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wraithdance · 1 month

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Stray Dogs | GHOAP x Reader

Synopsis: You never had a problem with strays, but you should have been wary of the rabid dogs begging to be leashed.

Pairing: Johnny x Avoidant!reader | eventual Ghoap x Avoidant!reader Note: AFAB!Reader, No physical description but reader has background story, no y/n use or gender terms for reader, Reader is LGBT (Bisexual) Content warning: Mature | brief mentions of childhood trauma, avoidant personality, therapy and allusions to mental health issues, passive thoughts of death

Prologue: Foxy Leaves

You told your new therapist that you like putting things into categories because it was fun.

It was half a lie, minuscule really and not enough to be of consequence. You suppose you could have been honest and said the process of grouping things made the endless dread you lived in just a little bit easier.

But you didn’t really like the pitying look Dr. Sanchez gave you when she went over your intake questionnaire. She’d looked down her glasses while you numbly repeated the same spiel about ‘what brings you to cognitive therapy’ that you’d been giving for the last decade.

You’d google her practice on your lunch break scrolling through the reviews and stuffing the last of your sandwich in your cheeks. In your car before the first session you silently prayed to the empty space that this time you could stick with her long enough to fix you.

You doubt it though because her bob bounces as she nods to your explanation of ‘The Chasm’ and how it came to be. The way that it bounces as she hums, being sure to signify her active listening. It really pisses you off.

The familiar sense of despair boils hot when you realize that even though this is an unfamiliar office half way across from town, she’s giving you the look. The one of interest, like she wants to crack open your skull and observe your chaotic wiring in hopes to understand what your fucking problem is.

It’s the same one every other therapist has given you since you were old enough to inevitably stop showing up to mandatory sessions without consequence.

It’s so habitually intolerable that you have a 'Therapist breakup’ text in your notes draft on your phone. It's simple, clinical, contains something vague about not thinking you were compatible as a client. It’s usually enough to keep them from doing a wellness check (or worse a call to your emergency contact.)

When you’re done talking, Dr. Sanchez reaches for your hand in some gratuitous act of extending comfort. Her cold fingers and the sensation of her half rubbed in hand cream, makes you want to vomit. It must not show on your face because she keeps talking and squeezing your hand.

“I think that it’s brave of you to come in and I think we can work on some of your goals.” She pauses accessing you before she says the thing that signs the death of your therapeutic relationship.

“Do you also want to work on mending the relationship with your parents?”

You ignore the receptionist when she asks if you want to make a follow up appointment. You’re combing through your drafts to find the breakup text when you think that you’re glad you lied about the category thing. Your control issues are yours, precious and responsible for your ability to focus on anything but the heavy weight of being. So fuck her and her stupid fucking bob.

Her contact gets blocked as soon as the message reads delivered.

When you were anxious the familiarity of nature documentaries, specifically the ones about apex predators, were a comfort. Duckie, your best friend of nine years, had been squeamish the first time she watched one of your favorites with you.

It was about big cats in the wilds. The man with the Aussie accent narrated with excitement that belied the violence of seeing a lioness take down a gazelle. From behind the safety of your throw pillow Duckie asked why you like watching stuff like that. You shrugged like you didn’t have an answer.

You did though.

It’s because predators in the wild didn’t hide what they were. They didn’t need to pretend to be anything but carnivorous and survival driven. Would never think to explain to the gazelle that they were sorry for hurting you, but they couldn’t help themself.

It would be even more insulting than being eaten alive.

You’re relieved when the lioness finishes the gazelle off, letting out a small sigh of 'finally' that earns you a wide eyed look from Duckie. The death was quick and even if the gazelle didn’t realize it, she was lucky. You’ve been on the end of an explanation for harm and wished you’d have the mercy of death instead.

But you couldn’t tell Duckie that. So instead you tease her about being a big baby.

For a few years now you’ve gotten into the habit of assigning everyone you meet an animal that reminds you of them. It satisfied both of your interests and it was fun. It’s how Duckie got her nickname. She’d crowed over the cuteness and tried to hug you before you threatened to bite her if she touched you.

It didn't matter the amount of time you'd known a person you grouped them. The scrawny teenager at the local Tesco was Giraffe kid, The high pitched woman next door with the ugly dog, Chihuahua.

You’re looking at your girlfriend of 3 months, Foxy, thinking how the name works for her better than Taylor does.

She’s beautiful even while spitting vitriol as she packs her Telfar bag to the brim with stray items she left behind at your apartment.

When she flicks her hair over a tanned shoulder you’re distracted, remembering how it felt when you gripped the long strands that morning, holding her still and demanding to be kissed. Instead of the soft look she wore then, she’s openly glaring at you now. You know your face is doing the blank thing she hates because she searches it for something. You suppose she doesn’t find whatever that something is because she’s yelling again.

“You make it so FUCKING hard to love you and I can’t do this anymore.”

You're frozen, caught off guard with the remote to the television still in hand as the nature documentary drones on. The ‘what?’ you blurt out is one of genuine confusion, you'd both been cuddled on the couch talking before whatever this was came to be. You wrack your mind trying to remember what the last thing you said was and come up blank. To your embarrassment, you'd been on autopilot the whole morning, so there is a gap in your memories.

Taylor, upon your continued silence makes a sound that can only be described as a screech.

“You always have an excuse why I can’t meet your parents!” She cries exasperatedly, “If you’re ashamed of me I’d rather you just say that over leading me on for God’s sake!”

Your body flinches only slightly when she throws her hands up. You’re still defensive when you bite out a sharp rebuttal that makes her frown and drop your spare key on the coffee table. You don't admit to yourself that you can't remember exactly what you say over the cotton in your ears and the dark corners that sink into your neck at the first display of conflict.

It still stings when she leaves though. You spend the next day crying under your blankets, the pillow she slept on still smells like her perfume. The scent clean and floral, one you'd gotten used to seeking out when you did the laundry.

Fuck, you really did like Foxy. But you suppose you’re going to have to call her Taylor now that she's your ex-girlfriend.

Duckie laughs at Taylor’s comment when you tell her over brunch. Your effervescent friend’s giggle tumbles out of her uncontrollably, whilst her mimosa in hand, threatens to spill in her lap. She slaps a hand over her mouth when a loud snort escapes against her will. She shoots an apologetic smile to the couple at the table adjacent to yours when they ask her to keep it down.

You glare until they turn back to their lunch.

Duckie straightens when she takes in your stiff form, having finally realized she’d stepped on a landmine and right into your ire.

“Darling, you certainly don't make it easy to be close to you, you're a bit…”

She pauses in thought, shifting her glasses on her nose and placing the glass flute down on the table. Today her spectacles are fire engine red with rhinestones on the brim. You’d asked her if she was nearsighted or farsighted once and she’d told you the lenses weren’t prescription. She only wore them to seem a bit older and worldlier when out and about.

You don't like how long it takes for her to search for an adjective and say so when she still doesn’t finish her sentence after several moments.

“I just mean that you're purposely closed off,” She makes a panic flapping movement with her hands when your eyes narrow even more “Oh come on! You like it that way!”

“Duckie, what are you talking about?” You grit between your teeth.

You're pushing your half eaten club sandwich out of the way to lean across the table, waiting to hear her explanation. You’d lost your appetite.

Duckie shirks from your unblinking leer and sniffs indignantly.

“It took me nearly a year to get you to call me your friend and I swear I still feel like I don’t know you.” she gives you a pointed look, “If it weren't for the fact that you’re like that to everyone, I’d think you hated me sometimes, so I really do have to empathize with Taylor in this one.”

She’s waiting for you to say something, you can tell by the way she brings her shoulders up to her ears as if gearing for some great big reaction.

But, that wasn’t your style, never had been. So you still don’t know what’s expected of you. To negate her statement?

You suppose you could tell her that's absurd, she was your best friend in every way. Had been since the day she’d laughed at one of your more tasteless jokes during an intro to Psychology class in undergrad. You were softer for Duckie, more than you were- well really anyone.

Your own mother only knew enough about you to identify you on a morgue table if it ever came down to it. But you don’t tell her that.

Instead you do what you do best. You leave.

You’re pushing up from the table gathering your purse and throwing back the last of your mimosa like a tequila shot, before you can think twice about it.

Duckie tries to reach out to you but you flinch from her touch.

“Wait Darling, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, please don't go!”

“I’m just going to the ladies.” you mumble flatly over your shoulder. At least that's what you hope comes out because your throat is closing up with the effort to hold back the stupid tears in your eyes.

You slam into the restroom startling the barista applying lipstick in the mirror. Her owlish eyes take one look at your dark expression and she pops the top back on her lipstick, skirting past you. You check to make sure the bathroom was truly empty before locking yourself in the biggest stall.

As soon as the lock clicks the dam breaks and it makes you so angry it hurts. The level of intensity of your crying is absolutely repulsive. Your jaw aches with the efforts to muffle the sobs that thrum through your body like a struck chord.

You’re pacing the small enclosure with tears running down your face, feeling like the lioness in the nature documentary after it’d been captured. You feel the gut punch of self loathing as soon as the thought comes up. It's insulting to compare yourself to the deadly beast when you’re trying not to get snot on your dress sleeves.

Duckie comes to the restroom after a while tapping on the stall door, begging you to open up.

You feel only half guilty when you tell her to fuck off. She’s quiet for a while and you know she stands with only the thin door between you, you can see her colorful converses from beneath the gap in the door.

You want to let her in. Figuratively. Literally.

What a relief it would be to just let her crawl into the hole you’ve made at rock bottom and let her be there with you.

You want to laugh imagining her taking the time to do that rocking thing she does when she's trying to get comfortable in the decorative chair in your office. You always remind her it was meant for aesthetics, not comfort when she huffs out the same grouchy complaint about the hardness. She scoffs in mock offense anyways.

“Really Darling, you make enough money to get rid of this thing. Ooh let me send you the link to the bean bag I saw on Wayfair, one sec!”

You’re still crying when you consider that she's really the only person who makes the effort to visit you at the office.

Or anywhere really.

You'd gotten accustomed to only hearing from your family when there was a crisis or need for quick cash to keep them afloat.

If you weren’t stuffing tissues into your running nose you’d scoff at the thought of your parents caring, much less visiting. They were still content to be fuck ups well into their retirement age. You’d long stopped bothering to call to make sure they were still alive after the first year of college.

Maybe if you told Taylor that she would have stayed.

The emotional despair rot you call ‘The Chasm’ deepens and you question if you’d ever really gotten used to the loneliness of having no parent to turn to. The years of casual disdain and dismissal. The resentment for being half a child and reluctant third parent to children that weren’t yours. Their desire for all of you and none of you and back again in an endless loop.

Ceaseless demands of a gluttonous beast you could never please, even when you’ve flayed yourself bare.

It stings, the reminder that you’d been living on scraps and toughness disguised as love long before you met Duckie. Long before Foxy- Taylor- or even the parade of friends and disappointed exes, who’d simply had enough of whatever caustic matter made you, you.

Yet, Duckie is the only one who keeps coming back. Time again she comes back to your side with a smile, like she likes to be with you. Like watching nature shows with you on the couch, eating whatever snacks she brings because she knows you forget to eat, acting like it’s the highlight of her day. Never an inconvenience to care for you the way others had said it was. It makes you cry harder until you can’t breathe because you’re trying not to let her hear you.

Duckie in all her color and too big glasses, has always acted as if she can see that weak part of you peeking out from behind the thorns and quick rebuttals bordering on mean. She still stands waiting for you even now, even when you told her to fuck off in public restroom at your favorite brunch cafe.

It’s staring at the graffiti-ed dick on the stall door when you think you can honestly say you love her and it hurts your feelings that she doesn't know that.

You think you can be honest and tell her that it’s not about Foxy or even Duckie’s laugh at your expense. It’s about the revolving door of disappointment that still keeps you up at night. That landed you under the microscope on a a faceless therapist's couch for emergency sessions and the mementos of non-slip socks in your dresser drawers.

The half guilt turns into full fledged self loathing just thinking about how you really needed to get a cushion for your office and let her in. After a beat you think you’re in control of your crying enough to reach for the lock inside the stall. Of course, as always the universe is having a laugh at your expense.

“Darling, I'm going to go back to the table now okay?”

You know she's making that nervous face scrunch she does when she’s anxious, waiting for you to reply. You can’t, you’re frozen in place as always.

“Don't want them to think we skipped the tab, so just come back when you feel a bit better, yeah?”

She says something about her getting the bill and you can talk when you come back. You don’t hear her really because ‘The Chasm’ calls to you first. You keep it together long enough until the scuffling sounds of her shoes quiet before allowing the tide to take you under again.

Eventually, when you’ve stuffed the feelings back into the pit, you’re able to leave the stall. You never go back to the table. Texting Duckie a simple ‘sorry’ along with a money transfer for your portion of brunch. You leave the restaurant for the safety of your home, wondering if this will be enough for her to leave you too.

You half hope it is because it was exhausting loving someone else.

An hour later there's a timid knock on your apartment door. It’s opening to peer down at a shuffling Duckie on your steps, with flowers and the expensive bottle of wine you like, that you know that it’s not. Enough to keep her from coming back that is.

She follows you inside like a chick behind its mother and toes off her sneakers in the hall next to your rows of shoes. She takes your general wave her way as a sign of ‘go ahead’ when she asks if she can put the flowers in water.

You’re sitting on the couch with your knees to your chest, staring listlessly at the nature channel. You know Duckie is taking in your bare face and faux casualness. You know you look pathetic in your too big hoodie and headscarf. You at least hope you've gotten enough of your makeup off to not look like a drowned raccoon.

'Pathetic', The Chasm says.

Duckie carefully tiptoes over your outstretched legs to scrunch herself small on the other end of the couch. After a few episodes of the documentary, this one about penguins, she slowly makes her way to your side and cautiously gives you a half hug and a tearful apology.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch, I shouldn’t have laughed.” She doesn’t turn from the t.v's glow. You’re secretly thankful she doesn’t look at you because you’re embarrassed for crying again.

With gentle prodding she asks you to tell her how you really feel about Taylor leaving. You tell her. You also tell her about your parents and why it was such a big deal introducing Taylor to them. It’s more than you’ve admitted to any therapist and she has the foresight to not make it a thing.

Duckie just hums quietly, listening. As she sleeps on your shoulder, drool wetting your sleeve, you think you can carve her a spot beside you in rock bottom. Maybe another inside the space where your heart should be, just big enough for one. It’ll just be you and Duckie for as long as she wants it that way. You’re satisfied with the thought, drinking the last of the wine.

As always nothing you ever want matters for very long.

Because Soap doesn’t give you a choice when he barrages into your life and demands you make additional space for him and his stray dog.

Masterlist | Next >>

#okay slay not tagging this much cuz its more of a personal project #wraith king #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #mr clean

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certified-sloth · 3 years

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Scenario: mc hating being jealous and the feeling of envy just bcuz and I quote "it's make me feel gross...and stuff"

*the brothers trying to make mc jealous by spending less time with them and hanging out with other people*

Mc unfazed: oh I didn't notice u were gone! Did u have fun atleast? Where they nice??

I'm not sure if they would really do that... but i'll try to relate it as much as I can

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lucifer

Sighing in frustration, he frowns deeply at your awfully fake smile.

"MC, you do realize this is all related to my line of work. Of course I'd have to deal with it, as per Diavolo's orders." He tries to explain.

"Really? Like how it was Diavolo's orders for you to keep me 'alive' for the program? That's how we started out right?"

He groans and shakes his head in disapproval. "I didn't ask you to assess me like that. Clearly, you're accusing me of something I am not guilty of."

"We need a break. Then we'll talk about this once we both clear our heads."

He concluded, as he left you alone feeling as if you've drowned from disappointment.

Of course, the 1st born was a prideful demon. There's always a limit to his patience, and you were not an exception.

Mammon

He tries to explain it to you, but you wouldn't understand.

"Was I making you jealous? No! Can't you just stop jumpin' into conclusions? It makes me feel like you never trusted me..."

He does no good, but never had he done anything to try and hurt you purposely. If he did, then he's sorry.

This man is head over heels for you, and you still think he'd do something as far off to spend less time with you? Just for someone else?

The 2nd born may be a fool but he can be sensible at times.

"Then what were you doing with them?" You asked with a frown. He sighs and ruffles his hair.

"I was tryin' to ask them help with some gift for your birthday. I don't wanna ask my brothers since they're gonna scramble up ideas of their own gifts." He explained rather honestly.

You blinked, not sure if you should believe him or not. He's used these tricks on his brothers, what's the difference if it were you?

"D-don't look at me like that! I'm not lying! I wanted to surprise ya but I didn't want you to wrap your head in things that ain't true..." he stammered as he looked away with in embarrassment.

Sighing in defeat, you went to pat his head.

"I believe you... and, i'm sorry for doubting you too." You apologized and he glanced at you before letting out a chuckle.

"I mean ya ain't wrong with feelin' like this, at least now ya know how I feel when I see you with my brothers."

You laugh and nodded at his statement.

"Yes."

Leviathan

It clearly doesn't end well... you're glaring daggers at his back while he was playing a game.

He's a shut-in, sure he's still supposed to have the outside world's communication, but making you jealous? With a real person involved? Along with having to interact with them?

Now that's just not realistic. The most way he could make you jealous is to just talk about Ruri this and Ruri that. Nothing else.

You must be out of your mind to think he has the guts to pull in another normie when he already has you.

His Henry.

"I don't get why you would suddenly think someone like me can get anyone else... I mean there's my brothers, but me? I'm just not fit for that."

He frowns and hesitantly holds your hand, trying to ignore that fast pace of his heartbeat.

If it weren't for the background music from the game still viewed on the screen, you would've been able to hear his heart close to jump out.

He's been there. He's the literal avatar of envy, feeling jealous of others and what they have is his job.

So the fact that you're like this... he would've been happy that you feel jealous of someone that wants him.

But in reality, he knows how disgusting the feeling is. Instead he tries to talk you out with experiences like that.

It's a heavy feeling on your chest, as if you'd end up suffocating. Especially if the other had done nothing to assure your assumptions.

Slowly but surely, you and him end up creating a deeper bond by talking about those little moments and just end up laughing or get all embarrassed about it.

Satan

If you wish to accuse him, quit beating around the bush and tell him in a forward manner.

He doesn't read minds, but he's observant. He just wants to be sure of his conclusion as to why you seem upset with that fake smile of yours.

Your body language was enough to tell him what you were feeling, but he hopes you tell him honestly.

"Is this about the succubus I told you about the other day?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

When you didn't answer him, he took that silence as a 'yes'.

He sighs and leads you to the couch to stare at you seriously. If he wants this to be dealt with peacefully, both you and him will have to talk this out in a mature way.

"MC, she's been asking for tutoring. She has made her advances, but I declined. She was failing her grades so I had someone else to help her." He explained.

"So you didn't tutor her personally?"

"Of course not. I don't want to interact with someone who had actively showed their interest in me when they know I already have you." He assured with a smile.

He then noticed your shoulders slump slightly in relief and he chuckles at your sudden change of expression.

Tucking your hair from behind your ear, he offers to read this new book he just got from Akuzon.

Asmodeus

He's been staring at you almost offended of your accusation.

"Darling, I am the avatar of lust, surely you realized that whatever advances I make to others are merely fake." He assured, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"You're the only one, and every word I tell you are nothing but truth." He said sincerely as you look down, feeling lost.

He knew how it was hard to be with him. You're dating the embodiment of lust itself, surely it seems as if he's not into commitment.

But he tries, because you didn't love him for his looks. If ever you were to be insecure, whether you tell him about it or not.

"Did it seem as if I were neglecting you? I'm sorry, how would you want me to make it up to you?"

He only wishes the best for you, at this point, even the avatar of lust himself is hooked.

Beelzebub

Why are you looking at him like that as if he's done something much more horrible than yesterday?

You only frowned with how clueless he is and ended up telling him what was the matter.

He looks at you in distaste of your words. Shaking his head, he cleared that he thought you were mad at him so he decided to give you space.

"I didn't want to push in your comfort zone especially if you looked mad the other day... and the lady was the manager of the new restaurant that opened."

He smiles and picks you up. "I was asking for arrangements to take you there to cheer you up, i'm sorry."

You slowly look away, muttering an apology for misunderstanding. It's just that you've been insecure of your own capabilities.

And Beel had always assured you that there was nothing wrong.

"It's ok to be insecure MC, it's part of your humanity... from what Satan said, and I still love you this much. Please don't belittle yourself."

...ah, to think that a demon would acknowledge your self-worth more than you ever could.

Belphegor

Are you sure you hadn't dreamed of it instead? He hasn't even left the bed for two days.

"I'm not trying to spend less time with you, i'm sorry." He apologized sincerely.

Although he's half-asleep, he knows how you don't like feeling like this.

As he showers you with love, you clearly were stubborn to reject his advances.

He would've been mad that you didn't trust him enough to assume he was seeing others.

Nuzzling close to your neck, your back facing him as he held you close. Kissing your neck gently with soft apologies in between.

He already learned that one of you should yield in times like this. If you see him at fault, then sure, he'll accept it.

It went really bad when the both of you had stayed stubborn, he doesn't want to repeat it.

"It feels... disgusting." You whispered how you felt, taking hold of his hand as your consciousness was beginning to fail you.

You could feel him smile as he hummed softly on your neck. "I know, i'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow, but don't expect too much from me." He finished, and you've heard him clearly.

But your consciousness had already slipped away before you could answer as you slowly fell into deep sleep.

#request #writing ideas #obey me shall we date #om!#obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me fic #obey me headcanons #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #levi obey me #satan obey me #asmo obey me #beel obey me #belphie obey me

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lavendermin · 3 years

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if all stars fell at once (4) | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 3.1k

genre | fluff, light angst, developing relationship, overall domestic

warnings | light smut, eventual smut

Routine.

Defined as habitual tasks you partake in on a regular basis. These monotonous daily routines are what provided a grasp of control amid the uncontrollable and brought you order in a time of uncertainty.

The dawn of a new day started with the bittersweet greeting of the mourning doves’ songs. It gently tugged your consciousness forward, your weary limbs stretching out beneath warm covers. Your eyes would peek open and be greeted by the same dull room, bed tucked in a far corner. The sheets over old furniture still haunted you, the house inherited by past ghosts of memories.

It was a husk you resided in, perhaps a tomb you inherited. And as with every morning, you push the thought away.

A quick wash-up and breakfast helps kickstart your day before you’re off to run any errands listed off in your mind already. Fresh morning dew still glistens on the grass when you leave.

Days where errands would carry you to the harbor would have their own side routine you knew fairly well. Checking Bubu Pharmacy for any medicine pickups for the village elders, a quick chat with Ganyu as you passed her during one of her duties, a passing stop to the markets by the docks for supplies, and the occasional prolonged stay for lunch per the invitation of Zhongli and his courteous acquaintance. Every week, just like clockwork.

The busy day would wind down near the docks, watching the waves as they crashed upon rocks and taking in the scent of the sea spray that swept by you with it’s breeze. If you closed your eyes, the sounds of the sea and bustling voices of the harbor would meld together into one— a comforting cacophony of background noise to keep you grounded before the harbor’s relentless energy swept you away.

The city was a little much for you. It made you miss the tranquility of the small place you resided in tucked far back in the village.

And so everyday your heels pointed back towards home, ending with a meal in between more work you buried yourself in until odd hours of the night.

This was the routine you came to know with seldom any out-of-the-ordinary variation.

And then, curiously, slowly, the yaksha you came to befriend incorporated himself into the routine— first embedded into your routines and soon enough ever-present in your heart. Perhaps you could say that he altered your habits for the better.

Nowadays, leaving the harbor after errands is pleasant. No longer does the road back to Qingce isolate you into your thoughts. The sun that casts mesmerizing hues upon the sky as it sets leaves a pleasant warmth on your face. You look forward to his name on your tongue.

‘Xiao.’

The summon rings out clearly amidst his tumultuous headspace, bringing brief peace with the familiarity of the voice. In an instant he’s at your side, the ominous mist that enveloped him subsiding. There's a wordless question in his eyes as he shyly laces his fingers with yours.

With a light squeeze of his hand, you reply, “Let’s go home.”

There’s a pleasant silence that accompanies these walks, his hand firmly holding yours as if you might slip through his grasp at any given moment. On occasion, he would ask how your day went just to hear your voice. Though he wasn’t fond of the crowded hustle and bustle of the harbor, hearing your little enthusiastic retelling was enough to leave him with vivid imagery. Your voice was his comfort.

Arriving home has also taken on a newfound normalcy. With Xiao around, the once-empty house you inherited no longer feels foreign. Finally, with sure conviction, you can say it feels like your own.

Shelves that were once scarce with items and decor were now neatly arranged with ornaments and small handcrafts that Xiao has given you. The bookshelf that was once littered with dust and cobwebs is now rich with rows of books of all sorts. Even tables and bedside stands that were once empty are now always adorned with flowers that you and Xiao pick while out stargazing. These items are glimpses into the new pastimes you treasure to make time for.

Today was one such day where the breeze was pleasant as the sun tucked away for the night. However instead of being outside, you chose to take up comfort reading indoors. There on a pile of blankets and pillows you sat comfortably, Xiao resting his head on your lap to intently listen to you read aloud.

The adeptus reminded you of a cat that’s getting comfortable with a stranger they keep meeting. The spots he chose to rest on were getting much closer in proximity, but never directly on you. That is, until you boldly asked if he would like to rest on your lap and he settled there gratefully with your permission.

You closed the book, running your hand through his hair to get the yaksha to open one eye. “Are you sure you want to hear me read this poem book again? I’m sure you know it by heart at this point,” you pointed out with a laugh. “Why don’t you choose a book this time?”

There was a moment of contemplation before Xiao relented and went to search through the many book spines readily available. A glistening stone caught his attention again—his hand visibly hesitating for a moment.

You leaned your body over a bit from your comfortable pillow haven, curious as to what book he would select. Part of you expected him to select a random one off the bookcase, and was surprised to have a quaint little red book placed in your hands.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… about this one,” Xiao started, his face neutral but betrayed by the twinge of pink that was hidden by the dimness of the lamplight.

“This is…?”

He shrugged. “The subject of this book— is this something you like?”

Confused, you opened the cover. Inscribed on the inside in unmistakable cursive was a message from a certain librarian— a friend. Your brows creased, mouth pressed in a thin line as your eyes skimmed over the note the particular librarian left. A subtle feeling of dread crept over you.

‘Hey cutie, sent you a few goodies that were offloaded from our catalogue this season. Thought you might enjoy this one to spice things up a bit. I know how curious you were about the forbidden section, so here’s a little glimpse for you.’

Oh no… You quickly skimmed through some pages of the book that felt hot in your grip. Or perhaps it was your entire body flushed with embarrassment at the lewd imagery the story portrayed

“I–I didn’t… I d–didn’t know Lisa sent this along with the other books. This book— I haven’t read before so… um…” You anxiously bit your lip, voice growing quieter the more you went on. “I–It was a gift. I didn’t know.”

Xiao hummed, hand grazing your reddened cheeks curiously as you fanned your face. There was practically steam rolling off you.

“So,” Xiao started cautiously, “The things the book spoke of— it’s not something you like?”

If you were red before, you couldn’t possibly imagine how you looked now.

“N–No! I mean— Yes. I mean—!” You fumbled over your words, flustered over such an erotic novel unknowingly being in your possession.

