone.

“I’ll never leave you. I swear” You screamed. You would've said anything then just to get him to give you that sweet relief.

He pushed two fingers inside your mouth, urging you to suck on them. You sucked them harshly swirling your tongue around them.

All too soon he pulled them out of your mouth. He captured your lips with his forcing his tongue in. Bringing his hand down he played with your clit with his fingers, swallowing your moans in his mouth.

You raked your nails down his back. He groaned pulling back to look at you again, to watch you fall apart. He shoved his dick deep inside you to hit your g-spot. Your cries echoed around the room as you came hard on him.

He groaned at your cunt clenching around him milking him. He gave you two harsh thrusts coming inside you. Cursing he dropped his weight on top of you.

Shifting under him you pushed him up “Ransom?” you caressed his face as he leaned into your hand “You know I love you right? Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?”

“It doesn’t” He said firmly pulling out of you.

You had to call in sick from work since you could barely walk straight. You spent the rest of the day cuddling and eating chinese takeout. He did finally come around and forget about the whole thing. Going back to being his usual asshole self.

#sweatersanyficchallenge #berry writes #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombrey x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x reader

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “A bucket.”

I wrote this little fluff piece this morning because I didn’t have the energy to write anything else. Still fighting with my motivation right now, but I hope you all like it :)

The air smelled like fall, wet dirt, a chill, and the unmistakable tang of mouldering leaves raked into large yellowing piles. The sky overhead was blue, and it was just beginning to warm as the sun peaked higher into the sky. Standing on the sidewalk, he stared down the street of his childhood watching orange and yellow leaves fall to the pavement. In the distance he could hear the shouting of children, and watched decorative skeletons clatter and blow in a light wind.

A soft crunching noise jogged him from his musings, and he turned to see Sunny contemplatively staring at a yellowed leaf, only to watch her pop it into her mouth and crunch on it like it was a potato chip.

He frowned at her and she turned to look at him, “What?”

“Seriously?”

“What do you mean, Seriously?”

“Gonna go ahead and eat the fall ambiance?”

She frowned at him,” The trees aren’t using them anymore, and I don’t see you eating them.” He just shook his head at her, and turned to walk up the front steps and onto the porch. She paused to stare at the cluster of pumpkins on the front steps, and the grizzly faces that were carved into them. His father was a master at pumpkin carving, evidenced by the fact that Sunny made, “What the hell.” she turned to look at Adam and he shrugged.

“What are those?”

“Pumpkins/”

“That does not answer my question.”

“THey are a type of squash or gourd or…. Or something. People grow and eat them most of the time, but it is traditional, in october to carve scary faces on them for fun. Maybe mom has another one lying around and will let you try it out.”

“But why?”

“Back in the day people thought that doing this would help to fend off evil spirits, but now it is more of a contest to flex who is the most artistic. Dad wins every year.”

They stepped onto the porch where fallen leaves were still clinging wetly to the front steps and knocked.

“It’s open!” Came the voice from inside

The two of them slipped in, Adam taking off his shoes and Sunny wiping her damp feet on the entrance rug.

They walked into the living room to find his mother, Martha sitting on the floor at the center of an explosion of pictures, and a couple of open binders.

Adam and Sunny walked in very carefully stepping over the pictures.

“Sorting the photo album again?” “Again, the last time I did this was almost ten years ago.”

Adam wantered closer to his mother and Sunny curiously examined some of the photos, until one caught her eye.

A very tiny, chubby human barely able to stand on his own, and with bright green eyes.

She picked up the picture gingerly in one hand, “Awww is this you? You and your fat little cheeks.”

Adam turned, and Sunny held up the picture. Adam blushed and Martha laughed, Sunny looked at the next picture in the line, which seemed to be paired to the first, but now the small boy had a large bucket on his head, his feet sticking out from underneath. The bucket had holes in the side.

“What are you doing.”

Martha laughed again, “We were playing hide and seek.” Adam was still blushing madly as she continued, “He grew into his intelligence late in life.”

***

Martha walked slowly from the back room into the living room, “Ready or not here I come.”

The house was mostly quiet. The rest of her brood was out with their father on a hike for the day, but their littlest had woken up with a slight cough so she had decided to keep him home. He had spent the first half of the day lethargic, but around lunch time after some strawberries he had perked up and become his usual exhausting self.

