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moonlight-prose · 7 days

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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 06. TIME CAN NEVER MEND

a/n: so before you dive into this i'm gonna warn you that it's not happy. we have reached the level of angst needed to start this story on it's final arc. the one that changes basically everything. i've put a lot of angst into this, because that's what it called for and well...if you've been here for awhile you know i love my angst. i'm sorry beforehand and can promise a happy ending. but these two have to suffer first.

summary: logan howlett is happy. he's content. by all definitions...he's found the reason for why he's still alive and it all leads down to you. yet time is a fickle and cruel being and she's decided his time for peace must come to an end.

word count: 7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, a heaping of angst so bitter you will yell at me, oral (f receiving), face riding, overstimulation, wade wilson, mutant powers, violence, tw: blood, tw: gore, trauma resurfacing, ptsd, insanity, tw: torture, cliffhanger, BE WARNED PLEASE DON'T SKIP OVER THESE.

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Silence filled his mind, darkness an endless expanse behind his shut eyes. He couldn't remember the last time the world fell quiet. Piercing through him with a serenity he fought his entire life to acquire. Nightmares were an expected routine that came to him constantly with a bitter echo of things he couldn't change; people he never saved.

He couldn't recall sleeping without them. Not since he was a sickly child in his father's house—fighting fevers that were caused by a mutation he didn't know existed.

Eventually the world would rip a part his bubble of safety—expose him to horrors he never thought imaginable. He'd struggle against it. Bite, snarl, fight his way through the pain like an animal who'd been caged for far too long. There would be no light at the end of his tunnel. No peace for the man plagued by promises he longed to break—a vow he didn't intend to make.

Only to be found by the one person he thought was lost to his world.

A love that lingered in the shadows of his heart. Bringing back the flame of a torch that blew out the night he lost everything.

He awoke to the warmth of your body tangled with his. His heart didn't race with the anticipation of a battle that didn't exist. His claws were safely stored away in the depths of his arms, and for the first time...his soul didn't scream in agony for help that would never arrive. You shifted with a puff of air, a grumble building in your throat at the morning chill. He watched in rapture—his fingers trailing down your spine.

The clock read eight in the morning. Plenty of time for you to sleep in given it was your last day off. So Logan remained still in order to not disturb your peace. He sucked in slow breaths as you pressed your cheek to his chest—arm wrapped around his waist and legs tangled with his. Each small shift of your face, the furrow of your brows and quickening of your heart, let him know you were trapped in a dream.

Good or bad he couldn't tell.

What did you dream about? What ran through your mind when sleep washed over your body?

He made a mental note to ask when your eyes finally cracked open. The spell of sleep lost, retreating to the depths of your mind till later. But for now he admired the shape of your face, the lilt in your eyes and curve of your lips. You were a painting come to life. An art piece stolen right off the walls of The Met.

How he managed to wind up here, waking up beside you, continued to baffle him the longer he thought about it.

Surely he committed too many atrocities to deserve this. Too many lives lost by his claws, too much pain wrought by his own actions. He shouldn't be allowed to lay here, holding you close with a reverence that he thought was lost to the tragedies of his past. He once counted the days until his death. Marked them off with a tally that seemed to only grow the longer he went.

Now he thanked whatever higher being existed for giving him this.

For gifting him you.

Another soft grunt left your parted lips, nose scrunching in distaste as you were roused from your sleep. He smiled at the sight of your eyes fluttering open, confusion flickering across your features for mere seconds before it all came rushing back. The time spent with Logan ravishing your body in this very bed, in the shower you shared. The sweetening ache between your thighs that practically called his name.

You sighed, glancing up at him with drowsy glazed eyes and a crooked smile. "Morning," you rasped, voice thick with sleep.

His heart twisted in his chest. A feeling he could only describe as love began to filter through his veins like an IV. Filling him with the fear that usually came with that four letter word—the terror of possibly losing this. He swallowed it down painfully, his hand moving to press at the base of your spine to pull you closer.

"Sleep well?" he rumbled, dipping down to catch your lips in a kiss.

The shower last night left your skin warm to the touch. Logan found he couldn't get enough of it. He curled himself around you, drawing your leg up to hook around his waist as a way to keep your skin against his. You hummed in appreciation, pushing your face up to meet his movements in kind.

Sunlight spilled into the bedroom with a familiar warmth. The window was shut and locked after yesterday's phone call. Yet the muffled echo of the world managed to slip through the cracks in the wood, echoing in your small bubble of serenity he longed to stay in. This felt like a hazy dream. One that clung to the edges of his mind, dripping small slivers of joy into his heart.

Logan longed to remain here. Buried in the bed with you wrapped tightly around him.

Eventually you parted with a soft gasp, your hips shifting subtly to relieve the ache that began to bloom and unfurl in your body. Even though you had more than your fill of him yesterday, you remained insatiable.

He couldn't say he was any better—his cock already twitching in interest. If he had his way neither of you would find the need to leave this bed; far more interested in how many more orgasms he could wring from your still spent body.

"I like this," you murmured against his cheek, fingers delving into his messy hair. "Waking up with you."

"Me too honey." He grinned when you kissed his chin, thumb running along the edge of his jaw.

A soft breath washed along his skin, sending chills down his spine. "How did you sleep?"

"No nightmares."

He felt you smile. "Are you lying to me Howlett?"

Fuck if you weren't the last thing he wanted to see at night and the first thing he was welcomed to in the morning. Something sharp pricked his chest, bleeding him of the doubt that might still remain. Lingering beneath the surface of too many broken promises and shattered versions of I love you.

This happened before. A love so deep he felt it solidify into his very mutant DNA. Back then he thought it would one day come to an end; finalize when he fucked up too many times for you to forgive.

Now he knew there was no end to this road that wound up with him alone. No version of the story where he sat at a bar somewhere in the back roads of nowhere, lamenting about a woman he once wanted to spend forever with. Whether he stayed young and you grew too old; there wouldn’t be a final page without him in your life.

What transpired here would knot the strands of fate together. So if one was sliced for the final vow of death. They both went together.

"I'm not lying," he confessed. "I didn't really dream of anythin' this time around."

You hummed, eyes opening to see the contented shine in his hazel eyes. "Don't tell me. It was because of me."

"I think it might be bub." His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, hand curving to cup your ass. "Guess you're my cure. Been lookin' for awhile."

"My bad Mr. Howlett," you breathed through a soft laugh that clenched around his chest. "I didn't mean to take so long, but you were kind of in a different universe."

"Technicalities."

"Yeah right! Technicalities my ass."

He dragged you across his lap with a muffled groan he pressed to your chest. "Could’ve found me all on your own honey. You just weren't looking properly."

The high gasp that filled the air left him with a gratification worse than his satiated hunger. He longed to devour you with a need that felt primal. As if the animalistic side of his body craved the taste of you spread along his tongue. You were the answer to every fuckin' prayer he sent out. The embodiment of what his heart had been missing.

"You're right." Your words were shaky, eyes growing dark with lust when you felt his cock press against your slick folds. "I'll do better next time."

He growled, low and desperate; his hands now clamping down on your hips until pain flickered beneath the surface of your already tender skin. "There'll be no fuckin' next time."

"No?" The grin on your lips made him leak against your thigh. "I'm sure there's more than one James Howlett in the infinite number of universes. And who knows, you might not be enough to satisfy my insatiable needs."

Rolling to his back, he took you with him, even as you yelped in an attempt to pull away. You were trapped against his body with no chance of escape, yet running from him was never a choice. This was your safe place. Against his body that offered warmth and solace—a promise of more wrapped in a gentle touch and heated kiss.

He tugged you up his body, smacking your ass as you climbed to sit on his chest with a breathless smile. The sight alone made Logan's heart stutter. His eyes wide with awe—a semblance of adoration that existed solely for you.

"Insatiable huh," he mumbled against your thigh. "Alright honey. C'mere then."

"For what?"

His thumbs indented the skin of your hip, a smile curving over his lips. "I haven't had my breakfast yet."

The realization dawned on you slowly. Your eyes widened, scent growing heavy in the air, and Logan longed to stay here for the rest of his life. Beneath the weight of your body on his—the comfort of your hands cupping his face. Your slick pooled on his chest; a sign that you were in fact interested.

"A-Are you sure?" you breathed.

His teeth sunk into your wrist gently, causing you to jolt. "Fair's fair baby."

Your own words caused heat to spill beneath your skin; you shifted—eyes wanton for what was about to come. "Touché."

Shifting up higher with a hesitancy that turned his mind feral, you situated yourself close to his mouth—barely hovering over his face. With a growl, he looped his arms around your thighs and yanked you down. His mouth sealing over your dripping cunt with a moan of satisfaction. The cry that fell from your lips made his cock twitch against his stomach; the heady tang of you exactly what he longed for.

He was messy with it. Devouring you with abandon, tongue slipping through your folds with little grunts that sent sparks down your spine. When he sucked your clit into his mouth you were done for.

"Oh fuck Logan-" The breath caught in your throat, head tipping back with each swipe of his tongue along the pulsating nerve.

Without realizing it, your hips began to drag along his mouth, chasing the quick building release that threatened to drag you under. He growled—fingers a bruising grip on your skin—with each swivel of your hips. High pitched moans echoed in the room loud enough to resonate through the whole of your apartment.

"Please-" Logan watched—eyes drooped and a red flush across his cheeks—as your body curved towards him, your hand gripping the top of your headboard. "'M gonna. Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

His tongue plunged into you, thumb snaking around to rub harshly against your clit. The long drawn out moan he mumbled into your cunt is what finally broke you. Ripping the release from the base of your spine as you cried out—your hips nearly suffocating him with how you pressed down on his tongue.

Aching for whatever he had left to give you.

Logan drank you down with stunted moan, his cock leaking into the trail of hair on his stomach. But he couldn't fucking care about that. Not when you were gifting him with a nectar that would put the gods ichor to shame.

"Oh...baby," you murmured, eyes staring at the way his cock jumped each time his tongue slid against you.

Before he could turn you away—explain that he was okay and push it off as a natural reaction to you—your hand was wrapping around him. The wet slide of his precum now enough to fuck into your fist with ease. He'd allow you to touch him for a few minutes before deterring you the kitchen. Give you a fill of what need still remained.

He was perfectly okay with finishing himself off.

What he didn't expect was your thumb to settle between his balls, rubbing at a spot that made him see white. A broken feral sound echoed against your inner thigh—his teeth clamping into the skin—as he came across your hand. Spilling down onto his stomach and hitting his chest with a withered shout.

You rolled off him, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. Logan could barely feel his fucking legs.

"The fuck was that?" he rasped, eyes cracking open to blearily see your prideful smile—teeth digging into your bottom lip while you eyed the mess on his torso.

"How'd it feel?"

"Like my fuckin' body isn't workin'."

You giggled, soft and sweet. A stark contrast to the way you made him cum fast enough to put a hole in his heart. He'd never gotten off so quickly. Yet there you sat, leaning against your pillows, and staring at him as if he'd hung all the stars in your night sky.

He very well would have if you asked.

"I can cook this morning," you offered, snuggling back against his side with a contented sigh.

"Just give me a minute honey and I'll get us food."

"You don't have to cook."

He silenced you with a kiss, your body melting into the mattress at the taste of you on his tongue. "Rosemary's. They still sell breakfast?" When you nodded he planted a kiss on your forehead. "Alright. Soon as the feeling in my legs returns I'll get us some food."

"Okay," you laughed with a kiss to his shoulder. "I like the sound of that."

The television blared loud enough to bounce off the neighbors walls. A loud and rather obnoxious theme song for a reality show. A steady stream of muttered cuss words overlapped the music as another piece of wood clattered to the floor. The screws with it scattered on the shitty coffee table found in the back alley of the building.

"Ugh. Don't hand over the rose!" Wade shouted, throwing a handful of popcorn at the screen. "Clearly they don't belong together. For fucks sake. I swear the bachelorette always settles."

Althea sighed, fingers sliding along the wood in search of a single screw that might be near. "I thought you said you wanted to help me with this."

"I am!" he mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn. "Moral support. You're doing great, just a little more to the left. Almooooost got it-"

She grumbled snatching up the silver piece, locating the wood by her feet. "Next time I'm evicting your ass so you can find someone else to annoy."

"Hurtful. Who else would provide you quality entertainment better than moi?"

"A rock."

"Wrong." He shoveled another handful in his mouth. "I've worked with the man. Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson is not as funny as he might appear. And starring in Fast Five doesn't count." His eyes flicker to the side, smile forming around his swollen cheeks. "To be honest I couldn't tell who was who between three bald men. Clearly that franchise has a type."

"Clearly I need a better system."

"Well of course you do. The shelf is upside down. No, the other way. No. The other way-"

A blinding flash of blue light burned through the living room, searing a hole in the hardwood floor. Wade clambered to his feet, gripping the ceramic bowl with white knuckles. His heart hammered in his chest, mouth dry as he scanned the room for some form of defense.

The closest weapon remained his katanas, propped against the door frame leading to his bedroom. He glanced at them—calculating whether to leap now or wait.

A whip ignited in blue sparks flew from the gaping hole in the air, striking his body and forcing him into the air. He hit the wall with a grunt; the bowl now severed in two on the floor.

"What the fuck!" he groaned, stumbling to his feet. "Al! You okay?"

"Who did you piss off this time?" Althea called, gripping her cane as he staggered towards her, leading her to the bedroom.

"Some fucking Asgardian apparently." A quick glance back revealed someone stepping through—their body encased in ripples of sapphire. "God where's Thor when you need him?"

The bedroom door slammed shut, Althea locking herself in as Wade yanked the katanas from their sheaths. He half expected to see the face of a pissed god coming to enact revenge. He felt his body tense as he prepared for a fight. Only for a hood of blue and gold to be pulled back; your face staring directly at him with milky eyes of white.

"You're not Asgardian."

A sneer crossed other you's face as the whip snapped against the floor, rippling in the space around him. He felt it tug along his body, aging his face with spots that wouldn't show up for decades to come. They healed as you pulled the weapong back; the blue wrapping its way up your arm.

"Where is he?" Your voice bled with a bitterness that punched his stomach. An anger he once felt before.

Whoever stood before him now was not the sweet angel he knew. The scarred skin along your body explained enough of what he needed to know. This was a sign of who you once belonged to. Who the humans hunted. The embodiment of time had become their prey, their plaything. You were the lamb given up for slaughter; the lover scorned and tossed to the side by a man who ran to a different universe.

"Mind giving me a name?" Wade knew who you were asking for. But he also knew Logan lay across the street wrapped in the arms of a you who couldn't protect him.

Your eyes narrowed, the flicker of blue flashing in what used to be the iris of your pupil. "I believe you know him as Wolverine. However...I knew him as Logan."

"Right." He gripped the handle of his swords with cold palms—his eyes flicking to the side where his window was pulled wide open. "Have you tried the yellow pages?"

A scream tore from your throat as you charged—whip sliding across the floor to wrap around Wade's legs. He rolled to the side, katana cracking through the floor to steady his movements. He cursed under his breath at the sight of the burn marks that now spread all the way up to his ceiling—the flicker of your whip lifting in air again.

"Listen you Wonder Woman wannabe. I'm sure we can talk this out rather than fucking me in the ass with the deposit of my apartment!"

Your lips curled into a grin—teeth flashing white. Wade could practically feel them dig into his jugular; all too prepared to rip it from his neck if given the chance. This wasn't a battle to see who could make it out alive. This was a warriors death.

This was you being merciful.

"We had a Deadpool like you on my Earth." He tried to dodge the slice of your whip, but felt it clamp down on his arms, yanking them forward as your hand cupped his chin—nails plunging into his cheeks until blood sprouted to the surface. "Annoying. Less than average IQ. I had such fun sending him to the Void."

The dull throb of pain bit at his face the harder you clutched him. Eyes still a flash of sapphire on an otherwise empty pale eyeball. In the picture Logan showed him, this wasn't how you looked.

The scar that ran from your forehead to chin seemed new—barely healed over. You were nothing like how Logan described you. No light in your smile, no hint of hope or joy.

Whatever happened left you buried so deep in grief and pain there was no chance of digging you out.

"On behalf of my people...fair. We aren't intelligent collectively as a group. Individually we're probably...not better. But as Deadpool Prime-"

"Fuck you're even more annoying than your variants," you growled.

The whip looped around his body, growing with heat as blue flickered in his vision—pulling tight each time you wrapped it around your wrist. His wince of pain brought the malevolent smile back to your lips. Your milky white eyes flashing as you watched him intently. Waiting for a sliver of anguish to cross his scarred face.

Instead his body twitched, a groan ripping from his throat. "Is this the lasso of truth?"

You sneered. "It's a slice of time."

"Because yes, I did steal Captain American themed condoms from the gift shop at the Smithsonian. I thought they would make me fuck like Steve Rogers. But instead they just gave me a rash-" His words devolved into a piercing scream—the once bright hue of his eyes now fading the more his body aged.

The katanas clattered to the floor as you drew him closer, wrapping the whip around his arms tight enough to slice off his blood flow. He struggled—face red and teeth bared—to rip himself free. To stop the aging of his body before it was too late.

He'd endured pain before. The travesty of each wound his body would heal over still burned bright in his mind. But this felt as if he was being crushed under the weight of the universe. The strangled scream you pulled from his chest left him sagging against the hold your whip had on his limbs. Eyes bleary with tears as you stepped back and pulled.

Limbs tore from his body, blood pooling on the floor, as his arms were flung across the room. Blue fizzled in his vision, body struggling to stand upright. And you turned with a flourish—the flutter of energy pouring out into the room around you.

"I'm not going to ask again Wade Wilson."

He weakly laughed. "Look Doc Brown I can't help you with your revenge plan."

The tilt of your head shouldn't have looked so innocent. But all he could see—all that ran through his mind—was a version of you that remained loving. Hopeful. The variant who gave Logan a reason to live. Wade wasn't about to let that slip through either of their fingers; you were too vital to give up.

Even if it meant he might never heal from the one wound that threatened to shove him directly into Death's hands.

Time.

It remained his greatest enemy. Yet there he stood, facing it with a smile.

"Pity." You snapped the whip on the floor, advancing on his broken form with a grin. "Send my regards to your fallen variants."

"If I find a way to come back from this. Expect me to fuck your ass up." He sighed, shutting his eyes. "That sounded wrong. Do I get a do-over on last words?"

He stiffened, waiting for the blow that would be delivered without mercy. But you stopped. Froze in place as you looked out the window—body stiff and breath caught in your chest at the sight. Wade's heart dropped when he turned, staring directly at the you he knew. The lovely angel who stood near the window wearing Logan's flannel, a mug of steaming coffee in your hand and a smile on her face.

"Fuck," he spit, moving to step in and block your view.

No words were spoken, but Wade could feel the anger fall from your body in waves. A rage that made him sick to his stomach. Not only did you arrive in search of your lost lover. But a mirror image of a healthier—a happier—version of yourself stood in an apartment across the street.

"Wait. She didn't do anything wrong. She doesn't know anything-"

Your hand flew up, a flash of azure blinded him—filling the room—and Wade felt time stop. He could hear the silence, the step of your feet, yet couldn't move his body as you lifted off the floor. Floating towards the window, you felt the particles of time slip through your fingers. Forming a bubble around your form as you broke the wall of the apartment with a slice of your whip.

The agony wasn't unknown to you as time froze; the people of New York stuck in their spots while you remained in the realm you knew well. Yet this pain—this never ending grief—formed like a pit in your stomach, growing the longer you stared at the person who stole your life. The false version that wore your face, loved the man you once claimed as your own.

You were plunged back into the frozen depths of that night. When your family was torn from your life and Logan left you in shambles.

The window shattered, glass stuck in place until you pushed past it, your feet setting down on the floor of an apartment that smelled eerily like cigar smoke. Logan's flannel hung off your variant's body with such ease. Memories of mornings spent like this, indulging in coffee he made as he went off to teach, left a bitter taste on the back of your tongue.

How dare he discard you to the side.

How dare he love you in another universe when you still lived.

How dare he replace you with a new version, not yet broken by his mistakes.

The tears flowed down your cheeks, hot and unforgiving. Yet you could do nothing but watch as the smile on your variant's face burned bright in the room. He made this version of you happy. Yet couldn't be bothered to remember the mutant you. The one who longed for his touch, for his love.

For his forgiveness.

"He loves you," you murmured, gently touching your variant's cheek. "He loved me once."

Time flickered, a mere second being allowed to pass. But that remained enough. Your variant's eyes flicked up, shock forming in the iris at the sight of a battered and destroyed mirror image stand before you. If the iris of your eyes could be shown, the sorrow would bring the both of you to your knees. The anger that dripped into your heart with a vengeance.

Death didn't seem a kind enough gesture for the version of you that got to live her happily ever after.

You wanted Logan to keep her. To try and save her from the depths of your soon to be shared darkness.

The mark on your neck burned as you stared at the spotless skin. Free from the horrors. Free from a past you'd never endure.

You were perfect.

It made bile crawl up the back of your throat. The fear in your variant's eyes filled your stomach with a satisfaction that you clung to. The first glimpse of dopamine after years of fighting the darkness in your own mind.

Your nails scratched along the skin of your variant's cheeks. Digging into the flesh with a smile.

"Don't worry," you murmured, allowing the shackles you held on time to fall away. The gasp ripped from your variant's mouth as you gripped her. It swirled with joy in your heart. "We'll both make him regret his choice."

The apartment greeted him with a sickening echo of silence. He dropped your key into the bowl by your door, the bag of food still clutched tightly in his hand, as he allowed his claws to slide free on the other. His breath stuck to his chest, the hair on the back of his neck rose with each step he took. Something was wrong. Yet for the life of him...he couldn't find an explanation.

Your scent was stale. An hour old.

Where he expected to find the sweet echo of your heartbeat somewhere in the apartment; he was met with the chilling realization that you weren't here.

"Honey," he called, his voice lower than intended. "You here baby?"

Logan's heart ached when he was met with a response of nothing. Merely air that didn't carry the sound of your voice, nor the scent he'd grown accustomed to. What was he supposed to do when the emptiness was all the world offered? When the echo of his nightmares suddenly bled into reality.

He set the food on your kitchen table, yanking his phone out of his jacket pocket he slammed his finger on your number. The only one programmed into the damn thing. The incessant ring suddenly never sounded so threatening. So malevolent as he waited with baited breath for your voice to filter through the other line. Loud and clear without a single thing to fear.

When the shrill buzz of your own phone came from the bedroom, Logan felt the familiar cold drip of fear begin to slip down his spine. He struggled to maintain his breathing as he walked towards the room. His claws out—ready to attack at whatever came near him.

The empty bedroom—sheets in a laundry basket and comforter a tangle on the bed from this morning—felt like an icy pick in his chest. You weren't here. And Logan knew there had to be a logical explanation as to why this was.

You left for a reason.

You wouldn't simply offer up silence on a silver platter and expect him to take it with a smile.

You weren't that type of person.

Yet no matter how long he wracked his brain, he couldn't come up with a valid reason as to where you might be. Expecting to see you through the window at Wade's place, Logan rushed to the frame. Only to feel the crunch of glass beneath his feet—the panes shattered and crushed on the floor. Your favorite coffee mug severed in pieces beside it.

"No," he breathed, eyes wide and hand plagued with a tremor of fear as he knelt to grip the porcelain shards.

The terror he fought against for so long slammed into his body with a roar. It forced him to look. To see the truth that he could no longer deny. You didn't leave. You weren't gone of your own volition.

You...weren't safe.

"Fuck," he spit, shutting his eyes as the sting of tears began to prick behind his eyelids. "No. No. No."

"How touching."

The sound of your voice made him whip around, eyes wide and heart racing as he prepared himself to apologize for whatever made you leave. But the face that came into his sight wasn't the you of this universe. Pain sliced his gut as the version of you he couldn't save—the woman he would once die for—smiled at him.

"Fortuna," he said in a breath, eyes trailing down your figure encased in ripples of blue. Your eyes were white—devoid of any emotion. Yet he could feel your bitterness; the hatred that still existed from that night.

Your lips formed a pout, boots echoing against the hardwood floor like bullets firing from a gun. "What? No more honey?"

He flinched when your hand came up to cup his cheek. "What are you-"

"Doing here?" You smiled, blue flashing in the iris of your eyes. Logan felt his body sway with grief—the emotions he swallowed for years now hitting him with a force he never thought possible. "Why...I'm here for you baby."

