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reiderwriter · 21 days

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Puppet On A String

Chapter One of I Can't Help Myself

Synopsis: Expecting your big promotion any day, you're none too happy to hear about the departments miraculous new hire. You're even less happy when he moves into your office and starts touching things.

Warnings: Shitty office politics, brief allusions to Spencer's time in prison, swearing, reader is understandably bitter.

Masterlist || 5k Celebration Challenge

The day your professional aspirations came to a crashing halt was also the day that you met Doctor Spencer Reid. To say that your view of him was somewhat soured by the unpleasant circumstances of your morning meeting was an understatement and a half.

Sitting in your bosses stuffy work office, you felt your heart stop as the situation was explained.

“You understand, right, Y/N? We really value your work here, so we're really relying on you to help him settle in.” He grinned at you from behind his desk, but all friendliness in the gesture was dampened by the fact that he hadn't even bothered to look up from the papers he was looking through, glasses hanging low on his nose.

“I'm trying to understand, I am. But last week, we discussed me moving onto the tenure track. Are you saying that's out of the picture for me now?”

The smile turned into a grimace as he looked up at you, finally. He removed his glasses and folded them in front of him as you squirmed in your seat. You needed to advocate for yourself, but it wasn't easy when it felt like you were in the principals office being reprimanded.

“Doctor Spencer Reid will be joining us on loan from the FBI. Someone at the Bureau called in a favour with one of the college executives. The decision is above my pay grade - thus it is above yours.”

Your cheeks felt hot as he reprimanded you, and you bit your tongue as best you could.

“He will be with us for the semester, and then we can discuss your promotion again next semester. I will ask again, you understand the situation?”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken - the department wide email introducing your new member of staff and the generous donation from the FBI that came with him. You brought nothing to the department other than a stellar academic record and hard work.

“I'm glad we could both come to an understanding,” he said, aptly dismissing you as you stood to take your leave.

“Ah, one last thing, Y/N,” he said, stopping you in your tracks as you readied yourself to run to the nearest bathroom stall and cry until your first class - roughly 7 and a half minutes.

“Doctor Reid will be sharing your temporary office space. We're strapped for space, and there weren't any other facilities available at the last minute. Since your students always remark on how approachable and welcoming you are, you're the best person to show him around, too.”

The gloom in your heart hardened to anger as the man dismissed you, returning his glasses to his head and not bothering to make eye contact as he added more work to your already heavy load.

“Of course. Thank you.”

You closed the door behind you, willing yourself to not slam it, and stalked down the corridor to your own - now communal - office.

Half of your brain was screaming at you to quit, but with rent in a college town to pay, and the academic year already in session, there was no way you were finding something this lucrative again.

You'd worked your ass off for the last five months. You just had to survive three more with Doctor Spencer Reid.

You had to keep your emotions in control until at least your office, you thought, even as the inescapable tears threatened to fall down your face. You hate that you cried when you were angry, that your emotions couldn't even sort themselves out enough to give appropriate physical responses, but at least you could angry-cry in peace before your new coworker showed up.

You ripped open the door and stomped to your desk, slamming the door shut behind you as you fell down with your head in your hands and let out a frustrated groan.

“Um… hello, can I help you?”

The voice caught you so off guard, you almost jumped from your seat in shock, backing up to the single window in the office.

“Fuck, you scared the hell out of me. What- who are you?” You asked the man you now saw sitting at the sofa opposite your desk, next the door. So close in fact, that you didn't see him walking in.

He was sat down, but you could tell he was tall, slightly older than you, but with big brown eyes that betrayed some experience. He sat comfortably at first, legs crossed, book in hand, but as you spoke, he sat straighter, stiffer, his relaxed expression becoming somewhat colder.

“I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. I was told this is my office from today onwards? If I'm incorrect, I can leave you to your…”

Of course, the very attractive, soft-spoken man in front of you just happened to be the derailment of your career. Temporary, you reminded yourself. Temporary derailment.

“No. Doctor Reid, of course. Hello. I'm Y/N. We'll be sharing the office for the semester, I just didn't know you'd be here today.”

He frowned slightly, like sharing the space was as uncomfortable with him as it was with you.

“If you can excuse me, I have a class to teach in…” You looked to the shelves where your small clock had fallen over once again - the office was cramped and the shelves unstable enough that closing the door meant knocking at least three things over.

“Three minutes, shit. I have to leave, please keep to yourself, I have a lot of important documents in here.”

The words were colder than you would've liked, but you couldn't find the strength to care much about his opinion of you.

You grabbed your laptop and left the room swiftly, abandoning Spencer Reid to your shared office.

Your first meeting may have been sour due to circumstance, but your second was unpleasant on the strength of Spencer Reid's grating personality alone.

In your five months at the college, you'd worked up a system for classwork.

Gather books. Go to class. Pick up coffee. Teach. Leave class. Pick up a second coffee. Go to your office. Host office hours. Work on a research paper. Rinse and repeat for any other classes you had that day.

With such a busy and caffeine fuelled schedule, you kept your office as neat as you could with your rickety shelves.

So, returning to meet Spencer Reid a second time, you almost threw up at the sight that befell you in the office.

“Hey, welcome back.”

The man sat on the one inch of your floor that wasn't taken up by furniture with all of the books in the office stacked up around him, the shelves bare and tipping precariously to one side.

“What the hell did you do to my office?” You blanched, looking around, unable to see the set of books you had organized for your next class.

“The shelves are broken, I put in a request to have them replaced, and I've been organizing the books by topic so-”

“The books were already organized. By class, and week they're to be taught. Fuck, I have a seminar in 30 minutes, I need those books.”

To his credit, Spencer Reid looked panicked as he sat sifting through all the books, even as your anger rolled off of you in waves.

“I can fix this. What shelf was it on?”

“Don't bother, just ruin my day some more. Hey, how about next time, you just throw everything in the trash?”

“I was trying to help, we're going to be sharing the office, and there isn't exactly space for two desks with your current filing system.”

“So you decided to rearrange without telling me? Asking me? I've been here five months, but you strolled in five hours ago and decided to change everything to suit you.”

“That's not - look, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you can start your apology by footing the bill for whatever improvements you've made. We're not tenured professors. Anything we add to the room or request comes out of our paycheck, and I'm not starving myself for floor to ceiling bookshelves.”

Whatever retort he was about to make was lost as you grabbed your bag from the floor and stormed out, leaving him behind in your dilapidated office.

When you returned to your office later that day, he was nowhere to be found. His new furniture, however, was crowding the room. A clone of your own desk was pushed up against the side of it, the pair forming an L shape. Great. Couldn't have gotten any closer if you tried.

Your couch was still in place by the door, but the old bookshelves were gone. They were replaced by a sturdier looking wooden set that now shelved all the books you'd inherited in the office or were using for class. And some new titles.

He hadn't put them back in the order you needed them in, though you doubted he ever would, but instead had them grouped by topic and within groupings in alphabetical order.

“How very precise,” you said, running your fingers along the book spines as you made your way to your desk.

“Whoops,” you said, pulling out a book you knew wasn't yours and letting it fall to the floor.

Was it petty? Sure. Was it therapeutic?Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Nice. Mature,” a voice said behind you, and for the second time in 12 hours, you jumped at the sound of Spencer Reid's voice.

“Jesus Christ, you need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what, walking into my own office?” He said, leaning against the new bookshelves.

“Our office. Shared. For three months.”

“Oh so you do remember we have to coexist?” He asked, grinning down at you. When did he get so close that he had to look down at you?

“Trust me, your presence is…felt,” you said, gesturing around the cramped space.

“What classes are you teaching?” You sighed, pushing past him to the open door and sitting down at the sofa.

“Profiling and the Criminal Psyche and I'm guest lecturing in Criminology 101. I have a few special lectures on geographical profiles in the next month.”

“And office hours?”

“What?”

“Your office hours, you're going to need to post them soon. Mine are Mondays and Thursdays at 11am, you'll need to be out of the office then so I can consult with the students about any absences or grades. If you haven't decided on your hours yet, my schedule is taped in the first draw of my desk.”

You grabbed your jacket from the hook on the door and pulled it over you like a blanket, laying yourself down on the sofa.

“Why would I need your-”

“Do us both a favour and schedule your hours during my contracted teaching time. It'll be easier.”

“Then why don't you schedule yourself during mine?”

You scoffed as you pulled a couch cushion up to rest your head on, closing your eyes as you drowned him out.

“Gee, you're some kind of genius. Can't you figure that one out yourself?”

You heard his sight of frustration but plugged in your headphones anyway, enjoying your 20-minute power nap as you stubbornly refused to face the day's stress.

A week later, you were deep into a College Cold War.

Spencer had attempted what you'd thought was a truce on his second day, arranging the pile of books you needed for that week's seminars on his desk happily.

Until you went to grab the top of the stack, and his hand held yours down on top of it.

“Sorry, that's for my class,” he said, glancing up at you. He smiled as he noticed the irritation in your eyes as you ground your teeth together.

“I'm teaching a class today based on this text. It was an assigned reading-”

“What a coincidence. It's an assigned reading in my class as well. For all 46 students. You better run over to the library, Y/N.”

You dragged your hand out from under his, brushing off the heat that ran up your arm from his hand as disgust rather than attraction.

His existence was irritating, but his face and body were more distracting than anything.

Storming off, you knew you had to one up him somehow, but you wanted to put some thought into it before doing something impulsive. Your first thought had been slashing his tires, so some perspective was definitely needed.

A week passed, and you found yourself having to endure the man's company on a Friday night for a departmental welcome meal. You'd assumed a week ago when it was scheduled into your outlook calendar that it would be to celebrate your promotion, and now the egg was most definitely on your face.

You'd debated not even turning up, but a warning email had let you know that attendance was compulsory, and the dress code was semi-formal.

So, you begrudgingly forced yourself into the little black dress you'd purchased a lifetime ago for your first graduation and got yourself a taxi over to whatever ridiculously expensive restaurant you have to fast at this time.

“Y/N, you’re here. We weren't sure you'd show up, after… you know!” One of the older professors said as you walked in, pressing an air kiss to either cheek as she handed you a champagne flute.

“Well, attendance was compulsory, so here I am!” You wanted to wipe the pompous smile off the woman's face so badly, but unfortunately, she was a member of the hiring committee. Three more months of sucking up to her was in your future, courtesy of a shitty move by the FBI.

“You say that, but our guest of honor isn't even here yet. Typical, right?”

You downed the drink she gave you and excused yourself to take your seat at the dinner table, needing a place to rest your glass to save yourself from cracking it in your furious grip.

It took another hour for Spencer Reid to show his face, and to your glee, he looked genuinely uncomfortable at the prospect of the night ahead.

“Sorry, I was unpacking some stuff at my apartment.”

“Oh, did you move recently?” A curious voice trailed up the table to ask him as he awkwardly side stepped to his seat. Right beside you, obviously.

“No, just… I had some stuff packed up.”

He held his tongue, not revealing more as the table fell in an awkward silence.

You dragged another glass to your lips and sat back in your chair, doing your best to stay unaddressed as the appetizers finally came out.

“Does the department have dinners often?” Spencer whispered, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he leaned closer to you.

The hot feeling washed over you again as you turned towards him, immediately pulling back and putting some distance between the two of you.

“No. Usually, it is only when welcoming guest lecturers or when someone gains tenure.”

“So who got tenure?”

You scoffed. “Funny. Thanks, Spencer.”

“What?”

You looked back at him again, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“This meal is to introduce you. Everyone else here has tenure.”

“You don't.”

“Yes, well, there wasn't exactly room in the budget for the hotshot FBI profiler and a steady income for another Professor.” You slammed your glass down again and picked up your bag and things, hoping the table hadn't heard your conversation.

“Please excuse me.” You said smiling at the rest of the table. Some of the women sent you sympathetic glances, but the department dinosaurs simply continued their conversations. You'd think a department of psychologists would be able to figure out they were all absolute narcissists.

You carefully exited the group and took yourself outside for some much needed air.

“Y/N.” He shouted from behind you again, and you had to be honest, you were sick of him following and sneaking up on you.

“God, what now, Spencer? Go back inside and get celebrated or whatever. They probably can't start the self-congratulatory circle jerk without you anyway.”

“I came to apologize. Again. But you don't seem to be able to handle the words ‘I'm sorry,’ at all, do you?”

He looked exasperated, but however he was feeling, you felt worse.

“Look, Spencer. I probably have nothing against you personally. But I've just been conned into another three months of probationary minimum wage because your boss at the Bureau decided he wanted rid of you for a month or two. Some of us didn't get child genius scholarships for multiple PhDs and aren't receiving two paychecks right now.”

“If money is an issue, Y/N, you know I could-”

“No. No, stop butting into my personal problems. We can be civil, but we're not… we're not friends, Spencer.”

You stepped back and let out another sigh as you forced the words to stand between you.

“Okay. I'll stay out of your way.”