“So, it makes you… happy?”

“Xiao— Stop, please— I’m going to die of embarrassment,” you squeaked into your hands.

His persistent curiosity would be the death of you at this rate. You buried your face under a pillow, too overwhelmed by the suggestive images still swirling in your head.

A little dumbfounded by your reaction, Xiao could only watch your huddled form hide away as he awkwardly rubbed your back in an attempt at reassurance.

The adeptus finally gained a bit of your attention, quietly inquiring, “Do you not wish to talk about that type of subject?”

The grip on your pillow slowly eased up, partially uncovering your face to meet his gaze. There wasn’t an ounce of discomfort on his face, and it was reassuring save for the fact that you were the one needing to explain.

“It’s not… that I don’t want to. Intimacy like— that—“ You pointed accusingly at the book now in his hands. “Is something, uhm, highly emotional— in a good way! Ah, what am I saying… It’s an act of love and bonding with a significant other, so to speak. Usually. Ah— it’s a little complicated.”

As you fumbled with your train of thought, his hand slowly placed itself over yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. It drew your little state of panic to a close, feeling him press his lips to your forehead in a moment of soft distraction. It quickly brought a small thankful smile to your lips.

Kisses made you happy. This was a fact Xiao had learned.

“Let’s talk about it another time. Do not stress yourself over it.”

You nod timidly, choosing to hide your face in the crook of his neck. “...Okay.”

Xiao leaves not too long after, disappearing into the shadows to diligently tend to his duties. Sleep finds you quicker when he’s not around, though your mind is still tumultuous.

You had half a mind to go straight to Mondstadt and give Lisa a stern reprimand, not that she would care. If anything, it would fuel her amusement and her teasing would become more unbearable especially when your heart could barely handle Xiao boldly initiating displays of affection. That librarian was more perceptive than her languid facade let on.

For the time being you buried the cursed erotic book within cluttered closet boxes and called it a night.

Out of sight, out of mind.

—

A bead of sweat rolling down his temple caught a glimmer of the pale moon watching over him. Beasts that were affected by his karmic debt laid strewn across the battlefield. It weighed heavy on his mind, a distasteful reminder of increasing demonic activity with the Lantern Rite a few weeks away.

There was a light burning sensation that twinged Xiao’s calves and arms, and he rolled his shoulders to relieve his muscles from the fatigue of ceaseless combat. His tired muscles were just about ready to turn in for the night and make his way to Wangshu Inn.

But he paused. The voice tugged at his mind.

‘Xiao…’

There was no mistaking it. It was your voice.

The ache in his muscles was an issue for later. There was strain in your voice, evident discomfort. The reason was uncertain but as much as Xiao wanted to deny it, he was alarmed ever so slightly.

A blur of black mist was all it took and he was gone under the serene moonlight. When he found you, his guard was high with lingering confusion. An intruder was his first thought.

A quick walk around the house, footsteps lighter than the breeze that accompanied him. Nothing. No other presences detected either.

‘You called me, but why?’ Xiao questioned.

The bed gently dipped with quiet creaks where he sat next to you, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Your peaceful sleep was broken as your brows slightly furrowed, breathing slightly labored with small whimpers you let out.

“...X–Xiao,” you quietly whimpered amidst your sleep.

Ah, you had summoned him in your sleep then. How odd. It was a first, to say the least, but he couldn’t be upset with you.

‘Another nightmare…?’

Just how bad could a nightmare be that you would desperately call his name in your sleep, he wondered? But a promise was a promise. He was determined to rid you of your ailments if it was within his power.

The yaksha took in a deep breath, focusing himself fully before slowly exhaling a puff of dark mist. The aches in his body went ignored.

Dearest dream eater, won’t you save her?

—

The sound of his footsteps pacing a dark corridor— humid, stuffy as he pressed forward following the muffled sound of your voice. It’s something he will never forget though he feels he should.

To feel haunted by a dream’s fragments that refuse to vanish is something he should laugh at. It’s not real.

Then why?

Bits and pieces are burned into his memory. Perhaps in a torturously pleasant way he never really imagined. Blame it on him never finding someone he considered such private feelings with.

Xiao did not stay that night after consuming the dream, nor did he come back to check on you come morning as he usually did. On the tiled roof of Wangshu Inn he lays, brows furrowed and a strange warmth pooling throughout his lower torso.

The memory is unlike others that plague him, though it causes him inner turmoil with the increased bodily frustration.

Those eyes… haunt him. The smugness on the face that stared back at him then was enough to piss him off. The reasons festering in his tightened chest he couldn’t quite explain. The fragments would rewind and play, rewind and play, over and over since that night.

‘So,’ the familiar red stranger began with an amused smirk. ‘Looks like the yaksha really will answer any call of his name.’

They made it a point to maintain eye contact as they pressed their lips to your temple, arms holding your back flush against his chest.

Those piercing jade eyes— a mockingly similar exterior. It was like Xiao stared at a twisted reflection of himself conjured by your dream, the red accents in his hair and clothes a fiery scarlet akin to the bubbling anger he felt upon seeing the illusion lay its hands on you. The fact that they spoke in his same voice was enough to raise a rumbling growl within Xiao’s chest.

Quiet huffs left your parted lips as your chest heaved, a scarlet sash tied over your eyes like a blindfold.

‘Xiao, I–‘ Your body shivered at the feeling of his hands gliding over the inside of your thighs. It made you let out an involuntary whimper, cheeks aflame with arousal.

‘That’s enough,’ Xiao commanded the dream illusion of himself through gritted teeth.

The scarlet-hued Xiao shifted you in his lap, his lips set in a mocking smirk as his hand slipped between your legs to elicit sweet mewls from your parted lips. What Xiao wouldn’t give to conjure his spear then and there to wipe that irksome grin off his own face.

The illusion hummed, making it a point to place a kiss to the swell of your exposed chest. ‘Surely you don’t mean to ignore our person’s feelings? Or our own, for that matter. How crude of you, adeptus, to try and stop something she begged me for— something our body clearly begs for, as well.’

‘Quiet.’

The silence was deafening, though the illusion only seemed to stop momentarily out of amusement in seeing how long the real Xiao could uphold such a serious facade. Internally, he battles with two new emotions he hadn’t experienced before— jealousy and arousal. Somehow, because he could channel a warrior's rage through jealousy, the other warm feeling seemed to be drowned out. For now.

‘Silence me all you’d like. Deny your desires until you grow numb, for all I care. But for your human, these desires are your bond,’ the illusion persuaded, unbothered by the icy daggers Xiao glared through him. ‘Isn’t that right, my love?’

His fingers slowly working at the sweet, throbbing ache between your legs left you unable to form any coherent thoughts. Perhaps it was deliberate so your mind was elsewhere, drowning in a hazy pleasure. The gasps and mewls leaving your shaking body were slowly getting to the adeptus. Ironic, just how similar to that stupid book this was.

Xiao scoffed, and prepared himself to finish what he had sought out to do. ‘I don’t concern myself with desires. I’ve had enough of you.’

As Xiao unraveled and crumbled the dreamscape around him, the illusion remained smiling with sly intention.

‘Dishonesty will get you nowhere, Adeptus Xiao. She will be forced to forget this dream, but these feelings you both harbor cannot be erased so easily.’ The illusion lifted the ribbon from your eyes, leaving Xiao momentarily frozen.

Eyes are the windows to the soul, and what he saw in those misty eyes left his body aflame— confused. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and he swallows thickly.

Once you get a taste, a dormant desire will begin to flourish.

The sly illusion holds their hand out invitingly, jade eyes unreadable as they scrutinize Xiao’s movements. It’s hesitant— the small step forward he takes.

‘What are you waiting for, adeptus?’

—

There’s a harsh gust of wind that blows through, the skies of Liyue harbor a dull grey with the rolling storm. The crashing sounds of waves upon the rocks below the docks resonate with your tempestuous heart. Weary eyes scan the horizon of the uneven sea, looking past the peaks of Guyun Stone Forest in the distance. You cling onto the hope of catching a glimpse of something— something to ease your worrisome heart.

“It’s been a few weeks,” you note quietly, the door of the balcony clicking shut as you walk back into the warm home office.

Yanfei answers without looking up, her hands still furiously scribbling on the parchments that have slowly accumulated into a towering pile. “He’s probably busy. With what exactly, I wouldn’t know— but I’m sure you have a better idea.” She sighs, regretting the coldness of her blunt tone. She adds in a softer tone, finally looking up, “Sorry, I’m not much help if it’s not consultation involving the law.”

The legal adviser can only watch helplessly as your eyes drift back to the window to gaze out beyond the sea’s horizon.

“He’s going to the Lantern Rite festivities with you, right?”

You turn back enough to meet her hopeful gaze with a sad smile. The silence is all the answer she needs.

“Was that a stupid question to ask?”

You shake your head, and turn your face back to the window so she can’t look further into the feelings you try to conceal.

The Lantern Rite was in a few days, and Xiao was nowhere to be seen. Though there've been occasions where you hardly saw him, this… this time was different. It was a feeling you couldn’t shake off and it filled you with uneasiness.

The thought of calling his name and receiving no answer terrified you. Doubt was quick to grip your mind in a vice.

“I think I’m the stupid one.”

#adeptus xiao #Xiao #xiao/reader #xiao x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin xiao #eventual smut #domestic fluff #fluff #xiao fluff #developing relationship #pwp #light smut #mii writes #fic: iasfao #yanfei

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wayward-dreamer · 3 years

Text

Foundation Quaking - Part 6

Part 6: Garage

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 2,352

Summary: Y/N returns from a night out with friends, seeing Dean working on setting up the garage and fixing the car. Unable to keep their hands off each other, they cross another fantasy off the list.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing, Smut: Dirty talk, Heavy foreplay, Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it), sex on the hood of the Impala. More fluff.

A/N: I can’t believe this little mini-series has almost come to end, just two more parts after this! There’s so much more coming for these two though, and I can’t wait to share it with all you! Thanks for all your kind words and support. As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Series beta’d by my twin and forever cheerleader @downanddirtydean. I love you! <3

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

Dean lifted up the heavy box kept to one side of the garage, carrying it across the room and over to the workbench that he had set up. Opening it, he took out all the tools that didn’t fit in his toolbox, hanging them up on the hooks he placed on the wall or putting them in small plastic boxes as he sorted through them. It was a Friday night, and usually he would be out at the bar with Benny and Cas, or out with Y/N or spending time at home, but considering he hadn’t set up the garage yet, he wanted to get started. Y/N was out for a girls’ night with Charlie and Meg, so he was by himself at home, with not much to do other than fix things up in the garage.

He also wanted the time to do a check on Baby, making sure everything was working the way it was meant to, as she had been sounding a little worse for wear lately. After he had fixed up his work bench and put away everything properly, he got to work on fixing up his beloved Impala and get her back to sounding the way she should.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the garage, tuning Baby up with a socket wrench and Zeppelin lightly playing in the background, but he heard the sound of heels coming down the hallway outside the open door into the house. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Y/N appear at the threshold, dressed in sleek black flared pants that hugged her waist incredibly well, and a loose black strappy top. Her hair was open and wavy, looking as stunning as she always did. She looked him up and down, biting her lip as every time she found him working on the car, it always, always, awoke something deep inside her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, carefully moving his head from under the hood of the car. He closed it, leaning against it as he looked at her.

“It’s 1.30am, Dean,” she said, softly as she walked over to him, her black heels clicking against the concrete floor. “I didn’t think you’d be out here.”

He shrugged, turning the wrench in his hand. “Once I started with the garage, I didn’t stop and then went on to check on Baby, lost track of time.”

“Well, I hope you ate,” she sighed, moving into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She was still slightly shorter than him even with her heels on. “I know how you get.”

“I started after eating, don’t you worry about me, gorgeous,” he told her, pecking her nose softly.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands slowly sliding down to her ass over the pants that accentuated the feature. “Have fun with the girls?”

“Always,” she replied, smiling.

“And uh… how many guys did you have to turn away tonight?” he asked, smirking slightly. “Cause let me tell ya, this outfit… is making me very glad that I’m your one and only.”

“Well, none actually, now that I have this,” she said, smiling as she lifted her hand and showed him the ring he had given her.

His smirk widened, turning into a grin. “Good to know.”

Dean leaned in, kissing her passionately as he brought her body closer to his. A soft moan left her as the kiss deepened, her hands moving up into his hair, running through the short locks at the back of his head. She leaned into him, their lips locked in a heated exchange, both of them aware of where this embrace was heading. He turned them around, pressing Y/N against the Impala, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against her lips, as his hands drifted up her legs to her waist.

He pulled at the fabric belt tied into a bow on her pants, hissing slightly as she moved forward, her covered mound against his crotch. She smiled mischievously, that one he never got tired of seeing, as she began to grind slowly against him.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

She moved against him, her hands moving down to his waist to pull him closer to her. She bit her lip, feeling him getting hard against her.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groaned, pulling her closer to his covered dick.

She hummed, biting her lip, cheekily. “I think I do.”

He reached between them, unzipping her pants, both of his hands slipping into the waistband and pulling them down. She lifted up slightly, letting him move them down her smooth legs. He smirked as he saw her black lace panties, moving in to grind against her again, the barrier between them thinner than before. His hands took the edge of her flowy top and pulled it up, her hands moving up to let him discard it to the floor beside her pants. He reached around and unclasped her black strapless bra, tossing it behind him. He leaned in, kissing down her neck, lightly nipping at her skin. He took her right nipple into his mouth, a moan leaving her lips as he circled the stiff nub with his tongue. He palmed her left breast, his fingers tweaking the nipple, as he continued to softly nip at the other.

“Dean, fuck, I-” she gasped, grabbing onto his broad, thick shoulders and pulling him closer.

He released the nipple from his mouth, his lips hovering over hers as he smirked. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” she bit out, her eyes shut tight. “Fuck me hard.”

“You’re forgetting to ask nice, gorgeous,” he said, his smirk as cocky as ever.

She groaned, frustratedly as she shook her head. “Please.”

“Say it properly, Y/N,” he ordered, his eyes darkened as he looked at her.

“Please, Dean, please fuck me,” she begged, as her eyes snapped open.

“Say it again,” he teased, his smirk unwavering. “I wanna hear how much you want it.”

“Fuck me hard, Dean, please. Please I need your cock,” she pleaded. “I need to feel you deep inside me, fucking me hard and fast, filling me up.”

He chuckled against her lips, his hand moving between her thighs to her covered sex, feeling how wet she was through the lace of her panties.

Dean reached down and unbuckled his belt, undoing his jeans and pushing them down along with boxers. He wrapped his hand around his hard cock, pumping it slowly as he saw her gaze down. Her hand reached forward to touch him, but he moved it away with his, holding her as he laid her back against the hood of the Impala, a small gasp leaving her as her back hit the cold surface. He bit his lip, seeing her spread out on his car was a fantasy he had had for a while and now it was coming true.

He moved his hand down between her legs, hooking a finger into her panties and pulling them down, straightening her legs up to take them off and toss them aside. He smoothed his hands over her legs, placing her calves on his shoulders, her heels still on her feet. She truly was a sight in that moment, and he was quick to remember once again how fucking lucky he was. Taking hold of his cock, he slapped the tip against her heat, a small gasp leaving her as he did. He slid his shaft through her folds, her arousal wetting him. He moved to her entrance, pushing in slowly, a groan falling from his lips as he felt how tight she was in this position. He slid out slightly before moving back in, bottoming out completely inside her. She moaned as he moved his hips, setting a moderate pace as he thrusted in and out of her.

“Fuck, so tight, baby,” he groaned, his hands holding onto her hips, tightly as he pulled her forward against his.

“Dean,” she whimpered, her hands moving up to her breasts, her fingers pinching and tweaking her nipples. “Fuck me harder, Dean… please.”

He smirked, his thumbs softly running over her hip bones. “That’s what I like to hear.”

His hips slammed forward, a loud moan leaving her as he set a harder rhythm, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her with precision, as her walls clenched around him. His hips slapped against her thighs, as his balls pressed against the curve of her ass, the smacking of skin as loud as their voices.

“Fuck, you feel so good around my cock, sweetheart,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips tight as he continued to pull her against him. “So wet, tight… like you were made to take me.”

“Yes, oh fuck,” she gasped, lifting her head and gazing down the length of her body. She saw his cock slide in and out of her, the speed of his thrusts driving her wild. “Fuck, Dean… love your cock inside me, fucking me hard.”

She continued to tweak her left nipple, her right hand drifting down to move between her legs. Her walls clenched around his cock, knowing she was close with how fast he was moving within her. Suddenly, a hand came off her hips and grasped hers tight, flicking it away.

“You don’t get to cum yet, sweetheart,” he warned, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked down at her. “Only I tell you when you can.”

“Dean, please,” she begged, looking up at him. “Please I wanna cum.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, a playful glare on his face as he looked at her. “Or I stop right now.”

“No, please,” she whined, shaking her head.

“Be good and you’ll get what you want, Y/N,” he stated, turning his head and planting a kiss on her left calf.

He drove deeper into her, his eyes raking over her body and admiring the light sheen of sweat from their activities. He smirked as their eyes met, a groan leaving his lips as a moan left hers at the feel of her clenching around him.

“You’re so close, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” he asked, a teasing smile on his face.

She whimpered, her back arching off the car. “Yes.”

“Bet you’re wishing you could touch yourself right about now, huh?” He looked at her as his hand moved between their bodies, hovering over the bundle of nerves. “You want me to touch you, baby?”

“Yes, touch me,” she gasped, pushing herself up on her elbows to between their joined bodies.

“Y/N,” he warned, looking down at her as he continued to thrust into her, his movement frenzied.

“Please, touch me, Dean,” she said, looking into his eyes.

He obliged her by pressing his fingers to her clit, circling them over the nub as their hips continued to meet. She moaned loudly, her chest heaving with frantic breaths as she got closer to her release.

“Dean, I-I’m close,” she moaned, her eyes flicking between watching his hand and looking at him.

“You’re gonna cum with me, sweetheart,” he grunted. His eyes shut briefly as he felt his cock throbbing inside of her, before he looked at her again. “Not before then.”

“Fuck,” she cried, desperate to let go. “Please, please tell me you’re close.”

His fingers moved faster over her clit, a string of short gasps leaving her as she felt the coil tightening in her core. His hard cock continued to pound into her, his other hand tight against her hip, no doubt bruising her flesh.

“Fuck, cum with me, Y/N,” he growled, his jaw clenching from the pressure building within him. “Cum with me, sweetheart.”

“Oh god, Dean! Yes! Fuck!” she yelled, as the coil snapped. Her wetness covered his cock, as he sped up slightly, a loud grunt leaving him as his cock pulsed, spurts of his cum bathing her walls.

“Fuck,” he groaned, as he breathed heavily, a content smirk on his face.

Y/N slipped back down, lying flat against the hood once more. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, a hand over her eyes as she came down. Dean looked at her, turning his head and kissing her calf again, his gaze on her as he breathed deeply. She lifted her hand off her eyes, slowly sitting up and cupping his face in her hands. She kissed him hard, their lips feverishly moving against each other’s.

“You’re incredible,” she told him between kisses.

“I think that’s you, sweetheart,” he countered, pecking her lips.

“I can’t believe we had sex on Baby,” she said, a giggle bubbling up in her chest. She shook her head, pressing it to his shoulder as she laughed.

He joined in, his hand brushing away her hair from her shoulder, as he placed a soft kiss to it. “Kinda been dreaming about it.”

“Did we just cross off another fantasy of yours?” she asked, lifting her head and looking at him with a knowing smile.

“Definitely,” he replied, smirking as he leaned in, kissing her. He pulled away briefly, pulling up his boxers and jeans, securing them over his hips.

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him again. “I guess it’s my turn next.”

He wagged his eyebrows, a grin on his face as he pulled her close. “Can’t wait.”

Dean helped Y/N off the car, her legs shaking slightly as she tried to stand. She took off her heels and picked up her clothes, carrying them with her as they made their way back into the house. After a quick shower together, they got ready for bed, Dean stripped down to his boxers as she slipped on a black tank top and cotton shorts in red and black plaid. He couldn’t understand how she managed to make something so simple look sexy, but she did.

Wrapped in each other’s embrace, they kissed goodnight, slipping into a peaceful slumber with pleasant dreams of each other.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons // @winchest09 // @downanddirtydean // @jensengirl83 // @wonder-cole // @that-one-gay-girl // @whatareyousearchingfordean // @flamencodiva // @danneelsmain // @ellewritesfix05 // @roonyxx // @akshi8278 //@hobby27 // @michellethetvaddict // @spngirl05 // @kyjey // @440mxs-wife // @stoneyggirl // @stoneyggirl2 // @deanswaywardgirl // @redbarn1995 // @marianita195 // @babypink224221 // @deans-baby-momma // @parinarain // @thoughts-and-funnies // @mandalou29 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @supernatural-love14 // @vicmc624 // @prettyboyswow // @lunarmoon8 // @irmcpar // @compresshischest09 // @weepingwillowphoenix // @xlynnbbyx // @whiskey-infused-dreams // @perpetualabsurdity // @verytoadpapersoul // @pink-sparkly-witch //

#Foundation Quaking #Life's Lessons Saga #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Smut #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Supernatural Fanfiction

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

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I'M BACK!!! 🥰😍❤ Did you all miss me? I'm happy to say that I've finally gotten some WiFi where I'm currently living and updates are gonna try to be more steady here in the future but I can't make any promises because I get very busy with my work 😅😇 Please continue to bear with me!

In other words, a while back I wrote the OG version of this little short fic on A03 but I realized that I had never posted it here! 😱 Nevertheless, I decided to write the Part 2 to this and then decided to remaster that first part before posting it here! 🙂🙂🙂 I'm thinking about turning this into a little mini series 🤔🥰

Anyways, I'll stop rambling! Please enjoy! 😚

Pillarroomates (Chapter 1: Roommate wanted)

(This is dedicated to Dagdoth and Sureynot; 2 of the best bad influences I could ever ask for 🥰😍❤)

The steady click-clacking of keys filled the pleasant silence of the little kitchen, Kars typing away on the laptop before him at the table.

It was just a little after noon, a time where he usually put down his work for a brief session to sit back in silence and enjoy a cup of coffee, or maybe a mug of tea depending on his mood, with whatever baked-good had been whipped up recently. Today however, he chose to cut his little break out of schedule completely to get a jump on the deadline of the month that he was currently picking away at.

Hunched over, eyes glued to the screen, one could've swore he was a living statue perched like that so quietly if it weren't for his typing fingers.

The sweet smell hanging in the air came much closer as Wamuu strode over to the table, a soft smile was painted across the mans lips as he placed an oven fresh cookie on a plate down next to the mug of black tea his Master was letting steep at his side.

"Thank you, Wamuu." Kars said quietly, watching the blonde depart in his peripheral vision for only a beat before regaining his sharp focus on the sea of numbers staring back at him.

Kars had his own room with a desk to work in of course but he always found himself enjoying doing work down here this time of day. The heavenly smell of the kitchen when something was being baked and the pleasant background noise of the radio chiming softly, sometimes accompanied by Wamuu humming along, was something sort of relaxing to Kars.

Relaxing around here tended to be something rare too, as there never seemed to be a dull moment in the lives of the Pillarmen these days.

Not in this neighbourhood, no.

The younger man hummed in response, heading back to the stove to finish scraping fresh cookies off the pan to place on a rack to cool. He was sure Santana would make an appearance soon to try one, with the lovely smell filling the air and all.

Santana could never stay asleep (as heavy of a sleeper as he had the tendency to be) holed up in his room when there was something yummy being cooked.

The times where he appeared the quickest was when Kars flicked on the coffee machine first thing in the morning, the red-head manifesting at his side at the very first spew of hot caffeine never failed to nearly give him a heartattack; especially when it was 5 in the morning in a dark kitchen.

Kars' head lifted, cocking an eyebrow as there suddenly came a knock at the front door; three evenly spaced thumps on the wood. The thought of another complaining neighbour was the first thing to cross his mind, making him sigh as he moved to get up from his chair.

"PIZZA'S HERE!!!"

The sounds of heavy footfalls coming at a rapid speed from down the hallway accompanying the cry stopped him in his tracks.

The plum-haired man grimaced, Wamuu glancing over his shoulder with a frown, as none-other-than Esidisi sped by; the one hand clutching the towel around his waist was the only thing keeping it from blowing away completely.

Despite only catching a glimpse of his speedy companion, Kars didn't miss the fact that the other was sopping wet and trailing water.

Esidisi had simply lept out of the shower the second he heard the knock at the door, leaving with only a towel (just barely even) and the foamy suds that were still clinging to his hair and his body.

No doubt about it, he was dripping all over the place.

And all over his clean floor too.

Kars clicked his tongue, more than tempted to sigh again.

"Really, Esidisi?" He called out to the other.

It was hard to tell whether he was more displeased with his state of soapy undress or the fact that the oldest Pillarmen had gone and ordered yet ANOTHER pizza this week with only God-knows-what on it.

Sure, he the others found themselves actually partaking in "Human food" casually these days. Wamuu even went so far as to teach himself how to cook as a hobby to fill time around the house when he wasn't going to the Gym or to work, but Esidisi had become something of a strange enthusiast on the matter.

Some people in this world got a little riled up over something as simple as Pinapple being added as a topping on a pizza but Kars had a feeling those people would have an absolute fit listening to Esidisi's phone order of a multi-fruit pizza (consisting of: oranges, apples, watermelon and strawberries) with cheese, olives and pepperoni.

He was starting to wonder if his longtime companion was simply doing it just to see how far he could push a Pizza place with his barrage of odd orders until they yelled at him or worse, barred him completely from the place.

His question was only met with laughter. "I decided to ask for Mac and Cheese and Jalapeños on it this time!" Esidisi called back, voice echoing off the walls, as he finally reached the front door.

Wamuu's nose crinkled at the very sound of that, choosing wisely to direct his attention to his cookies once more.

Kars decided to follow suit and do the same with his own work.

He supposed it wasn't really his problem, therefore; he shouldn't say anything.

☆☆☆

The advertisment had been a strange one for sure, but really, you had no choice but to at least look into it. It never hurt to try and you were already desperate enough as it was.

Apartments and open housing in the area was becoming a rarity at best these days, this busy time of year didn't help things either, and you had been scouring the internet for every opportunity or opening there was to move in with someone in this portion of the city.

Sadly, you had turned up empty handed quite a few times.

The last one you had looked into had been great; a nice building, nice seeming people, decent budget; but alas, the people who put out the advert took it down just a day later.

They had decided to give the opening to a close friend of theirs who wanted to come across the country and live with them instead.

You had been starting to consider checking the complete other side of the city and trying to squeeze yourself in somewhere there or maybe even just going with the option of moving cities completely! The hassle of finding a place was just becoming too much until... this one happened to pop up.

☆ Roomate requSWIGGITY SWOOMATE, WE NEED A ROOMATE!!11!!!1!

We are Four Men seeking out a Human roomate to live with us in our rented house.

4 bedroom, 1 bath, 1 kitchen; upstairs, downstairs and basement.

Location: Western side of the city, 929 Bizzare av.

Rent and chores are divided equally among us.

Requirements as followed:

• Must be a CLEAN Human.

• Human must not bear the surname of "Joestar" under ANY means necessary.

•Must be actively working and have claims to have the ability to hold their job.