"Fortuna-"

"Don't call me that." You gripped his chin, dragging him down to face you. "That name never used to leave your lips before. Why now?"

"Where is she?" he bit out, claws begging to take a slice out of your body.

Your voice was filled with mirth. Logan had never heard you this way.

So...deranged. Unhinged.

Whatever happened after you left had pushed you past the edge of what sanity still remained. The brink you toed even when you were together. He could see it in the scars that littered your arms, the long mark along your face. You weren't the woman he once loved. You weren't even the same fucking person.

His eyes trailed further, down to the collar of your suit, until he latched onto the scar that nearly had him staggering away to vomit. Burned onto your skin was a mark to represent who you'd been at one point. Who you would forever remain. The X, a stitched over wound that didn't have the proper time to heal.

The humans broke you. They destroyed the woman he once knew.

Logan felt anger burn in his heart at the realization.

"You mean my replacement?" you spit, shoving him away. "And here I thought you were still nursing your wounds in some fucking bar Logan." The whip twined around your waist sparked to life. "Forgive me for believing you cared."

"You're insane." He stumbled back at the first lick of your power stretching to touch him. "Charles warned you about what your powers would evolve into. He begged you not to go down this path."

Laughter pierced his eardrums—the fury biting at his heart as you cupped his cheeks and shoved your face into his. "Do you know who else begged Logan? Jean. Storm, Scott, Rogue, Bobby-"

He ripped himself away. "Shut the fuck up!"

"They screamed for you Logan!" Time began to slow, slip through his body and tear at the flesh that never aged. "They begged me to help them, to stop their attackers. And what could I do? When I was stuck in the future! But you. You could have saved them. You fucking worthless bastard!"

Blue filled his vision, his body sagging against your hold, as you ripped at his mutant gene with a ferocity that left him beyond saving. This was your last play. The final card you never intended to show him.

"Please-" he gasped, refusing to fight back.

How could he? When his heart still called your name, no matter the universe.

You were his. The person who held every piece of his heart to kill on a whim if you so wished it. The woman who he'd die beside.

He just never thought it would be your mutant variant. He never expected you would be the one to deliver that final blow.

Air filled his lungs when you pulled away. His body healing instantly—the spots of age now fading along his paled skin. Whatever you had planned, it wasn't going to start with his death. Logan knew you better than you knew yourself; a fact you seemed to have forgotten.

You may have been kind—loving once. But final grand shows of vengeance were your ploy. No matter the situation...you wouldn't give away the ending even if he begged.

He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. "Where is she? I-I'll...do anything-"

"You love her," you murmured, regarding him with an expression of pity.

"Yes."

"What a shame."

His head rose, eyes wide as time began to slow. "Fortuna-"

"I'll give her your regards Logan." Your lips pressed to his cheek, breath a familiar warm caress against his skin. He felt his heart shatter.

"Fortuna!"

Staggering to his feet—his heart trapped in his throat—he felt time stop. And any hope he held in his heart...ceased to exist.

The crack of wood jolted you from the darkness you were trapped in. Fear trailed up your spine, wrapping around your heart tight enough to blister in searing pain. Your wrists and ankles were bound, body attached to a chair, and you blinked through the haze to see an empty abandoned room. The cold air stung the bare skin of your thighs as you sat there encased in only Logan's flannel—your skin raw from the rope.

Broken furniture was scattered through the room. A couch stripped of its fabric, walls with torn wallpaper, and you leaning against the wall your head cocked with intrigue.

"W-Who are you?" you stumbled over your words, shivering from the cold.

The echo of boots made the hair rise on the back of your neck, your eyes going wide at the sight of blue spilling off this person's frame. There was no need for her to answer. No response to give, because you knew who stood before you. She wore your face. Spoke in your voice and emanated a power you'd only seen once before.

"Logan once called me honey once," she murmured, milky eyes flashing blue. "He calls you that doesn't he?"

You nodded, shuddering as she dropped to squat in front of you, hands braced on the arms of the air. She didn't regard you with anger like before. Though it still lingered beneath the surface, she watched you as if you were someone to learn from. Someone to figure out.

"Why am I here?" you whispered, voice hoarse.

"Pathetic he would choose to love your kind. After what they did.” Fear struck your chest at the malice in her words, the wrath that now faced you head on. “You can call me Fortuna," she murmured, finger stroking down the side of your face. The place where no scar rested—no mark of torture that echoed from a past she couldn't escape.

"Please." The sting of hot tears burned your eyes. "I don't know what I did-"

A bark of laughter ripped from her throat. "Oh sweetie. You didn't do anything." She stood, loosening the whip from her body. "You're merely collateral damage. No need to take it so personal."

"Collateral-" You gasped as the whip flicked forward, wrapping around your waist. "Wait! Y-You're the woman Logan loved. He told me about you."

The smile that curved her lips forced nausea to the surface of your stomach. "Yes I suppose he would. So guilt ridden by what he couldn't do."

"It's not his fault."

Another laugh had tears slipping down your cheeks. "Did he tell you that?"

"He didn't have to. The humans were the ones to kill your family. Not him."

The whip tightened around your body, pain slicing at your skin. "Oh I'm very well aware of what the humans are capable of."

Scars littered her skin, some larger than others, and suddenly you understood what happened. What she meant by it all. Logan couldn't save her. He wasn't able to keep her from the human's harm. Because he decided to wallow in his own grief than share in hers.

Fortuna had become Logan's worst nightmare. His walking shame that continued to haunt him even in this universe. No wonder he felt so afraid of what might happen the longer he remained with you.

"Do you know this place?" She glanced at the room—the staircase that was tucked away in the corner that led to a second story. "An old farmhouse near the mansion. Abandoned here, but not where I'm from."

"It's..."

"Ours."

Your heart dropped, tears spilling over faster than you could stop them. "Oh..."

"He didn't mention that part did he human?" She stepped closer, leaning over your cowering form with a smile that you felt tear at your heart. "We were going to live here together. You see...I have the one thing you will never be able to give him." Her hand cupped your cheek, wiping at the tears with rough strokes. "I will never die."

You shook your head. "He doesn't-"

"Care?" She clicked her tongue, disappointment flooding her features. "He'll say that now human. But what happens when you're sixty? Seventy? What happens when you outlive the Wolverine? What will he do then?"

"The Logan I know wouldn't leave me because of time."

"I am time," she snapped, gripping your chin. "I have lived as long as he has. I will continue to live even longer. Time means nothing when you are the physical embodiment of it."

"No-"

Wrapping the whip around her clenched fist, she pulled until the power began to split through your nerves. A sob broke past your cracked lips, pain burning through your body, lighting you with a fire only she could put out. She watched with a smile, her power flickering to life as the years began to seep from your body.

Second by second.

Minute by minute.

She stole what little time you could have held with Logan. What might have existed now began to bleed into the air as her whip cut into your skin. The crimson stain of blood seeped into Logan's brown flannel shirt, staining the fabric permanently. A scream tore from your throat—eyes squeezing shut as you tried to block out the sensation that intended to ingrain itself in your mind.

"You are nothing but a replacement." She yanked another inch of the whip closer to her chest—blood pooling beneath the chair and seeping into the wood.

"PLEASE!" you screamed, body wracked with tremors that weren't there before. White began to seep into your hair, streaking down to the base in a long strip—staining you with an age you might never reach. "Please! I-I'll do anything."

She tutted under her breath, her face now at your eye level. "That's where you're wrong. You can't do anything that hasn't already been done honey."

Tears blurred your vision. "W-What?"

"He wouldn't save me." Silence echoed in the still air of the room. The pain slowed to a dull ache as you slumped forward. "So I'm going to make sure he can't save you."

"N-No-"

"Like I said...collateral damage."

Your scream pierced the air like a knife, shattering what peace might have remained, as time began to form around Fortuna. Permanently altering the future that once shone with a light by plunging it into a darkness with no escape. And you were trapped in the center. Unable to claw your way free, to break from the one thing no one could run from.

A hell of time’s own making.

note: i am sorry. we will have a happy ending. just not yet.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #my writing

234 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Family Affair

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, violence, humiliation, biting, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your sister surprises you with good news but you find it difficult to be happy for her. (older, short reader)

Character: Curtis Everett

Note: Happy Curtmas.

For @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Chatter buzzes from the front room as you brace the wall and lift your foot to unzip your wedge boot. You’re late and the guests are already in the throes of their celebration. You wiggle off both boots and set them amid the clutter of many. As you stand straight and gather up your gift bags and purse, you’re met with an unexpected sight.

You lift a brow, slightly confused by the unfamiliar man. He’s tall, his hair is cut short, and dark stubble adds definition to his well-formed jaw. His eyes are a bold shade of aquamarine but are glossed over with an almost indifferent gleam. He doesn’t say a word as your eyes meet and he just as quickly turns into the front room, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans.

It’s been a few years. You’re sure a lot has changed. You head down the hall, past the broad archway of the front room, and into the kitchen. As usual, your mother is there, readying another tray of finger foods.

She looks up from her intent work and gives a wide smile, “you’re here!” She chimes, “I was half-waiting for a call saying you wouldn’t make it.”

Her arrow hits the bullseye of your guilt. You haven’t been the most reliable. You can make excuses; the divorce, work, depression. None of that can assuage her.

“Sorry, mom,” you go to put the gift bags down and she stops you with a tut.

“Ah, ah, you go add those to the pile and say hello,” she demands, “you’re not hiding in here.”

You look at her, almost desperate. You love her but sometimes you wonder if that feeling is mutual. As much as she’s right, you hoped she might have some empathy. She’s been through a turbulent split, she’s had to start again, but she expects you to do it flawlessly. As she has anything else.

“Love you, mom,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Love you too, hon,” she goes back to arrange the spiral of cocktail weenies, “make sure you say hello to your sister. She’s so excited to see you.”

You nod and a real smile breaks through. That was the one light at the end of the tunnel. Your baby sister was always your favourite. Despite nearly two decades between you, she’s your best friend. In a way, you feel like a second mother, taking pride in her like you would a child of your own.

The front room is filled to the brim. Aunt Geri and Uncle Val sit on a sofa with their son, Miko. A cluster of similarly aged cousins stand at the edge of the couch chatting. Aunt Maureen argues with Aunt Kaya, and the latter’s husband stands by the window with a glass in hand and his mind a million miles away.

You always found yourself out of place at these things. When you were a child, you were the youngest one in the room. Too immature to understand the dialogue of your elders. As you got older, the other cousins came along and were too young for your angsty teenage self. Now, you’re caught in the desert between the eras; the retirees complain too much and the coeds talk too loud.

You peer around. A set of broad shoulders draws your eye in the corner of the room. It’s that same man you saw before. He has his back to you as he maintains a casual posture. As he leans on one leg, you see your sister, Adeline, gabbing to him. Oh, he must be with her…

As you drop your gifts under the tree, you mull the revelation. You suppose the assumption wasn’t obvious. At first glance, he’s older than her, or maybe he just looks it. She’s still a sophomore in college but you suppose that makes even more sense. These are the years she gets to figure it all out.

You face the room and stop as Aunt Maureen latches onto your arm, blindsiding you with Kaya as they close in like hyenas.

“There she is,” Maureen slurs.

“Not too good for us after all, huh?” Kaya challenges.

“What? No, uh, Merry Christmas–”

“Where’s Benny?” Maureen interrupts. You blanch, nearly choking on your tongue. The mention of your ex-husband has you breathless.

“Maur,” Kaya hisses, “remember…”

“Probably with his new girlfriend,” you say tersely.

“Oh my,” Maureen lets you go and slaps her forehead, “I’m so sorry. The wine…”

“It’s… okay,” you shrug. “Not talking about it won’t undo it.”

“He was such a charming man,” Maureen hums mournfully. You blink at her.

“His loss,” Kaya pats your arm gently, trying to clean up her sister’s mess. You know they all think the same. You had a good thing and you blew it. Even if you told them he fucked his co-worker, you’d be the one who threw it all away.

“Pity you never got a kid outta him,” Maureen sighs.

“Really, divorce has been final for a year, I’m good,” you insist and shuffle past them, “I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Don’t forget to have some wine,” Maureen calls after you, “takes the edge off disappointment, you know?”

You growl and shake your head as you stalk away. You wave hello to your other aunt and uncle, hoping to avoid a similarly humiliating encounter, and weave through the sea of guffawing cousins. You come out on the other side as Adeline beams up at her guest.

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and her face lights up. She bounces in place and throws her arms out. She rushes past the man and has you wrapped up in a hug. It’s kind of ridiculous how much taller she is. You’re supposed to be the bigger sister.

“You’re here!” She rocks you in her embrace, “eek! I’m so excited.”

You croak out a breath as she squeezes the air out of you. She releases you with a giggle, apologising as she steps back. She wears a long tulle skirt and a beaded sweater. She’s beautiful. You could never pull something like that off, even twenty years ago.

“Oh, oh, you have to meet Curtis,” she snatches your hand and tugs you over the tall man as he turns to face you. Those same vague eyes fall upon you, “Curtis, this is my sister!”

“Curtis,” you repeat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You look between them with a brittle smile. He offers his hand as he returns the sentiment. You shake, his palm rough and calloused. Adeline vibrates with joy.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says.

“And I’ve heard nothing about you,” you grin at Adeline, “Addy?”

“I’m sorry,” she cups her cheeks guiltily, a sparkle on her ring finger. Your heart drops. “I didn’t know how to– the divorce and–”

“Ad,” you wisp and nearly sway on your feet, “what is that?”

You point to her hand and she quickly swipes it away, hiding it behind her back. “Nothing,” she gulps, the same way she did when she was a child and you caught her playing with your makeup.

There’s a tense silence as you gape in shock. Your mouth hangs open as you search for the words. Your eyes tinge with hot tears but you swallow them back.

“Congratulations,” you draw her into a hug, “really, I’m happy for you.”

She hugs you back, gentler than before. As you part, she looks nervous. Curtis clears his throat.

“Both of you,” you offer him a fragile smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little… shocked. Does mom know?”

Adeline nods as she clasps her hands together. You take a breath, and calm yourself. It’s not anything that she fears, you’re not jealous. You’re nervous, you’re afraid for her. It’s a big thing and she’s so young.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to share the good news,” you say, “I’d love to help, if I can?”

“We got it,” Curtis insists.

“Oh,” you wince, “I didn’t mean– I could help with the planning or the engagement part–”

“We’re eloping,” he crosses his arms, “we’re not wedding people. Whole lot of money and fanfare for nothing.”

You nod, holding back your surprise as best you can. Nothing? It’s marriage. Even if they don’t want a big ceremony, it means something.

“I could help pay for the trip–”

“I got it,” he enunciates each word as he sidles over to sling his arm around your sister’s back. She looks away meekly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. She’s my sister, I just want to–”

“If you wanted to help, you would’ve been around the last two years,” he interjects.

Adeline’s head snaps around as she gives him a look. She nudges him with her elbow and whispers his name. He glares at you as you wilt. You’re not sure what you’ve done or said.

“Well, I think maybe me and Addy can talk about that,” you look at your sister, “when you have a chance, of course. I don’t want to spoil the holiday.”

“Adeline,” he corrects you, “Addy is so juvenile.”

The benefit of the doubt splinters as his tone cuts through you. You bite your tongue. Perhaps a twenty-one year old is juvenile to someone his age. You’ll talk to Addy about that too.

“Adeline,” you force a smile, “I… I’m going to go check on mom.” You show a palm in deference as you excuse yourself, “we’ll catch up later.”

As you back away, your eyes meet Curtis’. He watches you with a scowl. You are taken completely off balance. How could she end up with someone like him? She’s so sweet and he’s so scary…

Maybe she’s afraid too.

🎄

Christmas Eve ends much the same as you remember. The elders sit around the dining table to play cards as the kids, now adults, disperse in the living room or outside to entertain themselves. There’s a vague stench near the front door that no one will comment on but everyone knows what it is as it wafts in from outside.

You find yourself in limbo, once more caught in the in-between. You hole up in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as you wait for it to tremble. You won’t be missed if you take a tea up to your assigned room without a good night.

You lean on the counter and sigh, your finger brushing over the brim of the white porcelain cup with the hen on it. Strange how your mother’s house never seems to change but your life is inextricably altered. Your melancholy dims the cheery decor around you as you wallow away from the voices of the merry.

“There you are,” Adeline startles you as she sweeps in, “oh, is there any of the hot choccy left?”

You smile at her question. Everything about her reminds you of the time passed, of her newfound adulthood, yet she’s just the same little girl you always knew. You turn and pull the tin forward, “one packet left, just for you.”

You pull it out and face her again. She pulls out a mug from the cupboard and sets it down. The kettle hums between you as it heats up.

She exhales as you linger in a tense silence. You both have so much to say but neither of you know where to start. She finds her words first. Despite being younger, she was always the more outspoken.

“Do you like him?” She asks.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, “well, I’ve barely spoken to him. He seems to like you though.”

Her cheeks bulb as she grins bashfully, “I love him.”

Your chest seizes as you recognize that glimmer in her eye. She’s genuine, she feels that love so deeply it consumes her. It’s a naive love but real nonetheless. The sort you can’t see for what it is until it turns sour.

“I can tell,” you reach forward to fix the bow on her headband, “I’m happy for you. And my offer still stands. Maybe if it’s not the wedding, a honeymoon, or help with a house…” you wet your lips and steady your voice, “I only want you to be happy, Addy– Adeline.”

“Oh, he’s just… he’s like that. I can’t even call him Curt. He balances me out,” she beams.

“Yeah,” you say noncommittally.

“What?” Her voice dampens.

“Nothing,” you distract yourself with the variety of tea bags in the wooden chest next to the breadbox, “it’s… a lot. I’m surprised, is all. I just hope it goes well.”

She sniffs and lets her breath out long and heavy, “I’m sorry, I knew– he kinda said you’d probably be upset. After Benny–”

“This has nothing to do with him,” you narrow your eyes at her, a bag of chai in your hand, “this is about you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“He’s so good to me, you don’t have to worry.”

“I can worry, you’re my baby sister,” you insist, “and…” You shake your head, refusing to let the thought escape.

“And what?” She challenges, her pitch squeaking.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. I can always tell when you’re dying to say something. What?”

You shrug, “it’s just… how old is he?”

She scoffs, “wow.”

“What? I’m just asking.”

“It’s not like he’s old enough to be dad,” she pouts and crosses her arms.

“I know, I didn’t mean– Ad–Adeline, I just— you have time to figure it out. So I hope you’re not rushing this.”

“I’m not,” she snips, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice.

“I believe you… but what about him?”

She’s quiet as the kettle clicks, signalling the boiling point. You turn and drop the tea bag into your cup and pour the water. She tears open the packet and empties it into her own mug.

“Sorry,” you utter, “forget it. I… I don’t know him so maybe I need to get to know him. I’m here, Ad, and I will always be here for you.”

She nods and reaches for the kettle, not looking at you.

“Really, I trust you. I just worry about you,” you clap your hand on her shoulder, “you’re my lil teddy bear.”

She chuckles and looks down at you, your statement made absurd by the difference in your heights.

“And you’re the big grizzly, scaring off the wolves,” she kids back.

“Adeline,” the deep rumble thunders in ahead of the man, making both of you jump. You pull back your hand as Curtis strides in, “hey, I’ve been waiting on you.”

“Oh, sorry, baby,” she preens at him, “I was just–”

“You said we’d call my family after dinner,” he interrupts.

“I forgot,” she squeals, “oh, I’m so sorry.” She glances over at you, “I did promise.”

“Go on,” you try to smile but you’re not sure it’s showing.

She spins and flits over to Curtis. His eyes meet yours over her shoulder. His brows arch as his jaw is set in stone. A chill runs up your spine at the ice in his dark pupils. He grabs Adeline’s hand and drags her out.

You’re left in silence. You look over at the unmixed powder floating in the steaming water. You chew your lip as you stare at it. It’s just hot chocolate but there’s something about her abandoning something she loves so much for him. You try not to let your own failed marriage echo over her relationship, but it just feels off.

Well, Benny always did say you never did handle change very well.

🎄

The night before Christmas is rarely a restful one. Even without the childish belief in Saint Nick, you find yourself awake, anxious but not for presents. You keep replaying the night through your head; not the awkward interactions with aunts and uncles, or the silent judgment from the younger crowd, but Adeline and Curtis. Let it go, it’s none of your business.

You huff and roll on your back. Sleep eludes you. You sit up and bend over the side of the bed. You hold your head. You’ll sneak out the bathroom and hopefully an empty bladder will help.

You drag your feet across the floor, the legs of your pajama pants too long and trailing down your feet. You open the door and yawn as you enter the hall, only to collide with another unexpected barrier. Before you can react, you’re being forced back into the guestroom, stumbling as your fingers claw at the door frame and slip off.

A hand smothers your mouth, rough against your lips, as a foot kicks the door shut with a sharp click. You murmur into the calloused flesh as an arm loops around your back, trapping you as you’re urged further into the dark. You grasp at the cotton clinging to muscular shoulder. You’re kept off balance by your attacker’s certainty.

“I fucking heard you,” Curtis’ silty grit seeps into your ears, “you think I’d hurt her?” He snarls as he stops you at the foot of the bed. His shadow looms over you, breath puffing from his nostrils as he growls like a beast, “I wouldn’t, but I’ll hurt you.”

He pushes you back so your legs meet the side of the bed. You teeter and clasp your hand around his wrist, squeaking as he easily takes you down onto the mattress. He pins you, your legs hanging off the end, kicking weakly as his other hand curves around your throat.

He bends over you, straddling your chest heavily. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds until your ears throb. Your temples pulse violently and your throat dries to a sandy scrape.

“Stay out of my fucking business,” he snarls, sliding down your body.

You whimper into his hand as he drops his knees off the bed, holding himself over you. He squeezes your neck, choking out your voice as he drags his hand from your mouth. He feels along your chest and flicks open the top button of your shirt. Your eyes wet in horror.

“Fucking show you…” he sneers as his breath scours over your flesh.

Another button undone as his lips tick along your shoulder. You squeak once more as he sinks his teeth into your flesh, biting a mean pinch until you spasm. The pain is unbearable. You feel the skin break as the hot flow of blood mingles with his spit.

He detaches only to bite you again. You can’t make a noise as his grip grows tighter on your neck. Even if you could scream, you’re too terrified and confused to understand what he’s doing. He’s like an animal tearing you apart.

He lays a tortured path down your chest, lingering on the rise of flesh, gnawing into the tenderness there. His nails dig into your side, pushing up your shirt as he scratches hot lines into your skin. You push on his shoulders desperately but he’s too strong.

“Stop filling her head with your bitterness,” he growls before he bites into your nipple.

You shake and beat on his head, shoulders, and back. You writhe and wrestle, trying to free yourself from him. He continues on, down your stomach, lingering on the soft flesh as his fingers hook into the elastic of your pants.

Your panic overflows with your tears. This can’t be happening. Why would he do this? He could talk to you? You would listen. You didn’t say anything wrong, you just want Adeline to be careful.

The very thought of your sister throttles you. Does he do this to her? Is this why she’s so defensive? The idea makes you sick to your stomach.

He lifts himself, his weight centering on your neck. You think he’ll crush your windpipe as he looms over you, snarling in the blackness. He pushes you higher onto the bed, forcing your legs open with his knees.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I’ll make sure you can’t,” he threatens, giving a last squeeze before slowly slackening his grip.

You hold your breath. You believe him. Your body goes limp and you close your eyes. The bed shifts as he sits back on his heels. He pulls your pants down your thighs and you whine. He hushes you, a harsh tap across your cheek to get his point across.

You let your head drift to one side as you clench the blanket beneath you in tight fists. He keeps your legs trapped in your pants, knees bent as the fabric strains across his stomach. He tilts and movies around, his fingernails scratching the back of your thighs.

“Bet the husband couldn’t stand your fucking mouth,” he snarls as he pushes roughly against your cunt. “Didn’t know how to train you.” He jams two fingers into you, jolting your entire body, “dry bitch like you, he was probably thirsty as fuck.”

You seal your eyes tight, tears trickling through as a sob bubbles in your throat. You want to tell him to stop. You want to ask why. You want to scream. You can’t do anything as your body locks up.