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

“Sure. Me too.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you

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balancethescales · 11 months

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thinking about the specific moments where the berzatto family falls in love with sydney (because of course they do, everyone does).

for richie, it takes the end of the beef and right up till the opening of the bear to happen. he is full of contempt and grief when he meets her and all he knows is that when he looks at her face he is afraid. he doesn’t like that feeling. richie is not a man who finds himself fearful a lot, but she is everything he is not and nothing that he is and he hates himself for it. if she is what it means to be passionate, then what is he? is he nothing but an empty shell of mikey, stuck on earth to shake his fist at passing clouds, because how dare they move and continue on like mikey was nothing to them, as if he wasn’t the very point that the earth revolved around? everyone is leaving him behind, and she is proudly leading the pack. it’s not right. but then— he gets it. he talks to garrett and jess and chef terry and he sees sydney in every corner of that restaurant. the fear slowly is replaced with respect as the week goes on and he realizes that just because she’s good doesn’t mean she’s out to get him. that’s the berzatto upbringing in him doing the talking, but it doesn’t have to, because shes a berzatto now, maybe not officially (not yet, but mark his words, she will be) but she is, and that’s not how she does things. so, he lets her lead them into the future to something good and different and better.

for sugar, it’s instant. she was born to a mother who is triggered by her very existence, and it has hurt her all her life. she is full of love and the one person she wants to give it to the most doesn’t want any part of it. she was born to give but is surrounded by those who are afraid to even take it, to reach out their hand and meet her in the middle. and if they cant take then they themselves have nothing to give, so she gets used to being the one who has to force feed her love down their throats, because if no one does, if no one shows them that they are worthy of good things, then they will crumble (“if i just talked to him more—” “no, nat—” “if i had just—” “it’s not your fault, honey. it’s never been.”). but when she meets sydney, it’s like looking into a mirror. she sees her bright eyes and soft smiles and careful but strong hands and instantly recognizes her for what she is: a giver. and sugars heart swells with even more love than she thought possible, because finally, she’s not alone— there is someone else there to slowly, albeit subconsciously, take care of her crumbling family, to show them that despite what their mother may have taught them, its okay to not be okay (she tries her best not to cry when syd asks her if shes okay, but she does. and syd doesnt grab her face or yell at her or call her stupid. she makes her a meal. and sugar cries some more).

for cicero, the love isn’t instant, and it’s not even entirely love. she is strong and she is assertive, but that also makes her naive and a very expensive risk. she makes him curious for what’s to come, intrigued by the way she doesn’t back down from carmy whose voice so often mimics the berzattos that came before him (“you’re better than this, kid.” “i don’t know what i am.” “whatever it is, it’s not this.”). she's self assured and knows her place in the establishment and is unafraid to let people know it. it’s a refreshing change of pace from mikey, who often resorted to intimidation to get his way, or carmy, who’s anxiety envelopes him and distracts him from what’s right there in front of him. but she is not them. she is focused and on track and is willing to put in the work to get what she wants. he doesn’t visit the bear often, only drops by once in a while to deliver bad news or to fulfill a favour or to just enjoy some good food, but when he does, she is always there, dedicated to ensuring that carmy and michaels, and now, her dream stays alive. she is good for his family, and he trusts her to keep the berzatto spirit alive.

for michelle, it’s quite simple. she always looked out for carmy, their little bear, so when she meets her it’s a family thanksgiving party at the bear and syd stumbles out of the kitchen, obviously frazzled and a little sweaty (“carmy, im not ready, i didn’t even change yet and the turk—” “don’t worry, tina will take care of it, you look great, they’ll love you, they just really wanted to meet you—”), but she’s smiling. she’s a little awkward when she introduces herself, and michelle finds herself endeared by her nervous ramble (“it’s, uh, really nice to meet you guys. sorry, i didn’t know that i was going to be pulled out of the kitchen so soon. uh, im sydney. yeah, i guess carmy already told you guys, huh? um. im sorry, how are you related to the family again? i mean, i dont want to offend but it’s just. uh. well, you guys are just very... normal?”) and she’ll laugh and look at stanley and the two of them will think to themselves, good job carmy, she’s a good one, before telling syd something dumb and nonsensical about a genetic mutation and richie interrupts to tell michelle it’s not a genetic mutation it’s called being boring and syd will laugh and michelle will too, truly happy that their little bear found someone normal, a breath of fresh air within the smoke of their family.

for donna, it’s weird. it’s tense. they don’t meet for a long time. they don’t meet at the bear when it first opens and not at the bear even when it has found it’s footing, but by chance. they are somewhere mundane (a grocery store, a park, or maybe just the street) and there is no other family member around when syd meets the berzatto matriarch. she only knows what donna looks like from photos at sugars house because carmys apartment is devoid of any actual sentiment (although that has begun to change since she made him get an actual dresser and he dedicated one of the drawers to her stuff). she calls out to her by her name, and donna turns around startled. she doesn’t recognize syd, of course, who introduces herself and informs her of who she is to the family. when donna smiles it’s not a real one, and syd knows this, but it doesn’t deter her. she tells donna that her kids love her (“even after everything, nat?” “she’s our mother. its all that we can do.”) and that her kids are great (“carmy, you are not broken.” “im a little broken.” “no, listen to me, the fact that you are still here, means something. its something.”) and that there will always be a table for her at the bear (“chef, someones calling in for a reso for 1 but we’re all full up… except for—“ “yo, dont finish that sentence. table 7 for ms. berzatto is an indefinite booking. is that understood?” “yes, chef”). donnas smile fades and her chest fills with anger but just as she’s about to explode in typical berzatto fashion syd interrupts her. she has faced the bear many a time before and has handled herself with grace and dignity everytime, so this is no different. she smiles brightly and thanks donna for listening to her and hopes she considers coming in, because she’d really like to cook for her. she looks like she needs a good meal. she deserves one. she turns and walks away. donnas stomach growls. that night, table 7 is occupied for the first time since the bear opened its doors.

and carmy? well, there isn’t an exact moment. its a culmination of awkward partnership (“i don’t want to be shitty.” “okay, then dont be.”) and flawless teamwork (“the menu needs—” “already on it, chef.”) and nights unwinding at the bar down the street (“of course you drink an old fashioned.” “what’s that supposed to mean?” “nothing, it’s just very… tortured-chef-from-the-slums-of-chicago of you”) and spontaneous phone calls just to hear the others voice (“why are you whispering?” “i… don’t know. my dads home. its a habit.” “you’re 27.” “and you’re white, you wouldn’t get it.”) till they’re just inseparable (“cousin, wheres carmy?” “with syd, duh.” “why'd i even ask?”). and then, sydney and carmen become something else. something tender and sweet and terrifying and beautiful all mixed together into… something. there’s no word for what they have. but it feels so right; to the guests who taste their food and recognize that the hands who put it together are full of love and care; to the staff at the bear who see the unspoken communication, the lingering touches, and their soft eyes that seem to always be on the other; to the berzatto family who notice that carmy looks a little brighter, and shakes a little less. yes, its love, but its so much more. it’s syd and carmy. it always has been, and always will be.

(“can i ask you something? something corny and lame and gross?” “always.” “when did you, like, know?” “know what?” “like, when did you know that you loved me? like, not as a chef or a friend, but as... y'know.” “that’s very middle school of you to ask.” “shut up, i did warn you.” “…” “so?” “its, uh, i don’t, i don’t know.” “well, that’s rude.” “no, i mean, i can’t say its one moment because... it was all of them. together. like, one moment you’re staging and then everything happened and, and, keeps happening but the next thing i knew you were there and you always were there and i just knew that i never wanted you to not be there.” “that’s…. really, really, disgusting, and frankly, a little unprofessional.” “oh, fuck off.” “no, like, i knew you were obsessed with me, but wow, that is a whole new other level.” “fuck you, get off of me, don’t touch me.” “no no no, please—” “i let you into my family—” “let me?” “into my restaurant—” “i think you mean OUR restaurant—” “only for you to humiliate me in my own bed? how dare you.” “…are you sulking?” “…” “…carmy?” “syd?” “me too.” “…heard, chef. now come back here.”)

(and it’s unspoken, but everyone knows that michael would’ve loved her too. i mean, she’s sydney fucking adamu, she conquered the bear. how could anyone not love her?)

#this is just a love letter to sydney adamu #because she is everything right with the world #she’s got that dawg (re: bear) in her #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydney adamu #ayo edibiri #carmen berzatto #jeremy allen white #richie jerimovich #natalie berzatto #cicero the bear #cousin michelle the bear #donna berzatto #michael berzatto #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney

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peachesofteal · 3 months

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John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology

The girl is here.

You’re tucked in a corner booth, rigid against old cedar slats, brown bottle and half peeled beer label crinkled between your fingers. The yellow track lighting casts a dubious shadow across your face, faint flicker of unease painted through your brow.

Your lips touch the rim. John’s stomach pitches.

You look up. He pretends you don’t. Perches on the stool, empty one of many, and waits for his usual. Rocks whiskey. Amber syrup, a cold burn.

One like he feels now, when he catches a local giving you a once, twice over.

You’re a grown woman. Grown women go to bars.

“Saw Aly made a friend the other day.” The bartender is lighthearted, but the comment doesn’t land, just floats aimlessly in the stale air, floundering.

“Yeah.” This is more than curiosity, this interest the town has expressed in you. More than good natured, or ill natured, interest. It’s sinister. It’s calculating. It makes him want to lock you away, hide you from the eyes of this place, the ones watching from the dark, the depths, the pale orange windows lining the street.

“The conservation effort pays for the ranger position, you know.” Mari clips at his left elbow. “Wouldn’t kill you to be nice to her.” It might.

She’s not wrong. He glances at your empty bottle and wandering eyes, and then with a sigh, orders one with a second pour for himself.

John doesn’t meander. He walks with purpose. It’s a learned technique from his past, straight and purposeful. A captain’s walk. Still proud, still able. Still carrying the echo of gunfire, shouts of dying men, well laid plans gone to waste.

He wants to walk right out the door, pull his hat down around his ears, tuck his chin and take himself home.

But then he’d be awake. Listening. Waiting for the sound of your door opening and closing, your feet heavy on the staircase.

Silent watching. Too afraid to go close. Unable to bring himself to gentle a wild thing, again. He’d dig his fingers into your flesh, rip apart these pieces singing to him, the ones carrying an unnatural tune, a siren song trying to drag him into frigid waters.

He’d dig and dig until he’s made a new home. Until he’s hollowed you out, turned you in on yourself. Until he’s lost where he ends and begins, lost the feeling of the most sacred pieces of his heart, the ones already slipping through his fingers.

He burns with a desire to consume you. Pick you apart. See what makes your wild heart tick. You’re like the sea, he already knows. A wild thing, in a wild place, with a wild passion. An interest so feral it’d kill you.

It might.

So when he appears at the end of the table, peace offering in hand, he doesn’t expect a smile or a gesture. He expects what he gets: a confused glance and then, a hot streak dancing in your eyes, willful as the tides. Amphitrite herself.

He hates you for it. Hates how much the burn has blossomed. Hates how you smile at him in the mornings, even though he’s only ever given you frosty, grim half smiles and frowns.

You’re willful. He’d bring you to heel, do to you what was done to him, bend body and soul, and then you’d never leave this place.

“Hi.”

“Can I sit?” He motions, and you chew the inside of your cheek before nodding.

“Please.”

“Can I ask you about the wolves?” No. Ask about anything, but the wolves.

“What about them?”

“Thought I heard them, the other night when I was out.” His spine snaps straight to attention, liquid fire sticking to his stomach like tar. It settles there, in this uncomfortable space he’s built out for you, for all the pieces he’s trying to jam up and away.

“Out where?” A sheepish look crosses your face.

“I went for a walk.”

“Thought I told you not to walk alone at night.” It’s a grand assumption, you being alone. Grand assumption that any one of these starved boys hasn’t picked you up already, hasn’t already tried to make you theirs, to pin you under their body in a bed and give you pieces of themselves.

“I wanted to look at the stars.” It’s a simple answer, but makes the blood hot under his coat. He wonders how much you like the word no, or if anyone has laid you across their knee and spanked you raw before. His hands itch just thinking about it.

He’d do it. He’d lick your tears afterwards too, brine fresh on his tongue. Sweeter than sugar. His crying girl, bent and broken beneath his palms.

There’s a buzzing in the back of his head, a whine. High pitched and unbearable, like the sound Aly’s cries. It’s PTSD, or hearing loss, or tinnitus, something lingering past retirement, sharp and lurking in wait.

“The pack comes close to town. Often.”

“How big?”

“Eleven. Used to be twelve but…” he peters off, hand rubbing down his face. Not too much. “If you’re ever out around the house, or town, and they get too close. You run. Don’t freeze. Run.” He must instill this in you. This chance at survival. Running will make you prey, certainly, but if you’re close enough to town, they’ll peel off.

They know better.

“And if I’m not around the house? Or town?”

“Don’t be.”

#more vibes and nothing else sorry about it #john price x reader #John price #peaches writes #the ocean anthology #captain john price

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ddejavvu · 10 months

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mv Monday!!!!

Do you think you could write a mall!au where reader works at like a women’s store (think Victoria’s Secret or aerie type) but mall employee!sirius/remus come in all the time to flirt with her? I don’t have a pref for either boy, whatever you feel like!!! 🫶🫶🫶

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

It's 1 PM on a Thursday, so you're not surprised that the only people in your store are Lupin and Black. They come more often than you do, you're fairly certain, and they don't work with you.

"Boys," You drawl, watching their pathetic attempt to seem casual wandering amongst, "If you're not here to buy something, you know I have to ask you to leave."

Both men turn, once more feigning coy. Remus reaches for a pair of panties beside him without looking, and Sirius brings up the rear as he approaches your counter.

"Just these," Sirius grins, and Remus sets the lacy underwear in front of you, price tag facing up and ready to be scanned.