“Come out come out. I’m gonna get you.”

It was the giggling that gave him away, but when she turned to look she paused, sagged a bit and rolled her eyes covering her smile and laugh with a hand. The living room was completely clean, aside from a round laundry basket sitting dead in the middle, and two chubby little legs sticking out from under it. Not to mention that since it was a laundry basket it had holes in the side, and she could see him looking at her from inside.

She discreetly took a picture and quietly to herself Lord child i hope you grow into your brains soon

But instead of calling him out on his hiding spot she wandered around the room hands on hips, “Now where could he have gone…. Could he be under here?”

Giggling

She kept up the pretence for the longest time until he seemed to have gotten tired of her charade. She heard the bucket tip over and he ran over on his stubby little legs grabbing her by the leg.

She acted surprised, “OH there you are!. I have been looking ALL over.”

He grinned and hugged her leg again.

She reached down and picked him up and he rested his head against her shoulder.

That was another thing about her youngest. He was VERY VERY cuddly, and she idly wondered what that would translate to when he got older. She patted his back and tried to fix his unruly blond hair which stuck up from all sides of his head, but it was no use, she sighed and gave up.

Oh well, she tried her best.

***

“You know honestly sometimes he is STILL as dumb as a pile of bricks.” Sunny mused setting the picture back down.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, “I got my masters in aviation and orbital physics.””

“And yet who is the one who insists on putting strange alien plants in his mouth without knowing i they are safe or not.”

Martha frowned at her youngest.

He frowned back, “That is hardly fair, you eat them.”

“I also eat leaves, doesn’t mean you can too.”

She sifted through the pictures and barked a laugh at one that caught her eye, she picked it up, what are you doing. She turned the picture around, and Adam blushed madly. Martha laughed, “Oh yeah, we had to call the fire department for that one.”

“No, no no we are not going to be telling that story.”

A firefighter and a cop framed either side of the picture both giving exaggerated thumbs up with a young boy\ mabe seven or eight in the background stuck, backside first in a bucket of some sort, looking very embarrassed.

Martha grinned, “I think you were seven or eight maybe.”

“IT was Jeromy’s fault.”

****

“I dare you.”

The four boys and one girl stood at the top of the hill staring down.

Maya, who was fifteen years old, older by five years than Jeremy who was eleven, frowned down the hill, “What if he runs into one of those trees.”

“He's got a thick skull, he’ll be ok.” Thomas said ruffling Adam’s hair viciously so the younger boy squirmed protested and ducked away. Adam was a very small boy, shorter than average and very thin. His clothes always seemed too big, his shirts baggy, and the shorts he was wearing were forced to stay on only by the belt his father had had to poke three more holes into to make it fit.

Even his sneakers seemed too big flopping around on his feet with floppy untied laces.

“Who is even going to fit in that?” David asked.

Arguably the smartest of the three brothers, it hadn’t occurred to the others that none of them would fit.

That’s when all their heads turned to look at Adam.

Adam frowned, “But I don’t want to.”

“Chiken.” Thomas said

“Come on your the only one small enough.” Jeremy urged.

“I see your chances of dying as very low, “ David interjected helpfully.

Maya tossed her braid back over one shoulder, “We should at least put some padding down at the bottom. Because if he gets hurt mom will kill me.”

Maya was technically supposed to be babysitting them, and keeping them out of trouble. But as was common with their family, she was not immune to the pull of a hair brained idea especially not when she was just to curious to see how it turned out.

Adam stomped his foot, “But you guys ALWAYS make me do it.”

“Because the buckets are ALWAYS too small for us, “Come on don’t be a chicken.”

Adam sighed and walked over to the barrel. He tired crawling inside it backwards, and when that didn’t work he attempted to go in face first, but every time he was just to tall.

He shook his head, “Too small.”

David looked at him very thoughtfully, and then an idea seemed to jump into his head.

“Not if we fold you in half.”

Adam frowned at him.

“Come on, hold the barrel upright.” The other boys did as told, while David instructed Adam to sit inside butt first.

Adam frowned, “But that doesn’t sound very comfortable, and how am I going to get out.”

“We will tip you out, don’t worry.”

Adam frowned but then allowed himself to slide down into the barrel. It was immediately very uncomfortable.