He fingers you meanly, pulling his fingers out only to ram them in again, each time his knuckles hit you painfully. He keeps it up, growling with each intrusion as your muscles knots and pathetic noises rise from your throat.

He forces your legs higher, tearing his hand away from your pelvis. He adjusts his knees and you feel something else against your cunt.

“No…” you whisper right as he ruts into you.

He splits you apart around him. You let out a holler and he quickly silences you with a crack of his knuckles. The back of his hand snaps off your cheek and turns your head to the other side. You gulp and sob, choking back any noise that threatens to bubble over.

He holds himself as deep as he can. He puts his large hands on your shoulders and pins you flat. He bucks, agony rippling up your spine. He snaps his hips, again and again, each time harder than the last.

“This is what you need. So fucking jealous, aren’t you? Dried up old bitch,” he pumps into you as his breath picks up, “why kind of sister are you, huh? Fucking your baby sister’s man. Fucking slut.”

You cover your face and heave. You’re drowned in pain and humiliation. You’re disgusted with him for doing this to you; and yourself for letting him.

“You don’t wanna hurt her, do you?” He growls, “that’s why this is happening… cause you wanna keep her safe, right?”

He puts his hand against your head and pushes it down into the bed, fucking you into the mattress. The frame pounds the wall, matching his furious rhythm. You reach to brace his thick arm, begging silently for it to end.

“Oh, it’ll be over soon,” he rasps as his hand once more frames your throat, “fuck, you got me ready to blow quicker than I thought.” He puffs, each thrust rattling your bones, “I love how weak you are.”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #snowpiercer #au #christmas #naught or nice

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maldaptivedreamer · 28 days

Text

From Afar P. 1

You didn't know his name and you didn't care to. You were perfectly content to watch him from afar...Or were you?

contents: Errors and mistakes, too lazy to edit, probably not entirely accurate to alien universe, Bjorn is also not a major character in this part, kinda long

wc: 1.7k

a/n: First thing to address is the fact that I absolutely hated Bjorn. He pissed me off and SPOILER: I was entirely satisfied when he died. Now because he’s a fictional person, I CAN change him, therefore I will. Second thing is, I have never written creatively before, so if my writing is clunky I apologize.

Masterist Next Part

Sweat dripped from your brow as you drilled into the rock. Your goggles fogged with humidity and your mask only made it harder to breath. Your arms trembled with effort as the alarm signaled the end of your shift. Immediately, your arms sagged. Despite the pain, you continued to push forward towards the tunnel's exit, dragging the heavy drill behind you.

As you stepped out into the open air, you placed your drill on the ground and quickly removed the bulky gloves from your hands. They were shoved under your arm as you pulled your mask and goggles down. You briefly paused. Looking up to catch your breath, you found little reprieve. Jackson's atmosphere is dense and contaminated with humidity and pollution. Even outside of the tunnel, the air is only a fraction better than the air inside.

Taking shaking steps towards the desk to clock out, you silently lay the drill in a compartment, where it is promptly checked in. "Another twelve-hour shift, no drill damage," the attendant muttered, barely glancing up from his screen. You nodded wearily, not bothering to speak. Your throat too raw from the dust and fumes. The worker inside nodded to you and handed you your bag. You ignored them, snatching your bag from the counter.

As you shuffled towards the locker room, your legs felt like lead. The ache in your muscles had become a constant companion, a dull throb that never truly faded. You passed by other miners, their faces etched with the same exhaustion you felt deep in your bones. The locker room was a cacophony of slamming metal doors and muted conversations. You peeled off your sweat-soaked jumpsuit, wincing as the fabric clung to your skin. You change into a loose t-shirt and jeans. Boots shoved back onto your throbbing feet.

You uncaringly threw your goggles and mask into your locker, jumpsuit shoved into your bag. Slamming the door closed, you swing the bag around your shoulder. The sweat built up on your shirt quickly, soaking the bag as it pressed into you back and dug into your stiff shoulders. Your sweaty hands are wiped along your stained jeans.

You walked home as fast as your body allowed, but the trip home is long. As you weave through the crowd, paying no attention to those around you, you allow yourself to think. Deftly maneuvering between each person, you become lost in your own world.

The cycle never ends. Go home, go to work, go back home, and then back to work. Endless monotony. You exert all your energy for what? For nothing. Nothing to strive towards. Just a replaceable cog in their machine, destined to spend your whole life on this planet until you die. They have no regard for you, you’re just another expendable worker. As this bitter and depressing thought crossed your mind, you briefly faltered in your steps. All you do is work and work, you deserve to relax. To just sit and be.

You don't bother going back home to wash off the stink of a long work day. You know that if you go back home, it'll likely end with you not leaving. Instead, you make your way to the northern quarry. It had been completely drained and now acts as a spot for younger people to drink and hang out at.

The once bustling quarry now stands as a barren wasteland, its towering walls and deep pits looking more intimidating due to the dark sky. Graffiti covers its jagged surfaces, a mix of colorful art and desperate messages scrawled in quick strokes. The air around the quarry is thick with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. The faint aroma of weed lingers in the air, masked by the stronger scent of chemicals and decay. Despite the unpleasant smells, the quarry is usually alive with chatter and laughter.

You’d never been there before, only passing by, socializing and relaxing not having been high on your priority list. However, with this goal in mind, you determinedly walked towards your destination.

You tilted your head while chewing your lip raw, watching as he laughed. He leans in closer to his friends, flashing a handsome smile. Releasing your lip, you blow air from your nose and take a sip of the beer in your hands, grimacing at the taste.

Silently watching the people around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the pretty boy across the quarry. You’d noticed him before. Just in passing, but his pretty face hadn’t left your mind since. He stood out in the dim light of the quarry, his sharp jawline and tousled hair making him appear almost ethereal. His loose shirt waves in the humid wind. His laugh is infectious and loud, his eyes sparkling in the flickering light from nearby bonfires.

You watch as he focuses his blue eyes on a girl with a shaved head, sipping on his drink as she spoke. You chewed on your bottom lip as he licked the droplet of liquid that escaped his mouth. The pretty boy’s long fingers loosely wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

An amused voice cuts through your silent admiration, “You’re drooling.” You turn to see a girl with curly hair grinning at you. She brushes a stray strand away from her face and raises her eyebrows as she chuckles. You glance back at the attractive boy before turning fully towards the girl. You shrug, “Can you blame me? He’s hot and fun to look at.”

She nods towards him, "Are you gonna’ to go talk to him?" Her tone is playful and her brown eyes twinkle with humor.

You scoffed under your breath and responded firmly, “Absolutely not.” She looks at you with a puzzled expression as you give her a wry smile. Her own smile falters as she asks, "Why not? Are you embarrassed? I could introduce you to him if you'd like."

You emphatically shake your head, “Hah no. No thanks. I refer to him as pretty boy cause I don’t know his name. I do not want to know his name. I haven’t talked to him because I don’t want to know if he’s an asshole. Like I said he’s fun to look at and I’d hate for him to ruin his pretty face with a shitty personality. It would also be too much work to find another hot person to quietly obsess over, so I’m good thanks.” You end your small rant with another wry smile and a drink. You return to observing the people around you as you await her response.

For a brief moment, there is silence before her boisterous cackling shatters the relative calmness of the night. You and several others instinctively turn to towards her. Her curls bounce as she laughs, gesturing towards the empty seat next to you with a mischievous smile. You nod and motion for her to join you. Squinting your eyes in amusement, your lips curl into a smile at the infectious energy.

Suppressing her giggles, she takes a seat next to you. "I'm Kay," she introduces herself. You exchange names and lean back in your chair.

"I don't recognize you. Are you new here?" You finish your drink, scrunching your nose at the bitter taste before responding, "No, not exactly. Lived in the northern colony til’ I was about 8 and my parents died in the mines… was moved here a little while after.”

Kay frowned and gave your arm a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry…” There was a short pause before you spoke, voice soft “It’s been a while and I’ve had a lot of time to process everything, but I appreciate the sentiment regardless.” You return her gesture with a small smile and nudged her playfully.

Kay suddenly looks more alive, her eyes filled with a playful glint. "Do you make a habit of staring at people, or is it just him?" You chuckle and glance around, shrugging your shoulders. "I enjoy observing others from time to time...and yes," you nudge her playfully, "I may stare at him a bit more than others." She smirks and nods. Side by side, the two of you silently observe those around you.

As you take a quick glance at pretty boy, your face scrunches up in confusion. You sit up taller and ask, "Wait, do you know him?"

She laughs quietly and confirms, "He's my cousin." You take a deep breath and face her. Kay watches as you start to speak, but you stop yourself mid-sentence. She raises an eyebrow in question. “I was going to apologize but I’m not sorry.” You shrug and give her a playful grin. She shakes her head with a smile, “You shouldn’t be anyway, he can be an asshole.”

You lean back and prop yourself up on your elbows, shaking your head in playful frustration, “Damn…I knew he was just a pretty face.“ Cliquing your tongue, you give her a grin. You look up and lock eyes with pretty boy, whose piercing blue stare take in every inch of you. He takes you in from head to toe before meeting your gaze again. You raise an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as if you had never noticed him before. He flashes a smile and winks at you, licking his lips playfully.

Kay snapped you out of your staring contest with a gentle push and a mischievous smile. "You've caught his eye now. What should I say when he inevitably asks about you?"

You burst into a fit of laughter before shrugging, "I have no idea. Let's just not tell him anything. I don't need to know about pretty boy and he doesn't need to know about me." You gesture towards him with a playful grin, briefly meeting his gaze. His eyes widen for a split second before he returns the grin. He takes this as an invitation and stands up, prompting you to do the same. "Sorry to cut this short, but I'm exhausted from my shift." Kay stands up and surprises you with a hug - awkward, yet oddly comforting. As you part ways, you turn to leave but pause, “I’ll see you soon?” You cringe internally at how needy it sounds, but are relieved when she nods and says, "I'll see you soon." With a genuine smile, she leaves.

Without paying any attention to the pretty boy with blue eyes, you turn and begin making your way home.

Next Part

#bjorn alien romulus x reader #bjorn alien romulus #alien romulus #spike fearn

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mindisrotting · 7 months

Text

𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 | simon "ghost" riley

tags | wife!reader, parenthood, a little angst, fluff, mentions of murder, not proofread (sorry for any mistakes)

special thanks to @athanasialove for inspiring this little fic <3

Imagine Simon Riley, who sometimes before going to bed thinks about the things he went through. He found friends, and he found love, unconditional love, but he will never forget what Roba put him through, all that torture and grief of having to see his lifeless family on the floor of his home.

He's become a tough guy, a ghost, but he still has feelings and emotions. Sometimes he feels paranoid, the thought that in some corner of this cruel world there's someone who wants to cause him pain by hurting those he loved, his wife and precious kids, won't leave his mind. They're his reason to live, to survive, to give the best of himself. His little family will always be the light at the end of this dark tunnel. So no matter how much he wants to brag about them—to tell his squad about the perfect goal his son scored on his last football match or how his daughter recently learned how to read, and now she will read every word she sees aloud—he's terrified. Until Task Force 141 is coming back from a mission that ended with him getting shot twice. The surgeon had told him that he got lucky, if the second bullet had perforated a few centimeters more up, he would be in a body bag instead of laying on a hospital bed.

When you picked up a phone call from an unknown number, the last thing you expected to hear was your husband shaky’s voice. With tears in your eyes, you listened as he told you everything. Even though that wasn't the first time he's got hurt on the job, it was the first time he did since growing his own family, and it unlocked a new fear he never experienced before. He never wanted to leave you, not like this. When he asked you to do something, he wasn't thinking about the enemies he's made in all his years of service, he wasn't thinking about everyone seeing them in broad daylight.

When the military plane landed, and everyone got out to reunite with whoever was waiting for them to come home, everyone assumed Ghost would just say goodbye to Johnny and be on his way alone. But he went down the aircraft steps rapidly, because in the distance, he saw two little people running towards him with an older person walking behind them. He got down in one knee and opened his arms, waiting to feel the impact. When it did, he cried—the last time he shed any tears was when his daughter was born at only 28 weeks, she was so fragile and small, but she was a survivor—feeling the warm hug of his seven and four-year-old, it was the best feeling in the universe having two tiny humans yell “Daddy!” at the tops of their lungs and saying how much they missed him. Johnny was bewildered, because he never knew those people existed. He looked at Price but he was just as shocked, he looked away knowing it wasn't his business. Then came you, his beautiful wife of nine years, the mother of his children, his bridge, his strength, his everything. You, too, cried as you hugged him, knowing that he’s home safe and well. You stayed like that for longer than normal because Simon refused to let go of you.

When he was laying in the bed of his cold hospital room, he knew he needed to see you as soon as possible. He couldn't wait for the aircraft to land at base and then take another flight and drive an hour to his home in the countryside of England. He begged you to go with the kids to the base, and without hesitation you agreed, knowing this is what he needed.

He unwrapped his arms from you and took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs while his kids stood patiently. Then, your gaze directed from his brown eyes to the man standing looking at the scene, you motioned to Simon to turn around. He told you who the man was and crouched down to meet his kids’ eyes.

“wanna meet uncle Johnny?”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #ghost cod

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blackdollette · 7 months

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A&W. - euronymous

✩♬.ᐟ now playing: a&w. - did you know that theres a tunnel under ocean blvd?

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: this is the experience of being an american whore...

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp @auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart

female!reader x r!euronymous

word count: 896

contents: porn without plot, public sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, smoking, a little spanking

a harsh slap landed on your bruised ass as euronymous ruthlessly pounded into you from behind, the loud bass of his rehearsal breaking into your lewd thoughts. you sobbed into your pillow as he grabbed your hips, roughly shoving himself in and out of you as Forensic Files played on the television in the same room that his bandmates were playing.

he groaned deeply as he buried himself deep in your tight hole, his calloused fingers digging into your sore hips. “that’s my princess… my little whore.” you didn’t know how you got into this position. having terror incarnated fuck you on the floor of the hotel that held three other people. it was humiliating, really. showing up at the door in the tight little dark dress that hung too low at the chest and just barely covered your ass. you would always be eye candy for whichever one of his friends decided to open the door.

the cycle would repeat itself every day. he would be practicing for a show, he’d get bored and call you up to drink with him, and then somehow you always found yourself laying in the same sweaty bedsheets with his naked body cradling your own after a night of sin. as he laid his head on your bare chest, your fingers tangling through his long, dark hair you thought about how you didn’t even need anyone to love you anymore. but in the end it didn’t really matter.

your mind snapped back to reality, euronymous’ strained whimpers growing more laboured by each passing second. his cock twitched inside of you as he forced himself to keep his composure, but his thrusts were becoming sloppier and you could’ve sworn that his eyes were glossing over.

he flipped you over and pressed himself into your trembling body, your legs wrapping around his waist as hot, sticky fluid began to drip from your hole. you screamed out, not bothering to keep your voice down anymore. the echoing sound of sticky skin slapping and lewd moans surely notified the entire building of you and euronymous’ activities. you could see the pale shadows from under the door, seeing that his friends were listening through it, wishing they could join the fun. you felt like a whore, your panties slung to one corner of the room and your bra at the opposite, hanging from the open window sill.

“damnit..! i-i’m fuckin’ cumming, baby!” euronymous slammed into you, breaking your walls and turning you into a mindless, gushy mess. you couldn’t process a single thought as the feeling of his thumb on your clit and him poking and prodding at your nipples sent you to what felt like heaven. he tossed his head back in ecstasy as white hot cum poured from his swollen tip, filling you up to the brim until your were spilling out all around him.

slurred moans slipped from your parted lips so he took the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth, making you lick your own cum off your fingers. he pushed himself all the way into you, groaning with satisfaction. “yeah… see how good you taste on my fingers, baby…” he stirred his cock in your gummy walls, feeling himself get overstimulated.

he pulled himself out of you, pumping his length and shooting the last few strings of cum onto your stomach. you laid on your back, panting as you came down from your high, but you knew it wasn’t over yet.

he sank down a little until he was face to face with your glistening pussy. “such a pretty little pussy you’ve got.” he cooed, giving your cunt a few slaps and drawing up thick threads of gooey cum from your hole. he got right to business, bringing his mouth to your dripping slit and sloppily making out with the honey between your legs.

you screamed with pure bliss, grabbing a handful of his hair as he hungrily lapped up all your delicious drops. your legs clammed shut around his head but he forced them open again, taking advantage of your weakening limbs. he stuffed a finger into your hole, pumping it in and out and watching as you coated his hand with your liquids.

his motions were hypnotic, sending you to a universe that you never wanted to return from. your legs began to tremble as you felt another orgasm tearing through your body. your gut tightened as your pussy throbbed against his long tongue, your vision going blurry as you finally reached your climax.

you wrapped your legs around his head, surely suffocating him. but this felt like heaven to him. a waterfall of hot liquid squirted out of you, spraying all over his face as your body submitted to the pleasure. euronymous drank you up, not letting a single drop go to waste as his face dripped with your warm fluid. your heart raced as you recollected yourself, panting as he wrapped his arms around your body and set you on the bed. he sat beside you, lighting himself a cigarette and offering you a drag. he watched your lips wrap around it, staring at you predatorily as you exhaled a thin ribbon of smoke.

and just like that, he was hard again. you were in for a second round and couldn’t even decline it. this was the experience of being an american whore.

author's note: my mental breakdown is over!! 🥳

#Spotify #eurorory #euronymous smut #lords of chaos #euronymous #euronymous rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #rory culkin smut #rory culkin #a&w lana del rey #a&w #did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd #lana del rey #smut #444rockstargf

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chamomiletealeaf · 7 months

Text

Sweet as Pie

Chapter 3

a/n: I'm having such bad writers block for this story guys but I kinda like this idea. It's just more of Simon being in awe of you from afar because I'm not sure how to move on with the story yet so this is kind of a filler chapter I guess? Idk, but hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Simon found himself falling asleep faster, easier, and more soundly each night, and he didn't know why. It definitely wasn't because his mind is filled with thoughts of you rather than the horrors he's witnessed on the battlefield, right? No, that would be crazy. It's not like he had a little big crush on you or anything... Right?

Simon decided to take a walk the morning after you visited him to learn more about the area. It was truly beautiful. The lake was sound and quiet and there was a light breeze swaying the trees above him. In a way the lake was like Simon. Dark, looks dangerous and cold from afar, but once you get your feet in the water it's warmer than it ever could have appeared. The area was nice. Simon can't remember the last time he enjoyed what he was looking at, other than yesterday and the day before that when he first saw you.

With his hands in his jacket pocket, he slowly and carefully roamed the area by his house. He found a hiking trail and decided to follow it, purposely taking the direction he knew your house was by, but he would never admit that to himself.

As he followed the narrow dirt path, he heard a faint sound coming from nearby where your house would be. His curious ears perked up and followed the sound cautiously. As he inched further up the road, he heard that the sounds coming from your house was music. This part of the road passed right behind your house, which gave him the perfect view of your living room, where you were watering your house plants and singing your heart out to whatever song you had on your record player. He didn't care whether or not you were good or bad at singing. What mattered to him was that he was looking at you. Simon had tunnel vision take over him as his eyes softened and lips parted slightly in awe. You seemed to have that effect on him.

His honey-colored eyes fixated on the way you swayed to the music while you reached up with a green mini watering can to water the plants you seemed to treat as your own children. He watched you through the window standing in the middle of the narrow dirt road as if he was in a trance as you smiled and sang along, looking so peaceful, warm, and joyful. You were so unreal. So genuine. So, sweet. And he wanted nothing more than to feel that warmth you exhumed infiltrate his cold soul like an infection, lighting up every shadowed corner of his heart in a way he never thought possible.

Simon only saw you through your tiny, cracked open living room window, and he never wanted to look at anything else ever again. As you continued to dance and sing along to your music, you turned your body to face the plants by the window, preparing to water them next, and you froze when you saw Simon outside standing on the dirt road.

Simon snapped out of his hypnotic state when you made eye contact with him and felt a chill run down his spine from realization.

Fuck, what am I doing? I probably look like a creep he thought, and he turned his head down to look at his feet as he tried to hurry on his way.

You noticed his sudden movement and watched him fade from view from where he stood in the frame of the window. You quickly placed the watering can down and ran to the window. You quickly threw it open and called out to him, trying to catch him before he got too far away.

"Hey honey bunch! Where you off to?" You called out to him, leaning out the window with that smile he loved so much that melted him like a popsicle on black pavement in the middle of July.

Honey bunch, Simon thought to himself.

He turned around and looked at you, then immediately looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up and turn into that shade of pink you always seemed to cause. God why was this happening to him? Why is he blushing like a school girl?

"Oh hey, uh, sorry I didn't mean to stare at you like that." He apologized softly, bringing his hand up to rub his neck as he avoided your eyes.

"Oh don't you worry about that. Anyone would stare at a crazy girl like me frolickin' around like that." You reassured him with a laugh.

The soft wind kissed your skin and caused your hair to blow so angelically. It nearly made Simon sick. You looked straight out of a fairy tale with the way you leaned out the window frame and the way the strap of your dress was centimeters away from falling down your shoulder.

You stared at each other for a second in comfortable silence with the faint sounds of your record player playing as white noise in the moment. It felt so easy with you.

"You know, a little bit further down to the left on the bank of the lake, there's the biggest, most gorgeous willow tree you'll ever see. Can't miss it. It's been there for lord knows how long. Makes a real nice sittin' spot." You inform him, hoping to make his walk a little more interesting. But little do you know, nothing will be more interesting to him than you.

"That sounds nice, thank you." He says.

"You want me to show you?" You ask with a smile.

Simon wants to say no. He's not used to company. He likes being alone. But there's something about you he just can't resist.

After a pause of silence between you two, you retreat a little and start to move out of the window frame.

"It's ok if not-" You start to say, embarrassed of your boldness, but Simon cuts you off.

"I'd love that." He says a bit too enthusiastically, realizing he's scaring you off.

You lean back out the window and smile at him.

"Ok. One sec. Wait right there." You say, and then you were gone from the window.

Simon stands there waiting patiently for you, and then he straightens up when he sees you appear from behind your house, walking towards him on the path.

And of course, you had on your white cardigan he loved on you so much.

You caught up to him and he got a whiff of your hair. You smelled like fresh peaches and apples, which had just in this moment become Simon's favorite fruits, because he associated them with you now.

You walked up to his side and smiled, and he smiled back down at you. God you were so cute.

"C'mon hun, right down here." You motion to the road in front of you, and Simon secretly hoped that this would be the first of many walks you two would take together.

And as the two of you conversed and laughed on the way to the willow tree, and as hands occasionally brushed against each other, Simon found himself feeling something he hadn't felt in years.

Simon Riley felt joy.

taglist: @pussypinkbarbie @thatonepupkai

#call of duty #cod #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #mommy kink simon riley #mommy kink simon #mommy kink simon riley x reader #mommy kink simon x reader #sweet as pie

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perotovar · 6 days

Text

tunnel vision — an "aint it sweet" oneshot

pairing: marcus pike x oc!vincent monet rating: E(18+) word count: 1.5k content: fluff, swearing, one (1) handjob, coming in pants, heavy kissing, neck kisses, they're both a couple'a cuties dividers by @/saradika-graphics beta:@kedsandtubesocks (ily)

summary: marcus has a new boyfriend in dc, and they're taking things slow. *written as a part of a loose-fit series following these two. this is the first part ♥

a/n: written as a part of @guiltyasdave 's kiss challenge. i was given the prompt "neck kisses". apologies for taking a million years to write this 🥲

masterlist | for updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifs ♥

Marcus met Vincent two years after moving to DC.

He’d stayed single that whole time and took the time to heal from Teresa and his own mistakes in Texas. He knew now that trying to jump into a relationship was just a deflection from his own insecurities. Growing up with a Latina mother and a hard ass for a father set it in his mind that he had to be married with kids by a certain age.

When that didn’t happen, he started to panic and latched onto someone he realized he didn’t even really like all that much. Thankfully, his parents gave him the space he needed to figure things out and left him alone.

Vincent was a patron of a bar Marcus found himself frequenting after work. He wasn’t sure what Vincent did for work at first, but he was always there late. It made sense for Marcus to be there late, given his new position. He wasn’t sure who started talking to who first, but he does remember feeling… light.

Vincent had a warmth to him that Marcus was sorely lacking in his life. They’d meet twice a week and just talk.