You chew the inside of your cheek; you should challenge them. You should stop them in their tracks, refuse to sell them the underwear, because you know they're only buying it to stay in the store. They're relentless, and although their persistence pleases you, you're determined to get them to crack. They won't admit that they're pursuing you, but you're tired of the game they're playing; you want to win.

Unfortunately, you can't just deny them the sale. You don't have good reason, not reason enough for corporate, and their rules are that you're allowed to refuse service only on pre-approved grounds.

Horniness is not one of them, so you scan the panties with a tinny beep.

"$18.39." You wait for them to blanch, to back down because they hadn't expected to get this far, and $20 is more than they're willing to pay to flirt.

Instead, "Can we have that gift-wrapped, dove?"

You try to tamp down the burning of your cheeks at Remus's words, watching as he swipes his card when prompted. The payment goes through, and you snag tissue paper from under the counter, carefully folding the panties in on themselves until you can package them in a neat square. You set them gently into a pink striped bag, one that holds its stiff shape as you tug at the black strings, and pass it over the counter, letting Lupin take it from your outstretched fingers.

"Thanks." Sirius grins, and Remus pawns the bag off onto him. You wait for them to leave, to take their daily dose of teasing and head back to their record store, but instead Sirius reaches out, setting the bag back onto the counter.

"Gotta present for you, angel." Sirius grins, "Wanna try 'em on? Just to make sure they fit, and all."

Your stomach tries migrating to your feet. You're surprised by their bold moves, they're usually more lazily flirtatious. Now they're outright brazen, and you're at a loss for words.

Remus sees your brain malfunctioning, and he considers that it might be for the wrong reasons. He grabs hold of Sirius's elbow, "If you're uncomfortable-"

But you don't let him finish, quickly shaking off your momentary shock.

"Come on, you two," You hop the counter, landing tantalizingly close to them before they have the chance to stumble backwards. You take a hold of each of their hands, motioning for Sirius to grab the gift bag with a tilt of your chin towards the pink plastic.

"Dressing rooms are vacant. I can manage a fifteen minute break," You start towards the stalls on the opposite wall of the store, "That's seven minutes for each of you, and one for cleanup. Don't be loud." You round on them just before you reach the dressing rooms, narrowing your eyes at their pleasantly surprised expressions, "If you get me fired we can't ever do this again."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #sirius black x reader fanfiction #wolfstar x reader #ddejavvu’s multiverse mondays #multiverse mondays

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sweet-as-an-angel · 5 months

Note

Helloo !! ^^ Its me again ahaha 🙈

Feeling you with the number of RQs ! (': i have a lot of unfinished ones too, and I FEEL SO JORRIVLE FOR SENDING ONE in knowing that💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭, but this has been in the forefront of my mind 😵‍💫. Please don't feel pressured to respond! 🫣 I won't blame you if you'd rather not to ☺️🙌//

...

Yandere Outlaw, having abducted reader, not at all having had anticipated the strength of their connections.

While reader isn't necessarily strong themselves, they have a strong family, a line of uncles and brothers that are feared across the West for their brutality, their violence, and most notably, their loyalty. This is especially jarring given that reader is the youngest in the family, so of course they would be overprotective over them, as weren't they just the baby of the family, their sweet lil pumpkin?

It's why they are second only to Outlaw himself in terms of criminality, notorious instead, however for how they are willing to kill for blood feud, and to wreak havoc in a bid to avenge anyone that crossed the path of their family member(s).

Now picture this: having heard of reader's abduction, to describe their reaction as fury, rage, even wrath, would all be an understatement. They would be getting together, coordinating a plan, and intending to shoot the damn bastard dead, as scum like him should pay for messing with the wrooong criminals.

Now this brings me to my question: what would Outlaw's reaction be to waking up one day to see not a trace of their darling, their hostage rescued by their cowboy brothers and uncles? (Or something more creative than this,, ^^"" ", i doubt that theyd leave him with lungs and eyes, let alone ALIVE after locating his whereabouts and saving their sweet lil pumpkin, thw baby of the family. My imagination can only take me so far an idk 😓💔)

Would Outlaw go after each individual member of the family down, on a furious witch-hunt in a bid to rescue their darling? After all, Outlaw has been on countless raids riding solo with nothing aside from a horse and his trusty shotgun, became infamous for being the West's deadliest gunslinger, has eliminated the wealthiest businessmen and robbed them of all their money, and made a career out of being a criminal.

Or would he accept defeat? This is clearly not a family to mess with, and it was a miracle that they hadn't put his beheaded head on a stake and set it on fire, condemnimg his corpse. He'd have to be a fool to risk this, wouldn't he? Was reader, his darling, really worth that risk?

Would love to hear your thoughts ! ☺️💞

ALSO SORRU FOE THE REALLY LONG ASKS I FEEL SO BAD BC I GDT CARRIED AWAY JDJSJAJAJASSS 😭😭🙏 PLS FORGIVR ME AAAAAAARRHEHSS

My sweet Anon, we simply must find a name for you ! Your ideas cannot go without an identity to which we can attribute their creation ^^. Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful mind with us <3 !

♡ This occurrence is very in-character for the Outlaw to encounter; albeit never on such an intimate level.

♡ He’s made enemies out of every criminal in the West – namely for resigning them to a life imprisoned while making off with his loot, gifting them a sentence he’d have served himself were he not so adept at the skill of escapism. In the early days when he first started working with other criminals, at least; he’d never make such a mistake now.

♡ You see, the Outlaw is the very definition of work smarter, not harder. So while he may seem as if he’s given up his pursual of you by hanging back, letting you go back to your family and re-integrate with civilised life, he’s tracking you. Watching you. Anticipating your every move.

♡ He’ll find you – eventually – but he won’t swoop in to retrieve you at the first opportunity; he knows that this will simply incur another rescue effort and his imminent execution.

♡ He’ll start to pick off the male authority figures in your family, starting with the weakest (however large and imposing they may be).

♡ He knows that, without the leader, the pack will scatter, meaning that there will still be some of your family he missed during his executions – members who could still come looking for you upon discovering your kidnapping (again).

♡ Sure, picking off the weakest ones will put the strongest on-edge, but it keeps them packed together – around you – right where he wants them.

♡ The Outlaw knows of the Reader’s family’s reputation. He’s even met them during the occasional heist; opportunists by trade in their willingness to jump upon the corpse of the Outlaw’s victories as soon as his back is turned. But he also knows none are as keen and accurate a marksman as he, and he uses this to his advantage.

♡ While the Outlaw specialises in short-range firearms, he is more than capable with long-distance ones, too. And, once he lures your protectors away from you, he’ll ensure their execution is swift and unforeseen. He’ll perch atop a sturdy tree branch and steady himself, bringing the head of whoever fell for his diversion into the sights of a Whitworth he dusted off and brought from home.

♡ The minute he knows you’re all alone – that your uncles and brothers and cousins are too busy painting the town red with their bodies to stow you away – is when he’ll swoop in, plucking you out of bed and slinging you over his shoulder as he had all those months ago during your first meeting, winding you as he throws you atop his horse and bolting off into the horizon.

♡ So, to put it simply, Anon: yes. To the Outlaw, you are absolutely worth the effort.

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#sweet as an angel #yandere #original yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere outlaw #yandere outlaw x reader #yandere writing #yandere blog #tw yandere

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maritotoy · 4 months

Text

MAUGA X Support/Medic Reader ((Part. 1))

NOTE: Believe it or not, I never realize how long I've written this one.

This narrative tracks Mauga's obsession with Y/N as it grows to the point where he is prepared to kill everyone who stands in his way. With this in mind, Mauga's commitment would gradually grow. He would start out softly and then this need on you would get stronger.

It all began when your talents were initially utilised for recruitment. You were a terrific help, willing to assist your teammates in whatever way they needed.

Your main issue was that you could never truly let them handle things on their own. As a result, it became increasingly difficult to care for yourself.

They promised you riches if you helped them fight back against their threat. There were only so many ways to profit from rival worlds, after all. You were aware that you were going into a whole new universe when you agreed, but you also felt that you had no choice but to accept them.

Ultimately, you didn't wish to pass away, did you?

It was stated to you when you first joined TALON Organization, that you should concentrate only on the battlefield. Up until you met Baptiste, an exceptional combat medic, it was great with you. Your shared enthusiasm for curing illness is what unites the two of you. It turned into a shared passion. As you try to acquire experience in several areas, like medical supplies, you both hope to discover some more useful abilities, like healing or even a unique kind of combat capability.

But you can hardly ever get to Baptiste, he's constantly at the top. Both a combat mercenary and medic. You're always looking for ways to sharpen your skills.

Even after meeting him again at your base and on missions, you are still determined to improve your ability to deal with any possible emergencies. Not until later do you find out what happens when a member of your unit gets injured.

Baptiste surged in, carrying an imposing stature and a solid, muscular frame. His voice sounded desperate, asking, "I'm sorry if I came to you! I know you are busy, but I need help with my friend, please, Y/N!" The urgency was so obvious that there wasn't much resistance. Even if he was a doctor himself, it must have seemed urgent enough.

Besides... You were in the right place to help.

You rushed over to his side and helped him stabilize his huge friend. "What happened, Bap? Are you hurt?" He didn't reply, but his eyes told you all you needed to know.

You fix your sight on his pal. He does not appear to be hurt or seriously damage. However, the man's body is completely soaked, which looks very suspicious to you. "Is he alright, Bap? I don't see anything wrong." He shook his head and gave a sigh.

"We were attacked. Mauga and I found the source of the enemy attack and got separated."

"How long has it been since then?"

"Four hours, maybe five."

"Do you have any idea of what may have caused the damage?"

"I'm not sure. However, I had already discovered him unconscious but unharmed on the ground. It should not take long for him to awaken.." You glance at the unconscious man again before you say, "Let me take a look at him." He nodded and stepped aside.

"Mauga could never be wounded by shots like that. Despite his size, he could easily absorb one hit thanks to his physique." He explains.

You crouch down and check on his comrade. He seems fine to you. There's nothing unusual about him, other than the fact that he's a bit too heavy.

You knew Mauga.

And with such.

You just don't know how to engage with him.

On a conversation? Yes. Your profession is your duty.

You don’t really get along with those who rely solely on themselves as an advantage, even though you respect their abilities.

The feeling is mutual. Every time someone gets hurt because of something beyond their control, you are there to help them.

Because that's your job as a medic.

You both have quite a difference in interests, though. You can't stand the fact that he’s so reckless, you can't understand why he doesn't think more carefully before he acts. As soon as he sees blood, it's always the most important thing.

Mauga stands tall, towering over his opponents with an impressive height of 7'5 ft tall. (My headcanon)

Mauga is a formidable opponent on the front lines thanks to his strong, muscular physique. His broad shoulders and thick neck gives off an air of strength and power, and his body is well-built, demonstrating his strength and capacity to deal severe damage to rivals.

Did I mention he has two hearts?

Unlike you, Mauga is a ruthless and cunning individual, driven by his own motivations. He never lets anyone interfere with his goals, whether or not they involve you. While he might act with reckless disregard sometimes, he is also able to calculate the best course of action.

Not anyone knows this. But you knew nontheless with Baptiste.

You may be underestimating him in some way, or you may have witnessed the genuine thing, up close and personal, but he always brags about his achievements without hesitation or shame. His fighting style turns wild and unpredictable when he fights. If Mauga doesn't want to win, he will take his time, before using ChaCha and Gunny, his chainguns, to grab the victory, and he won't give up until he achieves his objective.

He definitely is careless, isn't he?

"He's breathing just fine, Baptiste. I would say he is in perfect health, aside from the injuries, I can't detect any signs of any damage injuries either." You said as you stood up. Baptiste sighs relief. "I'll leave him to you doctor. Don't worry, I trust that you have everything under control." He says this to you while nodding in satisfaction.

This gesture of his is a way of gratitude towards the medic's work.

"I will be back later," he says as he leaves to make a round to prepare for battle.

While Baptiste was gone, you sat next to the downed mercenary soldier and begin to observe him. In the midst of his unconsciousness, he seems to be in a good state. There was no sign of discomfort or pain. His pulses are fast but steady, knowing that Mauga have two hearts, one that allowed him to replace his damaged, organic heart with a cybernetic one. That way, his heart will beat twice as fast. You can easily tell that Mauga is in his natural state.

Your eyes began to feel heavy after observing him for some time. You weren't sure if it's due to fatigue from watching him, or simply exhaustion from your duties as a medic.

Before you knew it, you fell asleep.

When you awoke, you find yourself staring back into the face of Maugaloa Malosi, whose lips formed into those flashing, same pasted smile as usual. “Ah, Doctor. How nice to see you again.”

You quickly wake up, sitting straight up on the chair. “M-Mauga!" You exclaimed, alarmed. "H-How is you- I mean are you feeling alright?”

He grinned at you. “I am feeling rather fine.” You let out a long, sigh of relief. However, you didn't anticipate that this would happen frequently. “I see..." You replied.

Silence takes over for a while. Mauga stared at you intensely before taking a step forward. “Your Y/N, correct? Baptiste little assistant. I've heard much about you, but never expect that I would get to get treated from you.”

You flinched slightly at his words 'assistant' and the word 'little', but you remained calm. “I'm glad that you feel better now. You should rest and recover. If you still need them..."

“I appreciate the concern,” he says as he reaches towards your shoulder. You instinctively raise your hands in preparation of blocking. This caught him off guard, causing him to pause in his movements, then booms laughing.

“My apologies, Teuila. I thought that you might have forgotten what I do here,” he said in that familiar, friendly tone.