He wanted to tell them to pull him out but by that time he had been tipped over onto his side, “Ready?”

“No.”

They ignored him.

Adam was near panicking now, it wasn’t exactly easy to breathe.

“Three, two, one.”

And then the world was spinning around him. He rocked and bounced and spun so fast his eyes rolled inside his head. He screamed but the scream was cut off as he slammed painfully into something.

Dazed and sure he was going to vomit, he heard voices.

“Oh no, Adam!”

“Adam are you ok!”

Footsteps raced down the hill.

“Oh no we killed him!”

“Shut up He’s still alive, look.” Something kicked his foot, and he groaned.

He’s still breathing.

“Let him out.”

Something tugged on his feet. But it only managed to pull him and the barrel with it.

“Here you guys hold the bucket and we will pull him out.

Wat ensued was a horrible tug of war on his legs and on the bucket neither of which seemed to want to let go.

“STOP!”

They dropped his legs.

“Um, what if we tipped the bucket upside down?”

“Ok.”

The four of them tried really hard, and at one point almost succeeded until someone’s hand slipped and Adam crashed into the ground very painfully. He was near panic now, “Guys! Get me out of here.”

David patted his foot, “Its ok, ill get you out, ‘we just need science.”

Science turned out to be a shoddy pulley system that went over the swing set and was designed to let them lift the bucket by way of rope and shake Adam out onto the ground.

The problem was the rope kept slipping off the bucket.

“Oh… no.”

A car rolled over gravel.

“Oh no, dad’s home.”

They heard a car door slammed shut, and Adam felt as the others hurriedly rolled him behind the swingset.

A door opened and the jangle of keys followed their father around the side of the house.

“There you all are, glad to see everyone is still in one piece, you didn’t burn the house down.”

“Nope.”

There was sudden silence, “Where is Adam.”

“Uh, he…. He is us, around here somewhere.” Jeremy had always been bad at lying

Their father turned his gaze on Maya, “Maya what is going on.”

“Uh…. nothing dad, we….”

“Don’t even try it….”

She sagged a bit, “We got Adam stuck in a barrel.”

There was a moment of silence, he heard the shifting of footsteps, “You got Adam stuck in a-” The light filtering into the barrel was cut off and he saw the silhouette of his father’s head, “Huh, you weren’t kidding. You are okay in their kiddo.”

His muffled reply came.

“Yeah…. I guess.”

Their dad grabbed the barrel by one end, tipped it over and shook Adam a few times. WHen nothing happened he gently set him back down, “Huh.”

“I hold and you pull his feet, “” They tried again but it didn’t work the second time either.

“Well, I have some tools in the garage.”

Adam began to panic as he thought of his dad's circular table saw.

“NO!”

“Ok ok.”

He heard his dad quiet for a minute and then, “Hey Joe, yeah this is Jim Vir….. doing good, and you, how about the family….. Glad to hear it….. Yeah anyway, my kids got my youngest boy stuck in a barrel like the geniuses they are, and I can’t seem to get him out. You want to send me a firefighter or two with something that can help….. Yeah thanks joe.”

Adam was relieved.

Of course as it turned out it was a slow day at both the police department AND the fire station, so what came rolling up was a motorcade of emergency vehicles. Adam was so embarrassed he wished he could melt through the barrel and into the ground as a group of cops and firefighters walked over to peer down at him from above.

“That looks comfortable.”

“How are you doing there son?”

There barrel was tipped back over, and he even saw his father sna a few pictures as the firefighters and police went to work surrounding the barrel. Of course since the entire towns emergency crew were here that drew curious neighbors who couldn’t help but laugh along with Jim at the antics of his children.

The wors part is when Martha showed up, and ran from the car scared out of her mind assuming something horrible had happened, only to find her husband laughing and taking pictures with the local emergency response team, and her youngest stuck in an oversized bucket.

At the end of the day they were forced to cut him out, but the sweet relief when he tipped onto the ground free at least was almost worth the embarrassment. He might not have thought that if he had known there was still a picture in both the police department and the fire station of him as a kid stuck in a barrel.

***

Sunny was laughing at him by the time Martha was done with her story.

He grimaced, “Why do you only keep finding the embarrassing pictures.

“Oh what is this,”

“What are you wearing?”