Turns out, Vincent was a history professor at Georgetown University. He was… offensively handsome, with shoulder-length dreadlocks and smooth, dark skin. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and dressed sharply. Marcus found himself going lightheaded whenever the scent of Vincent’s cologne hit his nostrils. Vanilla and coconut, with a hint of something tangy.

Marcus could listen to Vincent talk about pretty much anything, his voice low, measured, and a little quiet. He wasn’t sure how any of Vincent’s students got anything done.

Marcus was always pretty straightforward about his desires, so during one of those conversations he asked Vincent out. Vincent graced Marcus with a pearly white smile and a shy chuckle. “I’d love to,” he breathed.

That was a few weeks ago now, and they’d just made their way back to Marcus’ apartment after their third date.

“Vin,” Marcus moaned, tangling his fingers through the thick ropes of Vincent’s hair and gripping tightly.

Vincent had him pinned to his couch in the living room, their hips rolling against each other. Vincent’s plump lips were latched onto Marcus’ neck, sucking and nipping languidly. Marcus loved kissing Vincent. It always left him breathless and felt like it was an event in and of itself. There was no rush to do anything, no pressure to continue to another “step”.

“N-not too high,” he gasped, his cock twitching in his slacks. Vincent chuckled and released Marcus’ neck to give him a look that said ‘I know what I’m doing’. Marcus blushed high on his cheeks and shrugged a little. “I have a meeting in the morning, you know?”

“I’m offended,” Vincent scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes. “Thinking I’d jeopardize your professionalism like that.” He reached up to take off his glasses and set them down on the coffee table next to them.

Marcus blinked, then laughed lightly, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Get back over here, you,” he smiled, patting Vincent’s bearded cheek.

When their lips touched this time, they fully melted into it. Marcus rolled his hips up against Vincent’s, wrapping his legs around his waist. Vincent made a low noise in his chest and kissed along Marcus’ jaw to the side of his neck he hadn’t touched yet.

Vincent left tender, wet kisses down the thick muscle, then blew softly against the sensitive skin. Marcus shivered and moaned weakly as his cock jumped in his pants again. He was harder than he ever had been in his life and was worried he’d make a fool of himself soon.

Vincent sat up on his knees a little and started unbuttoning Marcus’ dress shirt enough to move it and expose Marcus’ shoulder. He hummed in satisfaction when he saw the blush on Marcus’ cheeks went all the way down to his chest behind the white tank he was wearing underneath.

Marcus made a weak sound when Vincent’s lips latched onto his neck again, this time lower and closer to where his shoulder started. “Vin,” he gasped, gripping onto Vincent’s broad shoulders and digging his nails in.

“Yes?” Vincent smiled, voice muffled before he went back to lazily sucking and kissing Marcus’ skin.

“I’m–” Marcus groaned, his hips rolling erratically. He was almost certain he was going to come if Vincent didn’t slow down.

“You okay?” Vincent chuckled, releasing Marcus’ neck to look at him closely. Marcus was flushed red with big, wet eyes. He nodded and bit his lip, not making eye contact with Vincent. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Vincent frowned.

“It’s nothing, I just… Just give me a minute?” He huffed sheepishly.

Vincent blinked and looked down between Marcus’ legs. He smirked when he saw the twitching bulge beyond the fabric of Marcus’ slacks. “Oh, baby,” Vincent grinned, rolling his own hard length against him teasingly.

“V-Vin, please, I’m–”

“I want you to. Please?” Vincent cupped Marcus’ face in one large hand, his thumb rubbing against his cheekbone tenderly.

Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he felt so exposed and also so safe. He knew Vincent wouldn’t judge him or tease him too harshly about coming in his pants like a teenager after some heavy kissing.

He let out a deep breath and smiled shyly up at his handsome history professor. “Kiss me again?”

“Happily,” Vincent hummed, shutting his eyes gently as their lips connected again.

They rocked together jerkily, the sounds of their heavy breathing and the creaking from Marcus’ hand-me-down couch filling the room. Vincent held Marcus close to his broad chest, strong arms enveloping him.

While Vincent took his time kissing and making Marcus feel like he was floating on air, apparently he was very different once he had a goal in mind. Marcus was making sounds he never thought he could make, the heat at the base of his spine overwhelming him.

Vincent’s hips moved in a slow, steady rhythm, making Marcus’ heart pound and blood rush in his ears. “I’m– I think I’m gonna come, Vin,” he gasped, thighs trembling on either side of Vincent’s hips.

“C’mon, baby,” Vincent grinned, mouth latching onto Marcus’ neck again to push him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus whined, furrowing his brow in concentration. “Fuck!” He gasped as his cock twitched heavily in his pants, coming hard. He moaned as each wave wracked through his body, leaving him breathless.

Vincent hummed in satisfaction and rolled his hips with Marcus, prolonging everything just a little more for him. “Beautiful,” he whispered reverently. He sat up, looking down at Marcus’ spent body and the large wet spot at the front of his slacks. He chuckled at the sight, his own cock twitching in his jeans.

Marcus panted hard, coming down from his peak slowly. He gradually came back to Earth and blushed again when he saw Vincent’s warm brown eyes looking at him. “Stop,” he chuckled. “No one’s made me do that since Ashley in the 7th grade.”

Vincent smirked, chest puffing up in pride. “Well, consider me honored to be among such a prestigious group.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and gently pushed Vincent’s shoulder. “Your turn.” He crawled into Vincent’s lap, wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck. He undid Vincent’s jeans and held his thick cock in his hand through the thin material of his briefs.

When Vincent moaned and bucked his hips, Marcus felt a rush of excitement down his spine.

“S-shouldn’t be long,” Vincent chuckled, his cock throbbing in Marcus’ strong hand. Marcus hummed happily and latched his own mouth onto Vincent’s neck.

With Vincent’s cock now exposed, Marcus stroked him slowly, teasing the head with his thumb. Vincent breathed heavily, the heat from his cheeks and neck warming Marcus’ lips. Marcus pumped him gradually before he removed his hand to spit into his palm, and returned to his previous rhythm.

Vincent moaned and shivered at the wetness along his length, lips parted obscenely as he watched Marcus’ hand.

Marcus sucked hard against Vincent’s neck, nibbling on the thick muscle teasingly. “C’mon,” he encouraged, kissing up his neck to latch onto Vincent’s earlobe. He moaned around the earring there and sped up the fist between Vincent’s thighs.

“Shit,” Vincent breathed, nodding toward his cock. “M-Marcus, baby, I’m–” He smiled, resting his head on the back of the couch as he watched Marcus’ face.

Marcus blushed again and kissed him deeply as Vincent tensed, coming hard all over Marcus’ hand. He groaned into his mouth, hips bucking jerkily with his release. He giggled in the aftershocks, the dopamine rushing through his system as he held Marcus’ face in his hands.

Marcus’ heart pounded in his chest as they kissed languidly, both of them coming down from the moment.

They stayed like that for a while until they finally had to part to breathe. “We should do that again sometime,” Vincent flirted, nudging Marcus’ chin with the knuckle of his index finger.

Marcus laughed, cheeks warm and chest light. He couldn’t agree more.

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x original character #original character #oc #gay #bisexual #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal character fanfiction #oaksfics

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etheries1015 · 8 months

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Diluc was not always fond of bright things, and you were the brightest of them all.

Optimistic to a T, kind yet incredibly silly, gentle yet firm. If someone were to ask his definition of "the sun," your name would be his first response.

Sometimes he felt you were too blindingly bright for him, he who had fallen into darkness a long time ago. Perhaps it was the way you managed to bring back just a bit of the joy and childishness he had in his youth: but if there had to be one thing he feared the most, it would be tainting you.

However, seeing you there standing atop the hill with a basket of flowers, smiling and waving down to him as the breeze teased your hair so perfectly he felt his heart skip a beat. That's the effect you had on him- his heart constantly racing simply at the sight of your smile, almost painful with a twinge of guilt eating away at his heart, but Diluc couldn't stop. He wanted to be selfish, he wanted to be loved by you and and return the notion ten fold, despite the fear in the back of his mind that he may infect you with the deep scars on his heart.

You were strong, though. Stronger than he would ever be, he had convinced himself.

You raced down the hill, using your free arm to lock elbows and show off your flowers. You listed each and every one of them, their meanings, and he listened intently with hearts in his passionate red eyes. With every word, every touch, every toothy grin, he couldn't stop thinking just how much he loved you with every single fiber of his being burning in his veins.

With the feeling of overwhelming affection, he interrupted your rant with lips softly planting against your own. Diluc was always gentle with you, his touches as light as feathers tickling your skin with caution as if you were labeled "fragile" upon your person. Your bright red face and feeble cries of embarrassment fell upon deaf ears, as he continued forward as if he hadn't just kissed you out of the blue.

Diluc was not always fond of bright things, but he found himself utterly a fool in love with a person brighter than anything he had ever seen. Although he did not believe he deserved the love you rained down upon him, he also believed if anyone were to pull him out of the darkness, it would be your hand leading the way to the end of the midnight tunnel.

#Genshin impact #Genshin impact x reader #Genshin X reader #Diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Diluc X reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #Diluc headcannons #genshin impact fanfictions #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfictions #Genshin impact headcannons

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bvidzsoo · 8 months

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Love Me Like A Rockstar (5)

ー☆ Chapter 5: Avalanche

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing, mentions of suicide ー☆ Word count: 8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Updateee, hehet. Now, now...this chapter is emotionally loaded, but at least we can notice some progress in their relationship lol, it was about time if you ask me. Please listen to Avalanche before or while reading this chapter, it's really important as it portrays Mingi's story and feelings in the past, so please don't skip it! I can't promise the next update will be soon because I have a deadline by next week, but if I won't be too burned out then I might just update towards next weekend. ALSO G U Y S!!!! Tunnel?!?!?!?!?! SONG MINGI'S SOLO???? ARE WE FINE?!?!?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE RELEASES T H A T WHILE I'M WRITING A STORY EXACTLY LIKE THAT???!! No, but seriously, I'm completely not fine, I still can't believe this happened BECAUSE IT'S NOT THE FIRST TIME I WRITE SOMETHING AND IT HAPPENS. Okay, I'm done screaming, sorry. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I tried my best and I hope it turned out okay. Feedback is appreciated, enjoy now!!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @okokmaybe01-blog

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

There was a beat of silence, of nobody moving, of nobody blinking or saying anything. My heart shouldn’t have picked up its rhythm so fast, but as my eyes briefly ran over Mingi’s tall form standing in the doorway opposite mine, I realized he looked the same as in the video I have seen on Seulgi’s Instagram story, the only change to his outfit was the black hoodie covering his broad frame—and wet, almost see-through, white shirt.

“What are you doing here?” My mouth was moving before I could think, mind suddenly a puddle.

“Picking up some food since I’m headed home from Outlaw.” Mingi’s explanation came quickly, his own eyes taking in my appearance as they briefly ran over my body. My grip tightened around the doorknob as I suddenly felt embarrassed. I knew I didn’t look like my usual self; my eyes were still red from crying, and I couldn’t help but sniff every other few minute. And I was completely soaked in rainwater.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked at once, eyes finally meeting mine. His expression was neutral, but there was something in his eyes—he seemed tired. Black eyeliner rimmed his already sharp eyes, creating the illusion of them piercing right through you. I suddenly felt naked under his attentive gaze, too exposed for my liking. I cleared my throat and stepped away from the doorway finally, circling my arms around my body, just now noticing the teetering of my teeth. I tried to offer my body some comfort by hugging myself, but it wasn’t exactly working.

“I was on a walk when it started raining, so I took shelter in here.” That wasn’t a lie at all, yet under Mingi’s watchful gaze, it felt like one. My eyebrows slightly furrowed at the thought, wondering why it felt like I was lying. Perhaps it was the doubt in his eyes as he looked over me once again, clearly questioning why I was drenched from head to toe if I took shelter in here, but I would not further explain myself to him.

“Right,” His voice conveyed nothing and I tried to hide my surprise as he didn’t prod further, “I understand.”

He stepped outside the men’s restroom finally, making me press myself up against the cold wall of the hallway as it was narrow, sniffing as another shudder ripped through my body. Despite having warmed my hands and cheeks with the warm water, I could feel the cold seep through my bones once again as my clothes clung onto my frame uncomfortably. Mingi didn’t cast me any other glance as he took off towards the main hall and I found myself following after him, licking my dry lips as I tried to hug myself tighter, rubbing at my side clumsily. It was my last attempt to warm myself up. My eyes were trained on the floor as they were burning, but I found them drawn upwards soon, curiously watching the back of Mingi’s head. His black hair was damp, and the blue sheer sunglass I saw him wearing in the video was put on backwards, making me frown as I stared at it as it rested against the back of Mingi’s head. Couldn’t he just take it off? Why wear it backwards? Was this a new trend he was following to become more famous? I scoffed at myself quietly as Mingi and I rounded the corner, walking back inside the main hall of the diner, the lady at the front counter looking up from a notebook she was writing in, cash placed next to it. Her eyes were trained on Mingi only, and I rolled my eyes subconsciously, awaiting her to act like one of his baboons—fangirls—from Outlaw and even from our university, but instead, her eyes held warmth as she leaned down and grabbed something from behind the counter. I found myself rooted to my place, watching the interaction—just slightly intrigued—as if I were a child waiting for their parent to finally move and leave the diner. It was silly, really, why was I waiting for Mingi? It’s not like him and I would be leaving together—yet my feet refused to move despite my thoughts telling me to do so.

“Steak with mashed potatoes and some side dishes, just the way you like it.” The lady said kindly as she placed a casserole inside a bag on the counter, pushing it towards Mingi. My eyes were glued to the side of his face, watching his reaction, waiting for his usual arrogant and flirty self to come to the surface, but instead, a small smile made it onto his face as his right hand slipped inside his pocket. Huh, that was new, I’ve never seen Mingi act like—himself—in front of a woman before.

“Thank you, Dahyun, you always seem to know what I’m craving.” Mingi told her quietly and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt a sneeze trying to fight its way out of my nose, it burned.

“No, you just always ask for the same meals on the same days,” She chuckled as Mingi extended the money towards her, “You’re a simple man, and my memory is simply too good—it’s on the house tonight, Mingi.”

“But—”

“I already closed the register.” Dahyun winked at him and pushed Mingi’s hand back, ignoring the noises of complaint he made, “Seriously, do you want me to overwork myself?”

“Fine,” Mingi sighed, his eyebrows furrowed. My head started to lightly thump and I found myself leaning against the wall, eyes heavy and burning. My mother would kill me for getting sick for such a dumb reason as to staying out in the rain without realizing it was even pouring. Damn Yunho, it’s his fault, “But at least let me leave a tip.”

Dahyun gave Mingi a pointed stare before her eyes fell on me, suddenly realizing I was there too. I cleared my throat awkwardly as I stood up straight, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Mingi turned his head, his eyes falling on me as well, and suddenly I felt—so small. Both of them were looking at me with concern in their eyes, and I couldn’t help but look away as my eyes were suddenly burning with tears in them. Why was I in such an unstable state all of a sudden? My chest felt lighter, my throat wasn’t closing in on me anymore—I was fine, so then why?

“Can you make her some tea? If I’m not asking for too much.” My eyes snapped up in Mingi’s direction as he was looking at me, face still emotionless, but eyebrows furrowed.

“Of course, we’ve still got like five minutes until we’re closing.” Dahyun answered him cheerily and then turned around, opening some cabinets as she got to work.

“Okay, but accept the money this time.” Mingi muttered and placed some bills on the counter, pushing it towards the notebook she seemed to be busy with before we disturbed her.

“Whatever.” Dahyun huffed and cast me a quick glance as Mingi turned to look at me again.

“Are you cold?” Mingi asked and I tensed my muscles, trying to stop the trembling, but it was hard—and it wasn’t even working. But I just gulped and pulled myself together, walking closer to him.

“No.” My teeth clanked against each other again and I sniffed as Dahyun turned to face me, a plastic cup in her hands.

“We only have wild berry tea; I hope you like that.” She said with a smile as she placed the cup on the counter and pushed it towards me. I cleared my throat and looked down at it, the steam hot and inviting as I reluctantly reached out for it. It was embarrassing—this whole situation. I was looking like a mess, on the verge of another breakdown, because why not—my brain decided that I simply wasn’t finished crying over nothing—even if it wasn’t exactly nothing, I refused to acknowledge it. I reluctantly reached for the cup, slightly annoyed that Mingi and this Dahyun girl were looking at me like I was going to break—or explode—at any given moment. I let out a frustrated sigh as my fingers wrapped around the hot cup firmly, skin slightly burning, but I welcomed the feeling as I have stopped feeling my fingers a good few minutes ago.

“Stop looking at me like that, Mingi, I’m fine.” I didn’t mean to snap, but my tone was sharp as I sucked in a sharp breath, bringing the cup up to my lips and blowing on the hot water, the steam warming my skin.

“I’m not looking—anyways,” He cut himself off as he grabbed the bag with his food inside and stepped away from the counter, “Thank you, Dahyun, we won’t be holding you back for longer.”

“No problem, see you soon!” She said with a smile, waving a little as Mingi nodded at her, barely returning her smile. It seemed almost like there was something wrong with him, but I couldn’t tell, I didn’t know him well. He could’ve been simply acting to gain our sympathy—I could see Mingi doing something like that, it didn’t seem too far from his atrocious character.

“Uh, thank you.” I thanked the girl quietly as I slightly bowed my head and she just smiled, waving at me as well as I quickly hurried after Mingi, who had stopped in the doorway, apparently waiting for me.

His hand reached out for the handle, but he hesitated for a second, not opening the door just yet, “It’s still raining…and you don’t have an umbrella…”

I raised an eyebrow as I took a sip of my hot tea, taking a glance at Mingi. He was looking ahead, eyes trained on the road through the glass doors. The sweet taste of wild berries exploded in my mouth and I bit my lip as the warm tea flushed down my throat, warming me up from the inside as I eagerly took another big gulp, slightly burning my tongue.

“Yeah, I don’t have an umbrella.” I said, the two of us looking at each other at the same time, “But it’s fine, I’m already drenched. I’ll just run home—”

“You’re already shivering and shaking constantly, Y/N.” Mingi said matter of fact, and I rolled my eyes almost instantly, “Let me drive you home.”

“You don’t have to, it doesn’t matter.” I muttered with a shrug and took another sip of my tea, but Mingi just shook his head and turned his body slightly towards mine.

“You keep sniffing and you are clearly cold, even if you say you aren’t.” He raised an eyebrow, pointing towards my flushed cheek—I could only hope I wouldn’t have a fever, “You’ll catch a cold at this point, just let me drive you home. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“Mingi,” I sighed loudly, giving him a glare, “I’m fine, I’m not cold and I won’t catch a cold—”

Almost as if the Universe—or my own body—was having a laugh at me, a sneeze forced its way through my nostrils, loud, and an obvious sign that I wasn’t doing too well currently. Mingi’s lips pressed into a thin line as he tried not to smile and suppress his chuckle, making me grumble to myself as I quickly drank the remaining tea, feeling slightly warmer.

“Still going to pass on that ride?” Mingi quirked an eyebrow as a smirk appeared on his lips and I scoffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Lead the way, Prince Charming.” I mocked, but it only made Mingi giggle as he pushed the door open, the breeze freezing as it suddenly hit me. I instantly shivered and made myself smaller, clutching myself around my middle.

“That’s my car.” Mingi pointed towards a black car across the street and suddenly he took off, pulling his hood over his head, running out into the rain. There was no oncoming traffic, so I quickly left the shop and ran across the road, headed for the passenger seat. As I got there, the car was unlocked and Mingi was pulling the key out of the lock and opening his side of the door quickly, jumping inside. I followed his lead and slammed the door closed after sitting inside, shivering and groaning at the cold gripping at my skin again, pressing myself back into the leather seat of Mingi’s car. He placed the food in the backseat, putting the keys into the ignition. He looked at me, lips slightly pursed.

“Uh,” For the first time in my life, Mingi looked embarrassed as he scratched his nape, “The car’s old so uhm—we’ll have to wait a little bit before we take off. For the engine to warm up and shit, you know.”

I hummed and gulped, grip tightening around the plastic cup I was still holding onto. I did not want to prolong my time spent together with Mingi, so why couldn’t his car work just fine? I watched him as he turned the key, but the engine didn’t start right away, screeching for a second as Mingi tried again, groaning with his eyebrows furrowed. I remained silent as I watched him struggle for a few more seconds until the engine finally rumbled to life, the sound louder than I expected. But it only lasted for another second before it settled down, the pouring rain overshadowing the sound of the old engine. Mingi went and pressed a few buttons on the dashboard and I allowed my muscles to relax slightly, noting the way I was still shaking. When will it stop? It was getting annoying. As if Mingi sensed my train of thoughts, he turned his head towards me and cleared his throat.

“Are you cold?” He asked, making me sigh as I shook my head no, refusing to admit that I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. Maybe if this old wreck could warm up faster I wouldn’t be shaking so much—and I knew Mingi’s car had zero faults right now, but I had to pour my irritation onto something instead of admitting defeat in front of him, “You’re very obviously cold, Y/N.”

I scoffed and my eyes snapped to him as he suddenly leaned more towards me, reaching for something in the backseat of the car, “If it’s so obvious, Mr. Obvious, do something about it—”

My mouth clamped shut the second Mingi was holding a black denim jacket in his hand with a lopsided smile, extending it towards me, “I am doing something about it, here, wear it.”

He let it fall into my lap before I could refuse him and suddenly my cheeks were on fire—and not from the cold. I cleared my throat loudly and averted my gaze as Mingi settled back into his seat with a small grin, watching me as I rolled my eyes, fumbling with the heavy jacket he had given me. I didn’t want to wear it—that was the last thing I actually wanted to do, but a violent shiver racked through my body and I was suddenly moving faster than lightning, groaning as my clothes were still stuck against my body. It was a horrible feeling, but at least Mingi’s seats were leather, easier to clean. I pulled the black denim jacket around my shoulders before putting each arm through the sleeves, trying to ignore Mingi’s eyes on me, and the amused smile he had on his face. It wasn’t funny—but it was probably entertaining to him. I wonder how many girls he took home like this before me, letting them wear his jacket only to flirt with them afterwards as a means of getting to sleep with them. Men were easy, and Mingi was one of them. I could see right through his bullshit, and so, despite the warmth and masculine scent enveloping my senses, I gave Mingi a sharp glare, making him chuckle.

“You’re so predictable,” He said quietly, almost as if to himself, but I heard him, and I scoffed, “You won’t thank me, right?”

“I’m still cold.” I evaded his question instead, giving him a look, but Mingi just giggled, the sound low and deep inside his chest. I watched as his features relaxed and found my heart beating faster once again as I realized that I was enclosed in a tiny space with him, barely a few feet away from each other. There was something different about Mingi all of a sudden as he threw his head back, sighing loudly and gripping the wheel. His eyes fluttered close and I couldn’t will myself to look away, suddenly curious of the man sitting next to me. Who was he? Why was he like this? But the confusing butterflies deep inside my stomach sent me into distress, and I averted my eyes as Mingi opened his, and realized it was becoming suffocating. The silence. I didn’t like it. Mingi wasn’t saying anything, the engine was still dully rumbling and the rain was hitting the roof of the old Honda Prelude loudly. It didn’t feel as restricting as earlier, but my throat was squeezing in on itself and without asking for permission, I reached forward and pressed a button on the stereo, turning the radio on.

The instrumental wasn’t something I have heard before, and the harsh beat of the drums resounded in the car loudly, making my heart jump. Soon, the drum was accompanied by the lively but soft melody of the guitar, guiding it through. It felt like a storm, the loud and harsh beats of the drums lead by the soft yet determined guitar. It was almost as if two sides of the coin were leaning on each other for support—almost as if one was desperate to be shown some light in the darkness. I saw Mingi shift in the corner of my eyes, and I was startled at the intense look in his eyes as he looked at me, lips parted and eyebrows drawn up. He seemed surprised but at the same time almost angry, it was a look I couldn’t read well yet. I didn’t understand why he was looking at me like that. Suddenly, the drums slightly softened, until they became silent, and the guitar guided the melody smoothly, bringing it a comforting feeling. Mingi and I were still looking at each other and I was about to ask why he was looking at me like that, but suddenly the raspy, yet warm, voice resounding in the car took me off guard as my eyes widened, leaving me gaping at Mingi.