“If I recall correctly, I haven't given you permission to touch me.” This comment caught him off guard as he chuckles deeply.

He stares at your hand for a while longer. You're beginning to become worried. After a brief silence, he reaches forward and lightly holds onto your wrist.

“That’s a very sensitive spot…” He whispers gently. Your heartbeat begins to accelerate. “And your pulse is fast. Is this normal?” he asks. “Yes,” you respond in a soft voice.

“Then why are you afraid? You know I'm not going to hurt you...” He grinned. His sharp teeth glinted menacingly in the dim light. "Surely you've already made a friend? You also gave him a lot of attention than you do with me. Or have you grown to dislike me?"

"...I... I beg your pardon-" your speech is interrupted by Baptiste with a tired expression.

"Hey... Sorry that I took so long. I went to gather supplies. Mission was a success." He sighed in relief as he approached you.

"Mauga, I'm glad your awake bud." Baptiste sighs in relief and smiles at Mauga. Mauga returned the gesture before looking back at you.

He still has that huge grin plastered across his features while his eyes darted towards yours. "You're crazy out there Mauga. Do you really think that you can defeat the enemies single handedly?" Baptiste says with a chuckle. “You know me Baptiste, I never do things without planning them out.” He grinned, revealing that row of dazzlingly white teeth. “I still don't understand how you've been knocked down so easily. It's hard to believe that you can be beaten like that.” Baptiste gives a half smirk, half frown.

You listen to their conversation, and you try to make sense of it. Mauga laughs at the situation, as if it's all so obvious. "C'mon, Baptiste, we have bigger problems than me right now. The mission is a success because we finally found the enemy camp. But it was a close call, and we needed your medical expertise to treat the wounded," Mauga explains to Baptiste while looking directly into his eyes with a sly smile. "I carried your massive ass in this camp with support of your weight alone. You ought to be pleased to have a subordinate with such skill." Baptiste smirks. He was referring to you. Mauga laughs at his friend's criticism, displaying his amusement at the circumstances.

"So yeah. It was pretty rough, but we managed to secure the objective! Isn't that great news?"

It's not really a surprise to you.

Mauga does tend to put himself in danger, especially when he's in an unfamiliar place.

This guy is completely reckless, which is why you can't believe that he managed to survive so many battles without falling apart or breaking down.

"Your a loose-canon, but I hope ended well..." you say calmly, hoping that you sound convincing enough.

"I can assure that I have the highest respect and admiration for your abilities as a medic. I would never doubt your skills, even if I hadn't personally experience how skilled you are in dealing with wounds." Mauga comments, he sounds sincere as ever.

Baptiste grins again. "That's a big ego of yours, my friend. You should consider giving a few compliments to the people who did more than you."

"I would love to, my friend, but there's nothing wrong with being modest about our accomplishments."

"Alright," Baptiste said, sounding annoyed.

--------

After several hours, days, months of treating your patients at base. You cannot help but wonder seeing Mauga quite often, whether that is purely because of duty or something else. Although it is difficult to tell what he's thinking, there are moments where you notice the way that he is constantly staring at you. Like he's trying to figure out something about you:

studying your appearance, facial expressions, mannerisms. Sometimes he gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes he appears to be lost in his own world, occasionally, you could catch him smirking knowingly, or even smiling to himself. These small gestures usually only occur during times when it's with you with him. Sometimes, the man is just too cheerful, or too energetic in general.

You could hardly handle the stress of handling all these patients in the infirmary on your own. You're starting to miss having Baptiste around to keep him occupied while you go through patients. You sighed loudly not until Mauga appears behind you

You found him with wounds on his chest and torso. You turn to look at him, "What happened?"

"Nothing serious..." He grins, showing his sharpened teeth.

"Just a minor injury, eh?" You raise an eyebrow at the mercenary, crossing your arms over your chest. Mauga simply shrugs as he sits on a table.

There was another period of silence between you two, and the atmosphere seemed to tense up considerably. This time, it's you who breaks the silence. "I'm sorry that you got injured. I don't know how I should react seeing someone else getting hurt so casually. You could have died out there. And that's not the worst thing that can happen," you said sarcastically and sternly.

He chuckles. "Oh really? Tell me more." He leans closer to your face, gazing deeply into your eyes. "Ah. So that's how it is."

You glare at him angrily, but he ignores you as you continue working. "Are you seriously going to mock me for worrying about you?"

"Not at all," he replied, with a hint of sarcasm. "But there is one thing that concerns me."

"What? You're going to insult me too, aren't you?" Mauga laughs while Y/N tends his injury.

The felt of your touch sends shivers throughout his entire body. He tries hard to suppress the sudden urge to grab her hand and hold on tightly. It's becoming harder to control these urges though. He shakes his head rapidly as he pulls away from you. He looks at you with narrowed eyes. "I'm not mocking you, you know?"

Your gaze flicks briefly to his. "Hm."

There was a short silence between you two, until you began to clean a cut on one of his legs. You noticed his gaze follow every movement of your fingers. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'd prefer that you didn't ask questions so frequently, Teuila."

"Teuila?" You face him. "You know, I never asked you of this... But why do you call me that?" He lets out a deep chuckle and replies. "Because you look like Teuila. It fits well, doesn't it?" He flashes you a warm smile before turning his head away again.

You shrugged of his answer, continuing your work without saying anything further, although you were extremely curious. "Teuila... What does that word mean?" There's a brief moment of silence in between the two of you once you finished cleaning up the blood staining his leg. A faint smile plays across his lips again. "I thought you were better than that."

"And you think that you're better than me?"

"Yeah," he replies smugly.

"Then... You've obviously underestimated me, don't you?" You give him a challenging smirk. He returns the smile with a smirk of his own, but he then turns serious again. His eyes narrow. "Let me enlighten you. That name means 'flower'. Do you understand what kind of flower it means?"

You gave him a blank stare. He continues to smirk, waiting for you to understand his meaning. Eventually, you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. "Do I look like I care to know?" You scoff, rolling your eyes lightly.

Mauga laughs. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what you think of it..."

There was silence between you two for a few seconds, and you looked away with furrowed brows.

You finish patching up the mercenary, placing some bandages around him and securing them securely. "Now that I finished helping you, you're dismissed." You professionaly said after you made sure that everything was covered properly. Mauga laughs at this. "Really? Now? Just like that?" He asks mockingly.

"Yes Mauga, I don't have any other duties besides tending to your wounds. I've been doing that for quite some time now," you responded coldly.

Mauga raises an eyebrow at this. "You know, if you start beginning to care about those wounds, you might find yourself losing them. If you want me to leave your clinic quickly, then you'll have to earn my trust first, which requires some work."

You sigh heavily. Of course Mauga will insist on making things difficult for you. "I am no doctor Mauga, I cannot cure your injuries." You sarcasticly said.

"Oh I know that. But you're still willing to take the risk." He chuckled.

"You wouldn't had to waste precious time coming here in order to talk shit."

Mauga laughs at you again, grinning like a cat that ate the canary. "I wouldn't waste too much time coming here either, but I also wouldn't be able to enjoy it quite as much because you'll be gone by then," he says confidently. "Besides, you're not exactly known for your patience." You roll your eyes, turning back to the table in front of you.

"You know I've always wondered what it feels like to be your patient," Mauga mused. "To be the one receiving the attention of the most skilled medic in your battalion."

"You must be joking," you replied, you know what he meant, not wanting to think that you would ever become his patient.

"No. You know me... " He grins. You groaned. "Don't' make such assumptions, we don't know each other all that well yet."

"Yet..."

You glared at him as he laughed. "Whatever. It seems like there's no stopping you, is there? We haven't even officially met yet, and already you're acting as if you have a good relationship with me." You sighed exasperatedly, massaging the area of your forehead in irritation.

"Listen, Mauga. My job is simple, I care for my patients and treat them well. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I'm different," he said cockily.

"How? Are you not afraid of dying?"

"No... No I'm not... I've done so much more reckless things than death." His expression suddenly shifted to an emotionless one. For a moment, it felt almost as if he wasn't looking at you anymore. Then he chuckled softly, giving you a playful wink. "But I'm no saint."

"It must be hard to admit being human." You shook your head slightly.

"Sometimes." His grin returned to his features.

You couldn't help but stare directly into his eyes for a little longer, taking in how dark they actually are.

Mauga shows a huge plastered face. His still wearing his dumb smile.

You blinked at him.

He blinked back.

You rolled your eyes. "Stop smiling so much." He continued to laugh, as you turned away from him again. Mauga stood up and stretched lazily, "I have something to attend to, I'll be seeing you later," Mauga teasingly said as he made his way towards the door. He opens it, but he glances back.

A small smirk forms on his lips.

You watch him disappear outside the door, closing it behind him with a click. Once the door closes you let out a heavy sigh, resting your back against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing a mile, a minute, both at the prospect of having finally been alone with Mauga again, and the strange feeling within you after you spent several hours alone with him.

This feeling...

It's definitely not normal.

End of part 1

Part 2- ???

#mauga #maugaloa malosi #mauga overwatch #overwatch mauga #overwatch #mauga x reader #ow mauga #mauga ho'okano #overwatch x reader

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luveline · 1 year

Note

Jade, after the last zombie blurb I can’t stop thinking about like, r taking care of Steve’s knee. Poor boy does so much for everyone else and probably doesn’t think to take care of himself so r just wraps it for him or something. Feel free to use this as a prompt if you’d like, no pressure!!

thank you for the prompt beautiful, I thought it was a great idea!! steve zombie au — you wrap up Steve's injured knee and get ready to move out of your makeshift camp. tw for zombie apocalypse typical violence and gore

There's a misery in the air thick as coal dust. For five days now, you, Steve, and the rest of the survivors from The College have been holed up in an apartment building within the city that surrounds The Michigan–Indiana border. At first, you'd been scared that the raiders who ruined your community would follow the tracks and find you, but a handful of scouts doubled back to find the ruins of your community completely empty. Wrecked, but uninhabited.

With no one to hide from, a new problem emerges. How are you going to feed this many mouths, support so many children who can't fend for themselves?

You have to get back on the road.

So people are packing up. You, amongst the injured, can only sit and watch, though your cuts and bruises get better everyday and this is more of a Steve-mandated bed rest than a necessary sit down. Meanwhile, Steve limps around on his hurting knee and pretends it doesn't hurt at all. You can see him across the room from you now, helping a young girl tie her borrowed shoes tightly. You'll be walking as far as you can tonight, which with little ones won't be very far, but to them will seem like miles and miles and miles.

"How's that? Not too tight?" he asks, tying her laces.

"It's okay."

"You need them nice and snug so you don't get blisters, I know it's not comfortable. You're being really brave, Debbie."

"Is my dad coming home soon?"

You're terrified for a moment that her dad is one of the people who didn't make it here with you, but luckily Steve must know who she means, and he says, "Any minute now, the river's not far. Do you want to come and sit with me and my girlfriend?"

She nods to her left, where a book rests face down. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. We're just over there if you change your mind, okay?"

He points at you. Debbie and Steve notice you watching them, and you give them a friendly smile and wave. You know you don't look especially inviting. You have marks all over your arms, more on your legs though they're hidden by your pants, and your hair hasn't been taken care of in a week. Your wave falters, even as Steve waves back.

You pull on the jacket you've been given and pull the hood over your hair before Steve gets back to you.

Steve sits down next to you and sighs.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

"Yeah." It's not as if you have any possessions to pack. "Are you?"

"For sure," he says, dropping his face into his hands. "No, god… I'm tired, I don't wanna walk. I wish we could stay here."

"I know, I'm sorry."

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and straightens up. You haven't had a whole lot to talk about with one another lately, but luckily love doesn't need a lot. Your hands meet like magnets and your fingers thread together, his palm rough as yours but pleasantly warm.

You sit like that for a while.

"Here, the boon you requested," Robin announces, dropping a little white parcel into your lap. "Did you guys need socks? Sarah said she'd swap me four whole pairs for one of my hoodies."

Robin being willing to swap one of her hoodies for socks makes you wanna cry. You smile at her.

"We don't need any socks. You need to stop trading your things away," Steve says.

"I know you'll find me another one." She looks between you both and bites her lip, hands moving up to her hair. She scratches through it. "Maybe we could stay here tonight, catch up with everyone else tomorrow," she suggests, eyeing you both thoughtfully.

"No," Steve says, kind but firm. "We're ready to go."

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna go see if Chloe needs a hand with baby Ada," Robin says. She makes a heart with her hand and pushes it down at you. You make one back.

"She doesn't even like babies," Steve says as she leaves.

"She's amazing. Okay, take your pants off handsome."

Steve blinks at you. "Excuse me?"

You hold the bandage Robin brought you between your index and middle finger. "Time to wrap you up."

"I'm not cut."

"I know, but we're gonna be walking, and your knee still hurts. The compression will help."

Steve knows you're right, even if he isn't eager to be looked after. You shake the blanket over his lap and he slides out of his pants, baring his purpled knee to you unhappily.

"The bruise is worse," you murmur, unwrapping the bandage from itself in looser circles around your hand. "But it doesn't look swollen anymore. How does it feel?"

"I was shit scared it was fucked forever, but it was just sprained. It's definitely getting better," he confesses.

"And if it was fucked?" you ask. He told you it didn't even hurt. "Were you going to pretend forever?"

"As long as a I could."

You rub your thumb over his kneecap and wince at his wincing. "Lame… This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry, but not for long."