Adam covered his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t get my other boys to wear it, but he would model anything for me when I needed it. This was when I was doing a commission for a Seventies themed party. Isn’t he adorable.”

“Is that a jumpsuit, and what is with those glasses.”

Adam looked up at the sky.

“And of course when Maya moved out, and I didn’t have the money for a mannequin….”

Sunny picked up another picture, “That is one big ass dress.”

“Ah yes the bell skirts, doesn’t he look nice.”

Adam grunted and cleared his throat, “I think you'll find corsets are surprisingly comfortable. Second of all, I rock the regency and victorian periods, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

He might as well own it.

This was the 41st century, dresses weren’t just for women anymore, and some of them had been quite comfortable.

They would never really be his style, but he could see why someone else would find them appealing.

By this point both Sunny and martha had migrated to the couch where they looked through embarrassing pictures of him as a baby and shared embarrassing stories. Sometimes gross stories as he sat on the other side of the room and suffered silently. Sunny seemed to be enjoying herself though, so he let it slide.

Seeing her happy was nice, since it hadn’t been very common over the past few months.

He blamed himself for that, and wondered idly how long it would take for her to fully forgive him.

He hoped not long.

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 2 (Supernatural AU)

Part 1

WARNINGS: Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites

Please excuse any grammar mistakes. I think I got most but I edited this at 5 A.M. ... I will go back over it and scan for errors soon.

- Admin Kokichi

Hours passed since your unfortunate encounter, and your heart and mind had finally shaken off the creeps. After finishing your little self-guided tour of campus, you headed to the Main Course dorms to find your room. Your luggage was arranged to come later that evening, but you wanted to see the dorms for yourself now with little else to do.

Once you shut the door, the warmth of the sunlight gave way to a wave of the best air conditioning money could buy. The place looked very clean and tidy, with nothing out of place save for a few displaced balls and plastic cups atop a pool table and what appeared to be forgotten lecture notes on a shelf above a central fireplace. This must be the common area, a lounge for the most deserving students in the world!

Behind the fireplace on either side were two sets of pretentious-looking stairs that led up to what you assumed were the actual dorm rooms. You searched your pocket for your student key card. You flipped it around over and over again in your hand, searching.

“What?” You weren’t going crazy, were you? Neither floor nor room number were indicated on your card. You pulled your phone out, quickly sifting through emails and texts. Nope. Nowhere, at any point, had the housing department told you exactly what room was yours. Way to drop the ball, Kirigiri… you sighed, finding this situation both a bit humorous and exasperating considering the status of the school.

Well, you were a last minute transfer. There were bound to be slip-ups.

Sighing, you resigned to sit, relax for a few minutes, then call the housing department, or simply walk over to the main office building if it was still open.

"Maybe I'll just..." you decided you'd earned the two minute break and walked leisurely over to one of the beige leather seats. Sitting, you set your chin into your hand propped up by your elbow on the arm of the chair, and began to think of how much you missed your tools. School regulations didn’t allow poisons, crossbows, guns and silver bullets inside the dorms... for obvious reasons. Even students of the blade or other offensive disciplines had to keep all sharp and lethal objects in their practice rooms and out of the dorms (not that all of them followed these rules). Students were allowed to customize and adjust their uniforms according to their talent, but you couldn’t even do that, what with all of the tools of your trade being lethal or unexplainable to the ignorant masses.

It felt weird, not having a wooden stake strapped to your ankle, not having wolfsbane hidden away in a compartment on your belt. You felt out of place, without knives and rune-inlaid whips hidden on your person... uncomfortable. This school really wasn’t for you.

"Ah, it’s you!" A voice came from behind.

"Huh?" You gasped, flying up from your seat, thoroughly startled. Your knee banged off of the coffee table in front of it, leaving you feeling like an absolute buffoon. Your hand instantly flew to your leg, and you hissed softly in pain.

“Whoops! Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry!”

Your eyes followed the voice all the way up the stairs to its owner. Nagito was scrambling down the stairs toward you apologetically, feeling responsible for your blunder. He reached his hands out as of to offer you his aid, but froze upon seeing you take a step backward. He stopped directly in front of you, clearing his throat before continuing.

“What are you doing here? You don’t have to start classes yet?” You stared into his eyes, and a tremble ran up your spine. The greenish-grey, glistening spheres appeared icy and far away. “Well?" When you didn't respond, he spoke up again.