『Cut me open and tell me what's inside

Diagnose me 'cause I can't keep wondering why

And no, it's not a phase 'cause it happens all the time

Start over, check again, now tell me what you find

'Cause I'm going out of frequency

Can anyone respond?』

His voice was smooth as the drums and guitar accompanied it, dropping lower at times and feeling like the caress of a whisper at the same time. Mingi’s face had turned emotionless once again as his eyes locked with mine, and I tried to give him a glare, but my mind was focused on the words he was singing—on the message behind his lyrics.

『It's like an avalanche, I feel myself go under

'Cause the weight of it's like hands around my neck

I never stood a chance, my heart has frozen over

And I feel like I am treading on thin ice』

The beat picked up again, the drums louder as the melody grew more aggressive, Mingi’s voice reflecting it and gliding with it. His voice was powerful and held sincerity as he sung, his words ringing through my mind as the raspiness of it became more hearable. I couldn’t hold Mingi’s gaze anymore and I swiftly turned my head, playing with the cup I had in my hands as I gulped, the melody slowing down once again.

『Am I broken? What's the chance I will survive?

Don't sugarcoat me 'cause I feel like suicide

Just give it to me straight, 'cause I'm running out of time

I need an antidote, now what can you prescribe?』

My eyebrows furrowed the longer I listened to his words, wondering if this is what he actually felt like. Wondering when he wrote this song. Wondering why and how was Mingi hiding such feelings locked away in himself, in a way that nobody would be able to see the real him. Why were his words so relatable and why did I suddenly find myself teary eyed, biting my lower lip to try and get a grip of myself again.

『It's like an avalanche, I feel myself go under

'Cause the weight of it's like hands around my neck

I never stood a chance, my heart has frozen over

And I feel like I am treading on thin ice, and I'm going under』

I wonder who made him feel like that. Who had hurt Mingi so much that he felt like he was on the verge of giving it all up. Did he still feel like that? Were the two of us not so much different from each other after all? I sniffed, turning my head to look out the window instead, scared that if I hung my head down the tears would actually fall.

『I need a cure for me 'cause the square doesn't fit the circle

Give me a remedy 'cause my head wasn't wired for this world

I need a cure for me 'cause the square doesn't fit the circle

Give me a remedy 'cause my head wasn't wired for this world』

My grip around the cup tightened and I heard Mingi shift in his seat again, but I didn’t turn around to look at him. Emotions and thoughts of all sorts were whirling in my head, and I couldn’t stop thinking. I haven’t really paid attention to what he sings in his songs before—not that I had many occasions to do so—but this one suddenly felt so familiar, as if there was at least one person in the world who understood my struggles too. I’ve had low points in life before, especially after Yunho left me, and I really felt like there was no way out for me. I didn’t know how to cope and what to do with myself, I became uncaring and closed myself off to the world, only talking to those necessary, and barely doing anything if I could. That was the only time in my life when my art didn’t help at all, when I couldn’t pick up my pencil out of fear of what my mind would conjure up to torment me with. My life revolved around Jeong Yunho, and I knew because of missing him, he would be the only thing I would be drawing. He was my muse, and I hated it for such a long time not realizing that it was in some twisted way helping with getting over him. I have memorized every single feature and flaw of his, knowing it by heart. It was freeing when I was able to highlight all the things I knew he hated about himself, it made it easier for me to remind myself that he wasn’t as perfect as I thought he was. It was just the idea I had created of him in my head.

My fingers were tapping against the cup, following the rhythm of the song as Mingi’s beautiful voice carried on singing, the melody wrapping me up in my thoughts, almost getting lost to the point where I wasn’t paying attention to the song anymore. But it was actually impossible to do that, Mingi had a way to keep you focused on himself even if he was just simply singing, his raspy and warm voice keeping you in a vice grip, making you yearn for more. As the song came to an end, I released a breath I didn’t even realize I had been holding. Mingi was swift as he leaned forward and turned off the stereo, clearing his throat loudly. For a few more seconds nothing was said between the two of us, silence enveloping around us once again. But I didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore, I felt—almost sad, but mostly curious of the making of this song. Of what prompted Mingi to write it. Why were his emotions so raw in this, and who caused him to feel like this.

“It wasn’t bad,” I found myself speaking up, not really thinking through my words first, “you’re not too bad at this, Mingi.”

I didn’t expect him to laugh, and as I turned my head, he was already looking at me with an amused look on his face, covering his mouth as his laughter got louder for a second. My eyebrows furrowed, and I was about to say something less nice to him, but I realized my compliment sounded oddly similar to the one I had gotten from him back at the library. Despite fighting against the smile wanting to appear on my lips, I quickly let out a chuckle, our eyes with Mingi connecting. Despite the depth of the song and the somber atmosphere it created, Mingi seemed to be almost ecstatic as he shrugged, drumming his fingers against the wheel. Subconsciously, I nuzzled further into the collar of the denim jacket, the cologne stronger as I inhaled it, reminded that I was wearing Mingi’s jacket. I didn’t miss the way a fond smile appeared on his face for a few moments, quickly disappearing as he cleared his throat and looked ahead, pressing some other buttons on the dashboard.

“Thank you, getting a compliment from a fine arts genius certainly feels like I have won a Grammy or something.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes as Mingi chuckled, grinning at me for a second before he turned his body fully towards me, taking me off guard, “I wrote this song a long time ago, when—well, there’s nothing to hide here, when Yunho left for college. When I—remained alone at home, here in this town. Nothing was set in stone yet, to be honest, I had absolutely no idea what to do with my life back then. I was eighteen and I was confused and scared. The pressure of figuring out what you wanted to do with your life at such a young age was frightening and breaking me down, to be honest. I’ve always struggled mentally—you know, with depression and anxiety—and I think that period of time was the lowest I had ever been.”

I was soaking in every word Mingi was saying, mind silent and eyes focused on him, wanting to hear more as he continued talking, “Yunho was always the stronger one between the two of us and he always knew from a young age what he wanted to do, so when I realized I hadn’t planned my future ahead like him, I lost myself. And he—left, to college—in a different city. Hours away, leaving me all alone. I know I might sound dramatic, but I don’t deal well with change. I never have and I never will, I’m afraid. It took me almost a year to finally get used to living alone and sometimes I still struggle, it’s really frustrating. So you can imagine how badly I took my best friend, whom I have never been separated from before and we’ve known each other since kindergarten, leaving and abandoning me in the small town I have always hated and had no future in. I fell into deep depression and nothing was helping, like at all. Not even Yunho returning home out of the blue after two weeks of no contact on my part. When he saw the state I was in, we—we cried for hours, Y/N. It was horrible. I hate making him feel like that, because it wasn’t his fault, it was all mine.”

My eyebrows furrowed and my heart clenched upon hearing Mingi’s words, quietly letting out a breath which felt like it was restricting my lungs. In this moment, I heard my own thoughts and feelings in Mingi. His struggles and pain, I understood them. My fingers crushed the cup accidentally, but thankfully Mingi didn’t seem to notice as he took a deep breath and continued, “I wanted to kill myself. If Yuyu wouldn’t have come home in that exact moment—I don’t think we’d be having this conversation right now.”

My eyebrows furrowed and without really thinking, my left hand reached over the center console and I found myself gripping Mingi’s right hand, his skin so much hotter than mine. He bit his lower lip, eyebrows twitching as he averted his gaze all of a sudden, turning his hand upwards so that my fingers could slip over his palm. It was weird how easily my skin tingled at the contact; thoughts silent for once.

“He suggested I find a way of getting these thoughts and feelings out of myself. And after he left once again I knew I had to do something unless I planned on completely losing my mind, so…I took a pen and paper and started writing. Everything I felt, everything I thought. And miraculously, it worked. Slowly, of course, but it started working. I found a good therapist as well and suddenly I could see a way out of this dark cloud hung up around my head, fogging my thoughts up. I searched for a beat on YouTube and realized I could turn these thoughts and feelings into music. And they didn’t even sound bad, but what was most important was that I enjoyed doing it. I felt free, I felt like I could finally say anything I ever wanted. And I knew if this helped me, then it would help others as well, let them know they weren’t alone, and that you can go on even if it seems like you can’t. I wrote this song right before signing up to our university and sent it in as a sample. I was granted access to the studious a week later, and two weeks later accepted to the university. It’s probably one of my happiest memories, especially since Yunho surprised me that day by coming home and celebrating it with me.”

As Mingi was done talking, silence settled between the two of us. Comforting, understanding. I looked down at my lap, mind a whirlwind of thoughts all of a sudden, threatening to rush out at once. The sudden thumb sweeping against my knuckles made me slightly tense, realizing that I was completely holding hands with Mingi. My cheeks burned all of a sudden and my heart jumped, yet despite my thoughts telling me to pull my hand out of his, I didn’t move just yet. The feeling—wasn’t so bad.

“My sketchbook—the one you flipped through without my permission—” I sent Mingi a small glare as he snorted, cutting me off for a second, “is like my journal. I doddle in it daily, sometimes I even write little messages next to the sketches, noting down the things on my mind or just simply how my day went. When I draw, my mind is completely silent, I feel at ease. There’s nothing bothering me and I don’t have to worry in that moment of what the next line will illustrate or what the overall drawing will be. My thoughts are often too loud and I get overwhelmed by them, it’s hard to ignore them, you know? But by drawing, I can escape them and free myself even for a little while, it’s similar to what you must feel when you write music. Just letting go and releasing everything you feel.”

Mingi’s eyes were warm and soft as a small smile appeared on his lips, his skin suddenly burning mine and as my heartbeat showed no signs of slowing down, so, I carefully slipped my hand out of his, turning ahead and staring out at the pouring rain, feeling exposed and too small, “I understand what it must’ve felt like going through all of that. There was a time in my life, when—my whole world revolved around one person only and when—when he left, I thought I would die. I didn’t want to continue on living, to be completely honest. But with time, and thanks to my mother and Seulgi, I built myself back up. It’s fine now—I mean, I’m fine now.”

Mingi just hummed and I could feel his gaze on me as I leaned forward in the seat, rubbing my face as I felt fatigue settle over my whole being. At least I wasn’t shaking anymore, the car had warmed up significantly and my clothes weren’t sticking to my skin so violently anymore.

“Everyone has their story, Y/N.” Mingi spoke up, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “And it was very obvious to me that your attitude towards me is just a defense mechanism—”

“Oh, don’t get too cocky now that I’ve shared something so insignificant from my life.” I snapped as I turned my head, giving him a small glare. Mingi chuckled, holding his hands up in a way that said he wasn’t trying to attack me.

“I don’t think it’s insignificant—”

“Mingi.”

“Tell me something…” He trailed off and I sighed loudly, not in the mood to converse anymore. I wanted to go home, “Are those eyes really Yunho’s in your sketchbook? Because I really don’t think they are. I mean, I know what my own eyes like look and—”

“Whatever, they are yours, okay?” I snapped defensively as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, cutting Mingi off. I knew I should’ve never confessed to him that those were indeed his eyes, because now the shit eating grin he had on his lips and the way his eyes sparkled weren’t worth it. Not when my cheeks felt on fire, and I knew it wasn’t from the warmth inside the car.

“I knew it!” He said triumphantly, giggling a little, making me role my eyes.

“Just because you have pretty eyes doesn’t mean I’m in love with you.” I scoffed and suddenly Mingi froze, staring at me like I said something wrong. I raised my eyebrows at him in question.

“I never said you were in love with me.” Shit. I scoffed and rolled my eyes again, giving him a deadpan look.

“Very well, can’t have you thinking that now that you know those are your eyes.” Mingi laughed, again, as he playfully leaned towards me, making my glare deepen.

“So, you think I’m pretty?” He bit his lower lip and my brain blanked for a second as my eyes ran over his face quickly, taking in his features. Yes, he was very pretty—what the fuck?!

“Just because you have features which are easy to draw, Mingi, doesn’t mean I think you’re pretty. Have I told you already that you’re self-absorbed?” I raised my eyebrows mockingly as I clicked my tongue and Mingi chuckled as he faced forward, turning on the windshield wipers.

“Yes, quite a few times, actually.” I scoffed, putting on my seatbelt when I saw Mingi doing the same.

“Just take me home.” I muttered as I turned my head and looked out the window.

“Tell me your address first.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he turned on the stereo again, this time a channel of a radio playing music in Mingi’s vintage car as he slowly drove off.

After arriving home I had taken a very long and very hot shower, letting my body stay under the stream for a long time, probably making my mother think that I was drowning. I could feel my muscles finally relaxing, the shivers completely gone from my body as I dressed into my warmest pajamas once I got out of the shower, blow-drying my hair quickly, eager to get underneath my warm blanket. Thankfully my mother wasn’t angry at all by the time I got home, she was waiting for me with two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and a big hug. She didn’t want to tell me where her sudden affection was coming from, but she said she knew there was something wrong, and that I could go to her the next time I’m struggling. It’s funny how she always knows what the problem is, yet I don’t want to burden her furthermore with my own dramatic emotions.

After drinking the hot chocolate and having a laugh with my mother over the comedy show she was watching in her room, I finally retreated to my own room, under the oh, so warm blanket. I couldn’t help but sigh contently and nuzzle even further into the pillow under my head, grateful to be finally able to rest. But as if the Universe was out against me tonight—and it probably was hence the shitshow today was—sleep never came to me. I was beyond tired, yet I couldn’t sleep. I felt slightly restless, as if I had to do something and I wouldn’t be able to rest until I have done it—and that was drawing. The image in my head was begging for me to be released onto a blank canvas, but I wished it could wait until tomorrow—but it couldn’t, so, with a loud sigh, I sat up and turned on my lamp. The sketchbook was bigger than the one I use as a journal since I rarely use it outside of class, but for what I wanted to draw tonight I needed the bigger one. I flipped it open to a new page and grabbed my pencil, twirling it around my fingers as I sectioned the blank paper, searching for the right angle to start the drawing.

First, I settled on drawing the outlines with faded lines, the background not the most important but since it played a part in the spacing of the drawing, I had to start with that. I went and first did the outline of the car from the inside, adding shading to show where the streetlamps couldn’t reach as the car drove down the empty road, gloomy clouds raining down on us, making the roads slippery and reducing visibility, but Mingi was an attentive and calm driver as he hummed and nodded his head to the beat of the music playing on the radio. His jaw was set and eyes focused up front, on the road, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed and lower lip quite often between his teeth as he bit into the supple flesh, his lips cherry colored and plump. His jawline long, and sharp; and cheekbones well defined, yet not too sharp; his brow bone more forward, giving him an intimidating look from the side with his eyebrows drawn together. His nose, tall, and long, and pointy—too pretty. I cleared my throat and shook my head, focusing on drawing the rest of Mingi’s features and willing my brain to shut up about whether Mingi was pretty or not—he wasn’t. I couldn’t help but draw the sunglasses he wore so hideously backwards, ruining his overall nice look, making me grimace as I darkened his hair by adding more shading to it. I illustrated the shadows falling over his face as well, his gaze slightly obscured from my view. His long fingers gripped the wheel tightly, the gemstones of his rings glinting whenever the light fell on it in a peculiar way, and I couldn’t help but recall the feeling of his skin against mine as drew the lines defining the muscle of his hands. Just as I went to draw his neck, my phone pinged, slightly startling me as it was loud. It was placed on my nightstand and I groaned as I had to lean over half of my bed to reach it. And as I took my phone into my hands, my heart skipped a beat.

I hate him: are u asleep?

I glanced at the clock and realized it would be soon midnight, I had to get this drawing done and then go to sleep as I had class early in the morning tomorrow. Besides, I didn’t want to talk to Mingi. Why was he texting me? Just because we shared a few sappy stories about ourselves doesn’t mean that we have suddenly become best friends, sharing even more life stories with each other—and most certainly Mingi had no business texting me this late at night. With a huff, I let my phone fall next to me as I continued to draw, focusing on my creation instead. Drawing the neck was easy and quick and I focused on adding little details to it instead, the silver chains he had hanging against his neck tonight, peeking through the collar of his black hoodie. I continued drawing the rest of his body, his arms and torso as well as I could as they weren’t too essential to the drawing as of now. I only wanted to draw Mingi’s profile as he drove, the darkness combined with the streetlamps casting beautiful shadows over his flawless face. But drawing Mingi, knowing that Mingi had texted me all of a sudden felt weird, and I sighed as I dropped my pencil, grabbing my phone again as I unlocked it. He had sent the message five minutes ago, that was enough time for him to fall asleep so even if I text him he’ll only see this in the morning and if he’ll answer I won’t have to text him back anymore—because I didn’t want to be texting with Mingi, at all.

Me: no. u?

As I went to close my phone, his reply came instantly, leaving me surprised. There goes my plan of Mingi being asleep and not having to talk to him tonight…

I hate him: nope, why aren’t u sleeping? Me: i can’t sleep. u?

I chewed on my bottom lip as I shuffled around for a second to be able to sit cross legged in my bed.

I hate him: yeah, same. the rain makes it hard for me to sleep…i hate rain, actually, especially the thunder.

I almost went ahead and typed back that I knew, but Mingi wasn’t supposed to know that. Mingi had no idea Yunho and I had dated back in highschool—Mingi had no idea how much I actually knew about him due to Yunho, and I intended on keeping that a secret from him. I didn’t want to wake up old ghosts in my heart which would bring pain once again.

Me: ig i’m fine with rain as long as i’m somewhere inside, but the humidity kills me. it’s the winter time i actually hate…i can’t deal with cold weather, i get easily sick…

I rubbed my forehead as I pressed send and sighed as I lowered my phone into my lap, suddenly aware of the weird butterflies in my stomach, making me almost nauseous. As I glanced back down at my phone, the three bubbles signaling that Mingi was typing back appeared, and I had to take a deep breath to settle my erratic heartbeat. What was happening? Why was my body reacting in such a weird way?

I hate him: oh, yeah, i totally get the winter thing as someone who loves dressing light. i feel like i am more myself in the summer time lol; my style rocks during the summer and then gets okay-ish during the winter, it’s sad actually…

I chuckled and smirked as I quickly typed back.

Me: why? cuz you can’t show off your biceps during the winter? I hate him: ha-ha aren’t u so funny tonight? Me: i’m always funny, mingi…

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I quickly sent the message despite Mingi still typing.

I hate him: u wish u were always funny, doll…if someone’s funny then that person is me, y/n Me: yeah, right, u wish, prince I hate him: aren’t u just in a delightful mood tonight, doll?

I scoffed but couldn’t fight off the amused smile from my lips.

Me: it’s all thanks to you, idiot I hate him: i think I prefer u calling me prince, actually… Me: u wish, idiot. I hate him: anyways, what’s your favorite season?

I raised an eyebrow as I read the text from Mingi.

Me: interesting question I hate him: well u said u didn’t like winter, so what do you like then? Me: not u, that’s for sure…

I couldn’t help but cackle at my own reply, feeling proud of myself over such little thing. I could imagine Mingi chuckling and shaking his head at it, perhaps glaring down at his phone.

Me: autumn or spring, really…not too cold nor too warm, in-between, just perfect u know?

There was a second of nothing until the bubbles popped up again, making me realize I was smiling down at my phone, so I quickly cleared my throat and got it together. There was nothing to be smiling at here.

I hate him: i get it, those seasons are really pretty…talking of pretty…do you really think i’m pretty?

I couldn’t help the loud scoff which left my lips at the same time as I rolled my eyes, very tempted to leave him on read and just go to sleep right then and there.

Me: i have already told you, mingi, i don’t think u are pretty because u a r e n ‘t, get it???

The reply was instant.

I hate him: hahahahahahaha; u are cute!

My body froze for a second, eyebrows furrowing as I reread his reply. What the fuck? Me? Cute? Yeah, sure, cute my ass—this idiot was testing my patience and kindness, once again.

Me: u’re disgusting, I’m blocking u I hate him: whatever u say, gorgeous, I know u a r e n ‘t!!!

My jaw clenched at the blatant mocking and I scoffed loudly as I looked ahead, glaring at nothing particular as my blood was boiling. He really thought I wouldn’t block him? There was nothing holding me back from doing so—suddenly the bubbles appeared again, and I looked down at my phone—just slightly curious.

I hate him: sorry if that was too much, i was just joking. i wanted to ask something all night, but i just didn’t know whether the timing was right or not or just whatever, but…are u okay? like…do you feel okay?

I gulped, my anger dissipating like it never even happened, leaving me confused. Was he now worried about me? Why would he be?

Me: i’m ok, why?

It took a little time for Mingi to answer, and it made me gulp as I read it.

I hate him: bcz your eyes were red when we met in front of the restrooms and idk…u just kinda felt off or smth…i just wanted to make sure. Me: i had a rough day, but i’m fine… thanks for asking ig… I hate him: ofc, anytime

Did he mean that? I couldn’t help but wonder. But there were so many things about Mingi that I didn’t know yet and…something changed tonight. I couldn’t completely hate him like before. The conversation we had in his car, the things he willingly shared with me were so personal and hard, yet he trusted me with them. I couldn’t help but feel good about it, thankful in a way, that despite my demeanor he still found me worthy of knowing about his past—of knowing of the backstory of said song we have listened to. I thought Mingi was all smirks and a cocky attitude, nothing in that empty and self-centered brain of his—yet he pretty much proved me wrong today, and for some reason I didn’t seem to mind too much. I couldn’t help but bite my lower lip as I looked down at my phone, realizing that it was past midnight now, I had to go to sleep.

Me: goodnight, i have classes early in the morning… I hate him: sweet dreams, y/n…see u at uni.

『I'm going out of frequency

Can anyone respond?

'Cause I'm going out of frequency

Can anyone respond?』

❱❱ Next chapter

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clangenrising · 5 months

Text

Month 14 - Newleaf

Lake’s paws ached. Her stomach growled and her head pounded dully behind her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt full. Still, she walked.

Ever since her mother had disappeared, she’d been wandering. A few cats had shared a bite with her but they didn’t have much to share in the first place. Most of them were too busy training to fight and they didn’t want her around, especially not the special cats - Exalted, she remembered hazily. She’d tried following other kits home but every time she was politely sent away.

Two days ago, she’d seen a couple cats bringing back a pair of juicy looking birds and while they hadn’t shared with her, they had told her that there was plenty of prey over the far road if she could catch it, laughing between themselves. She figured that was as good an idea as any, so she’d headed out for the wild frontier!

It was farther away than she’d thought it would be, or maybe it was just easier to get lost without roads to follow. She walked and walked and then stopped to sleep then walked some more. She was starting to wonder if there even was anything out here at all. Was she just missing it?

The sound of running water grabbed her attention and she licked her chapped lips eagerly at the thought. The kit picked up her heavy paws and bounded towards the noise. Coming out of the grass, she suddenly found herself on the edge of a stream of cool, fresh water - fresher than she’d ever seen before at least.

“Wowzers!” she declared because that seemed fitting. She waded into the stream and crouched down, gulping greedily until her stomach hurt. She thought about falling over and sleeping in the stream but worried she might drown. Instead, she decided to follow the water like it was a road and see where that took her. At the very least it would be fun to splash around.

The sky was getting dark again but Lake didn’t mind. She tromped noisily against the current of the stream, humming a song as each note came to her mind. The chill of the water kept her awake, which was nice. She wondered if she would see a fish. They lived in water, right? She hoped so. She was starving and the water she drank wasn’t helping. It honestly made her feel grosser.

Eventually the stream came upon a small hill but, instead of curving or trickling down the slope, it cut through the earth in a big metal tube. “That’s interesting,” Lake thought out loud. It was like a gutter drain but huge, big enough for a cat to walk through! She bounded up to the edge of it and sucked in a huge breath.

“Hellooooo!” she bellowed, giggling at the way it echoed off the tunnel walls. She splashed her paws in the water and listened to the magnified sound with excitement. “Blaaaaaaah! Bluh, bluh, bluh!” She snorted with laughter. This was the best fun she’d had in weeks!

“Hello?” A voice that wasn’t her own echoed back to her. She gasped. Was that possible?

“Hello?” she called back. It was hard to tell in the dark but at the end of the tunnel, she swore she saw something moving. Then a glint of eyes blinked at her, barely reflecting the moonlight in her direction.

“Wowzers!” she cried, “I didn’t think I’d see anybody! Are you hunting too?”