• Must be willing to contribute to the household via chores and yard work when necessary.

• must be CUTE!!!

• Mus

•

• Must like llf6io78fjjl0

•

• Jo9sjw6jnsjej27ebeolu

• Jsjsij wkk d18kkjs lkdjsjsns52jsjjsnend2njsmdv 6272jsndbdhs2672 jd Djjsija bsij eeskdnne9s782728 jd bjejrn rnusjjsj

• the human must not be loud

• It would be most appreciated if the Human was a mannered person, who holds appreciation for similar hobbies we do. -W

•

Ask within to apply! ☆

You couldn't help but wonder if whoever had written this advert had been drunk at the time by looking at the grabbed mess that took up half the page.

Better yet, you could only hope this was a real advertisement and not some sort of stupid prank.

Either way, you were determined to find out today and claim this oppertunity before anyone else got the chance.

Glancing down at the print out you had made of the ad at the Library, you sighed as you kept going down the street. You had been walking all morning and were beginning to wish you had the foresight to pack a snack or a drink for your seemingly endless sojourn for this supposed place.

There was no picture put onto the advertisement, even a proper description of the place would've been nice, and finding a direct address wasn't exactly a piece of cake to you.

Nonetheless, you kept going. Stopping at every house you passed in hopes to spot a matching address; finding nothing but different numbers and barking dogs tethered in yards.

With every different number meeting your eyes, the possibility of this just being a fake ad just kept growing and growing in your mind.

You were even starting to consider just giving up entirely when, at last, there it was. "292" the numbers were bolted to the front porch, the 9 starting to tilt to one side.

It seemed nice enough. The lawn was well kept, the walkway however looked as if it needed to be redone. The building was a sunbleached blue, probably a nice clean periwinkle once upon a time, but now leaning a tad white and staring to flake. The place was definitely in need of a touch up.

This was the place, now if someone was Home to even just talk to you about this ad that would be great.

You gathered up the courage to leave the sidewalk and start up the overgrown walkway, the wood of the porch whined under your feet as you stepped onto it. A couple of chairs, a book carelessly left behind in one, a little cage sat all by its lonesome in the far corner, and a big unmissable stain (probably coffee) caught your eye on the wood.

The word "Pillarmen" was scrawled on the name card over the mail slot of the front door.

A strange surname, you had never heard of it before, but it must've been safe to assume that it belonged to someone here. Presumably one of the men who had made this advertisement in the first place.

With only a moments hesitation, clutching the print-out in hand, you reached out and rapped on the door hard with your knuckles, then stood back and waited.

Silence... You took the opportunity to fix your appearance slightly, suddenly becoming a little self-conscious, smoothing out your shirt before clasping your hands behind your back neatly and putting on your best smile.

First impressions were important, most especially a first impression made at the door after all.

There came the sounds of voices, too muffled for you to hear through the walls, followed closely by the unmistakable thundering of footsteps coming closer and closer from within.

Finally, the door flung open.

You felt your eyes go a little wide, the smile drained from your face as you craned your neck back slightly to meet the gaze of the very tall and very muscular dark-skinned man that now stood before you.

Belatedly, as your eyes followed the droplets of water that were dripping off him, trickling down every inch of his muscular body and pooling at his feet, you realized he was practically naked; clutching only a fluffy white towel around his waist.

The towel didn't look nearly as fluffy and white as his hair, however.

"Uh--" Your tongue swole in your mouth as you both found yourselves staring at one another, seemingly sharing a similar dumbfounded moment.

He blinked owlishly.

"You're not the Pizza delivery." He said matter-of-factly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Your head shook violently, broke from your sudden stupor, pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper out for him to see.

"Uh-- I--... N-No! I'm not-- I'm uh.... here ab-about the-- the roomate ad...?" You sputtered, the words felt as garbled as alphabet soup falling off your tongue, you felt a nervous sweat beading on your skin under your clothes as it hit you for a second time that wasn't wearing any. "Oh! If uh-- this is a bad time I-- I can come back later!"

His face lit up suddenly, eyes shimmering like sapphires. "Oh!" He cried. "I forgot about that!"

The massive man turned, calling back over his shoulder deeper into the apartment.

"Kars! There's a Human here, they saw our advert!"

You happened to be so gobsmacked, still reeling from the slight shock of the very first of your encounter, you hadn't even noticed he distinctly used the word "Human" there.

"What?!"

You couldn't see past the mans hulking figure but you could very well hear the scraping of a chair in the distance, followed by more thundering footsteps heading towards the door.

You blinked as yet another larger-than-life sized man made his appearance, pushing past the first with a frown. The both of them looked almost comically squashed where they stood taking up the whole doorway.

This man was just as tall and as muscular as the first. His skin was like ivory, framed by dark cloth wrapped from his neck to the top of his head with only a tuft of deep purple hair dangling precariously out over his pointed nose.

More importantly, very much unlike the first, this one was fully clothed.

Clad in a dress shirt that matched his hair, slightly unbuttoned to just give you a peak of the buldging muscles he had underneath and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neatly pressed black dress pants and house shoes.

Kars blinked in surprise as he caught sight of you at last, eyes scanning over you. He honestly hadn't expected someone to come to their door about the advertisement they had put out so quickly, they had only put it out less than a day ago.

If anything, by the way it had turned out, he was surprised someone responded to it at all.

"Please, come in." Kars told you, making his best attempt to save this lousy first impression.

His surprised look was short-lived, turning sharp as he directed it onto Esidisi. The other man smiled sheepishly, turning and retreat back to the bathroom to finish his shower without the pizza he had left it for...

☆☆☆

☆Previously...☆

Kars hummed, reading over the advert for a 4th time with pursed lips.

He had listed all the necessary information about them and the living situation and even put down a few requirements to set the bar for any Human who would happen to want to apply.

However, even with the ground rules set, it still just seemed a little too bare to him.

"Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder towards the living room doorway; he swore he could hear more of the crunching of the flaming hot cheetos Esidisi was enjoying rather than the actual program he was watching. "Is there anything specific you would like to add to this before I post it?"

"Shay they mush be cute!" came the reply though a mouthful of spicy junkfood. Kars could only hope he wasn't getting crumbs all over the couch again, not to mention getting too handsy with the T.V remote eating those things...

"That isn't what qualifies as a 'requirement', Esidisi..." he sighed.

The other swallowed, now blessed with the ability to speak much clearer; the crinkling of the cheeto bag hit Kars' ears next.

"Well excuse me for having standards." He heard his oldest companion grumble, drowned out by the crunch of more food.

Wamuu's head peered out of the kitchen, the pie he was just about to place in the oven cradled in oven-mit hands. He had decided to try his hand at fudge pie this time, having mastered apple so quickly.

"It would be nice if the Human were a Warrior as well," he said, disappearing from Kars' sight again as he went back into the kitchen, carrying the pie to the awaiting oven. "Or perhaps if they were interested in going to the Gym or baking as I do..."

Kars sighed, "Wamuu, I understand you would like someone to train with but this--"

"The Human must not be loud."

The Pillarman practically jumped out of his chair, the tiniest yelp escaping his lips as he swiveled his head to find none other than Santana looming over him. The sheet lines imprinted in the others face indicated he had just arisen from a deep sleep; most likely venturing out of his cave and into the kitchen to see what Wamuu was up to.

Even after thousands of years, he still couldn't get used to the youngest Pillarman sneaking up on him.

It probably didn't even count as "sneaking" anyways as Santana was just so naturally quiet he just happened to go unnoticed until he spoke up.

Kars opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak again, only to be cut off one more time as Esidisi finally made his own appearance; leaning over the purple-haired man to see the advert in the works.

"See, this is all wrong." Esidisi told him, frowning at the screen. "This is too formal! If we're going to get someone at all, we need to grab their attention somehow. Here, I'll fix it!"

The other practically clamored over him, cheeto bag tucked under arm as he reached over to type on the computer, deleting the majority of the title Kars had written out and already replacing it with one of his own creation.

Kars belatedly realized the others' hands were still coated in hot cheeto crumbs, smudging the keys of his pristine computer with imprints of red and orange as he typed away.

"Esidisi, stop this at once!" He commanded, trying to push him at arms length, only to be met with a hand pushing back and smooshing against his face. The smell of spicy cheese flavoring hit his nostrils, only fueling his fire. "This is my work computer! I'm the one writing this advertisement!"

Santana merely stood back, watching the two elder Pillarmen fight over the computer in silence. Esidisi was pushed by Kars into the keyboard a handful of times before their focus was solely on one another and no longer the ad.

"Get your grubby hands off me!" Kars growled as the other straddled him in the chair, his face now smudged like his keyboard. They kept pushing on one another, a clumsy slap war already underway, obscenities and curses getting mangled as they argued back and forth.

"You never let me--"

"I told you that--"

"I wanna do it! Just let me--"

Santana peered down at the computer curiously, uninterested in watching the display before him any longer.

The red-head typed out his own request before picking up the device and carrying it to the kitchen for Wamuu to see and whatever he wished; Santana ignored the sound of two bodies toppeling out of the chair and hitting the floor as he left.

Kars didn't even get to see the ad (or rather; the remainder of what qualified as an advert) before it was posted online by Santana.

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #my writing #pillarroomies

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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years

Note

"You're joking." Bailey took another drag from his cigarette, an unamused glare leveled at his only real friend. Eden sat across from him, on the other side of his desk. The chair he was in, too small for his height and weight. It creaked when the hunter shifted, sitting up straighter in the chair ment for children and teens.

"I'm not." Eden's deadpan expression and monotone response felt like a punch in the gut. Or a knife in the back. Not that Bailey would let him know that.

The caretaker let out a cloud of smoke before snuffing his cigarette in the ashtray to his left. He opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, the cheap stuff you used to get wasted fast. He kept the good stuff at home, the expensive, quality kind ment to be sipped on while reading by the fire, his spouse's head in his lap. Resting, or blowing him; he didn't care which. God, he wished he could be there instead right now.

The cap of the bottle was uncerimoniously flicked off, bouncing off the wall and landing in the trash across the room. Bailey brought the glass to his lips and began drinking the amber liquid.

"Nice shot-"

"Don't fucking start with me, Eden." Bailey snapped, bringing the whiskey down hard on his desk. The sound was a lot louder in the otherwise quiet room. For a moment, the only sound was from his ancient computer. The monitor humming with life. He had three new emails from high paying clients, but he couldn't focus on anything but the sick joke in front of him.

"You're being childish." Eden grunted, shifting in the wooden chair.

"Childish? I'm being childish?! You're the one who's trying to fuck my kid!" Bailey's hands came down on the desk, his chair pushed out from under him as he stood. Eden quirked an eyebrow.

"You sell children all the time. Figured it'd be the same with that one." He shrugged, much too calm for Bailey's liking. He grit his teeth and breathed heavy out his nose. There'd be no good in killing Eden. He'd feel bad about it, his kid would be crushed and, most importantly, his spouse would be upset.

He used his foot to drag his leather office chair back to him and ran his hands through his hair, mussing it. He dropped back down in his seat and glowered at his "friend".

"It's different with my kid." He said sternly. He hadn't kept many secrets from Eden in regards to his home life. Hell, he let you visit him! Eden knew damn well you were one of two people he gave a shit about and yet here he was!

"Is it because your spouse?" Eden asked, cocking his head to the side like a dog. He spent too much time in the woods. He was going feral. He was going fucking feral and he wanted to buy Bailey's only (actual) child. He didn't give a shit if you were an adult, almost finished with high school and ready for uni. He was your father damn it! You were still a baby to him!

"No. It's not because of my spouse." Before he felt the itch to grab his gun itch up his arm, he took another long swig of whiskey. How could Eden not get it? He was like family to you! To him! What the actual fuck?!

"You think someone else would take better care of them?" Eden countered. Had Bailey said that out loud? Regardless, the caretaker pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's not the point Eden." He let out a defeated groan.

"What is?" Bailey stared hard at Eden, searching for any hint of humor or malice, or anything that might give away that his childhood friend didn't actually want to bone his baby.

"The point," He found none. Bailey ran his hands through his hair again.

"Eden, is that you're like an uncle to them. It's as close to incestuous as you could possibly get. Not only that, you're significantly older than them and quite frankly," Bailey pulled out another cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag before letting the smoke fill the air between them.

"I'd rather they leave for uni and never have to come back here. I don't want them living in the forest with a man who's forgotten basic decencies. Like not requesting to engage in sexual acts with their friends' kid." Bailey held his fresh cig between his middle and ring fingers, studying Eden. He didn't want it to come to blood, but he'd done worse things in his life. Eden chuckled.

"So there's something you won't take money for." He said, his smile genuine and amused. His spouse would be so upset if he killed Eden. They'd be so, so disappointed if he went home with bruises and bloody knuckles from beating the shit out of their friend. He was sure they would understand, of course, he just didn't want them knowing it came to blows. His perfect little spouse was already aware of all the horrible, fucked up shit he did. He didn't want to push it.

"Two somethings." Bailey corrected. He had a small picture of you and your other parent hidden in his desk. Helped him not kill the orphans that were too young to sell. It was also helping him resist the urge to smash the half drank bottle of whiskey over Eden's head.

"I'm not asking for you to pimp them out." Eden spoke like they were talking about the weather. Like Bailey wasn't doing his damndest not to kill him.

"I said, I wanted to buy them. For keeps." Bailey flicked the ash off his cigarette.

"And what does for keeps mean?" Bailey could see the gears turning in Eden's head. He didn't like it. Eden wasn't dumb muscle. He was strong, sure but he was also smart and resourceful. That made him dangerous. After an agonizing minute passed, Eden spoke.

"Like you and your spouse." Bailey blinked slowly, dumbfounded.

"You want to marry my eighteen year old. Who you've known since they were an infant."

"Yes." Bailey sat back in his chair and pulled a phone from his pocket. Not one of his burner phones he used for criminal activity, but one he bought specifically to contact you and his spouse. He quickly selected your other parent's number and called them.

The pair listened as it rang, and a soft voice came from the line. The sound of something boiling and the clattering of dishes could be heard in the background.

"Hello?" Bailey's spouse answered. Bailey ran his free hand through his hair again, further wrecking it. He was an incredibly prideful man. If Eden had been anyone else, he'd be dead. If his spouse was anyone else, he wouldn't speak to them. If you were anyone else, he wouldn't give a shit. But three strikes and he's out.

"Eden's lost his mind. I can't speak with him. Please explain to him why he can't marry our child." He knew he sounded pathetic and defeated. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Thus, he chose the option that wouldn't affect his marriage.

"I'll be there in five." Oh. They sounded so... Angry. He hadn't expected that. They were always so soft and gentle, they rarely got really, truly angry at any one person. Of course, this was their baby they were talking about. You were as precious to them as you were Bailey.

Eden seemed just as curious to see them pissed off as he was.

(- anon 🚩 then Prequel!pc showed up, the three of them yelled at eachother, exchanging low blows and personal insults and then current!pc came in cause no one was home and eden proposed and they said yes and they left together and fucked for a whooooooooole week. The end.)

Oh what I would give to be a fly on that wall.

And you just know Current-PC and Eden would come visit for dinner every week and Bailey would have to sit there while his best friend hand-feeds his kid, who still sits in his lap regardless of where they are. Pre-PC might purposefully burn Eden’s food.

#🚩 anon #younger au #spill your guts #Eden the Lonely #Bailey the Caretaker #others stuff

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years

Note

“Vivienne x Mc, where Mc gets injured and falls unconscious and later Vivienne taking care?“

Pairing with:

Mc x Vivienne - QoT Mc was really close to an explosion during a heist, causing her to permanently loss her hearing. You can include the other members too because I want to see how will they handle future heist when one of their has been injured, how does Vivienne react? Will she let mc continue or not? And how does mc feel? Does she feel she cannot as much as before lost her hearing?

HEY... how do you think Vivienne would deal with a deaf MC? im deaf myself 😳😳 headcanons work if they're easier!

QOT MC gets caught up in the blast from one of Jett’s explosives, and now has severe burns acrros her face and other parts of her body along with slight deafness. Could I get a fic of Vivienne comforting her, and telling her she’s still beautiful? Thanks!

…

Warning: Writer’s first time writing a hard of hearing character.

TW: Panic attacks. Mentions of injury. Mentions of scarring.

Introspection-heavy fic.

…

The explosion was one of Jett’s finest work up to date.

Vivienne could feel it rattle her very bones, even though she was quite a distance away. The building crumbled easily and readily, becoming nothing but a sour-tasting memory. She nodded approvingly, letting out a small sigh in relief. There it went, up in smoke, all the incriminating evidence Benicio had gathered on them. And, as a bonus, most of his fake career.

“Ha! That was amazing!” Jett laughed, his voice bright with happiness, high with adrenaline. The rest of the Poppy soon joined in, albeit in less boisterous chuckles.

Coming down from the building she was in was child’s play. She abandoned Benicio’s unconscious body for the authorities to find, humming to herself as she made her way over to Leon, just barely paying attention to the conversation of the rest of the Poppy.

It doesn’t take long for her to notice that something is wrong. That something is missing.

She balances on top of the balcony she’s on, dread creeping over her body like lead, making her feel sluggish.

“Has anyone heard MC?”

The idle chatter stops. Vivienne can feel the shift in the atmosphere, can practically hear it become tense and chilly.

Amidst the muttered ‘no’ of the rest of the members, Zoe’s voice sounds surprisingly clear, a tinge of panic and worry that makes Vivienne lurch forward, desperate to reach the ground. “I lost her signal. Something must have happened!”

“But Benicio is out cold this time-”

“Nadia backed off, right? She couldn’t have-”

“And there is no way Francesca would-”

“Maybe,” Jett’s voice sounds hesitant, an echo of his usual self. “She got… caught by the explosion.”

Remy scoffs. “There’s no way that could have happened, MC knew the dangers!”

“Keep an eye out for the police, Zoe. We need to look for her,” Nikolai commanded, his voice as cold and hard as steel, immediately cutting through the panicked chatter.

Vivienne lets her teammates handle the distractions to stall the police a bit longer, her mind set only on making sure MC was all right. She hadn’t felt so frightened since everything that happened with Isadora, and she refused to let anything even remotely similar happen again. She couldn’t lose anyone precious to her. She couldn’t. One more person, and her soul would have been shattered beyond repair.

Not to mention, the whole issue with Benicio was her fault in the first place. If MC got hurt… god, if she got hurt…

“Ambulance! Can someone call an ambulance?”

Her head whipped around, eyes wide. There was a man shouting desperately a few meters away, making frantic motions to something behind him. Mouth dry, Vivienne relayed the situation to the rest of the Poppy. Her legs felt like jelly. She wondered if she’d crumble into an unrepairable mess when she got close enough, but no such thing happened. She moved forward as if possessed, dropping to her knees near two bodies. One was a small child, and the other was MC, cradling the child as if she was trying to protect him from the entire world.

They were both unconscious. Vivienne’s eyes trailed MC’s exposed skin, painted an angry red down to its very core, from her left shoulder down to her thigh. Her clothes were ruined, charred beyond recognition, sticking to MC’s body like a second skin. Vivienne’s first instinct is to throw her cape over her, just to cover the burns. Her hands are shaking so bad it proves to be quite the difficult task.

The child MC is holding seems fine, his burns less severe than MC’s, which eases Vivienne’s worry somewhat.

Jett was right. She had been caught up in the explosion.

…

“I had to pull a lot of favors to erase our trail, but at least the police won’t find us for a while. We can lay low while MC recovers.” Zoe informed them, a few nights later, exhaustion sipping from her like water out of a waterfall. Nikolai is in a similar state, sitting near Zoe by the couch, one hand covering his face and the other gripping his knee so tightly his knuckles are almost white.

“And the boy’s father?”

“He’s been trying to locate MC, but I don’t think we should worry about him. As for the boy, he’s much better than MC. His hearing wasn’t as affected, either. She really saved him…”

“Then again, if it hadn’t been for him, MC wouldn’t be like this in the first place.” Vivienne icily mutters, tightening her hold over her glass of wine. Nikolai and Zoe just give her a glance, too tired to pick a fight with her. “If he hadn’t rushed in recklessly-”

“He was scared, Viv.” Remy says, from somewhere in the kitchen. “He wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Vivienne’s scowl deepens. “Yes, but who runs into danger? You’d think the fire alarm would have gotten him to run the other way.”

“Someone who didn’t know there was going to be an explosion, that’s who.”

The seductress growls, a dark expression over her face, bitter frustration raging inside her like a chemical reaction about to explode. It just doesn’t make sense. Everything that boy had done that day was simply moronic, and MC – the angel she was, putting others before herself as she often did – had suffered dearly for it. The burns would leave scarring, no doubt; they had become angry red lines and spots that Vivienne mapped with a careful touch every time she had to apply the ointment the doctor had recommended. She had to watch how MC flinched at the contact, how she bit back a cry of pain, hiding it behind a shuddering smile and glistering brown eyes.

Vivienne couldn’t stop thinking about her expression. About how everything had changed, suddenly and without warning, all because of a boy. She can’t help but think about what Remy says and seethe in anger at the sheer absurdity of the boy’s actions, but she decides to stay quiet. The last thing the team needs is another fight.

Zoe speaks again after a few moments, voice soft.

“How is Jett?”

“He hasn’t left MC’s side,” Vivienne answers, after taking a deep breath. “His guilt is practically eating him alive.”

Zoe gives the couch a mournful, exhausted look, but gets to her feet nonetheless. “I’ll go check on him.”

No one blames Jett.

Ever since she had regained consciousness, MC’s sole focus had been on him. Vivienne didn’t mind. It felt relieving to walk inside her room and find them close, enjoying life, doing Art Club activities or laughing over some funny meme. Or, well, trying to. Jett’s laugh was muted, worried, tinted with sadness and regret; it was a sound that haunted Vivienne wherever she went, something that mirrored her own conflicted feelings. MC’s laugh was restrained and also wistful and a little distant. Sometimes she grimaced in the middle of it, her happiness crumbling in a burning flash of pain that made Vivienne’s heart clench and drop.

But they were trying. They were doing their best.

They would get through this. They all would.

…

Changes are inevitable. MC stands through it all like a stubborn rock holding its ground against a current, taking everything in stride. Vivienne had always found the artist fascinating, a fantastic enigma that Vivienne had foolishly thought she had cracked a long time ago.

MC always surprised her. After everything, Vivienne couldn’t help but feel awed by her. True, the first few weeks were hard, but MC had accepted her condition sooner rather than later, while Vivienne still cautiously danced around it, not sure what to think or feel or do.

MC had lost 65% percent of her hearing due to the explosion. Her left ear was slightly better, only at 50%, but the doctor had warned them she would lose more as the years went by. And while Vivienne had once again thrown herself into a bitter spiral of resentment against the boy, that damned boy, MC had pursed her lips with a determined expression and thrown herself into learning sign language and working around everything.

Everyone had agreed early on that MC couldn’t participate in heists anymore. She’d still be their forger, of course, but she’d stay with Zoe when the heist was underway.

“It’d be too dangerous,” MC had admitted, distractedly playing with the hem of her black jacket. She had this solemn look in her eyes, hollow and heavy with resignation, but it wasn’t defeated. It had this quiet intensity to it, like a volcano about to erupt; no one had dared to say anything as she explained. “I can’t even tell where sounds come from anymore, so I wouldn’t react properly to a threat.”

Vivienne couldn’t really wrap her mind around it. MC had described sounds as muted, fuzzy, distant, as if there was a giant wall of glass between her and the world, and on top of it she was underwater. Sounds simply became a cacophony in the background, nothing for MC to really pick apart. It was disorienting, at first, mostly because Vivienne hadn’t really fully processed everything yet.

Sometimes she would turn towards MC with her usual flair and dramas, all but spinning on the chair of her vanity like the typical movie villain, only to find MC engrossed on her work and not aware at all of the dramatic sigh Vivienne had delivered not two seconds ago. That was, perhaps, the biggest change. It didn’t take long for Vivienne to get used to it, no, but there had been something special in calling MC’s name from across the room and watching her reaction unfurl, be it an amused smirk or a heated stare.

MC carried on, not considering her hearing loss a disability at all. It made things different, but not impossible, something Vivienne had irrationally feared in the beginning. She loved MC and everything that entailed, be it scarring or hearing loss or grumpiness or that annoyingly stubborn personality of hers. There was no in-between, no extremes. There weren’t moments where Vivienne had loved her more or less. One day she had woken up to realize she had fallen hopelessly in love and she had never quite managed to get back up after that.

So these changes? Vivienne would accept them. Welcome them. No matter what.

…

The hearing aids helped. A bit.

MC had put them on, frowned for a second, and then beamed at Vivienne saying: “Oh, I can tell your voice apart from all the sounds now!” And that was it. No magically being able to hear everything again, no magically being able to pick apart the words. There was just a vague tone piercing a muted world, an anchor making lip-reading easier, but nothing else. Zoe had looked. Oh, how had she looked, but that was it. Everyone had accepted that. MC was just happy to her their voices again, however fuzzy they were.

Now, Vivienne could actually come sashaying into the room and call out to MC, and MC would look up and search for her – she still had a hard time telling where the sounds came from – and then roll her eyes with a fond smile at her girlfriend’s antics.

Something Vivienne had discovered about hard of hearing people: they listened. No, really. Somebody else would be distracted by something that happened around them, or would look at their phone or watch or hands or anything else before rejoining the conversation. Small things, really. MC didn’t do those anymore. Her attention was solely focused on whoever was speaking, watching their lips, interpreting their words. Or watching the signs, the body language, everything she could do to figure out what was going on and answer accordingly.

It was only at night that MC confided how difficult and exhausting and frustrating lip-reading was. The Poppy made an effort to sign, they had all gotten quite good at SSE, but sometimes they would go out and encounter somebody that didn’t know how to sign or somebody that wasn’t aware of what had happened to MC. It was all sort of situations, but MC took in stride.

“Baby?” MC’s drowsy voice cut through Vivienne’s thoughts. The pronunciation was a bit off, but charmingly so. MC had been horrified when Zoe commented on it, trying to correct it as soon as possible, but privately Vivienne didn’t really see why she worried so much over it. Her voice was beautiful no matter what. Or maybe Vivienne was just far too whipped. Hm.

She smiled against MC’s skin, feeling the heat of it call out to her like a siren’s song. She shifted a bit, so she could rest her head over MC’s chest, snuggling under the covers. It was a cold night, after all.

“Yes?” She mumbled, internally screaming in joy over the pet name. The vibration of her voice was all MC needed to know she was awake.

“I don’t think I’m up for seeing Jace tomorrow. Think we could reschedule?”

Vivienne hummed, toying with the thought. “I think so.” She finally drew the words on MC’s skin. Her fingers slid over the charred, dry zone that had been burned and she frowned a little, wondering if she should apply more ointment in the morning.

“Great.” MC said, softly. “And… we could… maybe we could watch a movie? There’s a new one that just began airing – I’ll ask Zoe for a subtitled version tomorrow.”

“Lovely.” Vivienne drew back.

“I love you.”

The little heart that was the seductress’ reply tingled in MC’s skin like invisible ink, pure and happy and warm like the first few rays of the sun, something that would linger for many days to come.

…

In the morning, as she had been doing this past month, the first thing she did when she woke up was straddle MC under her.

MC blinked owlishly, staring at her with a soft smile. She let Vivienne move over her, sighing contently at the soft touches from her lover. Vivienne made sure to stay in sight, so MC could see her lips.