"I uh... um..."

"You have a way with words, I see, just like when we met earlier today." He teased, laughing warmly. He had one of those genuine smiles, where the eyes exude friendliness just as much as the mouth, and their misty shine entranced you deeply. He laughed again, a bit awkwardly as you merely gawked at him. A light blush formed on his cheeks and he swept some of his cloud-like hair away from his forehead. He held the eye contact, though, searching your mind for something, anything to tell him more about you. You felt a stinging begin, like a migraine forming in the depths of your brain.

You shook your head roughly, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. How could you have fallen for that one?

Vampires could very easily compel the mortal mind, put one in a mind-hazing trance with direct eye contact alone. Being the offspring of one of the best hunters ever born, you were trained to notice when the bloodsuckers made their attempts to ensnare your mind or read it like a book. That headache was your warning sign, the last defense of a disciplined mind, but it shouldn’t have even of gotten that far.

You were slipping… why did this vampire feel… different?

More importantly, you forced your mind to change the subject, how long had he been trancing other students? Was he doing this on purpose? Some vampires simply forgot their own strengths at times. Did Kirigiri know? Is this dangerous creature simply going around unchecked... doing whatever the hell he likes?!

He coughed, his eyebrows furrowing with a sudden seriousness. He’d been searching your mind, looking around desperately for a clue, a story, a hint, and just as soon as he thought he’d found an interesting page to start reading, the book was snapped close in front of him. He was pushed out in an effort that seemed practiced, skillful. You saw the discontent lining his features, and decided you needed you stop this. You two needed to be on the same page, before he tried anything else on you; something stupid, or more bold. You couldn’t keep up this charade any longer. You had a feeling he was feeling the same way.

"Stop that.” You spoke sternly, concisely, confidently. He needed to know not to try that shit again, that you would not simply be prey like others, not mentally nor physically. His mouth formed a smirk, one of relief and something like acknowledging the other player in a game.

“Ahh~ so I see that I was correct after all. Are we done playing pretend now? Awww, I was actually having a lot of fun! It was quite stimulating, actually.” He frowned, pouting like a child called home at dusk after playing outside all day.

“I’m afraid so. Sorry to disappoint you,” you crossed your arms over your chest defiantly,” and I don’t appreciate my mind being picked and prodded at. That’s extremely disrespectful, you know? That’s none of your business. If you’re doing that to people on the regular around campus, I will inform the headmaster.” You held a finger out, poking his chest firmly and with aplomb, and he only smiled in response, finding this attempt to intimidate him rather adorable. He held in a giggle behind his hand, not wanting to anger you. “Am I amusing to you?” You threw him a cross look, and he held his hands up in surrender.

“No, of course not! I was just thinking, well... how do you know? About me, I mean?”

You face went blank. You weren’t expecting this question, though you probably should have been. There was no possible way to answer this honestly. What were you supposed to say? The headmaster forbade you from telling anyone of your true talent. Disregarding that point, what would this vampire do to you once he found out you were one of those sworn to kill his kind? You didn’t have any means of defending yourself at present. You couldn’t outrun him, or fight back with raw strength. He couldn’t do anything right? He wouldn’t… if he were that brash, there’s no way Kirigiri would’ve let him enroll here in the first place. He has to be on excellent behavior to attend Hope’s Peak, right?

You blinked once, twice. He was waiting for a response, staring patiently. You needed a response, and quickly.

“W-what are you doing here?” Nice. Perfect.

“Huh?” His head tilted, taken aback by the curveball you threw his way.

“W-well you asked what I’m doing here, and you’re right, if I were starting classes today, I would be in one right now. We have the same core classes outside of the individualized training of our talent specialization. I saw the class rosters and schedules! I know you should be in class right now as well!” You were getting louder with every word, feeling very cornered and vulnerable at the moment. If you had just even one weapon on you… just one…

“Well, uh…” now you had him. You smirked, feeling pretty clever at the moment. “I forgot my books... just my luck haha,” he countered, “So I came back to my room to get them!”

“Then where are they?” And sure enough, he had nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

“Hmm… well I came through the second floor entrance,” he gestured over his back “...and I was about to head to my room but I got uhhh… distracted I guess you could say. I really am hopeless.” There was that big, dumb, goofy grin again. Your mind took a second, but then it clicked.