“Yeah,” the voice said hesitantly. “How old are you?” It sounded like a boy but there were other quieter voices outside the tunnel and they were talking very serious-like.

“I’m three whole months!” Lake said. The eyes pulled away from the tunnel as the cat whispered with his friends. Lake decided she wanted to say hi up close and personal. She started towards the cat, sloshing through the stream up to her belly. Once the tunnel was all around her, the sound of her paw steps started to hurt her ears and she hurried towards the other end to get away from it.

She burst out of the other end and thumped into a pair of bony legs, falling back onto her rump with an “oof!” The cat she had run into reached out a paw to steady her. He smelled like grass and dust and his breath smelled like prey blood. It made Lake’s mouth water.

“Easy, there, kid,” the cat said. It was now that Lake looked up and got her first sight of him.

“You’re funny looking, mister!” she said. He was a skinny white and blue tabby with big ears, like a little dog, and a very pointy face.

“I could say the same about you,” he said.

She laughed. “Am I funny looking?”

“The poor thing looks half starved,” whispered one of the other cats, an equally funny looking girl with brown points on her face and feet.

“Are you out here all alone?” asked the third cat, a fluffy brown tabby boy who was much more normal looking.

“Yessir!” said Lake. “I heard there was food here. Do you guys know where the far road is?” The cats all looked at each other for a beat.

Then the first one spoke up, “Uh, no, but we do know where some food is.”

“Really?!” Lake grinned. “Can I have some?!” Her mouth was starting to fill with saliva. She slurped some of it down to avoid drooling.

“Yeah,” nodded the normal boy. “I’ll even carry you if you want.”

“Nuh, uh,” Lake shook her head. “I’m a big girl now.”

“You sure are,” said the funny looking boy. “Barleypaw, will you go grab one of the mice or something?”

“Yeah,” nodded the funny looking girl. She bounded off into the grass and Lake started after her but the funny looking boy put out a paw to stop her.

“She’s gonna be right back with the food,” he said. “You just sit.”

“Oh, okay,” shrugged Lake. “My name’s Lake. What’s your names?”

“I’m Floodpaw,” said the funny looking boy.

“Sparrowpaw,” said the normal looking boy.

“And our sister is Barleypaw,” said Floodpaw.

“Hey!” Lake gasped. “Did you know all your names rhyme?” Sparrowpaw laughed a little. Floodpaw raised one brow.

“Yeah…” he said. “Where’s your mom, kid?”

Lake frowned. “Oh, um… I don't know.”

“Oh,” said Floodpaw.

“That’s alright,” said Sparrowpaw. “Maybe you can come home with us, then.”

“Yeah?” she brightened. Was she finally gonna be able to find a new place to sleep and a new person to help her get food?

“Yeah,” said Floodpaw. “Once you’ve eaten we can go there.”

“I can’t wait!” cried Lake. “You guys are the best!” The brothers exchanged glances again. Lake wasn’t sure what it meant but she saw the sister coming back over the hill and smelled the delicious smell of meat and all other thoughts fled her brain. She scarfed the whole thing down as quickly as she could. She ate it so fast she forgot to check what kind of animal it was. By the time she finished, she realized she felt very sick to her stomach.

“Oh…” she said. “I think I ate too fast…”

“That’s alright,” said Sparrowpaw, “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you?”

She nodded, cheeks full of breath as she tried to stifle her nausea.

“Alright, come on then,” Floodpaw said, stretching. “Why don’t we go back to camp? I bet a nice walk will help you feel better.”

“Okay,” mumbled Lake. She didn’t feel like walking. She felt like falling over and never moving again. She didn’t like saying no to people, though, so she forced herself to take a few steps.

Floodpaw tilted his funny looking head and said, “I dunno, maybe we should just sit for a while.” Lake sighed a little in relief. “Yeah, why don’t you guys go gather the prey and tell somebody about Lake and I’ll chill here with the kid until she feels like walking.”

“Are you sure?” asked Barleypaw. “We’re awfully close to the border.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said, flopping down in the grass. “Worst comes to worse, I'll grab the kid and go.”

“Alright…” said Sparrowpaw, looking unconvinced. He and Barleypaw started off into the grass, looking back over their shoulders and whispering to each other. Lake let out a big sigh and eased herself into the grass next to Floodpaw.

“Thanks,” she said, closing her eyes. “I don’t feel very good.” She swallowed, her sides heaving under the distress of her sick tummy.

“No problem,” smiled Floodpaw. “Barleypaw and Sparrowpaw are always like ‘go, go, go, let’s follow the rules’ or whatever but I get just wanting to lie down.”

“Yeah,” Lake smiled wide and wiggled into a more comfortable position. “I like laying down!”

“Me too,” laughed Floodpaw, dropping his head onto the ground too. “So, what are you doing out here, Lake?”

“Looking for food!” Lake purred. Her stomach gurgled loudly and she giggled a bit. “Thanks for sharing it with me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Floodpaw, one ear flicking away the gnats buzzing by. “But why are you looking for food all the way out here? You’re from the city aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, I am,” Lake nodded, peeking her eyes open at him. “Some cats told me there was food out here. I was really hungry. Plus it sounded fun to try.”

“Don’t other cats bring you food?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Nah,” she sighed. “Not since Mother went missing.”

The crease in his funny, pointy face deepened. “Still, there wasn’t anybody else who helped you out?”

“Um…” Lake frowned too. “No. I’m sorry.” Was she answering wrong? Why was he upset?

“Oh, no, hey,” he said quickly, “It’s okay, I’m not mad, I’m just-” His skinny little tail twitched. “I just think it’s not cool that no one looked out for you.”

“They’re busy I guess,” Lake shrugged. They were learning to fight or taking care of their own kits. She didn’t blame any of them for not having time for her.

“Well, here we take care of kittens,” Floodpaw said firmly, “no matter who they are.” Lake smiled and hid her nose in her paws shyly. Floodpaw laughed and stretched his big, long legs out in opposite directions. “Take a little nap, kid. I’ll keep watch.”