With all that done, Vivienne began her worship.

Her hand cupped MC’s cheek, tracing the cheekbone down to the soft angle of her jaw, adoring. Long fingers then glided over her throat, down, down so she could move over her collarbones, one hand to the right, one to the left.

One hand slid over smooth, soft silk, while the other traveled against rough and dry edges carefully. MC’s eyes shifted at that, always hesitant over the marred skin, and Vivienne leaned down to place a kiss just above where the burns had been, as reverently as an astronaut would kiss the ground after months away from the Earth. She hovered there for a few seconds while her hand moved from MC’s shoulder to her side, finally coming to rest over her hip.

“You are beautiful.” She mouthed, leaning back. MC’s eyes flickered to her lips, catching the words, her smile stretching just a little bit more.

Vivienne continued, leaving a trail of kisses over that side, as she often did.

“These tell a story,” she said, and MC listened, brows knitted in concentration. “Of a brave woman that was too caring, and of a silly boy.”

MC starts to shake her head, aware of Vivienne’s resentment, but Vivienne is quick to place a finger over her lips to shush her.

“A silly boy,” she repeated, and for once her voice carried no venom. “That would have had a much difficult condition had that brave woman not intervened. These scars tell a story… and its outcome, filled with obstacles and changes and that one stubborn woman in the center of it all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more determined in my entire life. But here you are, MC, here you are…”

She shudders with delight, her smile widening even more. One of her hand comes up to rest over Vivienne’s heart, to feel the vibrations of her voice.

“A warrior, an angel. You are the sun my thoughts spin around, always, forever. You came into my life and gave me a reason to become the woman I am today. You are always so optimistic, so breathtakingly beautiful, with you I-” Vivienne cut herself off, remembering to breathe, to pace herself. MC gave her a grateful nod, her expression soft with affection. “With you I feel like I might soar. You’ve taught me so much. You’ve taught me how to be accepting. To accept mistakes. To not run from them. And now, you’ve taught me the importance of not giving up. I admire you, you know?”

Vivienne looked at the scars again.

“The story these tell… It’s awe-inspiring. I’ll look at them every morning and remember how strong you are. Beautiful isn’t perfect skin and perfect hearing. It isn’t daring heists and life on the edge. Beautiful is you, are you are now.”

The kiss they share is gentle, loving, pure.

#Anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck qot #queen of thieves #vivienne tang #vivienne x mc #fluffy angst #lovestruck vivienne #qot vivienne #queen of thieves vivienne #tw explosion #tw scarring #miscellaneous monday #angst

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lizbotw · 4 years

Note

hi!! can I ask for some shouto headcanons with a s/o who has frequent nightmares? ty! ily

Todoroki With a S/O That Has Frequent Nightmares

hi! wow, i really loved this request and enjoyed writing it! once again, it's a bit on the longer side and more scenario-like than just plain headcanons, so i hope you like it! tysm, ilyt!!! ♡

Todoroki Shouto

Everyone knows school is just plain hard and going to the top hero school in the nation meant things were… less than easy for you and your classmates.

All-nighters were common, especially now that everyone was living in the dorms together and were up to antics at all hours of the night, even despite the scolding of Iida (Aizawa admitted he couldn't care less what the class did as long as they kept it down and didn't cause too much trouble—just don’t interrupt his sleep and everything is all good).

It’s not like it was unusual for someone to complain offhandedly about being tired one day, or for your classmates to be spotted with eye bags, so no one ever thought to point out the sleepy look you seem to sport regularly from being kept up all night.

Everyone was basically kept up later than intended one way or another, whether it be finishing an assignment last minute or staying up to finish a movie, so they sympathized with your plight, assuming that it was similar to their own—but what they didn’t know was that the reason you were up was much different than any of their reasons.

While they slept peacefully only a few floors away from you, or sometimes even a few doors down the hallway, you were plagued by dark images, the type that twisted around in your mind, growing in ferocity and coiling around your heart with sticky, inky blackness so tightly that you felt as though you couldn’t breathe—any attempts against them that you took seemed futile and you always woke up gasping for air, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead as your chest heaved, heavy with emotion.

You'd gotten used to hiding it, having been dealing with them for quite a while now, and while you eventually learned to brush them off due to their frequency, in the dead of the night, whenever they struck you, you felt as powerless and hopeless as the very first time they arrived.

It was only in the light of day that you were able to be reasonable with yourself and in which the fears lost most of their power (they were never completely gone though, the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind and causing you to mull over them whenever there was a dull moment in class and your attention started to drift).

Perhaps it's because you had these nightmares that you made the most of the energy you had during the day, fighting in your own way in the light to prove that you were still powerful, even if you were stripped of that power every night.

You'd adapted to running on only a few hours of sleep and tried to take short naps throughout the day to make up for lost time (although it was still hard after particularly difficult nights where you got almost zero relief from the terrifying images), so by the time life in U.A. came about, you were able to tough it out and focus on your training.

Speaking of training, you were vicious in class battles, taking many by surprise and were able to render several of your weaker classmates immobile in capture exercises and swept them off of their feet relatively quickly in one on one fights, including a certain “IcyHot” boy (although the way in which you swept him off his feet was much different—it was hard to beat him in normal fights anyway, but when it came to matters of the heart he was forced to surrender).

Your pure power may have caught his attention at first, but it wasn’t until Shouto spoke to you more and your personality came out that he was truly faced with the fact that he was falling for you hard.

A series of mishaps and a fair share of intervention from the rest of Class 1-A later and you two were miraculously dating and even could finally rest easy—they definitely had their work cut out when it came to getting you two together, but they ultimately bit the bullet because they could not stand the mutual pining and hopeless romanticism that continuously went on between you two.

It may take a while for Shouto to realize that spending the night at each other's dorms is a romantic™ thing couples do and that he should offer that up. That would be a great alternative actually versus the current are arrangement of that whenever you come over to study during the afternoons with him (which quickly turns into night because wow, time sure flies when you're being tortured by textbooks), and once it gets late enough, he comments about what time it is and how both of you should start getting ready for bed—effectively forcing you to leave his dorm. Don't blame him—the thought just never crossed his mind.

It was actually Mina, wanting to pry in on all U.A. relationships and resident sucker for romance, that probably brought the idea to his attention.

Something about asking how you two spent time together turned interrogation when she realized he could be clueless about certain things and made it her personal mission to school him on all things romance.

And then came the question, “So, have you guys had a couple’s sleepover yet?”

“A what?”

“Mina, please stop, just leave the poor guy alone,” came Jirou’s chiding from somewhere in the background. Mina had dragged her along with her for unknown reasons, but Jirou had made it very clear that she did not want to be there, slowly distancing herself from the conversation and discreetly trying to slip away.

While Mina took up arguing with Jirou about the “necessity” of these questions and Jirou facepalming and asking Mina why she didn’t just bring Hagakure (second in command on all things romance) with her, Shouto took the chance to mull over Mina’s words.

“And what does this... ‘couple’s sleepover’ entail exactly?” he interrupted their bickering after a few moments of contemplation and being unable to come up with an answer himself.

Mina absolutely lit up at that and turned to him once again, scuffle with Jirou long forgotten. “I am so glad you asked! Well, first of all-”

“She just means spending the night at each other’s dorms,” Jirou interrupted before Mina could go off on another tangent. Shouto turned to look at Jirou now and found her boredly examining her nails before then switching to nervously clinking the ends of her earphones jacks together when she noticed he was watching her.

“Then why-”

Jirou interrupted him this time. “Why did she call it a ‘couple’s sleepover?’ I don’t know, why don’t you ask Mina herself?”

It only took her a fraction of a second to realize her mistake when Mina opened her mouth to unleash the lengthy explanation she had prepared and Jirou immediately cut her off again before the damage could be done.

“Actually, never mind, don’t ask her. I don’t think I have to explain the sleepover part. Just spend the night doing fun things, like playing games or watching a movie or something, I don’t know. Typical sleepover things. And the couple’s part is because… well, you’re dating aren’t you? Bam, a couple.” She did unenthusiastic jazz hands at that. “Hmm… and I guess that means the sleepover activities will be more romantic than a typical sleepover too.” She scrunched her nose at the idea, not even wanting to imagine what that sort of description would entail.

Mina was getting antsy next to her, desperate to jump into the conversation with her own input and Jirou finally seemed to notice it. “Looks like Mina wants to go-” (“What? No, I don’t-”) “So see you later, Todoroki.” She grabbed Mina’s arm with one hand and gave Shouto a small wave goodbye with her free hand—one that he returned—as she pulled Mina away. “Oh, and don’t worry too much about it,” she said over her shoulder, “It’s literally just spending some time together and you do that already, right? The only difference is that this time it’ll be overnight, so just act natural. It’s not some big fancy event despite what Mina’s name for it might suggest.” And with that the two were gone, disappearing down the hallway in a fit of distant, mumbled bickering about how Mina is no longer allowed to give unsolicited love advice and how Jirou needs to learn the ways of love to truly understand, leaving Shouto all alone with his thoughts, trying to decipher what the fuck just happened.

Truthfully, he was always sad to see you go after a day of hanging out, wishing he could spend more time with you. For some reason he thought that as soon as night came, you deserved to head back to your own dorm for a proper night’s rest. He was just being concerned for your well being, isn’t that what proper boyfriends did? He considered the idea once of what if you spent the night together?, and despite that literally addressing all of his issues from before, he still brushed off the idea because it was preposterous. Shouto, where are your thinking skills???

After a while of back and forth with himself over the wisdom Mina and Jirou had bestowed upon him, he made the decision that next time things would be different.

Another late night study session had you packing up your things once you noticed the blinking alarm clock on Shouto's desk had stuck 11 P.M., the process routine at this point and you no longer waiting for your boyfriend to end the study session himself.

You rose and starting gathering the papers sprawled across his floor into a neat stack in your arms, absentmindedly talking about the things you had to do tomorrow as you went—it was like you were just inputting some closing remarks before calling it a night and Shouto fell easily into the conversation as he slipped stray pens and highlighters back into his pencil case.

You two usually cleaned up amongst the quiet hum of your words—discussing how you felt about the upcoming test, subjects either of you needed more help on next time, and what you were looking forward to eating for breakfast in the morning—but this night had Shouto's eyes straying away from the mess at his feet to you. Your back was to him most of the time, but even when you were facing him as you gathered up your books, your attention was focused on said objects, rather than him.

You guys didn't look at each other much as you cleaned, he realized—it was an obvious observation, but he still had the thought as he watched you, taking note of how this was just the perfect chance to admire you.

When you turned to him at one point though, gaze piercing, he quickly averted his eyes, shifting them to a highlighter that lay in front of him in your general direction, reaching to pick up. He ran his thumb over the smooth, bright yellow cylinder of it as you walked over to him, crouched down, hands planted on his shoulders, and leaned in to brush your lips against his. His eyes fluttered close and he leaned into the kiss, pushing back against you. He moved to deepen it, about to grip onto the fabric of your shirt for leverage, the highlighter rolling out of his grip, but the kiss was over in a matter of seconds and he opened his eyes, finding your smiling face right in front of him. You gave him a brief kiss on his cheek, as though to sign it off, and he had to admit that the heat of your face against his felt nice.

“Night, babe,” you said as you got up and turned to walk over to your bag that lay by the door.

“Night…” Right, that was just one of your normal goodnight kisses. That was also part of the routine but… something about the idea that that was the last kiss of the night didn’t sit right with him.

Shouto studied you once more, tongue in cheek, as he watched you stuff the papers and books you had gathered up back into your bag. The contemplative look never left his eye—it seemed as though you hadn’t noticed his staring from earlier so he was a bit more bold and confident about doing it now—and he almost lost himself to a trance of watching your methodical movements of picking something up from the pile of books you had lain at your feet and slipping them into the bag one by one.

When you slung the bag over your shoulder and moved towards the door, turning back to give him a final wave goodbye, he stiffened, remembering his plan.

“Wait-” He scrambled to his feet as you watched him in confusion, hand already on the doorknob. “Um… do you want to stay the night?” He flinched internally at the unsureness in his voice and straightened up, crossing his arms to create some semblance of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you want to. We don’t have to keep studying. I have a… movie? If you want to watch that together?”

Shouto’s eyes carefully tracked your movements, trying to gauge your reaction.

You tilted your head in bewilderment at the sudden offer, but then you grinned brightly and dropped your bag back at your feet, it landing on the ground with a thud from all of the heavy books inside. “Okay,” you beamed and Shouto was sure he was about to faint.

He followed Jirou’s advice to a T, or at least he tried to. He meant to ask if you wanted to play Monopoly but Kaminari had stolen it from the dorm’s game closet and refused to hand it over because his plans for the night included kicking Sero’s, Kirishima’s, and Bakugou’s asses at the game (Mina was there to be the unbiased banker because the boys were so sure that one of them kept stealing money out of the bank whenever no one was looking and Jirou was just there to bask in the chaos that was sure to ensure—when Mina and Jirou caught sight of Shouto, they both gave him a knowing look).

The loss of the Monopoly board meant you two instead played with the dingy Uno card deck Shouto found buried in his school supply drawer (he was pretty sure it was Midoriya’s and in his mind sent him a silent thank you—as for if he was going to give the desk back or continue “borrowing” it… well, that depended on how much you enjoyed playing with him).

You won three times in a row, but also Shouto seemed to keep getting distracted by something (spoiler alert: it was your smile) and you realized he wasn’t even playing his best cards most of the time so you easily crushed him. You clapped your hands in celebration at every victory and Shouto noticeably increased his speed while shuffling the deck whenever you did that (oh yeah, he was definitely keeping these, sorry, Deku).

You two eventually got around to watching the movie he had brought up before on his laptop, you slotted comfortably under his arm while it hung around your shoulder, and even had a late night snack run per your request (snack run = sneaking into the kitchen and stealing the plate of hot pockets Kaminari was making to supplement his game night—better yet, you made Shouto do the stealing with him timing his crime perfectly and waiting for Kaminari’s back to be turned.)

(You supervised the whole thing by peeking around a hidden corner, barely containing your laughter, and then jumped in to distract Kaminari right when he was about to turn around before quickly taking your leave once Shouto was out of sight. Kaminari’s screams once he realized what had happened could be heard down the hallway as you two rushed back to the elevator, stolen goods secured and you laughing freely.)

(You’re pretty sure you heard Shouto mumble, “How’s that for Monopoly, you electric bitch,” and while you’re honestly not sure what he’s talking about, you support his energy nonetheless.)

Soon it was time to actually sleep and you two were curled up under his blanket, limbs tangled together. You had taken brief naps together before so this wasn’t exactly anything new (even though it was, judging by what a big deal everyone had made of it, including you two), but you found yourself appreciating once again how Shouto was the perfect person to sleep against—he regulated his body temperature exactly how you liked it and you found yourself nodding off to sleep easily in between the quiet whispers about nonsensical late night topics between you two.

The brief concern about your nightmares had completely slipped your mind at this point—you found that short naps meant that they didn’t have much time to strike and since said naps were what you were used to with him, you forgot that this was a full night ordeal. When he had first proposed the idea of a sleepover, you had thought it would be good to have someone else there to comfort you, but then felt guilty about being selfish and wondered if your reaction to the nightmares would scare him off—although you eventually pushed those thoughts to the side because no way would you turn down spending some quality time with your boyfriend, and the night of fun had led to never returning to mull over that internal conflict.

You two fell asleep at some point without even realizing it, peaceful in each other's arms—that is, until a few hours later when disaster struck because of course something just had to ruin your perfect night.

Shouto blearily blinked his eyes open, confused at the sound that reached his ears and brain slow to comprehend what exactly was going on. It took him a moment to suck in a breath to clear his mind and decipher the situation, shifting in place—that is, until his arm brushed against yours and he stilled, mind suddenly clear as it recalled the events of the last hour he had been awake. You were spending the night with him.

Carefully, he sat up, head pounding a little. He brought up a hand to rest on top of his head, fingers curling around his hair and massaging away the beginnings of a headache. And then he heard it again—the sound that had woken him up. A quiet whimper maybe?

He was back to being confused, except now his eyes were darting around the room suspiciously, ready to go on the defensive, especially because you were next to him. U.A. had a proper security system, didn't it? He shouldn't be worried. Although, then again, his mind kept returning to those thoughts of uncertainty and how villains had been able to endanger his classmates time and time again recently.

The shuffling of blankets and a sharp intake of breath had him refocused within a second and he looked down at you. Eyes now adjusted to the darkness, he could make out your face against the backdrop of his pillow, your features twisted into a troubled expression, teeth pulling on your bottom lip. Your hands gripped the blanket in a tight fist, your arms shaking a little.

You continued squirming under the blanket until you eventually kicked most of it off of you, almost as if there was someone there that you meant to hit. Your mouth curled into a silent scream, ragged breaths coming out in huffs as your chest rapidly rose and fell. He could tell you were mumbling now, voice low enough that he couldn't exactly make out what was being said—the syllables coming out in quick bursts and half formed as your focus seemed to jump from topic to topic, each of them bringing you increasing distress.

Shouto had been watching you in horrid fascination, unable to take his eyes off of you as much as his mind screamed at his body to just fucking move, but when a sliver of moonlight coming in from his window—peeking out from behind a gap in the drapes he hadn’t pulled together close enough—caught the glint of tears brimming your eyes, he was quick to react, gripping your upper arm and, as gently as he could while still being firm, shook you. "(Y/N)!" he hissed, not wanting to startle you, "Wake up, please. What's wrong?"

It took a few tries—him wanting to snap you back to consciousness right away, but also afraid of hurting you or making things worse—but before a minute had passed you were coming back to reality, forcing your eyes open as you realized the images plaguing you hadn't been real. You sat up quickly, almost bumping your head against Shouto's (not that you even noticed he was there), your breaths coming hard and fast.

You completely forgot where you were for a moment, just focusing on calming down, and it wasn't until Shouto managed a quiet, "(Y/N)?," concern clearly lacing his voice, that you whipped your head around to face him.

And then your eyes slowly traveled around the rest of the room, recalling where you were. If he hadn't been there, the unfamiliar environment probably would have made you feel alarmed when you came to and make you start wondering if you were stuck in another nightmare again.

You heard Shouto clear his throat as he looked at you curiously, and your eyes snapped back to him. Just the sight of him had your eyes watering and before you knew it, you had flung yourself into his chest, fingers finding purchase in the loose fabric of his shirt.

He easily managed to steady you two from the momentum of you crashing into him and wrapped his strong arms around you, squeezing you to him as you sobbed into his chest.

It would take a little while for him to calm you down and although he was incredibly concerned, he made sure to be the rock you needed and let you take all the time in the world to stabilize yourself.

You would probably be a little embarrassed to tell him about your dream, especially now that you were more lucid, and may even start apologizing for your behavior earlier until he cuts you off because you had every right to react as you did.

After a bit of coaxing, along with you realizing you felt comfortable around him and that you shouldn't worry about him judging you for something as trivial as this, you opened up and told Shouto about your frequent nightmares. He would play with your hands as you talked to let you know it was okay and a silent kiss—soft lips against yours—would confirm that he loved you no matter what.

Shouto wouldn’t mind staying up late into the early hours of the morning with you if you wanted to talk about what you had experienced and may even suggest that you two sneak down to the dorm kitchen and get something to eat and drink (now that was fun—teasing him by pretending to be on a spy mission and forcing him to glance around all of the corners with you, as though you were suspicious about someone catching you? absolutely gold).

Just laying together and talking because you didn’t want to go to sleep would be fine with him, even if you insisted that he should get some rest. He didn’t want you to feel bad about the situation or think that you were a burden, so he did his best to take your mind off of it.

If you wanted to stay up longer, you might watch another movie or even play a few more rounds of Uno (Kaminari, the bastard, still had Monopoly locked in his room for some reason and hadn’t returned it to the game closet—now not to say that Shouto considered leaving an anonymous tip to Iida about the blonde breaking the unwritten rules of the dorm by not returning the game as soon as he was done with it but… yeah, he definitely considered it).

Expect sleepovers to become a lot more common between you two from then on, especially after you admitted that having Shouto there made things a lot more bearable. Whether it be in your dorm or his, both of you were always open to falling asleep in each other's arms whenever the other person asked.

At your next late night hang out session, you two even played Monopoly!

(Shouto had frozen Kaminari’s feet to the ground when he saw him running towards the game closet to snag the game again, and then calmly walked off with his prize after plucking it from the shelf while Kamianri wailed in distress and tried to unstick his feet and pull them free. Shouto couldn’t help but crack a small grin to himself in victory as he walked away.)

Per your request, you two invited some of the other students to play Monopoly because it was always fun with more people (for some reason, Shouto expressly stated that Kaminari was not to be invited and while you were confused, you just shrugged and agreed, even when you heard him say something about forcing the blonde go through “Monopoly withdrawal” as a punishment—you decided not to question him on that point), and a few of those who didn’t want to play just came to watch as well.

(Midoriya was one of those who came to play and while he was glancing around the room, his eyes landed on Shouto’s desk and he squinted in confusion, scrutinizing the little deck he saw tucked in the corner.)

(“Hey, Todoroki, are those my Uno car-”)

(“Nope. Oh look, you just landed on Boardwalk and Uraraka has a hotel there. You only have $200, right?”)

(“Wha- oh, fu-”)

Shouto had to deal with his fair share of nightmares as a child and if you ever want to talk about what the latest disturbing image that had haunted you was, he’ll always be available. In turn, he feels ready to open up about his own fears to you, all while soothing away yours. Talking with him feels natural, just like anything else involving him, and not keeping everything bottled up has definitely helped you more, causing your performance both in class and out in the battlefield to improve.

Your chest definitely feels a lot lighter these days and your dark circles seem to be fading. You probably owe those to your wonderful boyfriend turned portable heater (what? he’s perfect for when you want to take naps and now that he knows about your nightmares during the night, you no longer have to explain to him why you like to sleep so frequently during the day).

Shouto is nothing short of supportive and if there’s anything you ever need to ease the nightmares and lull you off to sleep—whether it be him buying you a diffuser you saw online, getting you a custom sleeping mask, or just you needing him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and pepper kisses along your temple to help you fall back asleep after being jolted awake again—he’s always there to provide it.

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Note

For F: “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.”

thank you V for the prompt!! this definitely got away from me, but I hope it works!

author’s note: thank you for the request, @hunnybadgerv. i hope this does your prompt justice and sorry for the length, all the intimacy feels got away from me (and i have to give a lot of inspiration credit to @gavcowles). this is very soft, the smut really plays a secondary role to the intimacy and respect for the boundaries of an aspec partner. *just fyi: my enby detective harley uses she/they pronouns and is aspec. hope you all enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – felix hauville x nb!detective (harley bishop) rating/warnings: 18+; ns*w smut noted between the 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons (minors dni) based on/prompt: nsfw dialogue prompts // 73. “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.” (in bold) word count: 1.7k summary: felix learns harley’s boundaries and encourages them to be intimate on their terms.

on their terms

felix balances a pile of thick, heavy books on one arm while reaching up toward a shelf above his head. he realizes he underestimated the ladder rung that would get him the closest and it’s too late now to change course, given how he’s already balancing on one leg, the other extended behind him.

he very much looks like a ballerina-in-training.

in his haste, he accidentally grabs a few thin volumes stacked closely next to each other and leaps down to the ground. he glances at the one on top, the smallest of the bunch by far, and his eyebrows rise in surprise and curiosity.

he drops the rest of the books so he can flip through his new discovery, wincing at the sound of heavy texts crashing to the floor in a heap. he knows he’ll get an earful from nat for leaving them there, but he’s too excited and runs off to harley’s room.

they’re reading through some reports when he bursts in and climbs into the bed to sit next to them.

“look what i found in the library! nat’s been holding out on us,” felix grins, showing them the cover. “i am definitely not letting her live this down.”

harley raises an eyebrow in surprise at the title: sex positions through the ages.

“why are you assuming it’s nat’s?” they ask curiously, putting aside the reports and curling into his side as he wraps an arm around them.

this is one of his favorite (although everything about harley is his favorite) things to do with hayley – hold them and be held by them with the feeling of complete and utter belonging blanketing them both.

he flips through the pages quickly, taking in all the various illustrations the book offers. harley hums in agreement every few poses, until felix comes across one that makes him pause.

“that position looks impossible enough, let’s try it,” he suggests, moving the book over so harley can get a better look.

the position in question requires quite a bit of maneuvering, flexibility, and strength – none of which are “impossible” for him per se. but it’s still one that he hasn’t ever tried before, and felix is usually up for trying anything at least once.

he draws circles above harley’s hip, slipping his hand underneath their shirt carefully, watching their reaction out of the corner of his eye. they’ve been together long enough that he’s learned to read the subtle tells of their moods most of the time, but he still tries to encourage them to speak up more often.

harley remains still but he can feel their heartbeat against his ribcage. their hand hasn’t moved from its spot on his chest. he removes his hand from under their shirt and pulls it gently back down to cover their exposed skin.

if anything happens tonight, it has to be on their terms. even if harley hasn’t quite articulated their terms exactly – and he wishes they would soon so he could always know what lines must never be crossed – he’s still getting a feel for their boundaries.

his intuition hasn’t let him down yet.

he closes the book and leans down to kiss their hair softly, gently tucking his arm under their knees to pull them into his lap.

“thank you,” they murmur against his neck.

“of course, babe. i hope you never feel like you have to pretend with me,” felix responds as they pull back to look at him. “whatever we do, i always want it to be on your terms, okay?”

and he’s pretty sure the smile they give him could sustain him for the rest of his life.

“shower with me?” they ask suddenly and before he can respond, they’re pulling him out of bed and toward the bathroom.

their back is to him as they undress and step into the shower, adjusting the settings to the lukewarm temperature they know is at the upper limit of his tolerance and he follows suit, an ear-to-ear grin on his face at the sheer happiness filling his chest at the sight of them – comfortable and allowing him to see them this way.

the water gently flows over their bodies while they reach for the soap and he adjusts the showerhead pressure, grinding his teeth slightly at how extreme the adjustment feels until he gets used to it, standing behind harley with his hand on their hips and space between them as they finish washing their body.

his gaze moves up as they reach for their shampoo and he places his hand on theirs.

“let me,” felix murmurs quietly, grabbing the bottle and squeezing out a palm-sized amount onto his hand.

he knows, through observation but also trial-and-error, how much shampoo and conditioner to use for harley’s long, color-treated hair. and there’s something about how they let him gently massage their scalp (especially after the first few times when he was too eager and rough) and weave the products slowly down the length of their locks that makes his heart soar.

the bright blue color dulls a bit under the weight of the water and conditioner, but that’s how he knows he’s used enough. that, plus the quiet sighs of contentment leaving harley’s mouth sending a warmth blooming across his chest.

he shifts so that the stream of water hits their head directly, continuing his gentle massages as he rinses the products out of their hair. he carefully weaves his fingers through their tresses, untangling any knots that he can find as best he can without pulling at the roots – and he can tell, because their head jerks a centimeter back whenever that happens.

after a few minutes, the water runs clear down their back and he gently wrings their hair out, placing it over their shoulder. he reaches for the loofah before hayley stops him and turns to face him.