"How d'you know it won't make it worse?"

"According to Sarah's copy of Field Medicine for Injury and Disease, it won't. I'm gonna start on top so it doesn't chafe while we walk, and I'm going to pull it really tight, so tell me if it doesn't feel right."

"Can I ask you something?" Steve says severely. "Who the fuck is Sarah?"

You wrap his knee. One round of white bandages at a time with a continued pressure, your fingers as gentle as they can be over the stain of his contusion. He doesn't make a sound the whole time, though you know it aches.

"Did Robin give you her last quarter?" you ask.

"What, the oxycontin? No, I think she gave it to Jonathan. His burn is scabbing over."

"Then you have nerves of steel." You want to call him my love, or my boy, but you're not often like that, and not in front of so many people. While nobody's watching, you lean down and kiss his knee. You're embarrassed as soon as you've done it but you can't take it back; you sit up and finish tucking in the end.

Steve takes your face into his hand unexpectedly.

He might call you honey, or baby, but he's quiet. You miss him so much and he's right here —you don't need The College if he's with you, but you'll miss your bedroom, because there he'd talk for hours about whatever he wanted. You'd give anything to be back there even for a second listening to him re-explain the plot of Fast Times, or try to convince you that cheese didn't even taste that good anyways so don't bother missing it.

But you're here, and he's gonna be fine. One day he's gonna feel like chatting his nonsense again and you'll be there to listen. Until then, you'll do your best to take care of him.

"Thanks," he says, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

He looks so pretty. Brown eyes, the lingering purple and yellow of the shiner he suffered nearly invisible under the dark shadows beneath them. His hair is limp and a tiny bit longer than he prefers to have it, kissing his neck on both sides. He doesn't look clean, and it doesn't matter.

"You're welcome. Now put your pants back on, Steve. We have places to be soon."

He squeezes your cheek. "I don't think I can stand up."

You help him back into his pants, the both of you laughing, and shuffle on your butt so you can sit hip to hip with him, your arm curled behind the small of his back.

"Put your head on my shoulder, please," you say.

Steve complies.

You smile to yourself when he starts to talk quietly, "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I went to Switzerland? Skiing?"

"No," you murmur back. "What happened?"

"I fell on my face. So, I was seventeen, and my mom…"

—

if you’re reading this, thank you so much! I know some of you are dedicated readers of the zombie au and it warms my heart completely, it makes writing for them so so rewarding and I couldn’t be more grateful <3 if you have any requests for them let me know if you’d like to! but thank you again either way!

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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thordottir45 · 1 year

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The Outlaw's Spirit

After a reveal gone wrong, whether intentional or not, Danny books it. Sam and Tucker have to stay behind in Amity to prevent Maddie, Jack, and the GIW from following their best friend. The trio is 16~17 or so at this point.

Jazz, being the best big sis that she is, has been taking college classes online to protect Danny. She helps the two destroy the Drs. Fenton lab before grabbing her go bag and getting out of there. She plans to start anew in a different city so that Danny can eventually join her. She's thinking Gotham, with the ambient ectoplasm, and high crime rates, it'll feel more like home than Star City, or Metropolis.

Danny, meanwhile, keeps running. He comes across a high-tech jet and hides in it, pulling a stowaway.

This jet is a Batplane, but is currently being used by The Outlaws for a mission.

Danny's ghost sense has no idea about how to react to Jason, so it causes him to cough, revealing his location to the group.

"B." Artemis instructs Bizarro with his nickname.

Bizarro moves in slowly, while Jason pulls out his guns, and Artemis her sword. Bizarro opens wherever Danny is hiding, revealing his black hair and blue eyes of his human form. Seeing the shaking teen, B gently pulls him out and 'restrains' him via hug.

Danny is freaking out at the sight of these out-of-the-norm people, and his ghost sense is triggering a coughing fit, aggravating whatever wounds he may have.

"One of your brothers?" Artemis asks Jason, despite keeping her guard up.

"Not that I know. What are you doing in here, kid?" Jason lowes his guns, but doesn't holster them, wanting to keep them in hand in case this kid is an enemy.

Danny, coughing, takes a closer look at the three surrounding him.

"Red Hood? Artemis of the Bana-Mighdall? Bizarro? What? Huh?!"

"Worry, we hurt you." Bizarro says soothingly.

Tensing, Danny prepares to use his powers, but Artemis explains what Bizarro means before he does.

"What are you doing in here, kid? You're hurt." Jason reiterates before noticing just how the boy is breathing other than his coughing fits.

Feeling safer with these three than he had with his parents in a long time, and with them all not being entirely human themselves, Danny is willing to explain some things, but not everything.

"My parents, they're scientists, they found out that I'm not entirely human... I had to run. I saw this jet, and it was a chance for me to get further away from them before they track me down."

"They can track you?" Artemis asks while Bizarro releases Danny, setting the teen down on a bench. Jason pulls out a med kit and sets it down next to Danny.

Jason then gets the Batplane into the air while the other Outlaws get to know the stowaway more.

Jason's inner bat wants to do so much research that he resembles the Replacement more than himself, but more of him sees himself in the kid and, as much as he loathes to admit it, pull a Bruce to take care of the much-too-thin teen.

Setting the autopilot to Gotham, Jason re-joins the discussion, noting that the kid's coughs get worse the closer he gets. Odd.

Bizarro and the teen have bonded over video games and movies, even with Bizarro's speech mannerisms.

Artemis, on the other hand, is patching the boy up, not offering much to the conversation other than clearing some things up for B.

"Course's set for Gotham. Figure we'll want Alfie to get some proper food in ya. Now, can you explain all the coughing?" Jason plops down across from the teen, keeping some distance to not make the coughing worse if his hunch is right.

Danny explains in the broadest terms for his ghost sense, that it can tell when people have died, and that Red Hood didn't come back right.

Tense, Jason's vision bleeds into green as he questions, "How?"

"I can tell because I didn't come back right, either..." Danny then tries to explain ectoplasm as glowing green goo, causing Jason to tense even more.

"Lazarus Waters."

"What?"

Taking off his helmet, the lenses of Jason's domino are glowing, "Lazarus Waters. They threw me in mostly dead, and I came out mostly alive."

"That shouldn't..." Danny tilts his head, thinking of the lessons from Frostbite on the nature of ectoplasm and what happens when it gets corrupted. All part of his training for taking the throne. "Huh. Sounds like you got a batch of the more corrupted stuff. With pure ectoplasm, it would bring you back fully, with few side effects."

"Ectoplasm?" Bizarro asks from Danny's right.

Explaining in more detail, since Red Hood is some sort of subject of his and needs help, time passes and soon the autopilot is landing the jet.

"Come on, kid. Let's get some food in you, then we can see what to do about the Lazarus Waters." Jason puts a hand on the door to the Batplane, opening it to reveal the Batcave.

Just something that was floating around in my head. Not sure if I'll continue it, it's unlikely.

#dp x dc #ghost king danny #danny phantom #danny fenton #jason todd #red hood #artemis of bana mighdall #bizarro #the outcasts #jazz fenton #possible future anger management?#dc x dp #just the utter chaos that can ensue from the outcasts taking in danny #imagine danny coming along on their missions #phasing through things going invisible and causing utter havoc #there are times that jason would love it #other times he would be regretting taking in this chaos gremlin #the outlaw's spirit

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max13l · 2 months

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Daniel Ricciardo: Calm in the face of adversity - An appreciation post

Since Daniel is going through a little rough patch again, I want to point out something that I admire him a lot for, and that is the way he carries himself even when he's going through hard times and how resilient he is. Plus, the way he manages to inspire his teammates to be better through his mentality and way of tackling these situations.

After going through the whole McLaren saga, Daniel willingly put himself in the "rookie" team of the team he left at his peak, that in itself takes so much belief in yourself and the willingness to throw yourself back in the game, start from the ground up again, despite knowing the risks if things don't go as planned. Building his confidence back up after McLaren is already an immense feat, and him being in F1 again shows how much he's willing to fight for it. Not only that but coming into Alpha Tauri/VCARB, he took it upon himself to have a sort of team leader role in the sense of car development and technical aspects, believing that his inputs/feedback can lead the team in the right direction (this is showing more with Yuki than him at the moment on track, but the team and Yuki himself have given Daniel credit for it). He's a genuinely strong person, who is extremely confident in his own abilities but also able to take the blame when he believes he's at fault for mistakes/mishaps as he will be the first to admit so when it's the case.

We have statements from former and current teammates about how Daniel's mentality and way of conducting himself has helped them become better people and better drivers.

Quotes from Lando (from 2023, and 2022):

Lando pointing out how despite his struggles Daniel would keep his belief in himself and the strength to keep pushing despite it all, which was inspiring for him too as a person and as a driver.

Quote from Yuki (5th of April 2024):

And now, we have Yuki saying that the way Daniel communicates and stays consistent behind the wheel especially stands out and has prompted him to want to change his own approach to it. Daniel staying relatively calm and collected in the way he communicates his frustrations to the team, even while he's struggling, is something that I respect him a lot for.

This is where I want to give credit to Daniel for being a good teammate, from Max to Lando and now Yuki, all of them have had nice things to say about Daniel in terms of learning from him and coming out better in at least some way after/while being teammates with him. Tired of the narrative that he isn't a good teammate because he may run his mouth sometimes in the heat of the moment (something almost all the drivers do). Max has always described him as open and honest and willing to talk things out, without needing to resort to mind games or anything of the sort, and it's part of why he appreciated his time with Daniel as his teammate despite their tensions at the time. The way Daniel can stay positive, civil and have respect for his team and teammates even in the face of challenges is incredible.

People often overlook how good of a communicator Daniel is and how he's a very focused and calm driver who gives excellent feedback once the helmet is on, all because of his funny and always-smiling persona off track. There is more than a reason Red Bull still saw value in him as a driver, to the point of offering him a contract while his hand was injured, and that the teams he's worked with, even if he may have struggled with some, talk positively about him almost always.

Anyway, my point is that it's extremely admirable and inspiring how Daniel has been able to pick himself up even after getting shot down repeatedly and continues to have the passion and belief in himself that he does have a place that he is deserving of in F1. This while also motivating his teammates to want to do better themselves and to take on some of his best qualities. It's been rough out here lately for Daniel fans so I mostly want to add some positivity and shed a little light on the real person, driver and teammate Daniel is and not the one his haters have decided he is.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel appreciation #yuki tsunoda #lando norris #max verstappen #f1 #long post #my post

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malewifesband · 3 months

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Here is a Labru fic I wrote over the last week or so. Post-canon. Extremely sexually explicit, 18+ only please. Trans male Kabru, and yes, Laios is a little chasery about it--be honest, you should expect this of him. 7.5k words.

Summary: With Marcille and Falin both gone temporarily from the castle*, Kabru and Laios have had a high workload, and the stress has started to get to them. Kabru has an ingenious solution to relieve stress, but Laios is not so sure it's a good idea: his feelings for Kabru are confused enough without adding the concept of platonic dick-touching to the mix.

*Will be followed up on in its own fic.

This and future fics will be filed under the tag #the compendium; because I dont like any fanfic sites.

Lots of things seemed to demand Laios' time: a deluge of common folk with grievances and indignant nobles angry at their recent vassalage and farm owners who didn't like whatever ordinance Laois had passed to increase food production because they didn't want to milk minotaurs and still more peasants complaining about the farmer he just saw, and on and on, forever, without end, it would rain pissed off subjects for forty days and forty nights and Laios could drown in the all the information they wanted him to track. Kingship was a nightmare.

He could and would say it was worth the pain to see when his plans succeed and happy faces of people whose lives were improved, but in honesty what actually made it bearable was the company and help of Falin, Marcille, and Kabru. Falin and Marcille were wonderful court mages and fantastic researchers, who made all his stupid ideas into real, actionable policy, and Kabru… Kabru helped him get even that far. It was incredible how quickly he would catch onto complex social dynamics and dissect them, remix them into something Laios could parse, and whisper it to him on the throne. All without missing the next beat.

And for the past month, he’s been over-relying on Kabru, and neither of them have been able to get away from the castle. Marcille and Falin have been having a rough patch, and decided they needed time together away from the castle. Which of course, Laios let them go take a vacation–he owed them that much. But while they've been away, tensions have exploded. The resurfacing of the Golden Continent has lead to droughts across the land as crop fields used to an abundance of rain from the coastline suddenly found themselves far inland, and foreign land holders were demanding compensation, and of course their rulers backed them as it meant they would not have to pay to feed the victims of an impending famine. (And no one seemed willing to farm monsters to eat despite their abundance. Close-minded jerks–it’s a necessity!)

The ordeal has been taxing on them both, and Maybe Kabru more than Laios. He’d been taking dinner in his quarters the last two days, and he's been standing about a foot further from the throne than he was before. Odd little distances from Laios he didn't take before. Laios feels like he's barely seen him in a week. He’d reminded him to eat and sleep plenty, and Kabru insisted that he had been. Laios wasn't sure what else he could really do.

A line of delegates had been leaving the dining room, a late meeting over dinner that perhaps no one wanted to have, one night when Kabru leaned in again, just as the door closed, and said, “Laios, can I talk to you about something, man to man?”

Laios was not sure how else they were meant ro talk, being as they were both men and thus couldn't talk, say, woman to woman or dog to dog, but he replied, “Sure, what's up?”

Kabru’s face darkened. “Not here. Let's talk in your chambers. I’ll meet you there in 30 minutes.”