“...You smelled me…” you spoke slowly, cautiously.

“Uh… I guess yeah. You could say that. Well that’s exactly what happened, really. I suppose I am glad we ended our little farce! Would’ve been hard to explain that one...” his index finger reached up, scratching at the side of his mouth pensively.

“You really are a creep!”

“Yeah, I’m the worst, I know...” Why was he smiling while saying this? “I’m sorry, again. Usually, it’s not like this. Of course I admire our talented peers and am drawn to them as they are pinnacles of hope and the building blocks of the future, but...” he pantomimed through the air grandly, “ I am very conditioned to the human scent. It doesn’t usually alert me nowadays. I dunno… guess the... tantalizing smell of a particularly interesting human was enough to… stir me.” He smirked almost tauntingly. Your eyes widened, but narrowed again immediately. You would not show him weakness.

“Stop that.” You scowled.

“Apologies, (Y/N). Just speaking my mind. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just sort of a disgusting waste of space.” Your scowl melted into a sort of sympathetic frown despite yourself. Did he really mean that? Why would he say that about himself? Vampires were usually more vain on the spectrum of supernatural beings. “I just hold Main Course students in really high esteem, and you’re no exception... actually, far from it. Ever since I met you this morning, you’ve been on my mind more then most mortals… strange...” he seemed lost in his own little world. What? What the hell was going on in his crazy little head? The silence caught his attention, and he seemed to remember you were there as well, looking into your eyes again. He caught himself, making sure to not to make such direct eye contact with you. When he was in these weird moods, he never could quite control his more passive abilities and instincts. “Anyway... yeah, it’s unfortunate that I’m going to be missing part of class now… not that I don’t enjoy the pleasant surprise! I knew there was something special about you right off the bat!" Would he still think that after he knew your true calling? You looked to your right, thankful for the large staircase to escape to. He was giving you unsettling vibes once again.

Supernatural beings were known to imprint easily on mortals. Some saw them as beautiful, perplexing, ethereal in their impermanence. Some killed and ate them just because devouring humans, or torturing them until the panicked aura of their tiny, weak souls radiated around the room and feeling that temporary fragility, that adrenaline, was the only way they themselves could feel human. This urge to feel close to humanity was only doubled, dangerously so, in supernaturals who were once human themselves. It was an insatiable need to return to that normalcy, that frailty.

Swiftly, you scampered over to the bottom step to put some distance between you and the increasingly imposing immortal before you.

"Ah, I see. Well, anyway, thanks I suppose. I uh..." you grinned clumsily. “I was just looking for my room, albeit unsuccessfully. You can go ahead and get your books now! I don’t want to hold you up any longer!”

"I can help! It’s no big deal. The way they get students moved in here can sometimes be confusing. Actually, they put your room number on the student portal, not your card or paperwork, heh! And they don’t even tell you, leave you to find out yourself!” He pulled a large, black rectangle from his pocket, crossing the distance to wave it in front of you like a treat.

What the...? You patted down your shirt and bottoms alike.

“Is that my phone? How the hell-?!”

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I swiped it from you when I first came downstairs! I thought it’d help me get to know you better, had you not been willing to divulge the knowledge you have of my kind’s existence.” Once again he was calm, cool and casual whilst in the midst of saying such unusual words. What was this guy’s deal? “Here, you can have it back!”

“Yeah, I should hope so!” You reached out to snatch your phone from his hand, and it was like time froze.

The moment your fingertips touched his own in the exchange, your indignant eyes met his, and saw something feral flicker in them. The phone switched hands, and a spark of sorts traveled through your skin and into his. As you pulled back, his hand shot out, taking a tight grip around your wrist.

Your cheeks warmed up, at once flustered when the atmosphere changed drastically. Your eyes dilated in panic and his lips moved forward, resting upon your hand. He seemed to tense up, a rigidness taking up his entire body. His closed eyes opened wide to match your own and he inhaled deeply of the skin of your knuckles. You pulled away quickly, spooked.

"S-something wrong? Why are you so weird? I’ve never met any of your kind quite like you." You rubbed your hand curiously.

“So, you’ve met others?” It was clear he was trying to hold back something deep inside of him that begged to crawl out, his eye twitching slightly.

“Answer my question.”