“Okay,” she said and yawned. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until he said something but now, with her belly full, she was eager to get some shut eye. Feeling very round and sluggish, she closed her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

~~~

When Lake woke up it was very, very dark. She yawned and stretched and looked around, realizing that she was in a totally new place. She stiffened in fright. Where was she? The not knowing was scarier than any answer she could come up with.

She was in a large den made of dirt, it seemed, in a nest of soft green moss and feathers. It smelled faintly of other cats, cats she didn’t know.

Carefully, she got to her paws and crept towards the scent of night air, poking her head out to see a small grassy dip with a few other burrows tucked under big, grey stones. Three cats were sitting on top of a big, flat stone and talking softly. They didn’t seem dangerous so Lake ventured a bit further out to look around in wonder.

“Wowzers,” she breathed. Everything here smelled so fresh and green. She’d never experienced anything like it.

One of the cats, a dark blue bengal girl, perked up at the sound and looked her way. “Oh, hey! She’s awake!”

“Shh,” hushed a brown spotted tabby girl nervously.

“Right, sorry,” said the first girl, lowering her volume a bit. “Hey, girlie, how you feelin’?”

Lake realized she was supposed to answer and said, “I’m good. How did I get here?”

“They carried you in while you were sleeping,” said the third cat, a paler spotted tabby boy. Lake frowned. She had wanted to walk.

“I bet you’re pretty confused,” said the first girl. “Why don’t you come up here and sit with us? We can answer any questions you have.”

“Um, I’m okay,” said Lake. “Where’s the guy with the funny ears?”

“Huh?” asked the first girl.

The boy brightened in realization. “Oh, you mean Floodpaw.”

“Yeah!” Lake bounced. That was his name!

“He’s sleeping over there,” he said, pointing to one of the holes in the ground.

“Okay, thanks!” said Lake. She started towards the hole to go see him. The second girl breathed in sharply through her teeth and the first girl laughed.

The boy started to say, “Oh, uh, I don’t know if-” but the first girl interrupted him.

“Shh, let her be. It’ll be funny.”

Lake didn’t know what they were talking about but she didn’t let it bother her. She made her way into the den. Five cats were sleeping in their nests; two smaller ones were curled up together and Floodpaw and the other cats she had met were sleeping near each other but not so close that they were touching. Lake padded right up to Floodpaw and settled down against his side. He opened his eyes and lifted his head groggily, blinking at her a few times before he managed to speak.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing in here?” he mumbled hoarsely.

“Looking for you,” she whispered. “Why did you carry me? I wanted to walk.”

“Oh,” he said with a small groan. He swiped his tongue over his whiskers and rubbed an eye with his paw. “It was getting really late and I didn’t want to wake you. Sorry, kid.”

“Mmm, it’s okay,” she decided, purring. She wiggled down into his nest and closed her eyes again.

“Oh, uh…” he hesitated for a moment before eventually wrapping his tail around her and laying his head back down to sleep. Lake purred even harder. She’d missed sleeping next to somebody like this.

She hoped that wherever her mother was, she had found someone new to sleep beside too.

UPDATES: - While on patrol with Barleypaw and Sparrowpaw, Floodpaw finds an abandoned kit named Lake and takes her back to camp.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Ospreymask #Branchbark #Aldertail #clangenrising #Barleybee #Floodstrike #Sparrowsway #lakepaw

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fanficshiddles · 4 months

Text

A Deep Need, (10 Year Anniversary One Shot)

Summary: Alpha Loki finally finds an omega, even if not in the most conventional way... But while he wants to give her time to get to know him, she falls into heat. So needs him more than ever right now.

Warnings: Tis Omegaverse so there's knotting and sex before barely knowing one another. Not really dub con, cause she wants it. Though guess could be argued it's her in heat mind wanting it.

Loki would be lying if he said he was in a good mood today as he paced back and fore in his chambers, thinking things over once more before going…

Being one of few Alphas on Asgard wasn’t always easy. There weren’t many omegas here, so finding his own princess had proved difficult. Plus, with his past not exactly being squeaky clean didn’t help, as many people feared him.

Frigga had told him numerous times over the years about how they could arrange for an omega from Midgard to be taken to Asgard for him. He kept refusing, stating he would find his own soon enough. Though as time went on, he realised that wasn’t going to happen.

He’d heard word that in the dark market today there was going to be a small sale of omegas from Midgard. He wasn’t sure why they were here or how they’d been taken here… he dreaded to think, actually. Though he figured it might be his only chance to get his own omega.

‘I guess I have nothing to lose by going along for a look…’ He sighed to himself and ran a hand down his face.

Putting on his cloak, he made his way out of his chambers and out of the palace, heading down into the golden city of Asgard. It was bustling with Asgardians as usual, such a nice day always brought everyone out in droves. He wove his way through the crowds with ease, his horned helmet towered over everyone. Plenty of people moved out of his way, some gave curt nods of respect, others gasped in fear.

He’d never hurt them, they were just scared of what they’d heard from his past. How he tried to take over Midgard and failed, that he was a Jotun. He was glad that Odin had decided to give him one more chance, he was past all that now. Though there was a small part of him that rather enjoyed seeing the fear in some Asgardians eyes, making him smirk a little.

It didn’t take long for him to get to the underground market, the guard on the gates nodded at him and stepped aside, letting him through. He was a frequent visitor to the dark market, usually for potions and such. This time was very different, though.

As he made his way through the underground tunnel, looking at the various stalls, he came across the omegas and he was slightly repulsed at the conditions they were in. Stuffed into tiny cages, they could barely move. Wearing not much more than what could be called a glorified nightie, barely covering their bodies.

Whilst he had found humans to be beneath him for a period, even for him seeing them in this state made him feel bad for them. The smell of the omegas though did excite him, his Alpha instincts were kicking in already.

‘Ah, my Prince. Good to see you. We have some lovely omegas here, I’m sure any of them would be great for you.’ The stall vendor said as he motioned to them all.

Loki said nothing at first as he let his eyes trail over the girls, five of them in total, all looking just as scared as eachother. There was one girl that caught his eye more though, she was trembling and had her arms wrapped around her knees, she briefly glanced at him but didn’t keep eye contact for long. Something about her tugged at his heart strings.

‘Where did you get them from? Are they here of their own free will?’ Loki asked, though he knew the answer already.

‘Midgard. No, my Prince. They’re of no use on Midgard though, no more Alphas left. Nobody wanted them.’ The vendor shrugged, as if they were just items.

‘Why not just leave them be? Let them live their lives there?’ Loki raised an eyebrow at him.

‘I was sold them, my Prince.’ He stammered out quickly. ‘Was told when they come into heat that they’d suffer greatly anyway without an Alpha to calm them.’

‘I thought Midgard was advanced enough to have medication to suppress heats?’ Loki asked knowingly.

‘I… I don’t know, my Prince. This is just what I was told.’ He laughed nervously.

Loki sighed and looked back at the one omega in particular. Her skin was dirty, her hair too, it was pretty messy, probably not even been brushed in God knows how long. She was rather skinny too, could do with some good meals.

‘I’ll take that one.’ Loki pointed at the one he wanted, her eyes widened in a mixture of fear and confusion. ‘How much?’ Loki asked as he took out his pouch of gold from his pocket.

‘I am selling them for eight, but for you, my Prince… Five coins.’ The vendor said generously.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. He took out a handful of coins, well over ten of them and handed them to the man. ‘Use the extra to buy the rest of the girl’s proper food and clothes.’ He said firmly.

The man’s eyes widened when he saw how much Loki was paying him. ‘Yes, my Prince. Of course.’ He bowed at him, then stuffed the coins away into his pocket.

He rushed over to open the cage of Loki’s new omega, he put a length of rope around the girl’s neck and tugged on it to get her out of the cage. He then dragged the omega over to Loki and handed him the end of the rope.

Loki glared at the rope then at the man. ‘That will not be necessary.’ He growled at him.

‘What if she tries to run off, my Prince?’ The man asked, confused.

‘She won’t.’ Loki said confidently.

The girl looked shocked, and still very confused, as she continued to tremble on front of Loki.

‘As you wish.’ The man removed the rope from the girl’s neck, she reached up and rubbed at her neck, glad the harsh rope was gone.

Loki reached his hand up towards her face, making her flinch and close her eyes. Though as he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, her eyes flew open in surprise.

‘What’s your name?’ He asked softly.

‘You can call her whatever you like, my Prince.’ The vendor butted in.

Loki raised his hand and glared at him. ‘Let her speak.’ He barked at him.

She opened her mouth and it took a little while before her voice worked again, as she hadn’t spoken in so long.

‘Sofia.’

Loki put his hand out towards her. ‘Come, Sofia. Let’s get you back to the palace to clean you up. Get you some food. Is that ok?’

Sofia’s eyes watered, she was scared of course but she was beginning to think she needn’t be of this man. Unless he was tricking her, which of course could be a possibility, she had no idea who he was. Though she saw kindness in his eyes, so she took his large hand and let him lead her out of the market to the palace.

When Loki got her back to his chambers, he ran a bath for her and had his maid fetch them both a meal.

‘Why don’t you go and get cleaned up, food should be here once you are finished.’ Loki offered as he handed her a towel. ‘I’ll look out some clothes for you.’

‘Thank… you…’ She said quietly, taking the towel from him.

Sofia went into the bathroom, she was so relieved to finally get clean. She was horrified to find that she used almost a whole bottle of shampoo just continuously washing her hair to get all the dirt and tangles out.

A soft knock on the door startled her, she had just closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the warm water.

Loki poked his head in, her body was covered by the bubbles. He entered and placed a night dress with underwear on the chair in the corner of the bathroom.

‘I hope they fit ok. I guessed your sizes.’ He said a little sheepishly. ‘Please join me once you’re ready, food will be here soon.’

Sofia said nothing, just nodded a bit. She wanted to relax for longer in the bath, but her stomach growled at her, telling her to get out. The last time she ate was yesterday morning and it had only been half a slice of bread.

Once she got out of the bath, dried herself off and got dressed, she went through into Loki’s chambers to join him. Food had just arrived, making her stomach growl even more. Her mouth watered when she saw the plate of food. Lovely looking meats, potatoes and vegetables.

‘Please, take a seat.’ Loki motioned to the seat opposite his.

She tentatively sat down and watched Loki begin to tuck into his food at first. Then she slowly, carefully, picked up her cutlery and started eating. Though as soon as the first bite of food hit her tongue, she started eating faster, couldn’t get it down quick enough.

‘I give you my word, you don’t need to worry about food again.’ Loki said as he watched her eat, as if it would be taken away from her soon.

She did slow down a little bit, and seemed to enjoy the food more. Though she was still finished before Loki was, her plate was completely cleared.

‘I don’t want you to fear me. I know you’re not here of your own will… I am an Alpha, which I’m sure you know already. However, if after a few days you don’t want to stay here with me, I can get you back home to Midgard if that’s what you wish. I won’t keep you here against your will.’

Sofia’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

Loki nodded in response.

‘Thank you…’ She said quietly and looked down at the table.

Loki had a million questions he wanted to ask her, but he knew she would be tired. Perhaps he’d get more out of her tomorrow after she’d rested.

‘You can take my bed tonight, I’ll sleep by the fire on the sofa.’ Loki pointed to the large Queen size bed.

She muttered out a quiet thank you again, then shyly made her way over to said bed to get comfortable for the night. As soon as she crawled onto the bed and under the duvet, she passed out within seconds. A full belly and rest in a warm place, was all she needed.

Loki sat by the fire for a few hours, just gazing over at the sleeping omega. She barely stirred at first, just breathing deeply as she got some proper rest. Though as the night went on, he noticed she started shuffling around, restless. Then he could smell something in the air...

‘Oh no…’ He gasped, his cock instantly began getting hard at the smell. ‘Fuck.’ He growled.

She began whimpering quietly from the bed, sweat beaded on her forehead. She thrashed around a bit more, until she woke up fully, panting and gasping. She looked across the room at Loki, who had stood up abruptly.

‘I need to leave… while I can still control myself.’ Loki said, his voice strained.

But she let out a whimper of pain as she clutched at her stomach. He rushed over to her side instantly, his Alpha instincts kicking into overdrive.

‘It… hurts.’ She whined, looking at him longingly.

Loki reached out and cupped her cheek, her skin was on fire, though she felt some relief at his touch. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.

‘Do you… want me to help you?’ Loki asked, trying to control himself.

She opened her eyes and looked at him with doe eyes, then nodded. ‘Please.’

Loki didn’t need to be asked twice. He tossed the duvet out of the way and climbed onto the bed over the top of her. She gasped as his hands slid underneath her dress against her sides, it was as if his touch was cooling her body down instantly, feeling so good.

He leaned down and let her feel his weight on her, which helped a lot too. When his mouth crashed down on hers, he was glad that she reciprocated his kiss. Their tongues moved together slowly at first, testing the waters, but it soon got deeper and more intense as their instincts kicked in.

Sofia bucked her hips up and began trying to rub against him. Loki slid his hand down and cupped her through her knickers, he could feel her heat radiating against his hand, even through the cotton. He began panting with need as he rubbed her eagerly.

‘Let me be your Alpha… Let me claim you, like we both need.’ He growled urgently and started nipping at her neck, making her whimper so beautifully.

‘Please… Alpha.’ She cried out.

Loki was almost exploding within his trousers. He used his seidr and had all of their clothing disappear, momentarily startling her.

‘Shhh, it’s ok, darling. I have magic, nothing to fear. I promise, I’ll look after you.’ He whispered softly and kissed along her shoulder, leaving a wet trail that made her shiver in delight.

Loki’s long fingers teased through her soaking wet folds, she was so wet and well prepared for him. The heat had hit her so quickly and hard, she didn’t care in that moment if he chucked her out after, she just needed him inside of her right now.

Her omega instincts kicked in too, she tried to squirm around, Loki sat up and removed his hand from between her thighs, to see what she was needing to do. His eyes widened and he growled ferally when she rolled over onto her stomach, then pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, displaying for him.

‘Please!’ She whined.

Loki’s eyes darkened as he gripped her hips and moved in behind her, he slid his cock up and down through her folds at first, but even he couldn’t handle any teasing right now, as much as he enjoyed teasing and foreplay normally. His cock was already streaming with pre cum, rubbing all over her cunt.

He pressed the tip of his cock into her, they both moaned loudly together, more so when he forced himself deeper into her, so deep until he was fully sheathed within her. Her body took him so well, her heat made her super relaxed and ready for what it needed.

Loki’s grip on her sides tightened as he dug his fingers into her and started thrusting fast and hard, knocking the wind out of her. He let out plenty of groans and grunts, then folded himself over her and wrapped an arm around her middle to keep in her place as he rutted into her.

Sofia couldn’t stop crying out in pleasure, like he was dousing out the fire within her. He felt so good, like nothing she’d experienced before. She had been scared at first, her heat happening. It was her first one, too. Though she felt a strange connection with Loki, like she knew deep down that he would look after her and help her through it, that he’d protect her.

And that was exactly what he was going to do.

‘Sofia… My omega…’ He growled and bit down on her shoulder as he thrust as deep as he possibly could into her, stilling as his knot began to swell inside of her, locking them together as he spurted his cum deep into her, completely putting out the fiery need within her for now.

She came hard all over his cock, feeling him stuff her so full, tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t help it.

Loki collapsed to the side, pulling her with him. They would be locked together for a while, no doubt going at it again and again for the foreseeable until her heat had passed.

Their breathing was heavy for a bit, until they calmed down a little. Loki nuzzled into her hair and tightened his arms around her, keeping her super close.

‘I had hoped to get to know you more before this happening… For you to decide yourself if you wanted to stay or not.’ He rumbled into her hair.

‘I… I want to stay.’ She said blissfully.

Loki chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head.

He only hoped she wasn’t just saying that because she was in heat… Though he’d deal with that issue after, if she changed her mind.

Right now, his new omega needed him. And he needed her.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #loki fic #fluffy loki #one shot #alpha loki

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leggerefiore · 4 months

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cw: loneliness, post ingo disappearance Emmet, comfort, Silver Fox Emmet

pairing: Emmet/Reader

Busy… Everyone felt so busy.

Busy schedules, no spare time, endless things to do…

You hated to complain. You hated to say a word. You bit your tongue. It was easier that way – Better than way. Everything always felt so fragile and ready to burst. Like the moment you vocalised your feels, a bubble would burst and leave you to true isolation. A social attack that would make someone finally officially drop you instead of slowly and subtly doing so.

Or, maybe, it was just you. A bitter form of jealousy that haunted your mind. Someone having what you did not. A friend with more friends and no time for you. It was childish. You swallowed your feelings. Bring an adult meant burying such thoughts and feelings to keep a status quo. A peaceful existence. Painful things would have to go ignored and unaddressed lest you unravel the whole fragile tie and undo everything. This was a foolish endeavour that lead you to feeling less like a person and more like an annoyance. A barrier of sorts. Maybe they all kept you around out of pity. You hated the self-doubt and loathing that would continue to plague you.

It was on a late-night train ride to head back to your apartment that you found someone like yourself. Another lonely soul who fought back the urge to ask for any attention. Someone who lurked within the obscurity of just being acknowledged yet scarcely sought out. An employee, you could tell, a senior one at that. He was definitely aged. A black hat sat heavy on his head, mismatched with the rest of his white uniform. Eyes has heavy bags under them and his lips were frozen in a neutral expression. His words were quick and impolite with most of those he spoke with. You did not know why you listened at first. Nothing about him would have otherwise piqued your interest. Something did, however.

When your gazes met, you felt strangely small. He basically ordered you to move the bag from the seat beside you, but almost phrased it like a question. His intention was clearly not to be rude, somehow. You nodded, but before he could go off, you called out to him. A quiet request to know who he was. The darkness of the subway tunnel shined with a monetary brightness. A Subway Boss… Emmet… It was unfamiliar, yet you clung onto it, repeating the name and title carefully. A small smile broke out across his face after you did so. You returned the expression back to him.

You did not think that you would ever see him again.

Yet, you did.

At a café, you spied the familiar man sitting alone with a black cup of coffee steaming across from him. An emptied plate of what may have previously been a dessert sat in front of him. You wondered if his conversation partner had slipped away for a few moments, but they never returned if they had. The coffee remained completely undisturbed. Why? You could only ponder the answer to that question. The man's gaze drifted to you as you sat nearby in your single seat table. He gave a polite smile again. A tip was left on the table as he got up to leave. The coffee left to cool down and be forgotten and not drunk.

The barista scoffed at the sight, but before she complained, an older employee shook her head to scoop up the drink. “… I know it seems a waste,” she explained, “But… But he said he's waiting on someone. They never show up. I doubt he likes wasting money on a drink like that. It seems awfully cruel to keep standing him up, doesn't it? You'd think he'd just give up.” The barista seemed less upset after hearing that, more empathetic. Your gaze stared out of the window into the busy Nimbasa streets.

Who was he waiting on? You agreed with the older woman's thoughts. Why did he keep trying?

You tried to pretend that you had not faced your own many similar situations. Desperation was the answer. Desperation for anyone.

The first time you properly spoke was when he encountered you. A friend had promised to meet you at the amusement park in Nimbasa yet they never showed. You sat on the bench, staring out in the crowd with empty eyes. Again. It happened again. They insisted they had tried to tell you earlier, but… You lowered your head. The laughs and happy conversations around you felt mocking. Was this some kind of cruel punishment for an action that you could not recall committing? Tears burned your eyes.

Yet, they did not have a chance to fall.

“Are you okay?” a voice called out. You assumed it was not to you. Then, someone sat beside you. You nearly jumped back. It was him, albeit in casual clothing. His eerie eyes stared into your own. “I am sorry,” he apologised, “I did not want to startle you.” The question was repeated. You felt lost. There was no way that you could dump that on a complete stranger. A hand came to rest on your shoulder. A genuine smile was on his face. “Ah! You rode the night train,” he realised, “I hope I did not come across as mean. My job is verrrry stressful, and I have to do it alone. My mood gets low towards the end of a shift.”

You nodded. He went silent. You wondered what this was.

Suddenly, you were not alone.

Not at all.

Emmet became an odd fixture in your life. He was a bad conversationalist, but he seemed to simply just enjoy being in your presence. Words were not needed – you both found peace in having consistent company. He was someone you easily scheduled things to do with whenever he was free. You felt that he was working hard to make even more time for you. It was nice. No more wishy-washy replies and schedules. There was someone you could rely on. Even if he was a bit older.

Your closeness with him slowly began to blossom into something more. Polite touches shifted into affectionate gestures until an outright declaration of feelings were made. A simple “we should date” from Emmet started a new page in your life. The desolate state that you had lingered in before was almost wholly gone. Moving in with him made everything even better. Sure, he might have sometimes had to work late, but he always tried to make it home if he could or send a message to let you know if he could not. You did not think that you had felt such contentment in a while.

You had even opened up about your situation, which had made Emmet huff. He chided you for not standing up for yourself and demanded that you spoke to your friends openly about the issue. Many felt mortified that they had done such a thing to you, apologising for how they had acted, but a few had behaved in a less than understanding manner. Needless to say, you did find who truly cared and who did not. Yet, you found yourself wondering about Emmet. Why had he been so lonely? He never seemed too eager to tall about his past. You barely knew much other than his hometown and that he had a brother.

It had not been until you encountered a certain model that you had been learnt more. Emmet was a twin… And that twin had suddenly gone missing. It all had been as messy affair. She claimed that she worried that Emmet may not ever recover from it, yet that he had seemed happier lately. Many thanks were lavished onto you for helping that. You had gently confronted Emmet about that later. He was mortified by your words. His bright smile fell into a fixed frown. There was a distance in his gaze. He shook his head and took off his black cap.

“My older brother was my other half,” he said simply, “We were two pieces of a whole. I am not whole without him. Yep.” The hat was clenched in his hands. You saw tears brimming in his eyes. Your arms came around him tightly as he began to cry. He shook pitifully, almost like a small child. You understood what Elesa had meant now. He almost did not seem like himself. His sobs were quiet, almost unnoticeable. “I miss him…” he mumbled, “I have done everything that I can to search for him! Oh, darling, what could have happened to him!?”

He hugged you tightly to himself, burying his face into your shoulder. You wished that you had an answer to his question. Your mind flashed back to how he and comforted you when you nearly began to cry. Your hand rubbed his back. His name left your lips a few times. Emmet only cried more. “... You are too nice,” his words startled you, “You should not waste your time on me. I am verrry old and gross.” You fought back the laugh that almost left you. Old and gross? You could not agree. Your thoughts were vocalised. He flinched.

“… Why?” he asked simply, “… Is it because I help get rid of your loneliness?” Was it? Maybe at first… But now, well, it was much more. His age was irrelevant, and so was his mental state. You pecked a kiss on his temple. Your love was proclaimed proudly. Emmet froze. “Oh, darling,” he mumbled again, “Darling… You could have anyone.” You wanted him. He closed his eyes. “… I… I love you, too,” he spoke truthfully as he stood up straight. His gaze met yours. He leaned down to nuzzle his nose against yours before giving you a kiss on your lips.

“Let's keep helping each other's loneliness,” a weak smile came across his lips, “… Ingo would have liked you. Yep, Ingo would be verrrry jealous that I have you all too myself.” He squeezed you tighter to himself.

Ingo… You hoped to meet him one day.

You were definitely going to scold him for leaving Emmet in such a state first, though.

#pokemon x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon/reader #emmet/reader

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plainclothesdisaster · 5 months

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Red Knight Chapter 5 - Curses & Couches

DP x DC | Dead on Main

Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?

Read on AO3 | Beginning | < Prev | Next >

——

The night after the brawl in Danny’s apartment Jason was out as Red Hood scouting a possible arms deal when he spotted it— a Curse Ghost, vaguely beastly and oozing black goo, just as ugly and unsettling as the one from Danny’s place. Jason texted him.

Found one.

So you didnʼt lose my number after all. Iʼll be right there.

Jason sent him the location- a rusted sewer grate at the edge of crime alley that he’d seen a curse ghost vanish into. Danny arrived minutes later in jeans and a jacket, same as always. Not like Jason had been expecting any different, but he had gotten used to working with the Bat. Capes and masks came standard. Danny was anything but standard.

“You bring the gear?” Danny asked as he stepped up toward the sewer gate Jason stood beside.

Jason opened his jacket to reveal he had strapped all kinds of whips and tasers and lasers and launchers to his holsters. He even wore the invisibility cuffs. And the sword.

Danny grinned. “I also brought something extra I think youʼll like.” He reached into his own jacket and pulled out, with great panache, a pair of plain white gym socks.

Jason scowled. “A selection from your laundry pile?” Still, he took them as Danny handed them over.

“If by laundry pile you mean my pile of genius inventions, then yes.”

“Iʼll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Danny shrugged. “If getting sewer water in your shoes is your thing I won’t stop you.”

Jason frowned.

And then he found himself wearing Dannyʼs socks (back in his boots, mind you), hunting the curse down the drain tunnel, hovering inches above the water instead of sludging through it.

“Real flight just wasnʼt doable with the tech, but these still have their uses.” Danny commented from ahead, his voice echoing down the tunnel completely careless of stealth. He also hovered, simple as if gravity had just turned off for him, none of the wobbles or wavers in balance that Jason was currently trying to hide. Forty feet into the darkness of the sewer and Jason was relying on the night vision in his helmet. Meanwhile Danny seemed just fine.

As they approached a junction in the pipe, Danny slowed. “Its here,” he whispered. Jason sensed it too, somehow. The air was colder and more alive somehow, the colors more warped and saturated.

They peeked silently around the corner and there it was, lounging half submerged like an overstuffed crocodile. Black ooze seeped into the water all around it, making it hard to tell where the beast itself began.

Danny threw him a look, anticipation dancing in his Lazarus green eyes. And then without further warning he pounced.

Hopes of keeping their socks dry vanished. Danny was quickly sopping, no thanks to his outfit choice. Still he fought like a terror, ducking out of the way of massive dripping jaws that threatened to halve him as he returned blows and blasts in kind. Jason watched with trained curiosity. Heʼd been so preoccupied with not dying last time he hadnʼt learned much. This time he bit down his fear enough to make sense of how the curse ghost moved- like water and like a rockslide- and how Danny countered- like mist and lightning.

The curse ghost turned toward Jason and like a firecracker hid anger ignited and lost any inclination he had to stay on the sidelines. He instinctively reached for his guns but then thought better of it in close quarters. Instead he pulled the sword off his back. He swung with stiff determination, slicing through black crocodile hide. He felt a grim thrill as the beast roared.

Jason fought with less caution this time. More rhythm. In the end they overpowered it, beating it down deeper into the sludge until Danny sucked it up with the thermos, neat and tidy.

Danny smiled at him. “Nice work.”

Jason kneeled where it had fallen. Traces of black goo remained on the walls. He ran his fingers through it and it stuck to his gloves like slimy tar. “What the hell are these guys made of?”

Danny kneeled next to him, also inspecting the sludge remains. He pursed his lips. “It’s corrupted ectoplasm.”

Like Jason’s, Danny didn’t say. Didn’t need to.

“These guys are more solid than regular ghosts. It didn’t just phase out of here. It splashed in the water.” Danny rubbed the goo between his fingers before shaking it off.

“You said they’re Gotham’s curse, right? Makes sense that they’d be solid here, more than the regular ghosts.”

Danny looked at him, studying his face as if his mask wasn’t there. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

Why did he feel such a surge of glowing pride at Danny’s acknowledgement? Like passing another test. Earning his way into this world.

He caught himself. What the hell did he need to prove? He knew he was a great detective- and he could do it all without all the fancy tools and access that Bruce and his flock had.

But solving the curse ghosts was one thing. Solving Danny was what he really cared about. And to do that he needed Danny to trust him.

During the days that followed he tried to tend to his other cases, and he thought about Danny.

Mid stakeout of an upstart drug trafficker his mind wandered. Danny, going to class like some normal college kid. Eating lunch. Making friends. Did he have friends? Jason considered tailing him again to find out, but he thought better of it. If Danny caught him snooping now it wouldn’t be easy to explain it away, and he’d lose the burgeoning trust between them. Or burgeoning friendship. Were they friends?

Jason had made allies for less before, but with Danny he couldn’t let his guard down, not completely. Jason remembered how he took down four thugs like it was nothing. He remembered how Danny looked at him with icy eyes right before he’d dropped him off a building. Every instinct reminded him Danny was dangerous.

The back alley door he’d been watching opened and it took him two seconds longer than it should have for him to react. The men nearly saw him as he ducked his head behind the corner and out of sight.

He eavesdropped on the drug deal, mentally filing away details on where the money was going. He watched as the men got in a black car, noted the license plate. It all felt a bit pedestrian compared to the Lovecraftian beasts he now knew to be lurking in the shadows.

He’d dealt with his fate share of meta weirdness and science experiments gone wrong in Gotham. But he wondered if this was how Bruce felt after coming back from dealing with Justice Leage level business. How was he supposed to focus on small time drug trade when a supernatural threat loomed large over his city?

Amity Park continued to yield no answers, even when he deepened his search. Going out of his way to delve into Gotham library archives wielded no new leads. Newspapers, business reports, even government documents- all missing or, more worrisome, heavily redacted.

When he looked again for the scientific paper by the Drs. Fenton, it had also disappeared from the net. Good thing he’d made a backup when he first discovered it, but it meant someone wasn’t taking too kindly to him poking around.

None of what he found explained what Danny was. Or, maybe more importantly, what kind of person he was.

He remembered something Alfred had once told Bruce after long nights of fruitless research. Some things you can’t solve while holed up in your cave. Some you have to do personally.

He didnʼt remember agreeing to it but he found himself meeting up with Danny nearly every night. Even if he tried to work on his other cases, inevitably a curse ghost would show up and derail his evening plans.

Danny speculated that they sought out Jason more now because he’d proved himself a threat, the same way they came after Danny. “Now that they know your ecto signature-“ whatever the hell that was- they’ll come looking. Territorial bastards.”

“Easier than hunting them down I guess.”

“I like the positive attitude.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

They established a meeting place on the roof old hotel that sat in the heart of crime alley. There had been texts exchanged at first but as the weeks went on they became unnecessary. Jason knew that when he swung up on to the roof each night that Danny would be there waiting for him.

That particular night he landed on the roof with barely a sound. Dannyʼs eyes still flicked over immediately. He sat where he typically did on the roofs edge, and his lips turned up in a half smile as soon as he saw Jason. Excitement buzzed in Jasonʼs skin like neon. Adrenaline. Just the anticipation for the upcoming hunt, he told himself. Certainly nothing else.

They weren’t waiting long before sirens and burglar alarms rang like beacons a few streets over.

“Shall we?” Jason cracked his knuckles.

“After you.”

Jason tipped himself forward off the building, diving in a short free fall. As he neared the street he didn’t reach for his grapple gun, instead he pulled on that energy under his heart, focused on his socks and hovered the last few feet to the ground. Danny followed behind in lazy twists and curls like a leaf in the wind.

They caught up with the curse ghost on the next block over. It ran through the street, a mangy goopy dog, as tall as a truck with too-sharp teeth. As it passed lights in doorways flickered and went dark, cars honked in the streets as drivers cut each other off, the cops on the corner stopped a group of teens with hands itching at their hips.

Jason felt it too, the way that whisky burns down your throat, riling you at your core.

“Ooh it’s a real nasty one,” Danny quipped. Was it Jason’s imagination or were his teeth even sharper than usual?

So far Jason had only encountered the beasts in places already filled with death and fear and aggression. It made his skin crawl to see the effect work the other way. The beast crashed through the street like an invisible wave, spreading misfortune, inciting aggression. He tasted acid at the back of his throat.

Danny had told him the curse caused suffering and then fed on it, a cycle that perpetuated ending with it getting stronger and stronger. All at the expense of Gotham. It struck Jason as blunt as a crowbar to the side. No matter what he did as Red Hood, no matter what any of the bats did— peace in Gotham had less than a snowball’s chance in hell. Not with these beasts running wild.

He ran after it wordlessly, Danny by his side. They followed the trail of misfortune through the streets of crime alley and then into downtown proper. Jason had half a though about truces and territories made with Batman in where he could and could not operate, but any qualms blew past him as his vision tunneled on the beast.

Heat churned under his skin and he felt a swell of rage despite the fact that Danny still kept pace beside him. This rage wasn’t sharp and bright like the rage he intimately knew, instead it burned oily and black.

They rounded a corner and real heat smacked him in the face. Ahead of them a building burned vigorously, flames eating their way out windows on every floor. He watched as the curse ghost dove through the open front door into the inferno.

“Shit,” Danny hissed beside him. “I’m going in.”

Without further warning Danny disappeared, presumably diving in after the beast.

The rage still burning in his gut egged Jason on to follow. Then, a cry from above. In the window, two kids framed by an orange inferno. Below on the street other people covered in soot pointed up, desperation in their voices.