🔥⚡ 🔥⚡

they pull him forward a step so the water hits his back before placing their hands on his hips, tiptoeing up to kiss him softly before kissing down his jaw and neck. their hands mirror the movement, inching down his thighs as their lips reach his collarbone. he sucks in a breath at their hands moving to the inside of his thighs, trailing their fingers upward as their lips continue their journey down his chest.

felix shudders, and it’s not from the hammering pain of the water pressure on his sensitive skin.

no, that’s faded to a numb rhythm in the background as harley takes him in hand and begins to stroke him slowly.

his cock stiffens under their touch and he makes an effort to open his eyes and look at them, mouth parted and ready to make sure they know he’s not expecting or needing them to do anything and they—

“i love how responsive you are to me. i love knowing that i do this to you,” they murmur against his stomach, lips fluttering against the hair they find there and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

their eyes are teasing and serious at the same time and he wants to—oh, his brain stops processing for a moment as their strokes quicken, hands alternating and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. they continue kissing down his happy path but he stops them with a gentle stroke of their jaw with his thumb.

they look up at him questioningly and he returns with a suggestive smirk of his own, reaching up to grab the curtain rod and lifting himself up so his hips are at their shoulder-level (he is very thankful that the agency installed reinforced rods directly into the walls as a precaution against the “activities” that some of the team is known for getting into).

the look in their eyes shift from confusion to adoration to gratitude to eagerness and oh, what he wouldn’t do to capture those expressions forever.

“this way, you’re not on your knees,” he says softly, his breath ending in a moan as they move his legs to rest over their shoulders and wrap their lips around his cock.

that feeling alone makes him want to explode right then and there—

but he holds on, because it’s harley and them together.

he vaguely senses that his body is shivering despite the warm steam from the shower but he is too preoccupied with how hayley is moving their head up and down his cock, the position allowing their hands to freely play with his balls. he tightens his grip on the curtain rod, reminding himself the last thing he wants is to fall on top of hayley.

felix glances down and they’re gazing right back at him, as though he’s been spilling all of his inner thoughts out loud, and maybe he is – he’s not sure and can’t be bothered to recall in the moment. not with them hollowing out their cheeks and taking him deeper into the back of their throat, pushing him all the way to the edge until he can’t hold back anymore.

and then he lets go, making an effort to move away but they hold him tightly against their mouth, swallowing eagerly without breaking eye contact. and for him, knowing hayley is giving as much as they are willing to give and on their own terms—

it’s everything.

“geez, harley,” he breathes out their name, a deep, throaty groan that synchronizes with their final swallow as they move off him and gently bring his legs back to the floor. he holds their face in his hands and kisses them deeply, the smile on both their faces making it so their lips don’t quite fit.

❄💧 ❄💧

felix steps out and reaches for a towel, holding it wide open as he turns back to them. they tilt their head at him curiously.

“your turn,” he says warmly, eyes soft and heart full.

harley steps out of the shower and into the towel he wraps carefully around them, their eyes never leaving his face.

“i love you,” they whisper as felix carefully dries every part of their body before handing them the robe hanging on the back of the door.

harley slips the robe on while felix wraps their hair up with a smaller towel.

“i love you more,” he replies, kissing their cheek and leading them back into the bedroom so they can cuddle.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @gloynporslen; @writer-ish; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @ambrosykim; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart;

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream and a Baby (Pregnant!Emily x Reader)

Request: pregnant sonnett and goes into labor prematurely while reader is at camp and reader rushes to be with sonnett

Author’s Note: So I have to thank @literaryhedgehog for helping me out with this one! I hope you enjoy! Hit me up with comments, requests or if you just wanna say HI!

You groaned settling onto the wooden bench. You were freaking exhausted. Between your wife Emily’s 2 am pregnancy cravings and Vlatko’s new workout routine, you were 99% sure that the universe was trying to kill you. You just hoped that in a month when your little tater tot was born, things would settle down a little bit.

Lindsey settled on the bench next to you, giving your shoulder a comforting pat, and trying not to laugh at your obvious exhaustion. While you were usually pretty good at corralling her best friend, the past 8 months of negotiating with Emily’s hormones was wearing down your resolve to say no.

You groaned as your phone began to ring in your bag and you slumped down, digging through the messy duffle in an attempt to find the offending device. If this was another stupid craving call, you didn’t know what you would do.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” You answered the device when you found it, biting your lip.

“It’s an emergency.” Your wife’s voice sounded panicked through the phone, and you kept to your feet despite your legs feeling like Jello.

“What’s happening, are you hurt? Do I need the baby bag?” You asked frantically, searching for your regular shoes in the bag.

“No, it’s worse. We’re out of ice cream but I can’t go to the store. Can you grab some for me?” She asked, her voice muffled slightly by what you assumed was a spoon in her mouth. You froze, your eyebrows furrowing as you settled back into the bench, rubbing your eyes.

“Em, I can’t miss another practice. Mark will kill me.” You tried to reason. Ever since Emily had to stop practicing with the thorns, it seemed that every time you were at practice, she needed something. Mark had even threatened to bench you for your repeated attendance infractions. He understood that your wife needed you, but some of the reasons you left were kind of ridiculous. Emily was pregnant, not helpless.

“Mark will understand that your pregnant wife needs you right now!” She growled through the phone.

“Why can’t you pick it up yourself babe? We live like two blocks from the supermarket that has the Ben and Jerry’s you like,” you sighed, resting your forehead in your hand. Lindsey patted your back sympathetically, smirking at your predicament. You sent her a glare. There was nothing funny about this. It was a lose-lose situation for you. If you left, Mark would be pissed, and if you didn’t then Emily would be pissed. When did your career and the love of your life become mutually exclusive?

“My stomach hurts and I need you to get up off your ass and get me my ice cream,” She growled through the phone, and you could practically see her stomping her foot in your mind's eye.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head slightly. God, you loved this very silly woman. “You know, maybe the three pints of ice cream that were in the fridge yesterday have something do with your stomach pain.” You snarked back.

“That’s just mean and I’m pretty sure that the stomach pain is more to do with the contractions. But I need ice cream now!” She whined and your eyes widened, the phone nearly slipping through your fingers in shock.

“CONTRACTIONS?” You yelled, clutching the phone tighter, as Lindsey straightened beside you, elbowing Tobin. The entire locker room went silent.

“Yes, that’s what I just said. Fuck fuck son of a … alright, it’s gone. Now the ice cream, I don’t want any of that low sugar crap you tried to sneak in last time. Here. I want the-'' She winced over the phone. Lindsey rubbed your back as your face contorted in pain, and you attempted to get your breathing under control. You had to be calm, or else you wouldn’t be able to get any information out of Emily, and then she would freak out and that would be bad.

“Em baby, back up. Did you time the contraction,” you said softly, rubbing your eyes with your hand and resting your forehead in your palm.

“Not actively, but they’re about 7 minutes apart, why?” She mumbled worriedly into the phone. And you took a deep breath. 7 minutes apart wasn’t too bad, it meant you still had time to get to her and then to the hospital. You hurriedly began to put your shoes on, pinning the phone to your ear with your shoulder.

“How many seconds did it last?” You asked quietly into the phone, gesturing for Lindsey to throw your cleats into your bag.

“This isn’t important, what’s important is that you get me the right flavor of my Ben and Jerry’s,” Emily huffed, annoyed that you kept trying to change the subject. It was too early for the baby to come, so what mattered was that you got her the ice cream she wanted. Hadn’t you ever heard the saying happy wife happy life?

“Just… humor me, please?” You pleaded into the phone, pulling on your Thorns Jacket. You needed to know just how many speed laws you had to break to get to your wife in time. You just hoped it was less than 20 seconds.

“You know I love it when you beg,” She moaned into the phone, her voice dropping an octave, and you rolled your eyes. This was not the time for sexy things (Emily had been insatiable for nearly her entire pregnancy).

“Not the time Em,” you grumbled.

She sobered after your serious tone. If this was important to you, then it was important to her. “Do you want me to put you on speaker so you can time the next one?” She asked you softly.

“Yes, is it coming already?” You murmured back, putting your phone on speaker so you could time it.

“Yes,” She said through gritted teeth and you started the time. You encouraged her as much as you could, standing frozen in the middle of the locker room, watching the seconds tick by. You heard her breath a sigh of relief at 40 seconds, and you knew it was over.

Your eyes were wide as you stared at the phone, stuck in a trance.

“Holy shit,” You said breathlessly, you were about to be a mother. Tobin snapped a finger in front of your face, pulling you out of your daze, and handing you your car keys. Now was not the time for an existential crisis.

“When did you notice you were having contractions?” You questioned as you waved at the girls (who gave you various thumbs-ups) as you rushed out of the locker room.

“A couple of hours ago, but I thought it was Braxton Hicks or whatever. The baby’s still not due for another six weeks,” She shrugged, a worried edge taking over her tone. You raced to the car, settling in and thanking god that you had Bluetooth so you didn’t have to hang up.

She heard the door close and the car start in the background, and your heavy breathing.

“Has anything else happened,” You urged, revving the engine.

“Well…” She said hesitantly, and you felt yourself pressing the pedal down harder, to get to her faster.

“Emily,” You scolded sternly, almost like you were talking to a child. You could practically see her biting her lip.

“I’m pretty sure my water just broke,” She hummed guiltily, and had you not been driving, you’re fairly certain that you would have headbutted the steaming wheel.

“Pretty sure?” You quirked your eyebrow up. Who could one not know if their water broke? God, you need to get to her before your little superstar decided she didn’t want to wait anymore.

“You know this kid has been playing soccer on my bladder for the last 3 months,” Emily rolled her eyes at you. You were the panicky one during the pregnancy, which was ridiculous considering she was the one growing the tiny human. The tiny human who couldn’t seem to sit still.

“I know babe, I’m almost there,” Your voice was suddenly calm as you shoved your feelings down -- you needed to be the level headed one, because you were sure that panic would only make the labor go faster, and you didn’t want that.

“Make sure you bring the ice cream,” Emily demanded something that sounded like a spoon clinking in the background.

“Emily Anne Sonnett-y/n, you’re in active labor, I’m not stopping to get you ice cream,” You growled sternly. You were racing to not miss welcoming your daughter into the world, the last thing that the three of you needed was for you to miss her birth because You had to stop for an unnecessary frozen treat.

“Y/n” She hissed sternly and you winced at the tone. But you had to remain firm. You were about to become a mother and there were too many things that could go wrong if you waited to get to her for too long.

“If you have to have a C-section you’re not supposed to eat,” You tried to reason, stepping in the gas and trying to your very crazy wife faster.

“If you want to be alive for the birth of your child, you will show up with 3 pints of the good ice cream,” She retorted, and you sighed as you turned into the store parking lot down the road from your house. This woman was going to be the death of you.

****

You stood in the hospital room with a little pink bundle cuddled up in your arms. A little pink bundle that was only an hour old, and holding onto your finger like her little life depended on it.

Your eyes traced her perfect nose and rosy cheeks that reminded you so much of Emily.

Camren Elizabeth Sonnett-y/n had come into the world screaming merely two hours after Emily had called you with her ice cream emergency. And she had immediately stolen your heart just like her mommy had.

“You’re so beautiful, yes you are. Your Mommy did such a good job,” You whispered, placing a very careful kiss on your daughter's forehead, taking in her baby scent.

“She gets all her good looks from you,” Emily said through a mouthful of Ben and Jerry’s brownie batter core ice cream.

You sent her an indulgent smile, winking at her. “Hmm, that’s debatable,” you mumbled, returning your attention to your daughter who had let out a little squeak when she realized you weren’t paying attention to her. You cooed down at her, your eyes shining with the amount of love you had for this tiny being.

“See this moment would have sucked without ice cream,” Emily laughed and you sent her a withering look. Her stupid ice cream had made you break about a dozen traffic laws and almost made you have to deliver your baby in the back seat of your car.

“Whatever you say, babe,” You rolled your eyes good-naturedly at your wife, brushing your fingers across your daughter’s puffy cheeks.

“Hey ladies, I believe there are some very excited aunts out here,” The doctor interrupted, knocking on the door. You were fairly surprised that the doctors and nursing staff had kept them at bay for as long as they did. You sent a concerned look to your wife. She was the one who had just pushed a tiny human out of her body, so she was the one who got to decide if you were accepting visitors. She nodded in your direction, and you in turn nodded to the doctor.

“Send in the crazies,”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnett imagine #literalhedgehog

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serpentinesarang · 4 years

Text

falling for you

pairing: baekhyun (byun baekhyun) x fem reader | part 2

genre: non-idol!au, angel!baekhyun, fluff, slow burn, split-perspective, first- and second-person writing styles, LOTS of plot buildup and dialogue, mild smut mixed in, part of a series

word count: 3831

content warnings: alcohol, swearing, theme of angels, virgin reader, strong theme of voyeurism, reader has gender-neutral best friend, vibrator masturbation

summary: baekhyun, your guardian angel watching over since the day you were conceived, has fallen in love with you and can’t bear to just watch you anymore. he needs so much more.

a/n: partly inspired by the teen romance-fantasy series hush, hush by becca fitzpatrick. #17 on my prompt list ♡

korean key:

⦿ none this time

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

You

It’s your 21st birthday, and a beautiful, late-spring day awaits you. You turn off your alarm, roll out of bed, and drag yourself to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Once you flick on the vanity lights above the sink, you stop in your tracks. You know what... today’s my big day. I’m gonna do shit MY way today, you think while eyeing yourself in the mirror.

You exit the bathroom for a moment and retrieve the unopened bottle of Fireball [American cinnamon whiskey] atop your dresser. Your dad had sent you the bottle along with your favorite brand of chocolate and a sweet card, and you’d accidentally received the package one day early (oh well!). Unscrewing the cap, you take a hearty gulp and wince at the delicious burning sensation in your chest.

“Fuck yeah,” you grumble aloud as you replace the bottle and amble back to the bathroom.

You turn the knobs of your glass-encased shower and strip off your pajamas while the water heats up.

Baekhyun

Good gracious. I will never tire of her waking up and taking morning showers. She looks the most ethereal after she sleeps and the most serene with water cascading down every bit of her curvaceous body. The way her nipples grow erect from the pressure of the water and the occasional chills when she reaches out to change the background music playing... her hair slicked back, drawing all my attention to her stunning face...

My darling human has at last become what they call an adult. She is now able to legally enjoy spirits and be merry with friends.

I remember the moment she was conceived and I was assigned as her guardian. I made sure her mother was never in harm’s way during her pregnancy with my darling, and ever since then, she has been my reason for existence. No other human soul before her had ever latched itself so deeply into my being, and I can’t stand the distance anymore.

I sit on her long bathroom counter with my wings comforting my back against the wall and my legs hitched upward, just watching her wake up to another day. The glass walls of the shower have fogged up, but I can easily discern her silhouette swaying side-to-side with the music. She seems to be in an unusually happy mood today, and I plan to make her even happier tonight.

You

You step out and dry yourself off, twisting your hair into a towel turban. You tiptoe in front of the mirror and wipe off the condensation with your forearm. Just then, your cell phone on the counter launches into a FaceTime call, the screen showing your best friend’s name.

Accepting the call audio-only, you greet them cheerily, “Good morning, sexy bitch!”

They chuckle. “Show me your face, coward! I wanna see what my 21-year-old best friend looks like on her birthday!”

You dramatically sigh and oblige your friend, keeping your phone facing the ceiling as you tap your camera on. You tower over the screen at a comical angle that only shows your towel-wrapped head and exposed neck. “Here she is!”

“A knockout as always. I hope you know that,” they reply.

Smiling, you ask, “What’s up?”

“We still good to go out to Fire & Ice tonight? I’m not gonna let you leave until you’re so sloshed that I have to carry you out!”

You laugh at your friend’s excitement. “Yes, I took the whole weekend off, so let the debauchery begin, my friend.”

You talk about your club plans a little more before your friend goes on a long diatribe about their evil stepmother—not really fresh territory at this point. So you carry your phone around while you dress in jeans and a college t-shirt, eventually returning to the bathroom for a quick round of makeup.

Your bestie is still regaling you with their convoluted family drama when you feel yourself zoning out into the mirror. It’s as if all other noises around you have slowly faded away, and the only thing you hear is a voice, seemingly right next to you, whispering with a velvety softness, “You’re beautiful as you are.”

Mesmerized by the voice, you unconsciously sigh out of deep contentedness, and your friend asks if you’re still keeping up. You assure them all is well, except for the fact that you’ve been hearing a comforting voice for the past three years now.

A voice you obey by only putting on mascara.

Baekhyun

I’ve been speaking to her since she turned 18. I always wanted her to know she’s never truly alone, but the problem with my method is that she never fully processes me. She’s always so captivated when I speak to her that it never occurs to her something extraordinary—someone extraordinary—is connecting with her, guiding her, encouraging her. And it doesn’t help that I can’t read her thoughts or impede her free will by planting thoughts. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the wide-looked look of bliss that overcomes her every time she hears me.

She goes about her morning as she usually does on the weekends: sitting on her balcony with a plate of toast, a cup of coffee, and whichever book she borrowed from the public library. This time, it’s Dante’s Divine Comedy.

I love the irony.

You

Two hours of reading pass before you grow restless and retreat back to your room. Flopping in bed, you let your mind wander. You’ve been single for as long as you can remember, and you’ve taken a liking to the clearly male voice you hear every once in a while. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re scared deep down of the reality of such a circumstance, but because the voice has always cared about you, what’s the harm in believing in it?

Remember, you tell yourself, it’s all about you today.

Without any more hesitation, you yank open the drawer of your nightstand and pull out a black wand vibrator. You may be a virgin, but you’re not an idiot who doesn’t know what pleasure is.

Wiggling out of your panties and jeans, you throw them to the floor and spread your legs across the mattress as comfortably as possible.

“Come back to me,” you whisper almost inaudibly.

Baekhyun

Absolutely nothing else on this planet makes me happier than watching my darling pleasure herself. She obtained that vibrating device last year as a gift from her friend, and ever since she discovered this realm of physical pleasure, I’ve fallen harder and faster for her. The salacious things I’ve watched her do to herself, the phenomenal sounds she emits, the positions she lazes into, the glistening of that little slice of heaven on her body... It drives me mad that I have no senses of smell, taste, and touch because I want to experience what she does. And with her.

Today is different. She’s never spoken aloud like that, and the yearning in her voice makes me believe it’s for me.

I rest on my stomach with my chin atop my hands, peering at the slit between her supple legs and how it’s slowly begun to flood as she drags the device up and down, stopping to rub slow circles at the very top. I don’t hear the thing humming, so she must be preparing herself.

She has one arm bent behind her head, her neck angled to watch herself move the device. Her mouth is ajar, and the rising of her chest fascinates me because it falls in tune with the device.

Then she pushes a button, and I hear it buzzing lowly. Not a millisecond later does her breath catch as her hips dig downward, and she closes her eyes. She holds the black thing at the top, over the little mountain of bulbous, pink flesh.

You

Whoever he is, you wish he’d speak to you now as you press the wand against your hardened clit. It’s only set to level one, but you feel your orgasm beginning to build up.

So beautiful like this, you imagine him saying. Keep going. I’m right here, and you’re driving me crazy...

You let out a breathy moan as you activate the wand’s level two vibration intensity, and your thighs shake uncontrollably at the heightened pleasure.

Shake for me, beautiful. Take me to your heaven, your imagination continues. It’s right then, though, that his voice sounds beside your ear for real in a soft tone: Yes, darling, you did it.

After hearing this voice long enough to be able to conjure it in your mind with any array of sinful words, today is the first time it brings you to a time-stopping orgasm.

Baekhyun

Out of nowhere, her hips fly off the bed and surge in random, up and down motions, and I watch the small opening of her slit pulsate in time with her hips as it erupts with a lovely, transluscent essence. I wish I could feel her arousal on my fingertips instead of just watching.

Her voice comes out in broken utterances and ragged moans: “UH-uh-huhhh-ugghhhh... ffffff-UH-uh-uuuck.”

The vibration ceases, and she tosses the device beside her with a heavy exhale, evidently spent. Her legs are still spread, and I can’t help but inch myself closer to observe the way her soaked flesh speaks to me in its language of spontaneous throbbing.

You

The rest of the day passes you by. After you came, you made lunch, went to the gym for a workout, went to the DMV to change your driver’s license, came home and read some more, answered a few work emails, perused social media, ate dinner, and even watched a movie. A typical Saturday for you, nothing particularly special by any means. The real fun would be at 9 PM when your bestie promised to pick you up.

...

You glance at the time on your phone: 8:56 PM. Perfect, a few more minutes to double-check everything.

Phone case on a crossbody chain with your new license and credit card stored inside? Check. House key attached to the chain on a carabiner clip? Check. Hair flat-ironed with minimal frizz and ultimate shine? Check. Makeup? Eh, all you did was pat on some cheekbone highlighter. Check. Outfit? Sleeveless, burgundy top with an open, laced up backside, faux leather miniskirt, and basic black Converse for comfort. Check.

You smile at yourself in the full-body mirror in your apartment’s foyer. “Effortless.”

Yes, the voice agrees.

...

It’s just after 9:15 when you arrive at the Fire & Ice club downtown. The bouncers stamp both of your left hands with purple stars for the bartenders to serve you the goods before you’re pushed along with the crowd further into the expansive club.

Lights of every color strobe all over with red-tinged string lights on the perimeter of the whole place, and a massive blue-tinged spotlight on the DJ and his setup. The dancefloor in the middle is decently crowded with people around your age, a few 40-something couples sticking out adorably.

“No chasers for you, missy,” your friend reminds you with glittering eyes and a loving squeeze on your upper arm.

You nod, feeling thrilled to be out on the town for once. You raise your index finger to the ceiling with a victory screech: “To the bar!”

Over an hour later, the overhead lights go out, the DJ’s spotlight turns red, and the entire bar gets lit up from the see-through floor with bright, pale-blue lights. Even though you’re definitely tipsy now, you finally notice the mirrored wall panels surrounding the club, and all the spotlights bouncing off of them combined with the bar’s own futuristic lighting makes you realize how truly fire and ice this place is.

Not surprisingly, your friend had slid into their drunk phase a little faster than you, and they’d disappared somewhere with a girl they’d met at the bar. They’d sent you a text 20 minutes ago reading, “Met a spicy lil thang at the bar. I’ll find u later! Keep ordering!!!”

Were you bothered? Nah, you really weren’t. This has happened a few times before elsewhere, and you were still intent on enjoying this day your way, even if that meant dancing like an idiot by yourself.

Were you wondering where the voice was? Yes. He hadn’t spoken to you since you got picked up.

Gulping down the rest of your Captain and Coke, you return the glass to the bar and catch somebody to order a Vegas Bomb shot. Feeling yourself finally dipping into your drunk mode, you down the shot with ease, not so much as wincing at the burn of the alcohol before heading straight back to the center of the dancefloor where a group of girls had left a pocket for you to slip in.

The DJ blends the ending of the current song with the beginning of a new one, “All That” by Emotional Oranges, and the vibes you get from this one are sensual. You’re in your own world of alcoholic delight, and you’re erotically body-rolling with yourself before you feel a pair of hands gently grasp your waist.

You feel the person press their chest against your shoulders, their breath icy cold beside your ear. “Effortless, my darling.”

Every fiber of your being comes to a screetching halt when you hear it.

It’s him.

You spin around—a little too quickly considering your current state—and brace your hands against his chest. He responds by wrapping his arms around your back.

Looking back at you with big, almost black-colored eyes is a man with platinum blonde hair and ridiculously full lips. He’s wearing a white button-up shirt tucked into black pants, a look more fitting for a business-casual luncheon or something.

But who cares about the clothes when he has a face like that? With the most flawlessly radiant, olive skin and hands so warm on your exposed back that he feels like a personal heater?

You could feel the surrounding people’s presence melting away the longer you gazed at him, the more it dawned on you with a certainty you didn’t dare doubt that this was truly the voice you’d been hearing.

You blurt the words without any more hesitation: “Say ‘beautiful.’”

Unphased, he fulfills your request with a melodic purposefulness in his voice, keeping his eyes trained on yours.

With relief washing over you, you drop your jaw in a loud exhale. “It’s you!” You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, desperate to etch his breathtaking face onto your brain.

“It’s me,” he answers with a sheepish smile, hugging your body tighter against his. He feels as firm as Michelangelo’s David sculpture.

Then you faint in his arms.

Baekhyun

I can’t tell if she fainted from the shock of finally meeting me or from her obvious imbibement. I was actually able to smell it on her warm breath, and if I knew what literally anything on Earth smelled like, I’d be able to describe it.

I was more beside myself being able to finally touch her, though, to finally exist with her in the same dimension of reality. Her skin felt supremely smooth, and I could practically feel the love beaming from her face.

She knew it was me because she asked me to say beautiful, something I’d spoken to her earlier in the morning. She didn’t want to test me, but she also didn’t want to test her sanity or sobriety.

I carried her home, glancing down at her with a kind of all-encompassing happiness I’d never felt before as an angel.

You

At last, you rouse from your fainting spell, and the first thing you see is your apartment ceiling. A dull headache is knocking at the back of your head, and thankfully the only light source is the lamp on your nightstand.

You look to your side and are reminded of the night’s events.

“I’m sorryyy,” you murmur, frowning cutely at the platinum-haired man lying beside you with his head propped up in his hand. He moves his free hand from your hip to your jaw, tenderly grasping it and swiping his thumb side to side.

“Please don’t be,” he replies softly. “I’d do anything for you.”

You look at him for a moment, examining his features. “Do you know my name?”

He grins ear to ear, as if enjoying a private joke. “I think you know I do.”

Although you’d slept off the alcohol, you’re still a little lost. How do you explain meeting the man whose voice you’d heard in your head for three years?

You turn to face him, entwining your lower legs with his under the sheets. He seems almost caught off guard by the touch, but he quickly calms himself.

“I don’t know yours, though. Please help me,” you plead, and he picks up on your subtle allusion to the bigger picture, not just his name.

He sighs quietly, ceasing his thumb strokes and taking your hand in his. “I am—was the angel Baekhyun.” He pauses, gently squeezing your hand as he brings it to his white shirt. “I’ve watched over you for the past 21 years and nine months.”

He pauses again, letting this sit with you. You take a moment to process before speaking. “Why hadn’t I heard your voice earlier?”

He nods once, taking in a breath. “I didn’t want to scare you in your younger years, nor did I want others to think you’d developed an imaginary friend. And for obvious reasons, you couldn’t see me before I fell.”

Before I fell.

The words run you over like a semi-truck, and Baekhyun sees it on your face. “Yes, darling, I fell to Earth.”

You furrow your brow, caught between confusion and wanting to cry. “Why?” you whisper.

“I broke the law,” he says before kissing your knuckles. “I fell in love with a human.”

You can’t help but stare at him, speechless.

“And I want you to know that every time you ever heard my voice,” he continues, “I was speaking to you and only you when I felt you needed me. Most angels deliberately avoid speaking to their humans and instead conjure some sort of earthly sign for them to stumble across. But I couldn’t do that with you. I watched you become such an incredibly strong, self-sufficient woman that I worried you’d never get anything in return from anyone. I wanted you to know you have never been alone.”

Tears well in your eyes at Baekhyun’s sincerity, and you struggle to find any words to string together.

He kisses your hand again. “Before this, my only senses were hearing and seeing. I don’t think I can take my hands off you now.”

You burst into a toothy smile. “So that means you’ve watched me do literally everything...”