"No, of course not... you just smell... nice, as I said before." He looked away from you, hand extending to guide you upstairs and in the right direction, but your brain was telling you not to go anywhere with him in tow.

“I- I can find my way myself, but thanks!” You began logging into the Hope’s Peak student portal through your phone’s browser, and quickly looking through your profile to find your room code and number.

“I insist!” He followed you up the stairs, trailing after your scent like a starved hound. Why couldn't he just get lost? Your thoughts raced anxiously. If you’d had your equipment on you, he would’ve been long dead. He was exhausting, and he didn't feel… safe. “Found it?” he inquired over your shoulder. As you reached the top of the steps, you began to feel your blood boil, but you knew not the true cause of this involuntary reaction.

Your last little exchange left you feeling foolish and naive. How could you have let a vampire get that close? Why would you let him indulge in the scent of you knowing how easy it was for them to take advantage of humans? You were royally pissed off, and looking for a way to expel that rage, to hurt someone or something the way you were hurting inside.

“I know you’re a vampire because I kill them. My whole family does. It’s essential to be able to identify one in my line of work. I’d be a pretty shitty hunter if I couldn’t do even that, and you aren’t exactly good at hiding it.” You found your door, swiping your keycard into the extremely sleek, high-tech lock system, and forcing it open a bit too harshly. The frustration you tried to hide in your voice was evident in your actions. Nagito halted, stilled stiff by your suddenly bitter words.

“Ah,” he cleared his throat, also hiding emotions of his own, “The Ultimate Hunter... it makes sense now.” He recalled seeing your title along with your name on his own school portal. How did he miss that one?

“Yeah, so maybe you should get lost.” Heartlessly, you began to close the door on him, now fully inside the spacey room that was bare save for a luxurious bed and some basic, modern furniture. “Hn?” A soft gasp left your throat when a polished shoe wedged itself inside the door, stopping you. You looked up, your body filling the crack in the door, and met Nagito’s eyes. There was that far away look again. His eyes were cloudy, tameless, wild.

“Why must you be so harsh?” His eyes bore into your own now, all inflection and kindness gone from his tone. “I understand you must hate my kind, and now I can appreciate why you reacted so aversely to my voice, my touch, my presence before, but have I done anything to harm you?” You were beginning to get scared now, reaching instinctively for your belt and finding it absent from your pristine uniform.

“I think you should leave. We obviously aren’t meant to be acquaintances.” You refused to let your voice shake. This might be a turning point, a critical moment. Vampires were never so dangerous as when they knew their prey was afraid.

“It’s your turn to answer me, now~” Nagito forced himself in the doorway nonchalantly, approaching your slowly retreating form into the middle of your room. You backed away, with him meeting every step.

“If you must know, you have offended me, yes. Trying to read my mind-”

“An accident.”

“Stealing my phone-”

“A precaution.”

“Smelling my blood like a pervert, twice!” He smirked.

“A natural, harmless instinct.”

“Even so...” Your eyes were on his own, obviously not focused on his body, and he took this opportunity to reach down, grasping lightly at your hand once again.

“Even so, what? Those are all petty misunderstandings. Ahhh~” his cold, pointed nose skimmed across the back of your hand once again as he brought it to his face. This time, when you tried to pull away, he held fast, and warning signals flashed in your mind. “Just as I thought! Your scent appeals to me so because you are a shining beacon of hope! I see it now! It’s all coming to me! You protect the world from those of my kind who would seek to destroy it! How wonderful!” His cheek bumped across your knuckles, and you failed once again to pull away.

“N-Nagito. Stop. This is.... you must consider context. If we weren’t in school right now, if we were just on the street meeting like this-”

“You wouldn’t do anything~ because I’m allied and protected~” He sung, his eyes twitching again, lids fluttering softly. Your heart dropped into your stomach. He was right.

You were trying to resist, but he was making it so damn hard. It shouldn’t be this hard. You found supernatural beings repulsive. Your father did as well. And his father did! They weren’t trustworthy. Their words were always the lies of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. They could charm and glamour weaker mortals with ease and enjoyed it! And you certainly were not a weaker mortal! You found joy in killing them... didn’t you?