It didn't feel like a long wait. He’d only really started to settle down when Kabru knocked at the door.

“Come in,” He called, kicking off his boots. Kabru entered, smiled at him, and then turned to bolt the door behind him. He took a deep breath and turned back to face Laios.

“You know I love this job,” he says.

“That’s great–” Laios starts to exclaim, but Kabru holds up a finger to silence him

“BUT. I have no time for women anymore, and it's been… frustrating.”

“What about Rin? She's a woman,” he said. She was pretty and they seemed pretty close.

“That's very true, Laois, Rin is a woman, but she's also like a sister to me. I could never date her.”

“Do you want time off?” He couldn't imagine running things without him, and Yaad insists that because he doesn't know how long he'll last in this world, that he should refrain from interfering so they do not depend too much on his service when he finally passes… Surely though, he’d be okay with filling in for Kabru for a couple of days? Maybe best not to tell him it's so Kabru can go on dates.

“No, it's not a real solution,” he says. He takes a deep breath, and his face flushes, getting darker again. “I don't think I could get away enough to meet my needs, I’d still be sexually frustrated.”

People get mad at you if you suggest they just go to a brothel for an hour or so, so Laios doesn't say that. Instead he tries, “You could invite a girl over for dinner, that seems like a cool date: dinner in a castle!”

The flush darkened.

“That's too serious. I’m not really looking for a girlfriend right now, not with how much work there is to do.” He averted his eyes from Laios' face, and crossed his arms.

“We could have an informal dinner–”

“Laios.” he said, firmly, like calling on a misbehaving dog. Something about that thought made Laios' heart flutter.”I’m trying to ask something of you. Please don't make any suggestions yet.”

He looked sweaty.

“Okay.”

He took another deep breath.

“I think it'd be easiest if we masturbated each other.”

Woah. Laois’ face fell into shock, open mouthed and wide-eyed like a fish gasping on deck.

“C-couldn't you just do that alo–”

Once again, Kabru cut him off, this time by touching his elbow.

“You’ve been pent up too,” he said softly, a small smile on his face, which had an odd effect with him still being flushed and sweaty.

Laios had been trying to pay attention to Kabru the way Kabru pays attention to others (it seemed fair to do that for him when he does it for everyone else), and so he knew this was the manner he talked to people he wanted to convince of something they already said they didn't want. In 15 instances of him doing this, Laios had seen him succeed 11 times. It seemed to work by making himself seem nonthreatening–he leans forward in a way that makes him smaller and exposes the neck, and his voice becomes quieter, almost like a purr, and he always smiles but never broadly in a way that shows his teeth.

He was starting to wonder how instance 16 would turn out. So he went quiet while Kabru went on.

“You’ve been as moody as I have, and I know what incredible stress you've been under with Marcille and Falin away, and your other friends unable to visit… We need to find a way for you to relax, and I promise it’ll be more satisfying if you let someone else touch you.”

That much, Laios knew, was true. Like trying to give yourself a hug, there was a certain sensation that was lacking–maybe the warmth of another person, or the fact that you can feel both the skin of your hand and the skin of your penis/body pressed together that makes it less powerful. He didn't have a ton of experience though, none of it with other men–though maybe that was for the best, since Kabru was not like other men and Laios was unsure what exactly to expect from him, genitally speaking. And all of his experiences had been transactional. And not that great.

Honestly, trying to navigate this strange social experience sounded far more stressful than a good orgasm could relieve. Just the thought of trying to figure out where to put his hands and at what point is it sex and can you have sex with your friends and just be friends and and and–

The hand at his elbow slid up to his bicep, and Kabru's other hand slipped around his opposite wrist.

“Tell me what's on your mind, Laios,” he said, gentle and firm.

“Do you have a cock? I’ve never held another man's cock and wouldn't it just be sex either way?” he answered all in a rush, heat rising from his neck to the tops of his ears. Kabru's grip tightened and then relaxed again.

“Yes and no to both,” he said.

“Wait, yes or no to which?”

“Yes and no to both,” he repeated, “If I have a cock depends on what you're asking for, and it's only sex if we say it is and we are saying it's not! It's not as complicated as you're making it out to be.”

Laios disagreed–this was already complicated. It seemed it would only get more complicated if they went through with it. And maybe even more complicated than that if they didn't after this conversation.

“I’ll be gentle, Laios, you're not the first virgin I’ve been with,” he said with a little laugh.

“Hm? I’m not a virgin,” Laios stated.

Kabru's eyes widened a bit, eyebrows raised.

“You… aren't? You had a girlfriend?”

Laios shook his head. “I had a fiancee, but I didn't really know her.”

Kabru exhaled loudly.

“You know what, it doesn't matter. You just need to tell me if you want to try it out.”

Laois really wasn't sure. Something about the whole concept seemed off, but maybe it was just that it felt so sudden and out of the blue. Maybe Kabru had been thinking about it a while, and this really was his best solution. He pictured Kabru calm and content, like how he looks when he takes his tea in the morning before the stress of the day creeps in. If it was really what would make him happy, it didn't seem right to deny him.

“Kabru…” he said low, unsure how to voice what was on his mind.

Kabru's hand slid into his. It was warm. Comforting.

“Yes?”

“Is this really what you want? You're not just asking me because you think I’d want it?”

This question was apparently very funny. He chuckled, then let his face spread into a grin, and laughed heartily. His hand stayed in Laois' and the one at his bicep grabbed at his shoulder now as if to support him.

“I am doing my best to convince you this is a good idea, and you're worried I just think you want it! Do you see how silly that sounds?” he said once his giggle fit wore down.

“I guess,” Laios replied, “But you lied about wanting to eat monsters.”

“I wasn't the one convincing you to eat them, though.”

“I still don't get how it's not just sex though.”

“Think of it as platonic sex between friends if you must then, just don't go telling people we're having sex or they'll get the wrong idea. Actually, please just keep this secret in general.”

Why does sex always have to be some secret thing no one should know about?

Content that Kabru really did want to have not-sex with him (and now discontented with many other things), Laios was ready to give his answer: “Okay, we can do this.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kabru started leading him to the bed.

“Oh you meant now,” he said.

“Did you… did you want to wait?” Kabru said cautiously. Their hands were still held together. Warm. Comforting. If none of the rest of this was fun, Laios would like to start holding hands with him more at least.

“Now is as good a time as any,” he answered.

“Because it’d make you nervous anticipating it otherwise.”

It wasn't a question, because if Kabru says something about what you think, it's usually because you did and he knows it. And it would make Laois nervous, sitting on his throne, listening to all those people, and having Kabru lean over him all day knowing what they'd be doing later. Which makes it sound very erotic, too. But in that romantic story way where you can just skip over the part where you have to do a lot that day and it'd be weird and honestly kind of strenuous to just be horny all day long: i.e. not actually all that erotic.

Then again, that last hour of waiting…

“Laios, sit on the bed, please.”

He sat on the bed as commanded, while Kabru put out the lights. Perhaps the dark made it less like sex. He left one dim candle and returned.

There was a poof as Kabru sank into the feather mattress beside him. It was quiet for a second.

It felt like Laios should say something, but what? It felt like all the thoughts had emptied from his brain, it was overwhelming, something was about to happen and it felt as dark inside his head as it did in the room. Like a flickering something in the back of his skull that he couldn't look straight at or it would blind him, but it was too dim to reveal anything else on its own.

“I’m going to undress. You should too, let's not overtax the launderer.”

Commands were good. He could follow commands. He stripped off his doublet and shirt sleeves–he had already ditched his finery as soon as he could get away with it–and started unlacing his breeches. His eyes were quickly adjusting to the dim glow, and now he could see Kabru’s outline.

His shirt was off, and he was bent double to remove his own shoes, showing off his back. He was lean, but you could see the strength in him, like a runner or a gymnast. He sat up, shoes tossed aside, and suddenly bucked his hips, and his pants and underwear dragged down his legs. With a little kick, they too lay discarded in the dark and leaving Kabru’s crotch exposed. Thick pubic hair shined there, but no external genitalia that Laios could see, at least not at this angle.

He was actually very curious about it. Certain monsters endogenously change their sex, such as Basilisks and some varieties of Merrow, under certain environmental or social pressures. Sometimes even due to unique genetics not found in others of their species! Kabru had said that he’d been taking a masculinizing hormone since he was old enough to start puberty naturally (apparently elves were rather accepting about such change), so he didn't develop breasts, but what effect that has on human genitalia, Laios was uncertain of. The monsters he knew of that could transition naturally did not have human-analogous genitalia, so he couldn't really conjecture.

“Your breeches are still halfway down your thighs, your majesty,” Kabru said. He laughed.

“Um. Sorry…” Laios hurriedly finished undressing.

And then it was still again.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he said. They were almost shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Laios could sense his nearness of him by the radiating warmth alone. He felt cold sitting there naked. He wanted to get closer. He didn't know how.

“...I do want to. I just…” he muttered. Kabru didn't prompt him to continue. Instead he put his arm around his shoulders and waited. After a second, he found the words to say, “I feel like I don't know what to do here, or what you want from me. I don't –I don't want you to not like it.”

“You can start by not trying to ogle me,” he replied.

“O-oh, sorry! I just want to know about how sex transitions work for humans! You see, a basilisk hen can become a rooster under specific circumstances, but they have cloaca, so their external genitalia remains the same, and it's similar for merrows, which you might know as the fish-type of merman–though I suppose you could use certain kinds of healing spells to create a penis and testes if you wanted one–”

“Laios, my friend, can we please focus on the task at hand?”

He sounded angry but didn't pull his arm away.

“Sorry! I’m nervous!”

Kabru sighed deeply again.

“If you need me to tell you what to do, then I will. But you better do it the way I tell you. And if you do…” he leaned in closer, the whisper of his breath grazing Laios' ear, “then I will enjoy it. Understood?”

A lump had just formed in his throat, so Laios could only nod once, animated enough for three.

“Good. I’m going to start by touching you. Try to stay still or lean against me.”

The hand at his shoulder began kneading there–at first it was a dull ache, but it soon began to melt into that warmth-comfort that being held by Kabru felt like. He groaned. Kabru's other hand snaked around his waist, more caressing than the deeper massage at the shoulder.

“You carry a lot of tension lately.” Kabru's voice was so quiet, and spoke directly in Laios' ear now, not an inch between them.

The kneading hand moved from the flesh of his shoulder to his neck. His fingers would press gently against his carotid, and the intimacy of it felt exciting. Like a wolf exposing his neck to his packmates, an ultimate show of trust. ‘You could kill me, but I know you wouldn't because of how much I matter to you.’

His nails dragged against his skin, just barely catching as he pulled his fingers back.

Kabru rested his head against Laios' back, nuzzling the nape of his neck, making his hair stand up. The caressing at his waist became firm, then Kabru dug his thumb into the hollow of his hip. Laois' cock twitched.

With excruciating langor, Kabru pushed that thumb down towards his groin, to the crook of his thigh. His knuckles brushed against his shaft as he began rubbing his inner thigh. The increasing tightness in his groin was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Should we kiss?” Laios blurted out.

Kabru paused his ministrations. And that was agonizing too.

“You want to kiss me?” he asked.

“It feels like we should be.”

He started rubbing his thigh again, but on the top of it, not the hypersensitive area near his half-erect cock.

“...We can try it,” Kabru answered. He spoke so slowly and softly, it was more like he was talking to Laois' shoulder than to Laios proper.

He pulled his hand away from Laios' thigh and cupped his jaw instead. Laios turned towards him, and tried to mirror him, bringing a hand to cup Kabru's face too.

It felt incredible to touch him, it made him feel silly that he hadn't been touching him before now. His skin felt so soft, with a hint of the roughness of stubble down his jaw. He rubbed his thumb over the apple of his cheek, where the flesh was plumpest. He wondered how Kabru's lips would feel.

He didn't wonder long.

Kabru pulled him closer by the nape of his neck until their lips pressed together. The feeling was difficult to describe: Kabru's lips felt soft against his, pillowy, but also a bit rough because they were a bit chapped, like he hadn't had enough water, but it wasn't really those qualities that seemed to matter most–it was this almost electrical feeling, like a static shock that surged through him through his heart to the base of his spine. Laois threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of Kabru's neck, enjoying the silky texture, and tried to deepen the kiss, get more of this feeling–

Clack!

Their teeth clashed and Kabru drew away quickly. He took his hand back from Laios' thigh to tend his teeth.

“Try to walk before you can run,” he hissed behind his hand.

“What does that mean? You're trying to have us masturbate each other and I’m just trying to kiss!”

“If you want to stop–”

“No, I don't want to stop! I just want you to make sense!”

“You are so frustrating!” he cried and fell back on the bed.

It just doesn't make sense! There was some essential divide between the way Kabru was acting and what he was saying and it bothered Laios. For once, he didn't feel like he’d done something wrong here. Except hurting his teeth (his own ached a little too).

“I’m sorry I hurt your teeth,” he said.

“It's fine.” He didn't sit back up.

“Can you please tell me what it is you actually want? None of this makes sense to me. You say you're sexually frustrated, you need to get laid, but we don't tell me to touch you or how you want it–”

“I was going to when I was ready.”

“You couldn't wait to do this, I don't believe that if your goal was quid-pro-quo orgasm, you wouldn't want to go first.”

“And why is that so unbelievable that I’d want you to cum first?”

“I don't know, it was just weird how you were making it all romantic and sensual but you say you don't want it to be romantic.”