Baekhyun notices the streak of seduction coloring your eyes. Glancing toward your nightstand quickly, he says under his breath, “That thing drives you wild.”

You smirk, pulling your intertwined hands forward so you can kiss his knuckles this time. “Do you know how wild your voice has driven me? Still?”

“I kind of always suspected it,” he admits with a smirk. “Nevertheless, we are together, and I don’t know how to adequately express how deeply happy I am, much less how happy I want to make you.”

Moving your legs from his, you kick back the sheets. He’d left you both fully clothed, that gentleman.

“What time is it?” you say as you twist around to check your phone. Your home screen reads just past 3 AM, and there’s even a new text from your bestie: “Glad u found someone!! Text me tomorrow and happy bday again <3″

You turn back to Baekhyun, propping yourself up on your elbow like him. “You texted my friend?”

He nods earnestly. “I’ve seen you do that enough times to understand the courtesy of letting them know.”

You smile in response, deciding to push his shoulder until he’s lying on his back and you’re straddling him. He responds by placing his warm hands on your hips.

You throw your hair to one side before leaning over him with an outstretched arm. “Baekhyun,” you whisper.

“Yes, my darling?” he hums, his eyes eagerly drinking you in.

“I want you.”

His eyes widen enough for you to notice, and he unknowingly digs his fingers into your sides.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says above a whisper.

You lean back and unzip your miniskirt, then you tug at your top’s ribboning to undo it enough for you to pull it off. You take in a deep breath as Baekhyun feverishly assesses you, and your nipples grow hard at his unfettered attention.

“Haven’t you seen this enough?” you ask him softly.

He shakes his head. “Never enough. And now I can feel you, smell you, and taste you.”

You carefully stand above him and brace a hand against the wall as you yank the skirt off, one of his hands tenderly holding your ankle. You straddle him again and sit a little bit lower so you can unbutton his shirt, open his pants and pull out the ends of his shirt.

Spreading the shirt fully open, his chiseled torso knocks the breath out of you. You bring your hands to his abs but hesitate for a second.

“Please keep going,” he begs quietly.

With his approval, you bring your hands down and gingerly run them over the indentations of his abs and the plains of his defined pecs. You trace your index finger from his chin over his Adam’s apple all the way down to his navel.

“Darling?”

“Yes, Baekhyun?”

“What am I feeling in my pelvis? Is something wrong with me?”

You look down and find his very human, very pink, very swollen erection poking out of his underwear. Taking his questions seriously, you answer him: “You have an erection, a boner. That means you’re turned on.”

“’Turned on?’”

“Aroused, excited, in the mood. This is how human men show it,” you reply, keeping your voice sincere. He deserves the truth as it is, not through jokes and teasing. “You’ll have to learn how to control it in public.”

He quickly infers your hidden meaning, nodding. “I trust you.”

Chuckling at his random admission, you say, “I trust you too. I’d like to help you with being a human as you have helped me.”

He beams at you. “I welcome your guidance wholeheartedly.”

You smile and spend the next minute removing your panties and the rest of his clothing.

Baekhyun, in your eyes, is literally the definition of perfection. Covered in bulging muscles and gleaming skin with an unusual heat that almost radiates off his body, you fell speechless again.

You’re on all fours above him now, hovering your face above his. “You make a fine human, Baekhyun.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, his hands back on your hips.

“Stop me whenever,” you say firmly. He nods softly, patiently waiting for your move.

169 notes · View notes

dboliklover · 4 years

Note

Can you do the Sakamaki boys reacting to their tiny s/o who sees something she doesn’t like or completely agree with and goes ‘not my kink’ before shutting her book or turning off the tv etc...... YOUR BLOG IS GREAT I READ THE PIZZA IMAGINE AND LAUGHED!!!

I hope you don’t mind, I did alter the requests slightly! <3 <3 <3 Thank you so much, dearest. This took me way longer than I had planned, but I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: NSFW mentions/themes, but not actual smut.

Shu:

You were sitting in the music room as Shu played the violin for you, book in your hands. He rarely played for you, but this was one of those rare, domestic moments that made you feel so-very-content.

The book you had chosen, however - was something you’d foolishly grabbed in a hurry, and the more you tried to read the more...disturbing it got.

Not in a ‘real’ disturbing manner, mind you; the disturbing part was how god-awful this book was. The writing. The characteristics. The hypersexualisation that made you want to cringe.

Not to even mention how unrealistic this book was! You would know how the ‘risque’ sex that’s written in this novel actually works and this ain’t it, chief.

Instead of arousal, you felt disgust; why was the protagonist so...bland and horny??

Eventually one of the sexual descriptions broke your resolve and you slammed the book closed, the sound causing Shu to stop playing, turning to you with a raised eyebrow - a look that said ‘What the fuck?’

You took a deep breath, your cheeks tinted vermilion with embarrassment - definitely not arousal - as you placed the book down on the window sill beside you. “Nothing, I just don’t find this book appealing,” You swallowed thickly, “Keep playing, please. You know I love your music-”

Shu let out a breathy chuckle and placed his violin down, coming closer to you with his hands in his pockets and his signature jacket over him.

You attempted to grab the book back before he could pick it up and see what it was, but he grabbed the book from your hands as you squealed and tried to grab it back - too bad you were so small

An unusually loud laugh fell from his godlike lips, “50 shades of Grey?” He snickered, shaking his head, “If you want bondage, you lewd woman, you can get the real thing from me.” He shamelessly stated as if it was the most casual thing. “I’ll even be kind enough to take you right here and now.”

You blinked, red-faced. “....Not my kink!” you cried out without even realising what you said - and then blushed harder in humiliation when you acknowledged the words that had slipped out of your panic. Unfortunate too because this was your kink; and Shu knew it, too.

Reiji:

Reiji and you were in bed, he was reading a classical novel as you watched TV

How you even convinced him to allow you to have TV in your room, even you did not know; but you do remember him being strictly against it. He really did detest that TV.

Your small form bundled up in the covers as you watched the screen, Reiji was frustrated because he REALLY hated this stupid TV and didn’t know why he agreed to let you have it in the first place and was very close to just getting rid of it. Why couldn’t you just read a book like a sophisticated, proper person (like himself)?

Reiji sat up off the bed with his book and went to the library instead - it was at least quiet there, as opposed to the ridiculous movie you were watching.

As for you, the movie was...interesting, to say the least - it had looked appealing to you when you first turned it on but soon found that it was getting a little too...intense. You hadn’t initially realised it would be a slasher film, and as luck would have it the moment the nasty things started occurring was when Reiji was already out of the room.

You tried - you truly did - to keep going and just watch it but you couldn’t.

Not because you were scared or afraid but because it was so horrifically gorey in the worst of ways that it was impossible to enjoy - how did anyone possibly like this genre?

Reiji had just managed to close the bedroom door behind him when he heard you screech, “NOT MY KINK!” from inside, and a soft thud as though you’d thrown the remote.

He blinked, mentally arguing with himself on whether or not he should even try to go inside and see what happened; he was curious, yes, but curiosity killed the cat and to be frank...well, he didn’t exactly want to know.

Like that one time he’d walked in on Laito and his lover in the kitchen and quite literally entered and left as soon as he saw what was going on. He shuddered at the memory.

Taking a deep breath he turned back around and went inside, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement as he saw you huddled in bed, TV turned off and the remote sitting in the corner against the wall.

Hm, maybe this was fortunate; he’d finally be able to convince you to get rid of that TV.

Not to mention you looked adorable like that; your petite form clenching onto the covers and pillows in a panicked state.

Reiji loved seeing you so vulnerable and adorable, like a small little panicked rabbit.

Ayato:

You were sitting by the swimming pool, your small legs dipping in and out of the water as you read your novel, humming softly to yourself as you were fully focused on the story.

Ayato was splashing around in the pool, and though he wouldn’t admit it he was upset you refused to swim with him

What was the point of coming to a pool with him if you weren’t going to swim?

Pouting, he swam around a few laps, admittedly growing bored and glancing over at your tiny physique holding a book by the pool’s edge. It would be so easy just to...pull you in…

A smirk befell his lips and he chuckled to himself darkly, his emerald eyes narrowing as he sunk his larger body under the surface, slowly making his way over to you, sneaking up on you so he could pull you into the pool by the foot.

He couldn’t wait to see our expression - this was going to be SO amusing.

Teasing you must’ve been Ayato’s favourite activity above anything else; your huffy reactions were always just too cute for your own good.

Carefully he got closer and closer as you were perfectly unaware that he was beginning to reach you, the book in her hands having completely stolen your attention (from Ayato; hence why he was so determined to tease you and regain your attention - but he would rather die than admit that aloud)

Your scream spread through the outdoors, loud enough to scare the birds off their trees as you felt a hand grasp your leg and drag you under the depths of the swimming pool, your book flying up into the water, ruined.

Eyes wide and shocked your tiny body sunk beneath the water’s surface as you frantically attempted to calm yourself down, swimming up to take a deep breath as you moved your hands shakily to keep afloat.

“Ayato!” You cried out as frustration flooded your veins, “What the hell did you do?”

His laugh was obnoxious to you in that moment; you had half-a-mind to push him away from you with your legs under the water, but instead you made your way back to the pool’s edge, sighing. “Don’t do that again,” You huffed, “It’s not my kink,”

Ayato blinked, confused but very much entertained - hey, his plan had worked; he managed to regain your attention and that’s a win for him.

“Maybe that isn’t,” He countered, swimming closer to you as you climbed back onto the ground, his eyes melting into yours, “But I know for a fact this is,” Suddenly his arms were on your thighs, spreading them apart as you gasped, “A-Ayato! Not here, I...I…” A heavy blush covered your cheeks as you bit down on your lip to stop the soft moans, “Any one could come out here right now and see us-”

“Let them.” He winked.

Laito:

Playing pool was never ‘your’ thing; you were terrible at it, really.

Still, Latio demanded he play with you and you just couldn’t refuse him; not when his way of “convincing” you was to mercilessly attack your neck with love bites until you were a gasping, moaning mess.

So here you were, holding a pool stick as you leaned against the pool table, watching Laito lean down to take a hit off the ball.

Both of you knew that he was going to win; you would lose every time much to your dismay, though in your defense he had absolute decades or even centuries of experience so of course he’d be your superior in this game.

As you two played and you were getting your ass served to you, you turned on the small television in the game room just so you two would have some background noise to make the experience more pleasant. (And, admittedly, you were hoping the noise would distract Laito and make him falter)

Unfortunately for you, however, the channel the TV was on was the news channel, and specifically regarding some politics that never failed to get you riled up and angry.

You were trying to focus on the game; you really were, but you kept hearing the news reporter making ridiculous declarations which curdled your very blood.

How could people be so stupid? And spread such obvious misconduct and propaganda?

Laito noticed your agitation increase as you tried to project those frustrations on the poor pool balls that you kept hitting with no strategy apart from “angrily hitting this and making the balls fly everywhere”

You were tense, and he wasn’t sure why that was - his first instinct was that he was just that great at pool that you were becoming horribly frustrated due to your inferior skill; but he soon found his answer when you grabbed the remote and turned the small TV off, filling the room with silence as you sighed and declared, “Not my kink.”

After he processed what had just happened, he laughed in the sultry manner which only he could pull off; that signature thigh-clenching laugh that instantly activated the burning desire within you. Still, you glared at him, crossing your arms because your anger, though aimed at the stupid news, had not yet dissipated.

“What are you laughing about?”

Laito tsked and shook his head, that charming smile sending you back on your heels; fuck, why did he have to be so damn seductive that you forgot whatever it was you were upset about with just one look?

Before you knew it, Laito pushed your body against the table, trapping you in a compromising position as the pool stick fell from your hand and clacked on the ground, “L-Laito…” You whispered in slight protest, trying to resist your lover’s advances.

Unfortunately for you the moment he picked you up and placed your ass on the table, caging your body with his arms as he held onto your thighs you knew that your resolve was fading fast.

“That’s not your kink, huh?” He chuckled into your ear so you could feel his breath on your ear, sending wild sparks down your spine, “Maybe I can help with that.”

Kanato:

Kanato demanded you have a tea party with him and Teddy, and who were you to refuse? Especially since you knew damn well he’d throw a tantrum if you tried to say no.

So here you were, sitting at the tea table elegantly with Teddy and Kanato, who was forcing you to eat more cake than you would like to eat, but you also knew he was relentless when it came to sweets.

It was quite enjoyable for the most part - by now you were used to having such tea parties with Kanato, since he had a bias towards more...childish aspects of life. But given his difficult childhood, you understood why that was and if having Teddy by his side and having tea parties made Kanato feel safe, secure and stable, then you would partake in such things for his sake.

What you perhaps weren’t so much a fan of was the dresses. He insisted on dressing you up constantly in the most frivolous gowns he could get his hands on; at times you felt more like his personal dress-up doll than his lover.

Frills, satins, ribbons and lace, though pretty when used to enhance clothing, were atrocious when used in such frivolity.

But, just as with everything else, you put up with it for Kanato’s sake. Even the tight, excessively hot-to-wear dresses, you put up with it all because you knew that Kanato felt better when he could have control over such things.

Biting into a piece of terribly sweet cake, you raised it to your lips when Kanato suddenly stood up, telling you to stay still, and so you did and waited for him to return.

When he came back, you had to stop yourself from nervously laughing because he was holding up the most frilly, puffy, most horrific dress you’ve ever seen. It was too much, even out of all the kinds of insufferable dresses he forced you to wear, this one was something else, another level completely.

Not even the world’s brattiest princess would be caught dead in it!

He...he really expected you to wear this?

You did a lot to make Kanato happy, and made many sacrifices for him. But this...this was too much; it was impossible for you to ever even try to get into that death trap of a dress.

This was one thing you were not going to be doing no matter how big a tantrum saying ‘no’ would result in.

“Not my kink.” You softly stated, swallowing the piece of cake and placing your fork down slowly, as if trying to make no sudden movements in front of a predator.

Your statement clearly confused him, and that gave you enough time to raise from your seat, and you could tell that for a second Kanato thought you were standing to come and take the dress to change into it, but the moment you were standing you legged it out of the room, hearing Kanato yelling at you to come back and wear it,

“NOT MY KINK!” You exclaimed again, running as far away as possible from the most hellish dress you’ve ever seen. It was such an awful dress that you were certain if Karlheinz was a dress, he’d be that monstrosity.

Subaru:

You were taking a walk with Subaru in the garden, enjoying your time together amongst the roses. Moments such as these were your absolute favourites; how could you not adore them? How could you not adore him?

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walked together without saying a thing, simply...enjoying one another’s sweet company, the mutual feeling of trust and love surrounding you both.

Subaru was not the easiest man to get along with, but you had taken your time to get him to warm up to you and now there was a comfort between you that you didn’t feel with anyone else.

Subaru...he’d truly become your lifeline, your love and everything good in your life. He was so much more wonderful than he gave himself merit for, but you were here to remind him every time he self-deprecated that you adored him just the way he was.

His hand let go of your hand only to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. It was physically and emotionally intimate; a sensation of true, undying love and passion and before you knew it your lips were on his in a frenzy.

Subaru was a rough man; this was nothing new to you, but you admittedly loved it. His strong touch, his violent kisses all over you, it was to die for.

He sank his fangs into your neck, drinking your blood as you held tightly onto him, feebly moaning with breathy sighs as you ascended into seventh heaven because Subaru drinking from you always felt so perfectly painful that it resulted in the truest of pleasure.

The beautiful moment of the pure intimacy of lovers was ruined when a certain ginger vampire interrupted, chuckling lustfully to himself with his hand on his hip, “My my~ What do we have here?” Laito taunted.

You felt Subaru tense and pull away - you knew he was moments away from snapping at his older brother so you quickly kissed your snow-haired lover to distract him from his rage and then pulled away when he was in a daze, grabbing his hand and pulling him up from your position on a bench, glaring darkly at Laito, “Not. My. Kink.” You hissed, which no doubt must’ve been absolutely adorable to the perverted vampire because you looked like a tiny little angry kitten!

He laughed and shrugged as you dragged Subaru away back inside, frustrated that Laito had ruined the romantic moment.

Mod Rozalia

As always I appreciate and love it when you reblog and comment <3 Tell me your favourite moments, who your favourite boy is, what emotions you felt reading it, etc! Hell, comment about how shitty my writing is, if you want! I just like having that communication with followers <3

789 notes · View notes

chubbybuckydumpling · 4 years

Text

A Doctor’s Tale

words: 6.9k

relationship: Bruce Banner x desi!daughter!Reader

warnings: character death, slight spoilers for Marvel Studio’s The Avengers, fluff, angst

A/n: thank you so much @gotnofucks for helping me with this idea! You’re so kind and I hope I didn’t make this offensive in any way. I’m happy for any corrections. Please be kind, this was very difficult for me to write and I committed a few writing sins. I hope you’ll enjoy this any way :) (gif by @steves-on-a-plane)

My Masterlist | Part 2

The air was heavy with moisture, yet the heat of the day has not passed. Bruce heaved with exhaustion, the new climate put a noticeable strain on his body. The temperatures made him sweat vigorously and gave him a headache, especially on his way up these damned stairs. He would need to get adjusted to his new surroundings before he could work efficiently.

Another thing he would need to tolerate were the bustling streets. Everywhere Bruce looked, there were crowds of people, so close together it made his hands shake with anxiety. He preferred taking longer routes that were less public and less triggering.

After he had become afflicted with the other guy, Bruce couldn't stay. He was hunted down by the United States Armed Forces, so he had to flee. He knew he could hide in India without much trouble. He read about the country and their societal norms, so he felt somewhat calm, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of Kolkata.

The city was beautiful, of course. He admired the architecture and the many different buildings. He loved the parks, the bridges and the temples. The different kinds of food made him especially happy, yet he hated how talkative and social everyone is. No matter where he went, someone would try to bond with him, which triggered his anxiety.

Generally speaking, he enjoyed life in India, if it weren't for that unbearable weather. As he arrived at the top of the stairs, his shirt was wet from his sweat and the overly high humidity. With a sigh he pulled out a bottle of water to rehydrate – the amount of water he must have lost is remarkable. The water was warm and not as relieving as he had hoped, but it would have to suffice.

With one arm, Bruce wiped away the sweat that formed on his forehead, before he entered the house he was looking for. He heard about this shelter where some women took in ill women and children who could not afford to go to the hospital. Bruce had admired their dedication and hoped they would accept him as a volunteer.

With cautious eyes he looked around the room. He could see that the owners try their best to keep it clean and welcoming, but the smell of illness is prominent in the air. This chamber is obviously designed to be a reception area to check in their patients, but the cheap chairs and chipped wooden table were a sign of a lack of money. They were probably spending it on medical supplies and food.

Bruce stepped further into the room, the floorboards creaking, “Hello? May I speak to anyone?” Shyly, he began to play with his fingers, feet shuffling nervously.

A beautiful woman entered the room from one of the four doors and Bruce sucked in a breath when her sparkling eyes met his. She looked exhausted, but nothing could ever dim her beauty. The floor creaked slightly as she made her way to stand in front of him. She was small, yet her confidence was unmissable.

The woman raised an eyebrow, “What can I do for you, sir?” Bruce swallowed and let out the breath he had been holding, “I'm Bruce Banner. I heard about your work here. Uhm, are you the head doctor?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head, looking at him sceptically, but nodded nevertheless. “I would like to offer my help. I think this non-profit is incredible and I would love to assist?”

Finally, he broke eye contact and stared at the floor, terrified of the woman's reaction. Now, he could not see the amused smile playing on the smaller woman's lips, “Well, Bruce, how could I ever deny any help. However, I would quite like to learn something about your background, you know. Any qualifications?” Quickly, Bruce looked up a panicked look in his eyes, “Of course, I'm sorry, I should have mentioned that beforehand. I'll answer any questions, I'm sorry!”

She smiled a big toothy smile and jerked her head towards the sink, “Let me just...”. Bruce nodded quickly. It seemed that his usual knowledge of words had disappeared. All he could think about was how soft her brown skin looked and the gentle curves of her face.

“It's Aarohi, by the way”, she spoke as she washed her small hands, “Well, actually Dr. Verma, but we're friends now, right Bruce?” He smiled, completely smitten, “Right”

It was at this point that Bruce knew he would fall in love with her. And he was right. She brought out the best of him, her outgoing and confidant ways helped him to learn about himself and he rekindled with his body and soul. The three and a half years he had been in Kolkata taught him to love himself, admittedly that was still hard for him, but being able to help women and children in need made him feel good. And Aarohi had been by his side the entire time.

She opened her arms and heart for him and lead him through his issues. When he'd wake up screaming from his nightmares she was there to calm him down. His head between her hands as she pressed small kisses all over his face.

When he was too shy to talk to anyone but her, she would do her best to try and include him. By now he was way more comfortable talking to others. It was still scary, but not as panic inducing as it used to be. Bruce became a better man, all because of Aarohi, which is why after only a year and a half, he got down on one knee, hand shaking.

“You are the light in my life. When I arrived in India, everything was dark, but you showed me how to live again. I am a better man, because you bring out the best in me. I love you, with all of my heart. And I know that getting married is not possible for us, at least at the moment, but will you take this promise ring, for I promise I will forever love and cherish you, support you through thick and thin, in times of hardship and in times of ease. You are my world d without you I'd be lost. Aarohi, please accept this ring as a sign of my devotion” - and she did.

It wasn't really a surprise when she became pregnant shortly afterwards. Bruce had never been so happy before. Sometimes he feared about the other guy. What would happen if he came out or even worse, if their child would have his monster DNA, but his spouse reassured him and kept him calm as best as she could, “He hasn't come out for your whole stay in Kolkata and even if he would, I love every part of you, Bruce”

And once their baby girl was born, he was head over heels for you. From the moment he layed eyes on you he knew that he would do anything for you. “Bruce, do you want to hold her? Do you want to meet your daddy, shona?” It felt like time was frozen when he held you in his arms, your tiny fingers mindlessly holding onto him, a tiny yawn falling from your mouth.

And at times it was really hard. Bruce nor Aarohi wanted to stop working, their little clinic meant to much for them. So they switched between watching you and working. Bruce would have loved to bring you with him, but the chances of you catching a disease were too high to risk it. And therefore, your parents spent most of their time apart, yet their relationship kept growing stronger. Bruce's love for your mother increased every day and even now that you're eight months old his heart still swelled when he looked at her.

It's another hot day, the heat and humidity weighing heavily over Kolkata. Bruce is sitting at the kitchen table shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat. The smell of tea fills the air as his thick and delicate fingers fumble with the warm cup, his eyes trained on your sleeping body. He smiles and walks over to your crib, a smile on his face, “I love you, shona”, he whispers before he gently takes you out of your little bed and cradles you in his arms.

Bonding with you means everything to Bruce. He adores you with every fibre of his being, which is why skin on skin is one of his favourite activities. To feel you and to know you're alive coats him in a sense of calmness. He sits back down at the table and rubs soothing circles onto your back, “Daddy's got you, shona don't you ever worry your pretty little head. I promise I'll protect you” Soft lips press onto your forehead, your father's scent surrounding you, “Always and forever”

Bruce gently rocks you while humming a soft melody and simply enjoying the moment. Peace and quiet are a rare occurrence in his days which is why he cherished them so deeply. Bruce loved to trace your features, to see how you look so similar to him.

He could hear Aarohi return before he spotted her through the window which allowed him to quickly dash to the door with you, still safely pressed to his chest. The door creaks as he opens it, a smile immediately covering his face as he spreads his arms for a hug, “ Welcome home Momma, we missed you so much” She laughs at his adorable greeting and steps into his embrace. Both of them are sweaty, but the feeling of their loved one is overpowering, dulling the stickiness of their bodies. Bruce gazes into her eyes as if she had hung the stars and he feels his heart flutter. It only takes a moment before their lips meet in a gentle kiss, emotions and love poured into it, “I love you, Bruce” - “I love you too. So much”

Suddenly, a small cry disturbs their moment, “Oh Y/n, shona, what's wrong? Did you miss Momma?”, she coos and takes you out of Bruce's embrace, “Don't cry, Momma's got you. Are you hungry? That's fine, I'm here” She smiles and gently strokes your hair. “She's had some fruit and veggies and a bottle that you've prepared”, he mentions as he walks into the bedroom to fetch a shirt. Aarohi smiled down at you, her beautiful daughter, “Have you been such a good girl eating all your veggies?” She takes off her bloodied and stained shirt from work and lets down her bra to feed you.

Exhaustion is clear on her face, but even when she sighs, she's the most beautiful woman Bruce has ever seen. Especially while she nourishes you, his own flesh and blood, he can feel his heart swell. She keeps you alive and healthy, the biggest gift he could have ever received. He makes his way over to the two of you and brushes some strands of hair out of her face that must have come loose from her tight bun, “How is everything at the clinic?”

“It's really stressful. I think something is going around. We'll see more of this virus for sure.”, she sighs looking down at you, “We need to be especially careful. I don't want Y/n to fall ill. Not with this” Their gazes meet “I'll make sure to be extra sterile then”, he whispers before pressing his lips to her temple.

She leans into him with a smile, eyes closed, “Thank you” His hand gently rubs over her arm, his thumb drawing circles. After a while you let out a whine, fed and sated. “Oh, shona, are you done? Does Momma need to burp you?” She wrestles you up on her shoulder to pat her soft hand against your back.

“It's very busy back there, you should hurry. Our doctors can't keep up with them alone.”, she whispers, turning her head to look at Bruce. He nods and leans down to capture her lips into a kiss. It's gentle and sweet, just like her, “I love you”, he mumbles against her lips. Then, he leans down to press a kiss onto your head, “I love you too, shona” Aarohi grins and turns you around to face him, “We love you too, Daddy”, she says and waves with your hands in her hands.

Bruce had absolutely no idea why he let himself get dragged into this mess. Actually he did, how could he ever say no to the pleading eyes of that little girl. She looked so tiny and scared and he could see you in that girl. Hopeless and scared. So he followed her, clueless about the events that were to follow soon.

Regret fills Bruce the moment he enters the house and helplessly watches as the girl leaves through a window – no ill father in sight. He huffs, a self-deprecating smile on his lips, “Should have gotten paid up front, Banner”

“You know”, a voice calls out to him suddenly, “For a man ho's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle” A woman appears out of the shadows, short, curly, red hair frames her face. She looks absolutely stunning. Carefully, Bruce puts down his medical bag and turns towards the female, “Avoiding stress isn't the secret”

She raises her eyebrow, “Then what is it? Yoga?”, she jokes, no humour in her voice. Nerves arising, he rubs his hands together to calm himself, “You brought me to the edge of the city”, he remarks, looking out of a window, “Smart”. With his hands clutched, Bruce walks towards it in an attempt to scan the area “ I uh,”, he mumbles, “I assume the whole place is surrounded?”

The woman takes off her red cardigan and moves towards him, “Just you and me”. “And your actress buddy?”, he questions, “She was a spy too? They start that young?” He walks back towards the middle of the room. “I did”, she answers. “Who are you?”. He is nervous and he feels his anxiety crawling up his back. “Natasha Romanoff”

Silence. Bruce still fiddles with his fingers, but after a moment he looks directly into her eyes, “Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff? Because that's not gonna work out... for everyone”. Natasha slowly moves closer to him, “No, no of course not”, she shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed, “I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D”.