“What you’re doing now is-”

“It’s strange, hah~ so strange~ I haven’t felt this inspired, this jittery about a mortal in such a long time... haha~ this excitement! I knew it! I knew you were special! You’re the true hope I’ve been looking for! The Ultimate of all Ultimates that will guide our classmates into their roles as the protectors and leaders that will inherit this earth!” He was manic now, inhaling deeply, raggedly onto your skin. One hand crushed your wrist into his own chest, the other held your hand so that it stayed splayed out flat for his access. There was something primal in his eyes. He was quickly becoming unstable. It was a perilous state so common to his kind, but yet it felt still so incredibly unique to Nagito himself, like it was not his immortality but his own character that caused this sudden shift in behavior.

“Nagito! You sound like a lunatic! Let go, you’re hurting me!” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You were strong, usually able to ignore some measure of physical pain, but the way his fingers dug into your wrist coupled with the consternation you felt at the situation set your nerves aflame. Once again you reached instinctively for a weapon or poison you did not have.

“Am I? I’m sorry. It’s just... I wonder...” You didn’t like where this was going at all. His chest shook with arousal , a bit of drool dripping from the fangs now on display in his mouth, which hung open in his state of reverie. “I wonder what this this hope tastes like... this pure, concentrated source of unbridled hope!” His voice shook, and you pushed at his chest with your free hand. He didn’t budge an inch. It was like he didn’t even notice your actions. “I know I’m unworthy, that a piece of trash like me doesn’t deserve to taste you... but I feel like now that I’m this close, haha~ I can’t stop myself! Truly, truly it’s a grand misfortune that a talentless, meaningless, soulless abomination like myself even dares to take part in such a feast! But...” He lowered his lips to your wrist.

“Nagito, stop! You can’t do this!” You began to kick and struggle, to scratch and tear at his clothes, to claw at any exposed skin, leaving marks across his cheek and arms. “If you do this, you’ll lose your protection!” His top lip pulled back, something like a snarl emanating from his throat. Clearly that approach wouldn’t work. “You’ll be expelled!” You tried the next deterrent on your mind. Wow, you must’ve been the worst Super High-School Level Monster Hunter in history. Day 1: fooled into a vampire’s clutches. His inhumanely sharp canines grazed the skin of your wrist, feeling your pulse race beneath the surface. He was entranced; there was no stopping this now. A human, without weapons, without enchantments or defenses, without repellants, bombs, herbs, poisons, silver, or means of healing, was no match for a supernatural being. “Please! Please, you- don’t do this!” a last effort. Why did you even try? These savages never sympathized with begging and pleading. They were killers. You were an imbecile to let your guard down around Komaeda for even a second.

His fangs sunk deeply into your skin, piercing a vein. You yelped out in pain, pulling at his hair and tugging your wrist back, which only nestled his fangs in deeper. You whimpered, little rivulets of your vital fluid running out of his mouth and down to your elbow. He was moaning in delirium, enraptured in the sensation of your blood running down his throat. You wanted to yell, to scream for help, but something inside you was hesitant and holding you back. Something inside you didn’t want anyone to find out about this, to find you two like this.

“Mmmh~” Nagito’s tongue swirled around the puncture wounds, his lips latched on like a leech. He drank freely, deeply, seemingly careless of how much blood he was taking. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the exhilaration of feeding from true prey. These days they had him on willing donors and blood bags. Nothing compared to the flavor of adrenaline and fear in the bloodstream, no matter how much he hated himself for indulging in it.

“Naaagi-t-” You stumbled backwards a step, wishing so desperately that you weren’t such an obedient student, that you’d deemed it justified to slip a stake, a knife, anything under your shirt. Your punches, your willful attacks on his abdomen, and the kicks to his knees began to slow down. They were losing the fight behind them, and yet, you would not give up. “St-tt-oo-” He continued to slurp and suck at your wrist, taking no note of the way you slowly were slipping to your knees.

The corners of your vision began to cloud and darken. Your head was ringing, much like a time you’d been left concussed after one of your first hunts. This might as well have been one of your first encounters with the supernatural world, with how badly you’d blundered every step.

Now on your knees, your head hanging limply down into your chest with your arm raised and pulled taut, trailing up to the vampire’s mouth, you felt yourself slipping. Finally, your vision began to fade for the last time, and you fell unconscious. The last thing your mind registered was the sound of Nagito sighing blissfully as he finally detached from your flesh, followed by the sound of frenzied laughter.

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