Sense snapped back to him like an ice bath, priorities set. He strode toward the building and launched a grapple line, zipping up to the window.

“Grab on tight.” He hoisted two little girls off the windowsill and they followed his instruction, clinging to his midsection. He lowered them all down just as a loud crack came from the building above as the beams began to burst.

As he set the girls on the ground the older one spoke up, her voice barely a squeak. “Our brother-“

Fuck. Jason looked back up. The window frame was nearly devoured in flame. Fuck.

The wail of sirens echoed steadily closer, but not fast enough. He couldn’t just rush in unscathed like Danny had, he wasn’t wearing the jacket that made him intangible (supposedly, he hadn’t yet made it work all the way). But he still had to do something. He gripped his grapple gun and steeled himself.

And then Danny shot out of the second story window like a comet, landing haphazardly beside Jason. Around his neck, wrapped safely within his arms, was a little boy.

The sisters cried out with joy and Danny passed the boy to them, dazed and soot covered but still breathing. Danny smiled up at Jason, ashes tangled in the mess of his black hair.

“Red Hood?”

Shit. He would recognize that voice even if he were still dead.

“Batman.” Jason turned and saw his former mentor illuminated in firelight.

Fire trucks and EMTs arrived moments later, tending to the civilians and doing what they could against the blaze. Out of the corner of his eye Jason saw a flash of the iconic red and yellow on the roof. Robin was deploying some kind of fire extinguishing smoke bombs from above.

“What happened here?” Batman was never one to mince words. Still, Jason didn’t appreciate the accusatory undertone.

“Isn’t a guy allowed to save a few kids from a burning building once in a while?” He retorted.

“You’re outside of Crime Alley. Any particular reason?”

“W—“ he glanced over his shoulder. Danny was nowhere to be seen. Good. “I was just passing through. Helped how I could. But now it seems like you and Gotham’s finest have got it handled so I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait—“

Jason in fact did not wait. He shouldered his way past running firemen and slipped deeper into the shadows behind the crowd. He remembered the invisibility cuffs and with a bit of focus he made extra certain Batman couldn’t follow.

He waited till he was safely back inside the streets of crime alley (he chuckled to himself that anyone could think of these streets as safe) before he dropped the invisibility.

He found Danny waiting for him on top of their hotel.

“You okay?” Danny asked as Jason sat next to him on the edge of the roof.

“Fine.”

“Sorry I bailed so quickly, I-“

“Batman can not find out about you,” Jason interrupted. Meta or not, Batman wouldn’t be pleased if anyone as powerful as Danny was roaming around Gotham unchecked. If Bruce saw him, if he got any sense of his capabilities, he’d certainly confront him, or worse.

“Yeah, exactly, way ahead of you,” Danny breathed. “The Dark Knight is not on the list of heroes I’d like to meet.”

Jason hummed in the affirmative, satisfied.

“You get the curse ghost?”

“What? Oh, no. Forgot about him as soon as I saw there were still people. in the building. I think I got them all out before the B man showed up.”

“You’re a hero then. Or vigilante.”

“Was. I’m retired.”

“You don’t seem retired to me.”

“It’s complicated.”

In truth Jason had been relieved when Danny flew out of the building with that kid. Relieved for the kid of course, but equally relieved that Danny had chosen the civilians over the curse ghost. It meant that maybe he was just as altruistic as he claimed to be.

“So are these ghosts better or worse than the ones in Amity Park?” Jason ventured, pushing what trust he’d built.

Danny stiffened at the mention of Amity Park.

“I never mentioned Amity.” A hint of dangerous green glinted behind his eyes. Jason swallowed.

“I know. I was curious.” He replied, as breezy as possible. Like he hadn’t spent hours scouring through old records and obscure blogs to even get this scrap of information.

Danny pressed his lips together. “I haven’t been back in a long time.”

“Not even to see your parents?” Jason was getting reckless now.

“No.” Hard and cold as stone. “They’re not there anymore.”

Noted. Fenton parents were a subject to avoid with Danny. And a subject he would need to redouble his research on.

“And yeah. All ghosts are similar everywhere. Aside from the Curse Ghosts.” Danny offered, the chill fading from the air.

Getting info off of him was easy if Jason asked the right questions. Figuring out the questions was the hard part.

“How did they even get here then? The Curse Ghosts.” Jason asked. “Is there a portal close by?” Portal like the one the Fentons may or may not have created, like the one that supposedly killed Danny.

“No, they’re special. They form here in Gotham, no portal necessary,” came Danny’s unguarded reply. His gaze was far off, down into the streets like he could see them there.

“Actually,” Danny got that conspiratorial look as he turned to Jason, “Come with me.”

“Iʼve been trying to find a pattern for where the curse ghosts show up.” Danny sat at the messy desk in his apartment. Jason leaned over his shoulder as he pointed to a map on an outdated monitor.

It was Gotham, with red points dotting various locations. Jason recognized a few as locations theyʼd fought Curse Ghosts together but there were dozens more spots that Jason hadnʼt been at.

“Crime Alley is one obvious hot spot. Plenty of misery here to feed off of. But also— here by the docks, in the business district, by city hall, at Arkham.”

“So, anywhere.” Jason deadpanned.

Danny shot him a look. He clicked a key and another layer of dots showed up on the map.

“News stories of note- strange deaths, corruption, theft. Thereʼs always a surge after a beast shows up.”

“Seems obvious. And unhelpful.”

Danny huffed. “Yeah, well, usually one of your seventeen resident vigilantes shows up and restores order before things get too bad. Starves ‘em out a bit, unlike the big fish we were after tonight. But this is still helpful to get a bead on those to avoid real disasters.”

Jason studied the map layered with articles. “There has to be a way to predict where they’ll form.”

Danny hit a few keys and tossed him a thumb drive. “Knock yourself out.”

Danny leaned back in his chair. He looked tired.

Jason changed the subject. “So what do you study?”

“Huh?”

He gestured to the GU hoodie and various homework-esque bits around the room.

“Oh. Mechanical Engineering,” Danny replied with limited enthusiasm. “What about you? You go to school?”

“Not since I died.” Jason replied. Danny winced. “But itʼs okay. Not really my scene.”

“Oh cmon. There must be something youʼd want to study.”

“Maybe- no. Itʼs stupid.” Jason sat down on the arm of the sofa- the one that was still mostly intact.

“They have all sorts of weird degrees you can do now. You could do Crimonogy. Physicology. Extreme weightlifting with a minor in anthropology.”

“Or Literature.”

“What?” The corners of Danny’s mouth quirked up as he turned toward Jason.

“You know- the classics. Novels. The poets. That kind of stuff.”

Dannyʼs face curled into a smile. “Didnʼt peg you for the type.”

“You donʼt know me.” Jason was thankful the helmet hid the heat rising to his face.

“Touché.”

“Why mechanical engineering?” Jason countered.

“My grades were so shit in high school it was kind of a fall back.” Jason raised a doubting eyebrow.

“No really,” Danny continued, “I grew up around my parents tinkering. I couldnʼt help but pick it up. Much easier than studying Literature.”

“But do you actually like it?”

He shrugged. “Iʼm good at it. Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

Jason snorted. “Not at all. You still get to choose.”

Danny turned away, hiding his face. The silence stretched on for a long moment. Then, “So why are you a crime lord instead of a literature professor?”

Jason considered the question. Truthfully it hadn’t considered doing anything but what he did. This life he lived felt a bit inevitable. On his worst days maybe he’d considered giving up, but then his anger would always come snarling back. Anger at Bruce, anger at the Joker, anger at Gotham itself. Fighting was his only reprieve.

Or so he thought, before he met Danny. Before the irrationality of his rage had been doused completely for the first time since his death. For the first time it felt like he had room to consider. Room to choose.

“Gotham needs someone like me. As soon as it doesn’t you can catch me in the lecture hall teaching Jane Eyre.”

Danny considered him with a hint of a smile. “I’ll be sure to register for that credit when you do.”

“Gargoyles,” Danny proclaimed one night after theyʼd successfully captured a curse ghost.

Jason replied with an eloquent, “Huh?”

“Thatʼs what they kinda remind me of,” Danny spun the thermos in his hands. “The curse ghosts. They're like really messed up gargoyles.”

Jason thought about it and he was right. The curse ghosts were like if the gargoyles on Gothamʼs buildings had 20% more limbs and teeth and were made of goo instead of stone. Fitting really, for the embodiment of a curse on Gotham.

They perched on the roof of a building not far from an old tire shop where the curse ghost had reared its ugly head. A few gargoyles perched with them, thankfully all stone and completely motionless and definitely not cursed. Shadows crawled across them as occasional car headlights passed in the street below.

“The real question is if they're less nasty or more nasty than other curses you've fought?” Jason didnʼt know if Danny even had fought curse ghosts specifically before, but it seemed likely all things considered.

Danny paused, contemplating. “Every city has ghosts that haunt it. But none as bad as this, at least that I’ve seen. None that have such a distinct form. And none that have had such a strong effect on the living.”

“Arenʼt we special,” Jason grumbled.

Danny chuckled. “Very.”

“Good thing you came here to stop them.”

Danny frowned. “Well. Not exactly. If Stanford had accepted me Iʼd be bumping heads with the ghoulies under Alcatraz, but GU was my next choice.”

Jason’s train of thought came to a skittering halt. Danny wasn’t here to fight these ghosts specifically? He made it seem like taming the curse was the only way to keep Gotham from eating itself inside out. And it was clear that he was the only one actually trying to do something about it. Maybe the only one that could.

“Wait. Fixing the worst curse ever is just what you do in your free time between lectures?” Jason folded his arms.

Danny sighed. “Iʼm not a hero, remember? And I’m trying not to do ghost stuff full time. To do that I need to do human things. Like get a degree.”

“Who says you need a degree?” Jason’s voice pitched up, betraying his incredulity.

“NASA, definitely.” Danny wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead he tilted his head up to the sky, toward the few stars that dared to poke through the fog.

Jason bit back a laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Crime fighting- ghost hunting- whatever, it wasn’t something that you just did on the side. If there’s one thing Bruce taught him it was that civilian life was an afterthought, a persona that they had to play. Their real life, the life that mattered, was what happened once they donned their masks. And after Jason died he’d been freed from the responsibility of being a civilian at all.

Yet looking at the melancholy on Danny’s face he knew he was being sincere. It struck Jason that Danny had dreams, like real dreams, ones that didn’t involve stopping crime and saving cities and meting out justice.

It twisted something in his stomach. Dreams were a luxury Jason hadnʼt ever been able to afford. Not when he was young and fighting and stealing his way through the streets of Crime Alley. Not when he was fighting beside Bruce, desperately eager to fill the mantle of Robin. Not now, especially not now, when there was only the work of purging the rot from this city. The work that sent him back to the gutters and the alleys night after night, always looking down.

And there Danny was beside him, just as capable of fixing Gotham (or even more capable, he did begrudgingly admit), and it hadnʼt completely consumed him. He was still selfish enough to dream.

He was still looking up at the sky.

A pang of something like hatred smacked at the back of Jason’s teeth, ugly and hot. He couldn’t believe Danny’s selfishness. His naivety. Both incredibly stupid things to have in this line of work. And still Jason felt something else– a rumbling and an ache from the place under his heart. A pulling that tried to stretch across the space between them. He bit his tongue and shoved that feeling down.

Later that night when Jason couldn’t sleep he scoured the net for any more hits on Danny. He knew it would be easier if he just asked Tim for help. He bet that little creep could have the full dossier delivered within an hour, everything he wanted to know about Danny Fenton, but that would open Jason up to way more questions than he wanted to deal with. He still needed to keep this as far away from Bruce as possible for as long as possible.

His less than ideal search methods still yielded him a yearbook photo he hadn’t seen yet. The sister Danny mentioned– Jasmine Fenton. Turns out she was attending Stanford, psychology major. Stanford, where Danny could have been instead of Gotham. Fighting some other city’s ghosts. And Jason would have continued to be unaware of and unable to do anything about Gotham’s curse. Or his own.

He turned his attention to digging up anything he could on the Fenton parents. No real estate records, no taxes, not even driver’s licenses. But no death certificates either. Jason didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. What he did know is that they were equally as erased as their son.

He found himself drifting away from Fenton research and on to the question that nagged at him in a different way– how to predict where the curse ghosts would show up. The data from Danny’s thumb drive was already on his computer and he dutifully logged the coordinates and relevant details from that night’s encounter, another dot among hundreds on the map of Gotham.

Jason had already whittled through all the possible easy connections. Haunted places, typical goon hide outs, historic sites, even fucking ley lines– none of them had enough correlation to be a valuable predictor. Or even a decent lead.

As much as he had practiced taming his frustration, another fruitless night with no answers had him sulking. He felt certain that figuring out the curse ghosts would also help him figure out Danny. And figure out himself. He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t felt even a hint of the Pit’s clawing rage since his nightly escapades with Danny became more frequent. He considered Danny’s offer– to make the fix permanent. And Jason believed him now, that he actually did want to help.

But he couldn’t accept that offer. He wouldn’t. Not until he was sure what it really meant. Maybe if and when they solved the curse problem for good, maybe then he would accept Danny’s help.

But not yet.

“Try something for me.”

Danny stopped mid patrol loop of known curse hotspots. Jason followed his gaze and saw a curse ghost rummaging through a demolition site where a condemned apartment once stood.

“Blast it-” Jason pulled a gun, finger ready at the trigger- “Wait!” Danny held up his hands to stop him. “First, see if you can hold the energy back before you release it.”

Danny held his palms out over one another and a ball of familiar green energy formed between them in demonstration. “Let it build up and grow.”

He focused for a moment and the ball grew larger, spun faster. He widened his palms as the ball grew, crackling with potential energy. He let it linger just a moment before— a twist of his wrist and it dissipated.

“I don’t think it works like that for me.”

“Just try it,” Danny cajoled. “I’d be a bad ghost mentor if I didn’t try to teach you how these powers work.”

Jason rolled his eyes. This felt like some kind of test, and the way Danny looked at him with rapt attention all but confirmed that. Did he truly want to help? Or Did he want to gauge how much Jason could push the limits of this power? Still, Jason’s own curiosity won out in the end.

He began by focusing on the feeling he got when he shot his usual energy bullets, allowing it to prickle through his chest and underneath his skin. Rather than let it out immediately, as he’d always done, he did as Danny instructed and held it back. He focused on his pistol. As he did, a small green sphere formed at the end of the gun.

Slowly he fed more energy to it. It grew, just as Danny’s had, spinning faster. His heart accelerated at the same pace, straining against the pull of the power. He gritted his teeth. His head felt hot, like it did when he let his rage get the better of him. Danny’s eyes glinted, reflecting the green glow with impish delight.

The sphere grew to baseball size, then basketball. Then it grew larger than that, so large he couldn’t even see the beast he was aiming at anymore. Danny said simply, “Now.”

Jason pulled the trigger. A massive green fireball exploded out of the end of his pistol, burning across the pile of wreckage. The ghost finally looked up just in time to take the blast directly to its side. It wailed in terrible unearthly tones as the green fire swallowed it.

Danny whooped in triumph. Meanwhile, Jason’s knees wobbled and he fell to all fours in the dirt. He felt suddenly cold, in that terrible clammy way right after a fever breaks.

Danny looked over as if to share the celebration but his face fell as he saw Jason.

“Shit,” he said, kneeling next to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah I— yeah.” Jason panted, swallowing a few dry breaths.

Every time he’d used this power before, he’d let it out instantly, through his guns or his gadgets. He’d never actually let it sit or take the time to feel it properly. Now he wished he hadn’t.

Using that power felt like his worst memories of the Pit, unnatural and cloying like he could still feel the waters dripping off of him. It tasted like grave dirt in his mouth.

But as he raised his head he saw the damage he’d done. There was a fucking crater the size of his living room blasted through the remains of a concrete foundation. No sign of the curse ghost. He did that.

He laughed, all shaky breath. Maybe he could get used to it. He’d have to. He didn’t have a choice but to use it against the curse ghosts. He’d be useless in fights against them otherwise.

“Let’s head back,” Danny offered.

“Yeah.” Jason ignored the small tremor in his hand as he holstered his pistol and started to get his feet back underneath himself.

Jason was halfway to standing when out of nowhere he took a hit. A force crashed into his gut from behind like a cannonball and he barely registered a curse ghost underneath him- it looked like a rhino with way way too many horns- before it flung him ten feet across the demo site and sent him careening into the rubble. He tumbled over broken concrete and snarled rebar, hard-trained muscle memory kicking in to relax his muscles enough to not take the worst of it anywhere he didn’t want to.

He blinked the dizziness from his eyes as he settled. Fuck that hurt. He felt a trickle of blood running down his face. The helmet was padded just enough to protect him from concussions. Didn’t help much with the biological nightmare that was the human nose though. He took the helmet off to keep the blood from pooling in his mouth, leaving him in just his domino mask.

“Jason?” He heard Danny shout.

“Mmfine,” was what he managed to reply as he pushed himself up. It took him a few tries to find his legs. They were still wobbly from the expenditure of power before.

Across the demo field Danny fought the new curse ghost with his usual evasive style. His mouth a hard set line as he ducked beneath swipes from many-angled horns and he responded with blasts of his own, cornering the ghost handily.

Then his gaze landed on Jason and he paused, eyes wide.

His stance went rigid. He snapped around unnaturally fast to face the curse ghost, a total shift from his flighty movements from a moment before. His gaze was sharp, cast in stark shadows from the streetlights, and impossibly, dangerously green. He raised a palm toward the ghost, slowly. And then a nuclear blast went off.

Or at least thatʼs what it felt like. Jason lifted an elbow to shield his eyes from the blinding green light. Surprisingly it wasn’t hot. Instead it felt like the air pressure had been turned up, as if the whole atmosphere was somehow heavier around them, pressing in from all sides, making it harder to breathe.

It lasted only a moment. When Jason lowered his shielding arm there was no sign of the curse ghost. No other damage from the blast either. Just scraps of shadow floating on the wind, dissipating as they rose up.

Danny lowered his hand. A bit of a glow still lingered around him like a halo, a silver outline that shimmered on top of his skin. Jason’s heart raced drunkenly as he stayed rooted to his spot. He wasn’t sure he trusted his legs to move. Danny still looked at the empty space where the ghost had been, his gaze still burning with an overwhelming power. One that Jason was very thankful to not have directed at him. Still, something stirred in his chest like a tug on a wire. The sweet sharp tang of adrenaline saturated his fear. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach that oppressive attention, but a reckless part of him craved it.

Then Danny shifted his stance again. He seemed to shrink back into himself, the glow dimming to a level that passed as human. He turned to Jason with something like guilt on his face, no hint of the commanding presence he held a moment earlier.

“Are you okay?” Danny spoke gently, but his fists were still clenched.

“Yeah. Yeah Iʼm fine,” Jason replied before he even really took stock of his injuries, but as he did he saw he hadn’t lied. The bleeding from his nose had mostly stopped. It hadnʼt been that bad in the first place.

“I think thatʼs enough for tonight.” Danny breathed, finally, releasing the last of his tension. He wouldnʼt meet Jasonʼs eyes.

It had been a while since anyone had saved him. He didn’t have anyone who watched his back, hadn’t for a long time. Strictly speaking, tonight he would have been fine even without the save. Probably.

While he was thankful that Danny covered his ass, it also annoyed him that he thought he had to.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, and then finally Danny looked at him with soft attention.

“You’re sure you’re okay? If it’s a concussion-“

“I’m fine,” Jason said, using his thumb to brush away the drying blood under his nose.

Danny just looked at him with naked concern, his fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them, mouth pressed in a firm line. He took a breath as if to voice another worry but Jason cut him off with a resigned sigh.

“Look, if you're so worried why donʼt you come back to mine.” If it got Danny to stop nagging he didn’t mind burning a safehouse.

Danny nodded, mutely accepting the invite.

Jason led him back to his latest safehouse, a corner loft of an abandoned building, only accessible by rooftop. The walk there had proved that Jason wasn’t hurt bad, though Danny’s eyes kept going back to the blood on his face.

Once inside, Danny sat down on the couch. It was the only real piece of furniture in the house besides his half-broken bed. Jason felt less like a shitty host because truly it was equally as dingy as the one in Danny’s own apartment.

“Want a beer?” Jason asked from the kitchen, as he finished up rummaging his way through some makeshift first aid. The slapdash brace on his nose wasn’t his finest work, but eh. It would heal fine. It always did.

“You drink?” Danny seemed suspiciously surprised. “For me the accelerated healing makes any normal alcohol consumption pretty pointless.”

Jason froze with his hand on the fridge. “Oh. Huh.” That would explain why he had to down a whole handle and a half to feel anything. “No shit.”

Zombie-like he pulled a six pack out of the fridge. He set it down on the coffee table in front of Danny as he fell onto the couch next to him.

A part of him had still not fully believed the whole half ghost thing. Fighting ghosts was one thing. Being one was another. The tech helped maintain the illusion quite well- he had ghost power cuffs that made him invisible and ghost power socks that let him float. That explanation was easy to swallow.

But no gadget could explain why wounds that should take weeks to recover from only took him days. Couldn’t explain why he didn’t get drunk.

But there was a good explanation. A simple one too.

He wasnʼt fully human.

Shit.

Jason grabbed a beer from the coffee table, popped it with his thumb, and downed it in one long pull.

“Batman doesnʼt like metas in Gotham.” He didn’t look at Danny. He wasn’t really even talking to him. He tossed the beer bottle to the floor.

“Weʼre not metas,” Danny said, a gentle echo of what he’d said the first night they met.

“It doesn’t matter. Meta, supernatural, itʼs all the same. All are a dangerous liability in this city. You- we- count.” Jason opened another beer. Downed it. Waited to feel any hint of the alcohol hitting him. Nothing.

He could, however, feel Danny looking at him. “Iʼm not afraid of Batman.”

Jason didnʼt look back. He fiddled with the empty beer bottle, tossed it on the floor with the other one. Of course Danny wasnʼt afraid of Batman. Jason had no doubts which way that fight would go if it ever came to it.

That was an awful image to consider– Batman getting his ass handed to him by some nobody punk in jeans– and all the more reason that Bruce should never know about any of this. The curse ghosts, Danny, Jason’s own burgeoning ghost powers- more secrets he had to keep. More reasons to keep all the Bats at arm's length.

And if they ever did find out? No way their shaky truce could weather that. It’d be another war.

“Heʼs- well, they all are I guess- kind of my family. All Iʼve got left of one, anyway.” The words spilled out. He didn’t want a war with them. He never had.

Danny let out a long breath. “Oh. Family.” He laughed a sad laugh. “My parents tried to kill me. Multiple times actually. I donʼt blame them– theyʼre ghost hunters and well, they looked at me and saw a ghost.”

Danny reached for a beer. He pulled out two and handed one to Jason. He took it. “So at least it canʼt be as bad as that with yours?”

Jason grumbled. “Judging by how it went the first time I came back from the dead? It will be an absolute shitshow.”

Danny clinked his beer against Jasonʼs and took a long swig. “I dunno. I think Bruce might come around if you give him a chance.”

Jason straightened his spine, suddenly alert, alarm bells ringing in his head. “Bruce?”

Danny deflated, suddenly sheepish. “Ah. Whoops.”

That all but confirmed it. Jason groaned. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Danny somehow knew one of Gotham’s most dangerous secrets. “How did you find out?”

“You can probably guess.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasnʼt hard with a little ghostly snooping. It was one of the first things I did when I got to Gotham. I wanted to know just to double avoid him, honest.”

It wasnʼt hard to imagine any number of ways Danny could have uncovered Batman’s identity. Heʼd recognized Jason with and without his mask, but he figured that was because Danny had a sense for ghosts and, well, whatever he was. He hadnʼt considered how easy unmasking the Batman would be for him even without that trick.

“If he finds out you know, you’re dead.”

“I already am. Besides, I thought Batman had a strict no-kill policy?”

Ultimately this changed very little. Just another nail in the coffin of the strict Batman avoidance protocol. Still, he wished Danny would be a little less blase about the whole thing.

Fuck it. In for a penny, he couldn’t un-learn all the ghost shit that had turned his life upside down. He downed the beer. Danny was right the first time. It didnʼt matter what Bruce thought. He couldnʼt stop them from fighting curse ghosts. And it was truly none of his business. Danny sipped his beer with a grimace. Jasonʼs heart twisted.

“How do you stand the taste of this stuff?” Danny asked, a hint of a smile.

“It’s not about the taste. It's about the feeling.” Or lack of one. Jason thought maybe he felt the slightest tingle of tipsiness, but it could just be placebo.

Danny looked at him with that same casual intensity. He could tell his eyes lingered on his half-broken nose. Still worrying over him. Why? Why did he care if Jason got hurt? Jason stared back, trying to get a read on any of the real thoughts behind Danny’s eyes.

The silence stretched out, wide open.

Danny broke it first. “Sorry, uh. I guess I should get going.”

Jason took a beat and remembered how to breathe. “You good? Donʼt drink and fly.”

“I donʼt feel a thing,” Danny smirked. “Still, Iʼll walk.”

“You sure? You could always just crash here tonight.” The words spilled out of him before he could think better of it. He and Danny both froze, like the air has been sucked from the room. He stared at the empty six pack on the coffee table, swatting away any thoughts that dared surface, fighting the rising heat in his cheeks and desperately trying to keep his face blank.

“Itʼs okay,” Danny said finally, quietly releasing Jason from his turmoil. “Iʼll see you tomorrow?” Jason dared a look at Danny then. Warmth in his half smile like a sweater, a glint in his eye that made him feel lightheaded.

Danny stood and left, closing the door gently behind himself. Jason breathed out into the empty apartment. It felt suddenly cavernous and dead without Danny in it.

It shouldn’t mean anything but it did. Friends crashed on each other’s couches regularly, didn’t they? Jason didn’t have much experience with friends, if that’s what he and Danny were. This invitation certainly crossed that threshold. But he’d been careless. All the unknowns were still dangerous. He couldn’t let this be more than a working relationship. A partnership of convenience.

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Pain, tender and sharp, sprung up beneath them. He sighed at the comforting familiarity of it. Then he flopped face first onto his bed, alone.

Next >

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp dc crossover #danny phantom #red hood #fanfic #fanfiction #dc x dp #dp x dc fic #red knight fic #jason todd #I finished this on my phone on a beach so pls excuse any wonkiness

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can you please write a fic of Nuada having a bad day, and his s/o takes the initiative to prepare a bath for him? She tenderly washes his scalp, massages his soapy body and leaving kisses on his skin. I like the idea of a grumpy, solemn character getting pampered, and how Nuada would feel getting treated like that for once. :)

I hope you like this!

“Tending the Prince”

Pairing: Nuada x Fem. Reader (Human / second person POV/established relationship) Themes: Soft | Fluff Warnings: Kissing Word count: 1.5K words Rating: Mild NSFW | Minors DNI

Summary: Nuada comes home in a foul mood, and you decide a little pampering is in order.

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

It was cold, mercilessly cold, when Nuada made his way back home, slinking through dark roads and darker alleys, moving quickly and silently like a cat as he slipped past oblivious mortals before heading into the abandoned railway tunnels he called home.

Well, it was no longer just a series of abandoned tunnels. Nuada converted a part of them into an underground home, a refuge from the outside world and a small reminder of the once bustling city of Bethmora.

Tonight, he found no joy in any of it on his return, as he was tired and cold, and his body ached all over. Hellboy took it into his head to anger the Vizier of the Troll Market, and Nuada had to save him.

Yet again.

Nuada felt his hands turn into fists. Hellboy was always like this, bullheaded and rash, getting everyone else into a mess, and then, if he failed to extricate himself, someone else had to swoop in to save the day. This time that lot fell to Nuada. And Nauda was not happy about it at all.

Oh, how he wanted to punch something.

And how he just wanted to be alone.

He pushed open the doors, not even bothering to close them behind him. He snarled when Mister Wink greeted him and bit his tongue when you came over. Nuada could never, would never, take his frustrations out on you, no matter how surly he was of an evening. He grumbled a hello before disappearing into your shared chambers.

"Bad day, you think?" you turned to Mister Wink.

Mister Wink seemed to think so, and you tried to come up with something that could put Nuada into a better mood. "Right," you said. "You go lock up the place, and I'll check on our Mister Grumpy Pants."

The troll chuckled heartily before going off to check all the doors, and you steeled yourself to check on the prince.

"Nuada?" you knocked on the door before entering. "Is everything ok, sweetheart?"

Nuada was muttering under his breath as he struggled to undo the clasps of his armour. You pick up mumblings of Hellboy and the Vizier and other words that were quite colourful and inventive. It seemed like the visit to the Troll Market didn't go according to plan, and that had put Nuda into a foul mood. When he struggled with a clasp for the umpteenth time, you bit back a smile and went forward to help him.

"Here," you said softly, taking over where he left off. "I'll do it."

The rage in Nuada's eyes died the moment you neared him. "I want to be alone, my love," he mumbled.

To sulk and be miserable, no doubt. You sighed and worked on one clasp, then another. "Well, it's obvious you're not managing on your own." Your eyes widened when the deep red bruises on his neck came into view. "And you're hurt. What happened?"

Nuada lifted his arms so you could take the armour off him. "Anung un Rama, that was what happened," he muttered, anger and frustration bubbling inside him again. "And I would rather not talk about it, if you do not mind."

"Alright," you said and started on the clasps of his tunic. If Nuada decided not to discuss something, you would let it be. He would always talk about what vexed him once he was ready to do so. And his skin was so cold, icy to the touch. Perhaps something to warm him up might put him into a better mood, you thought. "How about a bath instead?" You peeled the tunic off of him, trying not to wince at a large bruise on his chest. "You could use it, I think."

Nuada shook his head, determined to refuse. "I would rather..."

And you were determined to have your way. Nuada needed some looking after, it was plain as day now. "In fact," you said, turning sharply on your heel, "I insist on it. I'll have one ready for you. Give me ten minutes."

Nuada grumbled at your back, determined to stay where he was. He did not attempt to move when you headed toward the bathroom. He tried to turn a deaf ear to the sound of water running, to your humming. He wanted to refuse, to not indulge, but -

The sound of that water proved too much, and his body yearned to be warmed a little after being in the filthy cold for so long. With an angry growl, he muttered under his breath and stomped to the bathroom once the ten minutes were up.

And you were there, standing beside a large, claw-foot tub. The lights had been dimmed and there were candles all over. "What is all of this?" he asked, as he took in a little tray on the bathtub counter, filled with all sorts of scents and ointments.

"This, sweetheart is a bath."

"I know what a bath is my love, but what is all of this?"

You came over to him and sank to your haunches. "A bath, nothing more," you insist, working on the lacing of his left boot. "Now lift."

Nuada stifled a wince when he lifted his leg, and that first boot was disposed of in no time. Same for the second boot. You then rose and got to work on his belt. Now that filled him with a sliver of mischief. "In here my love?" he teased. "While I am sore all over?"

Oh, how the innuendo made you blush. But at least he was in a better mood. "I'm not unbuckling your belt for that," you grinned and laughed lightly, and went to work on the clasps of his trousers. "I'm just helping you with your clothes. But if you're of a mind to ruin a good pair of trousers," you said, gesturing at the tub with one hand, "By all means."

Nuada chuckled before quickly taking your face into both hands and stealing a quick kiss. "I have no interest in getting into a tub while still dressed," he said, his eyes lighting up at the soft hint of pleasure reflecting in yours. "Go on."

You smirked and helped him out of his trousers too, tossing them to the pile on the side. Nuada took slow steps and got into the tub, a sigh rising from the tips of his toes when warm water met his skin. You pulled up a little stool and took your place behind him.

"Now what, my love?" Nuada said, and let his body ease back against the tub, his aching muscles slowly easing and unwinding in the fragrant, soapy water.

You reached for the little tray to pick up a soft sponge and dipped it in the water. "And now I'm going to look after you."

Nuada's grumble died when that sponge slowly glided over his skin. Soft, it was, almost as soft as your skin. He sighed wistfully and surrendered slowly when the hurts of the day ebbed away. And how it surprised him, to be cared for like this. It felt alien, but oh-so-wonderful at the same time. "You need not do this," he said.

You smiled and kept running that sponge over his shoulders and arms, his quiet sighs encouraging you to continue. "But I want to do this," you said. "You take such good care of us, and ask for nothing in return."

Nuada softened and tilted his head up, his hands reaching up to play with your hair. "That is because you are worth it. I love you."

Your smile just grew. "I love you." You dipped your head and brushed your lips over his, only to pull away when he winced. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Nuada grimaced and swallowed, waiting for the dull throb in his throat to pass. "I will be fine in a little while."

It took a moment or two, but the pain passed. While he waited, you rose and went to the sink, to fill a wash basin with fresh water. When you returned, you brought it with you and kept it on the counter, next to the tray. "Now dip your head little," you said, and picked up a little bowl.

Nuada sighed wistfully again as the water went through his hair. His throat was sore, but he ignored it, so focused was he on what you were doing. His entire scalp tingled sweetly when you carefully applied shampoo to his hair and massaged away. He sighed again when you poured more water over his hair, to wash it clean. He sighed even more when you took one of his hands, to see to his nails. So strange, that something like this could lighten him and make him feel so good, yet he did not want to give it up, not when you were looking after him the way you did.

And you enjoyed every moment, just as much as he did. It felt so intimate, taking care of him like this, feeling him soften and unwind under your touch. And since he rarely took the time to look after himself, you thought he deserved this.

Nuada just closed his eyes. It all felt so wonderful, the way his skin warmed, and the way his entire body softened. He felt his breath hitch a little when he felt your lips brush against the tips of his fingers, his wrists. "You are too good to me," he breathed.

"You deserve it," you hummed and carefully nipped down his arm. "And I need to get back to work," you said and sat straight. "Your nails, sweetheart, are a mess."

Nuada chuckled and urged for you to continue.

#nuada #nuada silverlance #prince nuada #nuada x reader #x reader #reader request #reader insert #nuada imagine #hellboy #hellboy imagine #hellboy x reader #writeblr #a world of whimsy writes

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