He looks down and rubs his hands, “S.H.I.E.L.D”, he states monotonously, “How did they find me?” Looking up, Bruce sees her looking at him, “We never lost you, doctor. We've kept our distance. Even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent”, her voice is low like she's trying to speak extra calm. “Why?”, Bruce asks.

“Nick Fury seems to trust you”, she answers seriously, “But now we need you to come in”. He can't help but smile, “What if I say no?” Natasha smirks, her eyes twinkling dangerously, “I'll persuade you” He looks down, his pink tongue licking over his lips in thought, “What if”, he pauses to look up, “the other guy says no?” There it was, the elephant in the room.

Bruce is very proud that ever since he fled to India, the Hulk has not made an appearance. He did not receive any unwanted attention and lived life normally. He was able to be a good partner and father, never giving in to his anger. But now, things might change and that scares him. He does not want to let the monster out. It seems like Natasha knows that as well.

“You've been more than three years without an incident, I don't think you want to break that streak”, she says and turns away from him. The echo of her steps fills the room. “Well I don't every time get what I want” When he looks at the woman, she is walking towards him, a phone in her hands, “Doctor, we're facing a global catastrophe”

A self-deprecating chuckle escapes his lips, “Well, those I actively try to avoid” Without giving any thought to his statement, Natasha sits down at a small table that is situated in the room and shows him a picture of a bright, blue glowing cube, “This”, she starts and slides the phone towards him, “is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet”

Bruce fetches his glasses out of his spectacles case and puts them on. Cautiously, he grabs the phone to get a better look of the cube, In confusion, he lifts his head, “What does Fury want me to do, swallow it?” Natasha leans forward while keeping eye contact, “He wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one who knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, then that's where I'd be”

Natasha leans back in her chair as he takes off his glasses, “So, Fury isn't after the monster?” “Not that he's told me”, she says calmly. “And he tells you everything?”, Bruce retorts. Slowly, but with grace, the woman stands up, “Talk to Fury, he needs you on this”. But it's too late, he can feel his fear rising, “He needs me in a cage?”

In an attempt of reassurance, Natasha begins to speak, “No one's gonna put you in a-” but she's interrupted as he suddenly slams his fists onto the table, “STOP LYING TO ME”, he shouts. With the blink of an eye, the woman grabs a gun from under the table and cocks it right into his face. A scared look settles on her face which she quickly tries to fight back.

Bruce steps back from the table. When he speaks again his voice sounds calm and collected, “I'm sorry”, he says, “That was mean”. A smile plays over his lips, “I just wanted to see what you'd do”. Natasha still holds the gun in her hands and Bruce puts his head in front of him to calm the woman down, “Why don't we do this the easy way where you don't use that”, he points to her gun, “and the other guy doesn't make a mess. Okay?”

Silence. “Natasha?”, he asks. The woman slowly lowers her gun, her gaze never leaving Bruce. After a few seconds she activates her earpiece, “Stand down”, she commands, “We're good here”. The eyebrows rise on his face, smile still on his lips, “ 'Just you and me' “, he mocks her earlier words. Natasha doesn't answer, she just stares at him from a few feet away.

“I need to tell my family. I have a daughter I need to tell her goodbye”, he suddenly realises, a panicked look on his face. Tenderly Natasha walks to him and places a hand on his shoulder, “Bruce this is urgent, there's no time”. There's a wild look in his eyes as he frantically runs to grab his bag, “No, please I have to. Y/n she's my daughter, I love her, I- I need to speak to her”

“Bruce”, the woman's voice is powerful and makes him stop in his tracks, “this is a global threat we are dealing with. There is no time. You can write a letter while we're on the jet. S.H.I.E.L.D will make sure it will arrive as soon as possible”. Bruce looks at the woman with a look that is similar to that of a kicked puppy and yet he sighs in defeat. He will soon come to learn that Natasha Romanoff does not negotiate, she gets what she wants, no questions asked. “Okay”, he whispers and follows the woman outside.

This is why you grew up being raised by a single mother. You love her more than anything in life. She made so many sacrifices and worked harder than any other person you know. She taught you everything she knew, about her work as a doctor, important life skills and most important how to be a decent human being. You try to be as kind and empathetic as you can, but you know your worth and found confidence in yourself.

Of course you're not perfect. You are insecure from time to time like any teenager and you are very temperamental from time to time. However, you are especially sensitive when it comes to the topic of your father. Ever since you could remember your mother talked to you about your father. She told you how kind and caring he is, how he loved you so much. But if he loved you so much, why wasn't he with you, with his family?

He sends letters to you and your mum and money to help you out and you appreciate that, but you wish he would just come up. Sometimes there are articles and reports about the Hulk. Aarohi had told you that your father could turn into him, but that you never had to fear him. And you don't, really. You love your father, but there's no solid relationship between you and your dad.

That is mostly your fault. You never answered your father's letters. Every time you sat down with a piece of paper and a pen nerves got the best of you. With shaky hands you put the pen down before you cried into your hands, careful to evade your mother. So one day you stopped trying.

Currently you're sitting in your room tinkering on one of your inventions. School has been quite easy for you and your mother kept telling you that you inherited your father's intelligence, a proud smile on her lips. Science came to you easily and physics as well as chemistry became your best friends. When you weren't busy helping your mother at the clinic you were experimenting with different chemicals and the laws of nature to try and broaden your understanding of the complex reactions and procedures.

The smell of spices and lemon fills the air in your room from your diffuser sticks while some soft rock plays on the radio. Your head nods involuntarily to the beat of some catchy chorus when you hear footsteps approaching. Not your mother's, she walks lighter than this. You turn around in your seat so you have a good view of the door as it opens to reveal one of the nurses that work for your mother. She frantically runs towards you, her eyes are wide and her lower lip is wobbling.

“Y/n it's your mother”, she whispers and takes a deep breath, “She just collapsed, we don't know why, I'm sorry, Y/n” You freeze at her words, eyes widening. Panic is bubbling up in your chest as your muscles tense, “What do you men? W-Will she be alright?” The woman just looks down which is as much of an answer as you need.

All of a sudden your body releases adrenaline into your bloodstream and you jump from your chair, your heart beating in your throat, “What are you waiting for?”, you yell at her, “Move!”. Your feet are moving on their own accord, the path to the clinic embedded in your brain from the thousands of times you have walked it. Hot wind is whipping your face as you run along the streets, the gravel and dirt scrunching loudly under the soles of your shoes.

You're panting once you arrive at the steps leading to the clinic, the humid air not helping with your struggle for oxygen, but you don't stop moving. The fear coursing through your veins overpowers the exhaustion. “Momma?”, you shout once you've barged through the doors. The floor creaks mournfully under your weight as you fiddle with your fingers. The smell of diseases and antibiotics hangs in the air. Usually you like being here, but now it feels like a weight that presses you down the further you walk in.

A doctor runs down the stairs, her steps rushed. She fixes you with her pitiful eyes and you feel anger bubbling up in your chest. “Y/n, my child, I'm so-” “DON'T”, you interrupt her, tears brimming in your eyes, “She won't die”. The snarling sound that leaves your mouth scares the doctor, but you run past her without care and sprint up the steps.

Upstairs, your mothers is lying on a thin mattress on the ground. Two nurses surround her, one presses a cold, wet cloth to her forehead, the other sits next to her to hold her hand. When she sees you she immediately gets up to make room for you. When your eyes land on your mothers face you release a gasp. She looks nothing like this morning when you saw her last.

She is pale around the nose, all her beautiful colours lost, and her skin is sunken down. Sweat is pooling on her forehead and runs down her temples in miserable lines while her eyes are hooded and half closed. The sound of heavy, flat breathes reaches your ears which finally breaks you out of your shock.

A few strong steps are enough to reach your mother's weak form. You fall to your knees with a soft thud and grab her hand, “Momma?”, you whisper, the first tears falling. A groan leaves her lips and she coughs nastily, “Shona?”,she croaks. A sob leaves your body and you press your head to hers, “Momma, what's happening?”

Her free hand moves up to cup your cheeks and you straighten to look into her strangely clear eyes, “I'm going to die, shona. I need you to listen to me”, she whispers hoarsely. “No”, you cry. Tears are freely rolling down your face. “No. momma you're not going to die, I won't let you, I promise”, you tell her desperately. You wipe away some tears with the back of your hand, before you open your mouth again. “Y/n”, Aarohi interrupts and you still. She never calls you by your name.

“I beg you, listen to me. I'm sick, been for a while. It's only transmitted over blood, so don't worry”, she pauses to take a breath while she shakily brushes some strands of hair out of your face. “You're a strong woman and I couldn't be prouder of you. Are you listening, Y/n?”, you nod, your vision blurry. “All I want for you is to be happy, okay? No matter what you do as long as you're happy that's all I could ask for, do you understand?”, she rasps out.

“Momma, what-”, you whimper, but she interrupts you again, “Y/n, do you understand?” You sob, but nod through the tears, “Yes, Momma” Her thumb moves to wipe away your tears and she sighs,”Good, That's good”. She coughs again and groans in pain,”Please talk to your father, shona. He loves you so much. Can you promise me that you'll write him?” Her voice sounds even weaker now, but your heart beats way too fast. The only thing cursing through you is fear. “I promise, Momma. I love you”, you cry, snot and tears mixing together.

Aarohi's hand falls from your face as her breathing becomes flatter. She closes her eyes, “I love you too, shona”, the words clumsily tumble from her lips. Your whole body trembles as it convulses. All your power leaves your body and your left to loudly cry next to your mother's death bed.

The next few weeks were hard for you,but you could never forget your mother's last words. You promised her you would reach out to your father, so you did. It wasn't long before you received an answer. His handwriting was shaky and hard to read, but you managed to figure it out, somehow. He told you he could not leave the United States by law, but he would be more than happy to welcome you into his home back in the USA.

You froze when you read his words. He wanted you to leave India, your home? You couldn't, this was your mother's everything. All your belongings and memories are in Kolkata, how could you abandon that? But then you thought back to your mother. She wanted you to be happy, right? And maybe a new beginning wouldn't hurt. After sleeping about your father's letter you realised that a blank slate is exactly what you needed right now. Because you wanted to heal.

So you wrote your father another letter in which you agreed to move in with him and began to pack your bags. You carefully chose which of your mother's things you wanted to bring with you. Many of her clothes ended up in your luggage, her distinctive smell still lingering on the fabric. The two photo albums land in there too. How could you not, they kept all the beautiful pictures of your Momma. You also brought her favourite movies, some cooking books and lots of blankets.

Packing all these things was very hard for you and you lost a lot of tears, but now when you look at all of your bags you feel very accomplished. “I'll make you proud, Momma”, you whisper and grab the one of your stuffed furry toys that you did not put into a bag. It's a medicine bottle with huge eyes and a big smile, which your father gifted you for your third birthday. It's your favourite and you decided to keep it close by for emotional support.

With one last look you sit down on your old bed and wait for your ride. Bruce wrote you that someone from the agency he works for will come and get you. Now, all you have left to do is wait.

“Come on, Bruce. It will be fine. You're shakier than me when I've been running on coffee only”, Tony smirks and pats his friend on the back., “She's your daughter, she loves you”. Bruce looks up at him with wide, slightly red eyes, “Tony, her mother just died”. The news of Aarohi's death hit him hard. Ever since he had to leave India his mental health has been suffering.

The government didn't allow Bruce to leave the country without a written agreement signed by the president. He begged them to let him return to India, but they wouldn't budge. The only thing he achieved was tighter security to keep an eye on him. He doesn't remember how many nights he cried himself to sleep. He couldn't see the love of his life or his daughter. Never before has he felt that low, not when his father murdered his mother nor when he tried to commit suicide after turning into the monster he is, but he could not give up. He wanted to be a better father than his own, he wanted to make you feel loved and appreciated.

So he settled on writing letters to you and your mother. Nothing scared him more than the thought that you might forget him or worse, hate him for leaving. He wrote you letters every months and sent you presents he hoped you would like. His biggest wish was to be as present as possible throughout your life. The only replies were from Aarohi though. She reassured him that you still loved him and talked about her life and the clinic. He wished he could be there with her.

When he finally received a letter from you he was ecstatic, but as soon as he started to read, his face fell. The love of his life is dead. Gone. He sat in his lab in shock for two hours, not moving an inch until Tony entered the room. That's when he broke down crying into his best friend's arms, “She's dead, Tony”, he whispered through his tears.

It was the billionaire's idea to invite you to live in the tower, “I know you miss her. Plus I wouldn't mind having her here. Don't tell anyone I said that, but I'd love to see you smile more often”. This was like the light at the end of a tunnel for Bruce. The thought of having you with him made his heart beat faster. Could he finally become the father you deserved?

And you agreed to his proposal. He opened your letter together with Tony as emotional support and when he read your beautiful, neat handwriting tears of joy shot into his eyes, “She said yes, Tones, she actually wants to come!” and Tony was happy to hold Bruce once more as he let out all of his tears, the tension slowly leaving his body.

Now he is waiting for the Quinjet that carries Natasha and you to arrive back in New York. She volunteered to be the one to accompany you. Even though Bruce told her he wasn't holding any grudges, Natasha felt guilty for ripping Bruce out of his family, so when the chance opened to help reunite them, she jumped at it.

“Tony”, Bruce asks, his voice wavering as if he's not sure whether or not to continue, “I'm scared, what if she doesn't li-” , but his best friend stops him, “Ah ah ah, no such negativity under my roof!” He pauses to glance at his surroundings, the wind howling around his ears, “or, you know, on my roof” Their eyes meet for a second, before Bruce goes back to rubbing his hands anxiously.

“Seriously Banner, you'll be fine. I've known you for sixteen years and I know that I have fallen in love with you at least three times”, the philanthropist says and smirks at the others shocked expression.

Before any of them can say another word the whirring of the Quinjet sounds from the distance. Bruce immediately straightens all colour draining from his face. A cold sweat is breaking out on his forehead and his hands become clammy. Tony leans forward and whispers gently, “You've got this, Banner”.

It feels like a lifetime, but also only a few seconds before the S.H.I.E.L.D plane lands on the roof and the motors slow down. Bruce holds his breath, scared, but hopeful. His life is about to change in just a few moments, for better or for worse. Nervously, his eyes focus on the exit of the Quinjet as he awaits to see you again, after sixteen years of missing you with all of his heart.

The electric sound of the gate opening makes his hands shake in anticipation. And then he sees you standing next to Natasha in all of your beauty. Your hair is pulled back into a braid which makes your eyes pop all pretty. A thin long sleeve and a pair of mum jeans hug your body nicely, yet you avoid to look into his eyes. Natasha and you both carry two suitcases each, but there are still some more bags on the plane.

The older woman gently nudges you forward with a smile to be encouraging. The cold New York air makes goosebumps rise on your arms and you shiver. This is it, you will finally meet your father. You swallow down your fear and move forward, eyes still trained on the floor. Natasha's footsteps are right behind yours which comforts you greatly. You've come to like her during the flight.

It's only when two pairs of shoes come into your vision that you stop dead in your tracks. The luggage that you've been carrying drop to the floor and you use all the courage you can muster to look up at your father, your heart beating loudly. Bruce looks as nervous as you feel, pale face and sweaty hands, but he puts on a brave face and forces a crooked grin to appear.

“Hey, shona”, he mouths your pet name. The look in his eyes is so hopeful it makes your heart churn. All the fear and anger you've carried with you is suddenly forgotten as tears collect in your eyes. The only thing you feel is the longing for your father's love that you've been deprived of for all these years. “Daddy?”,you whisper. As the words leave your mouth you start to run forwards, right towards Bruce.

He opens his arms right in time for you to fall into them, your face buried in his chest. Sobs leave your mouth as your tears stain his graphic tee, “I missed you so much”, you whimper and fist his jacket to pull him closer. He wraps his strong arms around you and carefully places his head onto yours, “I missed you too, shona, so much”. His voice breaks and a few tears begin to fall, some out of relief, some out of guilt.

The sound of your sobs and sniffles fill the silence. It's like a heavy weight was lifted from your shoulders. You were so scared to arrive in New York and how different things were going to be, but being in your father's embrace is all you needed. All this time you've been so occupied with being angry that you never realised how much you wanted any kind of fatherly love.

When you pull back to look into Bruce's eyes you stare into his red rimmed eyes, some single tears resting on his cheeks, “Y/n, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have returned home, but I had to sign these agreements and they wouldn't let me. I never forgot about you, shona. I love you so, so much”. His voice is shaky and rough and he reaches out to cup your face, his fingers wipe away your tears.

“It's okay”, you find yourself saying, “You're with me now, that's all that matters”

You both smile at each other, happiness radiating from you, when your moment is rudely interrupted. “I told you everything would be alright, Banner, Just shows you should listen to me more often”, Tony declares with a smirk to which Natasha responds with a warning glare. “Oh come on, Nat. I'm just joking”, he shouts before turning to you and winking obnoxiously.

“Y/n”, your father begins, “this is Tony, my, uh, best friend. This is his tower in which you'll be living with me. We have our own level”. Your eyes widen, “We have our own floor? That's insane!”

Tony laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder, “Of course, only the best for my science buddy and his daughter. If you have any questions, you may ask F.R.I.D.A.Y, she is an artificial intelligence built into the tower. She'll be available whenever”, he states, his eyes sparkling, “Isn't that right, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” The AI answers immediately,”Anytime, boss”.

Bruce smiles at you. His heart feels light and happy and he looks over to Natasha who gives him a thumbs up and a wink. “Dad?”, you ask him, shivering a little, “Can we go inside? I'm freezing”. “Of course”, Bruce nods eagerly, “let me just help with some of your bags”. Happily, he skips to the Quinjet to grab some of your luggage and hauls them over his shoulder. “Let's go, then”.

You walk behind your father, Natasha and Tony close by, as you take in the inside of the Avengers Tower. You can't believe your eyes: The sheer size of everything is overwhelming to you, but you're very excited. Meeting your father was scary, but now that the anxiety has fallen off of you, you're all blissed out and floaty.

The lift is very smooth, but the glass floor makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. Bruce notices your nervous shifting and slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him. Grateful for the warmth, you turn to him with a smile and mouth a thank you. In just a few seconds you've reached the right floor. Once all your bags are moved into your apartment, your father turns to his friends with a smile, “I think we've got it from here. Thank you, guys”

They nod at him and leave to give you two some privacy. “Do you want to see your room? We can unpack your things”, he asks, a nervous waver in his voice, “if you're okay with me helping, of course”. You take one of his hands in your own and grin, “I want you to be there with me. I spent so much time wishing you were home. I'm not letting you go any time soon”.

Hearing these words, he can't help but tear up, “I'm so happy you're here, shona. I wish your mother could have been with us too”. You release a shaky sigh and try to hold back tears of your own, “Me too, dad. Me too”. The feeling of being pulled into a hug by your father pulls you out of our head and you realise you started crying again. “I just miss her so much”, you sob into his chest.

A sniffles sounds from above you and you raise your head to see Bruce crying, “I'm sorry”, he whispers and wipes away some of his tears. “It's okay. At least I have you back now, daddy”. Gently, he cups your head and presses a kiss to your hair, “We've got this, shona. We're not alone anymore”, he tells you meaningfully, trying to convey that he meant what he said.

“Shona, I love you”

You breathe in and place his hand on your erratically beating heart.

“I love you too, daddy. So much”.

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Like a Virgin Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Incubus x F!Human Warning: Insecurities, fluff, Silas is a fuckboy, date night, first time, bonding

Word Count: 8261

Part 1 -----------------------------------

I pace around my room like an anxious chicken. I look down at my three dresses, not knowing which one to pick. Each having their pros and cons but still not making the choice easier. Silas never bothered telling me where we were going. All week I kept trying to get answers from him but he would just give me a kiss then a smile. I can't complain because it worked every time.

"just pick the red one," I mumble to myself. I reach down for the dress but hesitate when I look at the purple one. I stand straight and groan. Just pick one.

"The Yellow one will make you look bright but I'm a bit bias to the red one, the color of love and lust," a voice behind me says. I jump, turning to see Silas at my door. I tighten my towel around my chest making him laugh.

"You are early," I look him up and down. He is wearing a dark blue 2-piece suit. White dress shirt, the last two buttons undone. His blazer is also undone showing how tight the shirt is to his stomach. I can't take my eyes off him. I've seen him in dress clothes, that is his thing, but this is a lot. He looks damn sexy. Even though he still has bags under his eyes and currently his cheeks are beginning to sink.

He snaps his fingers," up here love." I look up at his cocky smirk.

I roll my eyes," shut up. Why you early?"

He gives me a once over," what, and miss this view?"

"seriously," I chide.

"Alright, I knew you would be freaking out about now. I guess I was right if you are still pacing your room looking for an outfit," he gestures to the clothes.

"As right as you are, how did you know," I don’t bother denying. He doesn’t answer but walks over to me. Grabbing my waist and looking down at me.

"I've known you for a long while. I think I can figure out if you are going to be a nervous wreck or not," he leans down and pecks my forehead," go with the red one. I'll be in the living room." with that he lets me go and walks out. I shake my head, smiling to myself.

I put on the red dress then walk to my bathroom to fix my hair. I get cleaned up and walk out into the living room. I find Silas lounging on the sofa. His arms stretched out on the back and his legs crossed at the ankle. He looks handsome here. I never bothered looking at him before this week. It felt wrong to ogle a friend but now it's different.

He finally notices me and he drops his arms off the sofa," Fuck." he rests his elbow on his knee. Looking me up and down grinning like a dork. Its almost unfitting on his sexy face. It's so dopey that I can't help but smile back.

"I'll take it you like it," I fidget with the fabric of my dress.

"Like it? I love it, you look holy. Like a goddess really. I'm not worthy of your time but I will cherish it because I'm a greedy man," he lays it on thick.

"Alright, alright. You could have just said you like it," I turn with a blush. I hear him stand from the sofa.

"And miss those rosy cheeks? never," he laughs.

"biggest flirt I have ever met," I mumble as I cup my cheek, fighting off the smile curling my lips. As I fail I turn my face into my palm, grinning like an idiot.

"aw," he coos as he holds my arms," don't hide that beautiful smile." he pries my hand away from my face. I look anywhere but him, not use to this sort of attention. He replaces my hand with his own, turning me towards him. His eyes gleam with admiration and the edges of his lips curls slightly making his cheeks crease. We say nothing to break the silence, too lost in each other's eyes. His smile grows wider before he curls his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Too damn beautiful," he whispers as he drops his head to mine. My heart swells with the gesture, my insides turning to jelly as he nuzzles my forehead. With a sigh, he turns and pecks me on the cheek before righting himself. "Sorry, lost myself there for a moment. Shall we head to dinner," he tilts his head. I take in a heavy breath, calming the fluttering butterflies in my torso. The warm fuzzy feeling flowing from his hand down into my body. I nod.

We walk out of my apartment to his car waiting out front. It's not hard to spot as it's likely the most expensive car in the lot. He helps me in, like a gentleman I didn't think he could be, and we are on our way.

The ride is exciting but nerve-wracking. The tension sits in my stomach, though it's easy to push away with our simple conversation about our days. When he puts his hand on my knee I can't decide on an emotion. His thumb petting my skin is pleasing but it gets me thinking how the night is expected to end.

Before thoughts can spiral into stomach twisting anxiety we stop in front of a building. I look up at the faintly glowing blue sign saying something in French. Silas startles me when he hops out the car. I watch him come around to my side, opening the door with an awaiting helping hand.

"We have arrived my lady," he purrs as I grab his hand. I get out the car confused, looking around at the array of valets driving cars. I have never been to place fancy enough to have valets. Can hardly think Olive Garden doing something so bouche.

"Looks expensive," I mumble as I watch a young man hop into the expensive car. Silas pulls me along into the building.

"I spare no expense for my night of apologizing and wooing," he jokes. I just hums in answer as we enter the luxurious waiting room. The area is dim, having blue edge lights under ledges and baseboards. The fish tank feels like icing on the cake. The only fish tank I've seen in a restaurant have been lobster tanks. This one has actual fish that you aren't supposed to eat.

I don't notice when we make it to the host stand, too focused on the decked-out surroundings.

"D'Amore," Silas answers without prompt. The older lad at the host stand doesn't even look up as he searches his tablet. No warning he walks away. Silas tugs me along after the man.

We walk further into the dimly lit room. I can't stop my eyes from wandering around, feeling oh so out of place. The looks of the food at people's tables screams that we shouldn’t be able to afford this. Silas and I work for decent pay but even my penny-pinching self can't fathom having enough to dine here.

A few people cast glances at us as we walk by, most lingering on Silas. When eyes go to me it's like being drowned in judgment. I definitely don't belong here.

The host introduces us to our seats before parting. Silas pushes out my chair, pushing it back in once I sit. I can't focus on him as the anxiety stacks. I feel so out of place, so wrong. I shouldn't be here, dining like I have a right to such a sophisticated place. I shouldn't be pretending as I could ever. When I look at Silas I feel about that same, I shouldn't even be with him.

As I fuel my own fire Silas reaches out and grabs my hand," Babe, are you alright?" I startle at his question. I snap my unfocused gaze to him.

"Yea, I'm alright. I just-I've never been in a place like this," I nibble on my cheek. Silas watches me, lingering on every twitch. He squeezes my hand, trying to catch my attention but it's too undirected.

"I have a question for you," he starts cryptically. I finally keep my focus on him, dread boiling to my chest.

"yea," I ask. His eyes look between mine, his face stern.

"If an android has a kid with a person and their man milk is technically from their creator, is the baby his," he says while biting back a grin.

I furrow my brow," What?"

"an android, the organic robots, if one had a kid with it's manufactured spunk that technically was a real human's nut, would he be the dad or the human who made it first," he clarifies.

I can't bring myself to answer as I'm too confused about the question. As his words linger a smile cracks onto my lips as the background fades away.

"Well," I start," it would-I mean it could be. Alright, you got me there." we both chuckle.

"Yea, it's kind of stumped me all day. I heard it from a friend and I don't know what the right answer would be. Ideally, the android is the dad but in a DNA test the human would be the dad, though he didn't shoot it," he rambles.

As we discuss this 'important' topic I feel more welcome. It's easy to see Silas as a handsome egotistical playboy who doesn't have an awkward bone in his body. I forget how completely ridiculous he is. The main reason I ever fell for him.

Dinner goes well as the conversation flows freely. Some topics are risqué and others childish. We do get a few looks from the other patrons but I could hardly care. It's hilarious to be eating such high-class food while debating what is the best 90's cartoon is.

It's clearly the Animaniacs.

It seems too soon when the check comes. The friendly rivalry over the superiority of Dc vs Marvel is put on pause when he takes out his wallet. The moment is long enough for reality to settle back in. our next activity of the night pops into my head with a startling realization.

Next, we head home.

The thought is pleasant but my stomach still twists. I like Silas and the idea of giving myself to him isn't completely off-putting, it's actually nice. Either way the chance of something going wrong bounces around in my head with no escape.

We walk out to the valet, Silas' hand on my lower back, I dwell on fears. I'm so nervous and admitting it doesn't help. We get into his car and head on out. Silas tries to keep the conversation going, which succeeds enough for the time being. It's when we turn towards my home does it fail to keep me relaxed.

I fidget in my seat, fiddling with my dress as I nibble on my cheek. I keep reminding myself of his devotion so far and how it should be impossible for sex with an Incubus to be bad. Which is true, it can-will- be amazing. Yet, the devotion part wrinkles my brain.