He still wasn't getting up, so Laios fell back with him. Now they were both laying down with their legs hung over the side. Laios' erection flopped onto his belly.

“I can't believe you're still hard right now,” Kabru huffs.

“I can't control it, it does what it wants,” he answered.

Kabru chuckled, but then went quiet. Laios wasn't sure what to say. He hoped he hadn't ruined it–he really was enjoying it.

Laios turned towards him on the bed, to look at him, and said, “It’s fun, even though I feel like I don't understand you.”

Kabru didn't turn to face him, he stayed on his back, looking up at the ceiling. But he did talk again.

“I’m sorry. I–I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.” He sounded upset.

Laios grabbed his hand, and hoped that it felt as nice to Kabru as it felt for him.

“Laios…” he said, squeezing his hand, “I think I like you. Romantically, not just as a friend. I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

And that… That made more sense.

“Why didn't you just say something?”

“I’ve tried so many times and the words just die in my throat! Do you know how hard this is? I’ve never liked guys before and now I do and it's you! You, who I spend so much time with and none of it alone–the few times I’ve gotten you alone and tried to flirt or drop a hint or anything, you just don't seem to get it! And then I get so nervous about how to get through to you, I feel ill.”

“You weren't actually sick?!”

That made Kabru turn around. He slapped his hand to Laios' cheek and pulled.

“Focus, stupid!” he said.

“Okay, okay!”

His hold released. But the hand stayed. Laios couldn't help but smile: it really was nice.

“I like it when you touch me,” he said, realized how that sounded, and corrected, “Not just sexually but all the time,” realized how that might sound also, “But I’d like it if you touched me more just maybe as like a boyfriend instead of whatever it is you were doing before!”

Kabru pulled closer to him again–another kiss. This time, Laios let him do what he wanted. It was tender, it sent a shiver through Laios to try not grab him like he was trying to devour him whole, but he couldn't stop himself from cupping his hand over Kabru's and squeezing tight.

Too soon, Kabru pulled away again. He pressed his forehead to Laios' so the tips of their noses touched.

“I’ll fuck you as a boyfriend then,” he purred.

The blood rushed back to Laios’ dick so fast that it left him dizzy.

“Just lie like that a minute, I need to grab something.”

He did as he was told, but he did peek.

The candlelight only offered a glimpse of Kabru's silhouette as he got up and knelt by his bag–Laios hadn't noticed he'd brought one. He dug around, and Laios heard the clink of glass against glass. When he stood back up, he held a bottle, some larger, translucent object Laios couldn't make out, and what looked like a bunch of leather straps, and he held something else behind his back. He placed the leather straps and the glass bottle on the end table, and held out the larger object. It was a glass phallus, complete with textured bumps and a tapered end to keep it in place once inside someone. It was fairly small, as phalluses go, but it looked like it would feel perfect inside you.

“Get up on the pillows, and lie on your back.”

He scooched up and fluffed the pillows.

“Can you guess what I'm going to do with this?” he asked, very cheerily.

“Um. Put it in me?” He’d typically used his fingers when touching himself, and didn't have something as nice as this.

“Wrong! I'm putting this one in me–though if you ask nicely, I might let you do it. But this–” he pulled his hidden hand from behind his back. Held in his grasp was something Laios had never seen before. It was certainly also a phallus, certainly human shaped (complete with balls), but of a material he’d never encountered–not glass, nor the stuffed leather ones they sell in sex shops with the irritating looking stitches, but something stiff yet flexible enough to bend with the incredible girth of the thing. Maybe rubber? You couldn't easily get rubber on this continent since the trees won't grow here–it must've been expensive.

“This is the one I want to put in you.”

Laios gasped.

“That thing is massive! Are you sure?!”

He put the smaller one on the end table, and dropped the big one on the bed, letting it fwump and roll into Laois' side as he got busy putting on his harness. Laios was quickly coming to understand what he meant by ‘I have a cock depending on what you're asking for’. He meant to thrust it inside him like any guy with one growing out of his crotch could.

“Calm down, Laios. I’m not going to just shove it in there. I'm just putting it on, for the feel of it. We’ll stretch you out first.”

Laois could feel himself blush from head to toe. His unattended cock twitched painfully, but he didn't dare touch himself before Kabru got back on the bed and touched him first.

Thankfully the buckling and snapping came to an end. Kabru leaned over to grab the massive dildo, and secured it in place. The straps dug into the flesh around his hips and thighs, and wrapped around the base of the cock and the balls, almost fusing it to him. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the liquid into his palm, then began stroking himself with it.

“The natural rubber can catch skin and hair if left dry, and it's really uncomfortable. This will help it feel more natural, and we’ll apply more once you're ready of course.”

“Can you get back on the bed now?” Laios said impatiently.

“Ah, now that you're thinking of me ‘like a boyfriend’ you know exactly what you want?” he said.

“Yes! I thought we were clear on that. Do we have to talk more? I’d really rather you touch me again,” he replied, increasingly aggravated every second Kabru was keeping him waiting like this wasn't his idea.

“I don't think I understand you,” he said, but to his credit he was on the bed now, “Any time I try to tease you and flirt with you, it blows up. I say the most humiliating thing I’ve ever said, completely lose my composure, and that's what works. Everytime.”

Laios huffed. He really thought they'd gotten over this by now. He grabbed Kabru's wrist and pulled him closer.

“Just say the thing that you mean first, and you won't be so embarrassed later. Fucking hell,” he said as Kabru toppled on top of him.

Kabru got back up, supporting himself by one elbow as he readjusted his cock, which was currently trying to rut itself into the crease between Laios' thigh and hip.

“Fine, here's my true feelings: you are such an ass.” He slapped his dick down on top of Laios' and dropped down, squeezing them between their bodies and winding Laios. He tried to moan, but with all the air pushed out of his lungs (on purpose!), all he could manage was a gasp.

“You still *gasp* like me though, right?”

He didn't answer, he just nuzzled into Laios' shoulder, kissing the skin where it joined the neck, and then slowly rocked his hips. He wasn't really expecting what it felt like–maybe it would've felt like a handjob did, but it didn't. It felt gentler than that, gentler than the constricted feeling of penetrating someone, yet with firm pressure on his sensitive shaft and head. The weight of Kabru on top of him, pressing their bodies together, felt incredible. He whimpered, his arms moving on their own to hold Kabru around the waist.

“Now you're the one who doesn't make sense. Be more confident that I like you even though I think you're a stupid asshole.”

Laios gasped again and turned to putty–Kabru picked up the pace and kissed his neck in earnest. Laois wanted to wrap his legs around him too, just take every part of him into himself, just absorb him, but Kabru's hands at his hips were locking him in place, and it would take an extreme force of will to try lifting them when it risked Kabru letting go. He went faster, and faster, kissing and tonguing his neck, until–

Kabru stopped abruptly, panting a little (Laois panted a lot). His dick throbbed with need.

“Don’t stop now…!” he whined.

Kabru sat up on his heels.

“I have a mission, Laios,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle of lube. He uncorked it, poured more in his palm, recorked it one-handed and put it back. With much squelching and spurting, he lubed up all five of his fingers and the palm too. He positioned himself so that his thighs created a wedge pillow for Laios' hips to rest on. Then, he pulled him up. Kabru's strength was always impressive–but maybe it was more his familiarity with the human body and how it moves, and how to use its natural points of leverage against someone–or for them, if he was about to fuck them in the ass–and that was even more impressive.

It was lucky that Laios tended to keep himself clean to facilitate his own masturbation, because Kabru didn't seem to think about that at all. He took a deep breath and got ready for what he expected next.

Probing finger number one entered, hooked upwards to seek out his prostate. He stroked in and out until he found it, and hit it hard. Precum shot from the tip of his dick. His sphincter clenched from the sudden excessive stimulation.

“Agh! Don't be so rough!”

“Sorry,” he said in his sweetest voice, “I was having fun.”

With a much gentler hand, he stroked it slowly. Once Laios relaxed again, he inserted a second finger. He rubbed at that hollow of his hips as he stroked, then began scissoring his fingers, a little wider each time. he was methodical, trying to work him out as fast as he could. Laios grabbed for his free hand again–he missed how comfortable it was beneath him, and it felt like all he could do was anticipate when Kabru would decide to come down to him again. He put in the third finger.

All of this felt so new, mostly because it was. He’d never had anyone else inside of him, even if he’d done it himself regularly. He’d had sex, but not with a close friend, not with someone who he enjoyed clinging to like slime. It was nerve-wracking, it was exciting, it was a fourth finger squeezing inside.

Kabru whistled.

“To be honest Laios, I was not actually confident I’d be able to get it in tonight, but it seems we will. Good job.”

“Th-thanks,” he said hoarsely. He’d been moaning nonstop for the last ten minutes, so his voice was about spent.

Kabru kept thrusting his fingers, brushing Laois' prostate on every third plunge in exactly, never really letting Laios lose himself in the rhythm of it, or letting him go ahead and cum. He got down to the last knuckle of his hand, and stretched all four fingers inside wide.

“You have definitely done this before,” he said.

“Um, just–ahhh–just to myself.”

Slowly he closed his fingers and withdrew them.

“I think you're ready. Now you get to get me ready.”

Once again, he returned to the end table, pulled the bottle of lube and the much smaller dildo. He handed them to Laios, who had sat up to see what he was doing.

Kabru laid back on his elbows, and lifted his legs to give Laios better access to his crotch.

“Put some lube on that and stretch me out a little so you can put it in,” he said.

Laios rubbed the dildo with the lube, making sure to coat his fingers as he did so.

“Bend down to get to me,” he instructed.

So Laios bent over, ducking the monstrous cock he was going to be taking very soon, and at this angle he could get a good look at Kabru's anatomy.

He had been wrong about the lack of external genitalia–his clitoris hung outside of the labia majora, engorged and standing at half-attention despite the weight of the skin and fat sitting above it.

“Yours is huge,” he said, awestruck. He touched it, holding it between two fingers, stroking it not unlike how he would the tip of his own and eliciting a moan from Kabru. He wondered what it would feel like against his tongue. “Could I suck it? Just for a minute?”

Kabru went very still for a second.

“Please do.”

Laios dove for it, using one arm to support himself, and the other to feel what he couldn't see in the dark, and letting the showy dildo flop onto his head. He took it into his mouth, licking the underside with the flat of his tongue and pressing it into his pallet. He had neither sucked dick nor eaten pussy before, so he couldn't truly compare, but he liked that Kabru's…–well, it should be fine to call it a cock even if there was a much larger artificial one above, dirtying his hair right now–Kabru’s cock was almost exactly a mouthful. It made it easy to loll it about on his tongue, testing the weight and density of it. And all his play seemed to be working wonderfully for Kabru–his thighs shook and his breathing was a bit shallow. He found a rhythm he liked and focused on using his fingers now. He spread apart the lips, and tried to finger him.

His head was unceremoniously pushed away. The heavy dildo flopped down onto the bed.

“You haven't fingered anyone before, have you?” Kabru asked, voice a little shaky.

“Ummm… No.”

Kabru just nodded.

“I’ll show you another time. You won't stay stretched forever,” he said, scratching at Laios' scalp for a second before continuing to push him away, “Go on, lay back as you were.”

He picked up the smaller dildo–which Laios had forgotten in his eagerness–and slowly worked it into himself. Once it was in, he left it there, no further fussing with it. He instead turned his attention back to Laios and his splayed legs. But instead of wedging himself under Laios again, he climbed over him, straddling one of his thighs, and said, “You still have to finish lubing it up, though.”

With a sweet smile, he passed the bottle to Laios again, who uncorked it while he stared down the massive, heavy battering ram strapped to his royal advisor. He poured the viscous substance directly onto the shaft of it and passed the bottle back to Kabru to deal with. He took it in both hands, pumping it slowly, being sure to fully coat it. Kabru hummed in contentment.

“Can I ask something?” Laios said, careful not to stop his work as he talked.

“Hm? Sure, go on,” he answered. He sounded almost blissful.

“If you can't feel it, why do you enjoy this?”

“Um. I suppose…I just like to watch.

“So you’d like it if I sucked this one too?”

Laios could see his Adam's apple bob in the dim light.

“Yes. Yes, I would. But stay focused, please,” he said. He stayed Laios' hands.

In a few swift motions, Laios' ass was back in Kabru's lap, the head of his dick pressed against his sphincter. That slim and strong body holding him in place, readying to fuck him–Laios figured he could understand why Kabru liked watching his partners. It felt good to know you made someone else enjoy themself; it made him feel sexy to see Kabru so focused on him.

Man, he really didn't get to feel sexy often. People didn't seem to really desire him like that. Granted, it's been uncomfortable a lot of the times he's noticed someone else was interested in him, though he wasn't sure why. Why should they be interested in a body like this? There was nothing cool or special about it. It just was. It didn't feel sexy.

So then why did Kabru liking him feel different?

The head pressed past the ring of his asshole, spreading him wide all at once. He inhaled sharply, his legs reflexively tightened around Kabru, forcing him in deeper. Kabru caught himself before he pushed too far too fast. He kept his pace slow and Laios tried to hold his legs still, but couldn't stop the way they twitched. Soon, the head brushed against his prostate. The sheer girth of it as it moved past made it feel like it’d been getting hammered. And still it kept coming for what felt like hours before Kabru finally bottomed out.

When he did, he leaned forward, pushing even deeper, forcing a deep moan from Laios. He couldn't reach Laios' face, but he could press his face to Laios' chest and pepper it with kisses. He ran the tip of his tongue around a nipple, and it made Laios shudder. So he locked his legs around Kabru, squeezing their bodies together.

“You can start thrusting; I’m ready,” Laios said, voice husky with desire. His cock ached for release.

Kabru complied, slowly and carefully at first, but gathering speed each time. The pressure on his prostate on the up-stroke was immense, and as the strokes came faster and faster, the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body were becoming crashing waves. Small gasps and moans too were becoming louder, and if he didn't control himself, the whole castle was going to hear him getting his back blown out. He bit down on his hand to muffle himself.

Soon, he came: thick ropes coated him and Kabru's bellies. He expected Kabru to slow down and stop, but he kept up his feverish pace. The sensation left him feeling dizzy, fuzzy in the head and weak in the limb. It certainly wasn't bad but he was going to pass out if he kept this up.

“Kabru,” he tried to say, but it was so hard to speak like this. He tapped him on the shoulder.

Kabru responded, his own voice hoarse and gasping now, “I’m close, I’m so close!”

No stopping him now–Laios clung for dear life onto Kabru's shoulders. He was flaccid now, but every stroke past his prostate forced more seminal fluid from the tip of his dick, milking him dry.

With a moan and a shudder, Kabru finally relented. He rested his head on Laios' tits, just a moment, giving a few soft kisses while he caught his breath. Laios rubbed his shoulders, keeping his touch light, not wanting to risk arousing him again (he could not handle it if Kabru tried to rut him again so soon).

“Kabru,” he mumbled, too tired to talk properly.

Kabru looked up. His face looked blissful and sleepy. “Hmm?”

“You gotta pull out, man, I am so tired.”

He pushed himself up back to the kneeling position and carefully pulled out. And so Laios immediately fell asleep.

A few moments of sleep later, he woke to Kabru climbing back in bed with him, holding a warm towel.

He was dressed in his night wear, and more candles were lit again so it wasn't quite so dark.

“Here,” he said, pressing the towel into Laois' hands, “Get cleaned up, and put your bed clothes on.”

Laios took the towel and began to wash up what he could. He couldn't have been asleep for very long, as the mess on his stomach hadn't completely dried down, but the feeling of the lube was starting to itch. It was kind of awkward with Kabru just sitting there, and it seemed Kabru felt the same, since he decided it was a good time to talk.

“So… you're feeling alright? No pain?”

Laios hadn't been prepared to talk yet. His mouth felt sticky.

“Mm. Mostly. Just feel kinda sore.”

“Well, let me know if you need a healing spell or anything.” He drummed his fingers on his legs, pointedly not looking at Laios. For his privacy, Laios guessed, though that did feel silly to be concerned about with a guy you were just inside of.

“Water would be nice,” Laios answered.

“Of course, let me grab your glass,” he said, springing back to his feet. He was just acting kind of weird in a way Laios couldn't place.

Kabru had brought in a jug and a couple glasses when he'd come back, along with the hot towel. If anyone saw him passing by, they’d probably think Laios had been sick–at least that's what Laios would think.

Laios finished cleaning himself off and bunched up the towel to put in the laundry later just as Kabru turned back to him with the water.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it and gladly chugging it.

Kabru sat on the bed in an awkward silence while Laios picked up discarded clothes and the towel and got himself into something clean, and he was still waiting like that when Laios sat down with him again.

“Are you, like, okay?” Laios asked, trying not to yawn. But fuck was he still tired.

Kabru exhaled hard. He was sweaty again–he was sweaty a lot though.

“What exactly did you mean by saying you wanted me to ‘touch you like a boyfriend’?” Kabru said politely, his focus entirely on Laios. Scanning him, almost.

Laios had not thought of the statement as ambiguous, but pressed to answer he wasn't now sure what he did mean by that. Why the hell did he say it that way?

“I mean that…You're my friend, and I care about you a lot, and I couldn't do any of this kingly mess if you weren't here…” Kabru's stare was intense, and it was making him nervous, “and… You know you're really handsome? And…” he was turning red and sweating, talking was getting physically more difficult, “and… tonight, that was nice? We should… again. Sometime.”

‘Be more confident that I like you…’

Why couldn't they talk about all this before milking his prostate and continuing to fuck him for like ten extra minutes?

An arm snaked around his waist, pulling them close. Laios just wanted to go to sleep like this, pressed against him. He rested his head on top of Kabru's–his hair smelled nice, probably some perfume he used inbetween washes.

“Would you like to be my boyfriend, then, Laios? Is that what you're trying to say?”

Laios dared lay a kiss in that bed of curls; he dared to wrap his own arms around Kabru.

“Yeah, it is.”

“We’ll have a lot to discuss if we want this to work,” he said.

“Probably. Being king doesn't help,” Laios answered, “But let's worry about that in the morning. I just wanna sleep with you now.”

Kabru squeezed him tightly, nuzzling his neck again, breath against his pulse, speaking softly.

“You should phrase that differently–I could go for another round.”

Locking Kabru in a hold, Laios fell back on the bed.

“You're insatiable! Let me rest!”

They laughed together for a minute as Kabru broke the hold and got up to put out the candles. Laios yawned deeply, and got under the covers, and made space for Kabru. He pushed a pillow over for him. When Kabru climbed into bed, he laid face to face with Laios.

He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, soft and happy, and his eyes seemed to sparkle. Being with Kabru made him happy, even if they didn't always understand one another. He could trust him, and he felt like Kabru trusted him too. He wanted to kiss him again, fall asleep close that way. So he did. They lay curled around each other, lost in dreams.

All that mattered that night was that they wanted each other's company: Everything else could wait.

#the compendium #labru #kabru #laios touden

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forlorn-crows · 23 days

Text

Yours In The End

Rating: M for Mature (and A for Angst)

Pairing(s): Mountain/Aether/Dewdrop

Tags: implied/referenced major character death, implied/referenced banishment, angst, emotional hurt, (attempted) comfort, era iii ghouls.

Words: 1,404

Summary: What would normally be an easy silence hangs oppressive around them, full of things unsaid. Things that could break more than just the quiet if they were said.

Wordlessly, the earth ghoul circles around the couch and slides in beside him. Lanky limbs folding inwards until he cuddles up against him—a wet, newborn pup anchoring itself to his littermate in a blind search for warmth and familiarity. Wee and fresh, all of them just trying to get their bearings.

So, so much has changed.

⛧

Notes: This is the product of multiple days of feeling shitty. Started as a prompt for Mushy May and ran in the fucking opposite direction. Referenced murders of the three Emeritus brothers. Implied/Referenced death/banishment of Zephyr and Ifrit. Essentially, Mountain, Dew, and Aether are alone together, running from ghosts. Not a happy vignette.

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

The fire crackles steadily, quick pops and crumbles of charcoaled wood falling into the hearth. It’s the only light left in the room, the sun having long dipped down past the sills of the leaded glass windows. It coats the small seating area in a dying amber light, the stacks of books behind cast in ominous shadow. It’s late.

And yet.

Dewdrop sighs, his eyes unable to look away from the dancing flames. Despite being just feet from the fire, wrapped up in a worn quilt, his nose feels like ice, and his cheeks are chilled from the still-wet tracks of tears. They’ve stopped for now, leaving the water ghoul to sniffle and stare. Numb. Unwilling to rise from a stupor he suspects will make its home in his chest for years to come.

The floor creaks somewhere behind him. Footsteps softly approaching until they join him in his little cocoon of bittersweet comfort. Dew feels their hands in his hair, scooping it out from where it’s trapped beneath layers of cotton and batting. Silver threads gone barren at the ends. Rubbed one too many times between his trembling, nervous fingers. Gentle hands pull it all back, smoothing it around his horns. Silently combing through the tangles and draping the bulk of it over one shoulder.

“Coming back to bed?” a rumbly, tired voice asks.

Dew doesn’t say anything as he closes his eyes, flickers of the embers still sparkling behind his eyelids. Mountain shifts behind him, sighing heavily. Hands rubbing idly over his blanketed shoulders. Apart from the fire, the library is eerily quiet when the moment stretches out between them. What would normally be an easy silence hangs oppressive around them, full of things unsaid. Things that could break more than just the quiet if they were said.

So, so much has changed.

Mountain swipes a fresh tear from his cheek. Dew barely feels it, but he leans into it anyway, chest heaving with a silent sob. The arms around him grow tighter, and soon he’s surrounded in the earth ghoul’s woody scent. Lips press against his hairline as he wills it all just to stop.

“You’re cold, waterlily,” he whispers. It’s an obvious, easy thing to state when you have so much else to say. “Will you come back to bed?”

Dew turns his head to look at him. Through muddled vision he can see the lines of worry beginning to etch themselves into his handsome face. The skin under his eyes is sunken, colored with an almost bruised hue. His normally plump, boyish cheeks are sunken too, the firelight casting them in gaunt shadow. The water ghoul’s sure he doesn’t look much better, with his thinning hair and blotchy face and dead water eyes.

Dew swallows hard. “I want to go home,” he says in a broken voice. A few more tears fall, soaking into the fraying stitching of the quilt. He doesn’t care if the wish is unrealistic, unreasonable. Pathetic. It’s how he feels. Whatever semblance of home he felt before this has collapsed into rubble and blown away as dust in the wind.

Mountain shakes his head. Melancholy in a tiny movement. “Come back to bed,” he says, no longer a question.

“Please don’t be scared of me,” Dew begs. He doesn’t know why he says it. Why he thinks Mountain looks at him with fear as much as love.

His ears droop. Emerald eyes growing big and round. He reaches out to cradle Dew’s cheek, and the water ghoul fights everything not to flinch away.

“Dewdrop,” he says softly. Pleading as much as he can in the utterance of only his name.

The water ghoul nods and looks up towards the cavernous ceilings, praying for the crying to stop. “I know,” he breathes, lip quivering. “I know.” The sadness welling up in Mountain’s own eyes is what pushes him over again, and he lets himself be pulled into his chest with heavy limbs and a heavy heart. Shuddering through waves of grief and anger and directionless emotions that continue to renew instead of release. Mountain whispers promises of not your fault and not going anywhere into his hair, holding him tight.

It’s a long while before he pulls back for air again. The fire’s turned to ash, smoldering valiantly through its last few flames. Dew can barely register Mountain’s face now, but there’s just enough light to illuminate his temple, the high point of his cheek. Highlighting the way his face has softened and the exhaustion has set in once more.

“I love you.” It’s all he can think to say. Breathed like a prayer meant only for the Dark One himself. Maybe if he says it enough the three of them will be left alone. While they may have been wronged by mortals Above, he knows his other packmates will be protected eternally Below.

But Satanas, does it hurt to be spared this time.

“I love you, too,” Mountain replies easily. Like he’s said it a thousand times before. The earth ghoul casts a glance towards the hearth, looking at it with such concentration that Dew wouldn’t be surprised if he had slipped somewhere else in his mind, far away from reality. But he snaps out of it quickly, turning back to Dew. Hands tugging at the folds of the quilt still wrapped tightly around him.

“Aether.” He’s waiting now for both of them to come back to bed, Dew knows, most likely pacing or contemplating throwing another glass at the wall. There’s shards still stuck in the piles of the rug from the last time. As much as he could stay here until the last of the fire snuffs out, he shouldn’t. “Come on,” Mountain insists one last time. “Up.”

Dew lets himself be pulled off the couch and into Mountain’s side. Sheltered under his proverbial wing. He pulls him away from the false solace of the fireplace, the embers disappearing behind them as they move throughout the maze of the library. Back through the cavernous, echoing hallways until they reach the ghoul wing. There’s lamplight spilling into the hallway from Mountain’s room—their room, at this point; the only room with a bed big enough for three. None of them can really bear to leave it, nowadays.

It’s the only place left without ghosts.

Aether sighs with relief when the two shuffle back into the bedroom. He frowns sadly when he sees tear-stained cheeks and droopy ears; wordlessly, he ushers them back into bed, locking the door behind them and clicking off the lamp. The moonlight shines into the room, casting them all in moody blue. Even if it’s somber, there’s something about the coolness that lifts a weight off Dew’s shoulders every time he’s bathed in it. Exhaustion worms its way out of his joints and floods his system as soon as he’s settled between the two bigger ghouls, eyelids already too heavy to stop from closing. Balsam and ozone curling around him like a gentle breeze caressing the cattails surrounding the lake.

“Sleep,” Aether says softly, pressing his forehead to Dew’s. Mountain tucks his nose into the nape of his neck, inhaling his scent as he’s done every night since then. A lungful of his crisp apple shampoo (though there’s not much of that today) before he succumbs to sleep. The water ghoul feels his rumbling purr against his back as he burrows further into the quilt. Aether’s soon to follow; whether Dew will reciprocate their calming sounds with his own little purr is a tossup. Especially now.

Despite the hours of tears, he can feel the sound creep up in his throat. Much like the crackle of a toy with an overused voice box, it’s muffled, fading in and out unpredictably. But the other two hold him tighter at the first stir of it in his chest.

He’s tired. So, so tired.

Love you, Aether mouths against his hairline. Just above a whisper, like he’s afraid for someone else to hear. On the edge between awake and asleep, Dew makes a noise he hopes conveys his love in return.

#the band ghost fanfic #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain/aether/dewdrop #the band ghost #cw: major character death #cw: angst #mushy may? never heard of her. i need to put ghouls Through It for a minute #ghost fanfic #not beta read #or proofread honestly

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