I tense when we near my home, the sight of the apartment pushing needles in my legs. I watch it come closer and closer, my anxiety mounting higher and higher. As my turn comes up for the parking lot I'm surprised when we pass it. I watch it go back, twisting in my seat to watch some more.

"What," I mumble as I twist in my seat. I look over to Silas who has a fighting smile on his face. I know we aren't heading to his place as it's the complete other direction, so where are we going?

"Something wrong," Silas asks, his smile widening.

"Nothing wrong, I just thought we were going to my place next," I bait.

He shrugs, looking at the clock on the dash. 8:34.

"Seems a bit early to be ending the night so fast," he answers.

"I guess," I watch him," though I can't possibly think what else you have planned besides…uhh." I drop off at the end. Silas passes me a glance, that smirk resting so peacefully.

"What other plans," he teases," are you talking about the finale of the night? The part where I lay you down and give you the best orgasms of your life?" I blush, turning towards the window, feeling like an innocent child. Silas chuckles, reaching over to rest his hand on my leg again. "No need to be so flustered, love, we have time before that," he squeezes my leg," we are heading somewhere special. Somewhere I have rarely taken a date before."

He piques my interest," Oh yeah? I'm not going to some abandoned house to be ditched, right?"

He scoffs," what kind of man do you think I am? Also, I've taken someone to an abandoned house before. Though it was his idea, not mine. Not an experience I will repeat, don't fuck with goth dudes."

"You had sex with a goth dude in an abandoned house," I laugh.

"I don't kiss and tell," he purses his lips. I bark out in laughter.

"Yes you do, that's actually how we got to here," I snicker.

"Yea, yea," he waves a hand," doesn't matter now, I'm only with you." I fluster again at his declaration. It's still hard to believe he would choose me over everyone he has been with.

"So where are we going," I change the subject.

"It's a surprise," he smiles, pleased with himself.

"a surprise? I can't remember that last time a boyfriend tried to surprise me," I answer. Out the corner of my eye, I see Silas pass me a cocky glance.

"a boyfriend? Are you calling me your boyfriend now," he teases the edge of my dress," I like it."

I blush," shut up."

"awe, don't be so mean to your boyfriend," he stops at a light. He takes the time to lean over, cornering me with an arm on my seat. "Your boyfriend's feelings are hurt, can you give me a little kiss to make it better," he pouts.

I scoff at him," you sound like such a fuckboy right now."

He shrugs," if it works."

"shut up," I smile as I grab his cheeks and press a chaste kiss to his lips. He doesn't allow me to get away with that, pulling me in for a better kiss.

His warm lips mold expertly over mine, stealing my breath so easily. His fingers crawl up my thigh, bunching up the hem of my dress. My fingers trail into his hair to grab a handful, pulling him closer as I rest against the seat. He fills the space quickly, pressing as close as he can. I feel his palm smooth under my dress till his finger timidly presses against my underwear. The tip wiggles under the band, barely touching my crotch.

A car horn makes us jump apart, starling us back into our respected seats. As I catch my breath Silas drives onward

My first clue is lights in the distance and a large line of cars following in the same direction. It finally clicks when a familiar amusement ride is revealed.

"The fair," I ask.

"Yep," he grins," perfect, right?"

"yea but aren't we both a little overdressed for a fair," I pluck at his sleeve.

"Hardly matters, we both look stunning and we are going to win the games in style," he smooths back his hair. I snicker at him.

"Whatever you say," I smile to myself as I look at the oncoming fair. It really is a good idea, though I won't pat him on the shoulder just yet.

He parks and we head in.

The fairgrounds are crowded and full of color. The lively conversation and dull lull of obnoxious music is jovial. It's such a contrast to the fine dining restaurant we ate at. This place has deep-fried everything and games rigged to make you lose. It's lovely and downright perfect.

Silas wraps his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close, and we are off.

Everything is so eye-catching, pulling my attention back and forth. The games flash colorful lights, people gathered around each booth screaming out in triumph or frustration. The food stands engulf the air with its high calories snacks. Further down the way, more lights shine as lines of people wait for their turn on some typical carnival ride. So many activities and such little time.

Silas throws an arm over my shoulder and tugs me towards a booth that doesn't have all the glamor and glam as the others. A ticket booth with a few people standing in a line before it. A family leaves the front of the line holding a rope of tickets. We slowly make it to the front to meet a smiling woman.

"Hello, sweetie," Silas grins widely," twenty tickets please, and thank you." for the added flair he throws in a wink. His arm drops from around my shoulder to my waist, pulling me closer to his side. Despite this the woman blushes to herself, smiling as she counts out our tickets.

"Here you are, sugar, twenty tickets," she smiles," I hope you have a grand ole time."

Silas takes the tickets," Will do, dear."

With that Silas tugs me away again towards the rows of well-decorated stalls. I try to not let the flirty interaction get in my head too much. It's Silas, he has always been that way. It's not like I expected him to change because of me. Still, the wink irks me just a little.

"So, what do you want to do first," Silas squeezes my hip," you are in charge from this point on."

I quirk a cheeky brow at him," That’s a bold thing to say." he smiles down at me with that spine chilling smirk.

"What can I say, sometimes it's hot to have your woman in charge," he teases. The insinuation should be alarming but the fun to be had is too tempting.

"And what if I like my man to be in charge instead," I turn away, hiding the blush blooming along my cheeks. I feel him lean down closer, his breath fanning down my dress.

"Keep calling me your man and I'll be whatever you like," he purrs. I feel outmatched now, slowly working my way towards the deep end. My cheeks hurt as I fight back a dorky smile and a silly giggle. Silas still finds out, cooing as he presses a kiss to my cheek.

"Alright, alright, stop," I push him away," let's see what games they have here." he chuckles as he straightens, pulling me to his side once more as we walk down the large path.

We see games varying from strength to skills, puzzles to sporty. Everyone jokes around each game, laughing and teasing one another as they all attempt to win the stuffed prizes. One game catches my eye, a milk jug and baseball skill test.

"how's your pitching," I ask him. He raises a brow in question before he too spots the game.

"I mean, I don't wanna brag," he jokes as we walk over.

I scoff," you don't wanna brag, hell must have frozen over." he snorts, tearing off a few tickets as he stops in front of the carnival worker.

"one ticket for one throw, three tickets for four," the tall teen says. Silas exchanges three tickets for four balls. He passes me two and we arrange ourselves to our own lane.

"Alright," Silas tosses the ball around in his hands," Watch a pro at work." I watch him reel back and launch the softball across the lane. The ball tings the top of the pyramid, flicking the milk jug off. As the jug rolls around on the floor I look to Silas.

"I think I'm watching the wrong guy if I'm supposed to be witnessing a pro," I shrug. He scowls at me, fiddling with the other ball in his hand.

"Yea, yea, shut up. Tis but a warmup," he shakes out his shoulders before squaring his stance. He launches the ball again completely missing the tower all together. I snort, biting back a snicker as he deflates.

"I think we have different definitions of pro," I chuckle. He snaps towards me, playfully sneering as he walks over.

"Alright, your turn, princess," he crosses his arms in a challenge. I smile at him, accepting his challenge with open arms. I walk up to the bar, setting one of the balls down. I toss the solo one around in my hands before tossing a look over my shoulder.

"You know in high school I use to be in sports," I look back to the restacked jugs," I did a few here and there but only one really stuck with me. I played softball for two years before I had to quit, and do you know what position I played?" before he could answer I launch the ball towards the tips of the bottom row. They explode outward, all tipping over. Two stay on the barrel while the rest tumble to the floor. With a cocky smile I turn to Silas, "I was the pitcher."

Silas looks between me and the milk jugs. He huffs in amusement, walking over towards me.

"Who knew confidence would look so sexy on you," he grabs at my hips," but not to rain on your parade or anything, but you are supposed to knock them all off the barrel." I scoff at him, hitting him in the chest.

"Yea, but I still get a small prize," I twist away from him," no need to be sour, I'll let you pick the toy."

We walk to the booth operator, Silas standing behind me. He grabs at me once more, leaning his chest against my back. He rests his chin on my shoulder, speaking near my ear.

"I'm not sour, just defeated. Also, I want the purple whale," he nuzzles against my head. I grin, feeling warm as I pet his head. The teenager grabs the small whale from the hooks, passing it to me before attending to the other players.

I hand the whale to Silas," Here you go, babe, I won it just for you." he grabs the whale, hugging it close.

"Thanks, baby. You spoil me too much," he nuzzles the toy with a teasing smile. My heart flutters with an unknown feeling as I watch him. It's nice seeing him be so human, to act like a typical person and not some unapproachable man slut. He catches me staring, turning on his charm once more.

"I’d say take a picture but I like having you look at me like that," he teases, cocky as ever. I roll my eyes, walking past him with no direction in mind.

We walk around the grounds playing all sorts of games. Neither of us wins many games, coming very close in a few of them. It helps our egos that the games are rigged, the fact fueling us to continue on. There is teasing and jokes, all in good fun. The night is going better than I expected, I didn't think a date night with Silas would be so juvenile. This is more of a date for teens or parents with their kids. I appreciate it more than he could ever know.

Our tickets dwindle quickly till we only have enough for one more game. We study the area, picking our final activity wisely. Silas taps my shoulder, pointing towards one across the way. He guides me towards it, holding my hand as we walk through the traffic of people. As we near I see a large pool of water covered in floating toy ducks.

"Lucky ducks," I ask him," it's not much of game, don't you think?"

He smiles to himself as he hands the tickets to the older woman," I think you will find that I'm quite skilled in games of luck."

"Confident as ever, but sure," I shrug. I watch him look at the spinning pool of ducks, thinking way too hard on this. He leans forward, ready to pluck the plastic duck out of the water. He pauses halfway, retreating in favor of looking to me.

"How about a wager," he offers. I watch him skeptically, feeling like his inner fuckboy is going to come out.

"I don't know, I've been warned about making deals with devils," I joke. He rolls his eyes.

"har, har. For real, a bet for if I find the lucky duck. You up for that kind of deal," he asks. I cross my arms, standing firm as I give him a once over.

"What's the wager," I ask in turn. I fully expect some sleazy demand that will make a mother blush. You can take the playboy out of the game but you can't take the game out of the playboy.

"If I find the duck, you owe me a favor," he smiles, looking away towards the pool," I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you before we leave." I startle at his request, not expecting something so simple. It almost feels like a waste of a bet.

"That's it," I ask. He looks to me almost offended.

"Yea, I never got to do that. All my old dates wanted to get home really quick so they don't bother with cutesy things like that. Listen, if you don't want to that fine, we can leave right after. I was just curious," he folds into himself, turning away. The insecurities shine brightly from him. It's really eye-opening.

It's hard to remember that Silas was missing a lot from his short-lived relationships. They were never intimate, getting down to business quickly. It's cute to see how much Silas wants that kind of thing. To cuddle up on some sketchy carnival ride and watch the lights below with a loved one. My heart flutters at the genuine sadness he is showing at my supposed rejection.

As he fiddles with his pockets I walk over. I grab at his face, turning him towards me, and kissing him as best as I can. He jumps at the action, pausing as he figures out what's happening. Then as quick as any incubus could be, he reacts. He holds me close as he expertly molds his lips to mine. I want to pull back and continue with whatever I was going to say but his tongue is teasing at my lips. Who am I to deny such a tempting request.

We split as we hear a pair of teenagers giggling to themselves. I pull away, chuckling as he keeps me close. His eyes remain closed as his jaw clenches. He seethes silently before he slowly peels his lids open. His black eyes slowly fade away as he stares down at me so stern. I can't help but cup his cheeks, petting him with my thumb.

"You know I want everything with you, right? Not just the sex or carnal pleasure you can give but the sweet stuff too," I smile kindly," I'm not like the others, I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you and laugh at how tiny everyone looks from so high up."

A loving smile spreads across his face," They look like ants from so high up."

"Yea, they do," I chuckle," now I need you to pick that lucky duck and win me a prize because so far I'm a far more talented date than you are." he snorts, loosening his hold on my waist. We split away, him turning to the pool and quickly pulling a duck from the water. Without turning it over he looks to me.

"What stuffed animal do you want," he asks. I look from him to the duck then back again. He seems so confident. I open my mouth to retort with some teasing comment but he stops me with a smirk. I squint at him, understanding the challenge. He knows he won. Instead, I look to the large toys lining the front of the booth.

"The Domo doll," I smile back at him. He nods, walking over to the booth worker. He tosses the duck to the man who turns it over and sighs.

"Any toy from the top row," the man grunts out. I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief.

We stand in line for the Ferris wheel, him holding his little whale and I hugging a large stuffed cartoon character. I catch his eyes, smiling widely at him as I hug the toy closer. We near the ride, a worker opening the swinging door to the carriage. I stuff my prize in before myself, Silas following behind. The worker closes the door along with the latch as Silas throws his arm over me.

The ride slowly takes us to the top, stopping as people below get on and off. "Did you have fun tonight," Silas asks. I look up to him, enjoying the sight of his hair ruffling in the breeze.

"yea," I snuggle into his chest," I did." he gives me a squeeze, kissing the top of my head.

"Good," he answers," I had fun too."

The ride stops at the very top, the view taking both of our attentions. The lights and people below make me feel whimsical. The cold air cools my heated cheeks and Silas warms me from the breeze. I find my attention shifting from the colorful sights below to the sweet man beside me. I stare up at him, watching him look out in the distance. A small smile tugs at the edge of his lips, a content sigh leaving his nose.

"I know I'm better than the view but you can look at me anytime compared to this," he turns to me. As our eyes meet everything stops. It feels so cliché but right as we lean towards each other till our noses brush against the other's.

"Silas," I mumble. Before I can say anymore he jumps to capture my lips. I choke on my breath, meeting him with as much eagerness as he gives. He slowly crowds me against the corner of the carriage, pressing his chest against mine as he attacks my lips. His tongue delves in, swirling with mine as a groan leaves my lips. Everything feels so amplified with him. The way his body heats my own, the way his hands pull my hips against his. I feel so hot despite being so cold. I want him, I want him bad.

"Come on guys, people are waiting," someone calls from behind us. Silas slowly pries his lips away from mine, sighing as his eyes open. His pitch-black eyes stare down into my own, promising so much with crotch throbbing appeal.

"My place," he asks with a cocky grin. I can't answer besides a nod.

The next few minutes feel like a blur as we race to the car and to his apartment. Traffic laws are ignored as all I can feel is his heated palm on my thigh. I don't know when we get to his place but all I know is his hard cock grinding against my clothed crotch. At some point we end up in his room, the soft blankets shock me out of a stupor. The seriousness of the situation clears my head.

Silas notices me stiffen, his lips against my neck leave as he looks down at me. He pets along my arms," Shh, it's alright. You want to go slower?"

"Y-yea," I answer, petting on his arms.

"I can do that," he kisses my forehead," we can go a little slower. Just let me tell you how tonight will go down." his tone is teasing. I find myself smiling, amused by his waiter sounding tone. Speaking like he is going to read the specials off the menu.

"Well, you’re a virgin, correct?" I nod," then you get the trifecta."

I scoff," The trifecta?"

"yea," he smirks," fingers, tongue, and cock." his tongue clicks on the final word, adding to the teasing. I fluster, turning away as I picture all this. In answer he brushes his nose against my neck, growling with interest. "now let's start with taking these clothes off."

The motion of removing another person's clothes feels just as intimate as anything I've ever experienced. He bares his chest before me, allowing me time to be distracted by such a sculpted torso. As I pet along his chest he lifts my dress up. His fingers touch at my underwear, I stiffen at the contact. The burning in my belly wars with the anxiety dwelling in my chest.

"It's ok, I got you," he purrs near my ear," keep touching me, I like having your delicate touch on my chest." I follow his demand, petting nervously up his chest as his fingers dive under my clothes. I buck into his hand, embarrassed immediately for doing so. He calms me by kissing my cheek. His fingers quickly delve between my folds, pressing where I need him most.

The sudden attention to my swollen clit brings my back to an arch. I press my clothed chest to his bare one. The rolling growl coming from him makes me whimper. His fingers swiftly glide over my nub, building me quicker than I ever have alone. He kisses and licks my neck, lathering me in attention. Before I can get used to the quick slides of his fingers he presses them down and inside me. His middle fingers squelch as they swiftly go in.

"Silas," I clench as his shoulders. His fingers begin to thrust in and out, petting along my walls with a strange filling feeling.

"Does it feel good," he asks, I nod," no, kitten, you need to use your words."

I open my mouth to answer but his thumb presses to my clit, massaging in short fast circles. I choke on my words, throwing my head back with a broken cry. His fingers cease their thrusting in favor of bouncing against a sweet spot.

"Does it feel good, I won't ask again," he scolds with a smirk.

"Y-yes," I whimper. He rewards me with quicker motions, basically throwing me to my peak. I claw at his shoulder as my body racks with shudders till I'm suspended over my end.

"Cum for me," he purrs near my ear," I want to see you cum for me." I cry out, arching away from him as he forces my body to its end. I clamp around his fingers, fluttering as I grind in his hand. I barely notice him watching me, too focused on my climax.

"So beautiful," I faintly hear him say.

I soon fall slack to the bed, dropping my arms from around his shoulders. His fingers squelch as they are removed from inside me. The wetness on his fingers trails over my thighs before he is removed from my underwear. I watch him lift his fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to clean them.

"Fuck," I whisper as he licks his palm. He smirks down at me as he twines his tongue around his ring finger.

"You taste divine, kitten. I can't wait to get a direct taste," he purrs. Those black eyes are all I can look at as he slides his hands under my dress.

He is tender as he removes my clothes, kissing up my stomach as he lifts my dress. As my bra is tossed to the side he tilts his head in admiration as he cups my breast. He fondles them for a moment, getting distracted by taking off my underwear.

I soon lay bare before him, feeling like a feast with the way he looks at me. He falls over me, framing me with his arms as he fists the blanket. I watch him lean forward, my lips part in preparation. I close my eyes, ready for his lips upon mine. Yet, instead of getting a kiss, I have the blanket below me ripped out from under me. I open my eyes in time to see him removing his pants. The blanket rests on his shoulder, splaying out behind him like a cape.

I watch him confused, momentarily looking at his crotch. I don't have enough time to admire his standing cock as he falls on his stomach. His hands grab at my thighs, spreading me as he scoots up.

"It's time for me to get a taste," he smirks. I sit back ready to watch him bring me to a swift orgasm like before. He surprises me by throwing the blanket over his head, blocking my view of him.

"what are you doing," I ask as I fist the sheets. I can feel his hands petting on my thighs, see the blanket shifting.

"I want you to close your eyes and feel me," he answers. His nose bumps my crotch, startling me. I clench at the sheets, conflicted on how this will play out.

His tongue flicks at the seams, only partially delving between my lips. He is slow in his explorations, teasing with simple touches. The feeling is completely new, completely different from any of my solo sessions. With the added benefit of not knowing what's going to happen. He works his way from the bottom to the top, drinking any and all I have to offer from the previous orgasm. The sensitive skin gives way to new, wonderful sensations. It's not overstimulated like I would assume but its…perfect. Hardly expect anything less from a sex demon I guess.

I relax, not climbing to unbearable levels of pleasure but sitting in a state of comforting arousal. His fingers brought me swiftly to an end, satisfying the craving while calming my nerves. I hum with a grin, carding my finger through my hair as my leg pets along his back. I feel his lazing lapping, delving inside with his own groans of enjoyment.

He startles me with a quick flat lick to my clit. My back arches as I hiss, not prepared for the shock to run up my stomach. He does it again, circling the tip of his tongue around then over it. The electric and warm feeling is brain-melting. I find myself grinding into his mouth to feel more, surprising myself with my eagerness. He delivers in full, bringing me to a swifter climax than his fingers did. I feel like a porn star with my cries as I clamp my thighs around his head. I barely hear his own cries of pleasure as I do.

As I come into my own he throws the blanket off his head, looking way too happy to have gone down on me. "ya feeling alright," he hugs my hips," not too tired yet right?" his smug grin would have made me angry any other time. To be fair, those other times he never earned it.

I reach down and run my fingers through his hair. I smile tiredly down at him and hum in answer. He rests his chin on my pelvis, tilting into my hand with closed eyes. This isn't what I expected at all. I imagined wild coupling with animalistic cries into the night. This is… strangely better. I can't imagine he has ever done this before. All his conquest have been weird kinky sex that- I wouldn't say bragged- he talked about at work. Over divulging in every detail to the point you could paint a solid picture of sweaty bodies and soaked sheets. But this is better, not what I expected, but what I needed.

"you are too skilled at this for your own good, your ego needs a break sometimes," I joke as I pap his cheek.

"well, since this 'skill' is being used to please my lady, I hardly think it could be that bad. Though hearing you cry out for only me may make my head swell. Actually, it has," he gets up on his hands and crawls up my body. My eyes fall directly on his hard cock. It takes me a moment to get his joke, by the time I do he is pressing kisses my neck.

I grab a fistful of his hair and pull him back," that was an awful joke." he laughs as I bring him down for a kiss.

"They can't all be award-winning, besides I heard you like my stupid jokes," he grins against my lips.

"I never said I was a smart woman," I chuckle.

"But you are," he kisses my cheek," you are smart," kisses my nose," funny," my brow," sexy," my eyelid," and best of all," corner of my mouth," you like me." I pull him into his next kiss, meeting his lips with mine. But damn he is right, I do like him.

"now are you ready for the main course," he gropes my hips. At the question, I feel his cock resting against my thigh. The nerves he worked hard to rest are cranking up again. I think on every story and video I have seen on losing your virginity. Thinking about the pain or the countless unsatisfied women. What if I don't like it? What if it hurts too bad? Too many questions float by.

As I get lost in my train of thought Silas cups my cheek. He turns me so all I can see is him. He looks between my eyes, his face focused and concerned. It’s a strange look for him, having never considered him to ever be concerned for anyone, let alone me.

"You know I won't hurt you, I don't think I could if I tried. I promised you this would all work out, I will make this good for you. Just talk with me, ok? Can you do that for me, love," he raises his brow in question. I look up at him, noticing every detail of his blue eyes.

"yea, I can do that," I answer. He smiles down at me, the feeling almost similar to when a child gets a cookie after being good. He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose, resting his head against mine with a content hum.

"Do you, Chloe, wish to be bounded to me from this point forward? To be my mate and lover till the day we expire," he asks with all seriousness," no pressure." he tries to smirk, to add humor to this but I can see the worry. It's almost humbling in a weird way. I reach up and cup his cheek, tilting my head with a smile.

"Make love to me, Silas, and be the first person I see tomorrow," I pet under his eye. His smile is blinding, his eyes light up with too much joy to be anything but heartwarming. He turns his head and kisses my palm before resting himself on his hand.

He adjusts himself so he rests at my entrance. The weight shooting anxiety up to my head. With a well-timed glance and encouraging smile from him, the small seed of anxiety is gone. He won't hurt me. He frames my head with his arms as he presses his tip in. my stomach clenches at the odd intrusion. Silas lowers his head and presses wet kisses to my cheek. I try to relax, focusing on his lips more than his cock. He shoves forward slowly. I can't think for a moment, only feeling this very new stuffing feeling. The smooth glide of his cock is surprisingly a welcome feeling. I expected sharp pains accompanied by a hard snap of his hips. Then again it's kind of dumb of me to assume he wouldn't be considerate and take his time. He has been nothing but patient with me.

"We doing alright," he asks without a strain to his voice. I open my mouth to answer but he takes the moment to slide the rest of the way in. I choke on my words and take to nodding instead. He chuckles, still peppering my face with gentle kisses. "you feel perfect my love," he praises," it's like I was made for this, for you. You fit around me so welcomingly." he pulls back before grinding himself back in. The build-up made this moment all the sweeter. He pulls out again then glides forward. He kept true to his word, he didn't hurt me. Very much the opposite, I think as my eyelids flutter.

His pace is slow, his kisses wet and warm. I could get used to this. I pet up his back, holding him close as I find myself meeting his unhurried thrust. An urge for him to do more is overwhelming but as I buck into him, he keeps his pace. I grow frustrated at this.

"faster," I sigh into his ear.

"there you go," he praises as he ups his tempo," I will do anything for you, just ask." our thighs clap lightly as we meet. I undulate my hips with each downfall, grinding myself into him. He grunts to my surprise, thrusting a tad faster as I buck. I like that sound, I need him to do it again. I let go and scratch at the nape of his neck, moaning and crying into his ear.

"Silas, oh fuck," I whine as I arch my back into him. He bites down onto my neck, growling as he does. I can't help but smirk to myself, loving the sound of him. "Silas, please. Your coc-," I stop myself, feeling embarrassed to even say the word. His thrust slow, I groan in disagreement.

"say it," he hisses near my ear.

"Please," I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Begging him to go back to fucking me.

"Say it," he repeats. I whimper below him, not giving a damn at the moment how wonton I look. He lifts his head from my shoulder, looking down at me. The look on his face is my new favorite view. He looks as wrecked as I feel. Sweet Jesus.

"your co-cock," I spit out," I love it." he grins, picking up the pace again. Slamming into my hips with great vigor. I cry out, writhing beneath him.

"What do you like," he asks. I can't figure out how he can speak when I'm nearly at the peak of brain failure.

"so, hard. Just for me," I choke out," fucking, love your cock, want you- need you to cum in me. Please."

He hums," I will. Fill you to the brim, then when I do I'll fill you some more. Your cunt is mine, my beautiful mate. This cock is yours to ride whenever, cause only I can do this to you." he snaps his hips harder on the next thrust," only I get to see you this way. Only you get to bring me to this level of want. By god, I wanted to fuck you during dinner. Rip your panties down and take you in front of everyone," he rests his head against my head, watching me fall apart at his words. I whimper and moan without a care. My insides feel like they are on fire, nearly burning me as I near my end.

He watches me with rapt attention," Cum for me, Chloe. Let me feel you squeeze my cock, please, love, I need it." I cry out, stuttering as my body stiffens. He watches with a grin, fucking me through my climax. He grunts and groans as I flutter around him, begging him to reach his own end. I pant against the pillow as I watch him try to maintain his cool. Trying to prolong the experience for a second longer.

I tug on his hair," Cum for me, Silas. Please, I need to feel it, need to feel you." he gasps with a startled yelp. His eyes clenching close as he finally peaks. His hips buck wildly, clapping my thighs with his own. Silas shouts and whimpers as he falls apart. I feel his hot load shoot inside me, the sensation startling but welcomed.

"Chloe," he whines," fuck!" his body falls slack onto mine, his weight making it hard to breathe. I don't say anything, just pet his hair and listen to his labored breathing.

"Damn, I need a minute," he grunts as he shifts to the side. I move to sit up but he quickly grips my arms," hold on, I don't want to leave you just yet" the words send a warm feeling through my chest. It's oddly satisfying to hear that. I hum as I settle back against the bed.

"thank you," I find myself saying.

"don't thank me. In all honesty, I should be thanking you. I have been less than savory with you and it took me way too long to get my head out of my ass. You have been way too patient and forgiving with me. Thank you," he says into my shoulder, finishing it off with a kiss.

"I love you, Silas," I mumble against his cheek. I nuzzle my head against his, really feeling the effects of three orgasms.

He hums, pulling me closer," I love you too, Chloe." he finally pulls out and adjusts me in his arms. We both fall asleep in no time.

I wake the next morning to his beautiful face. We both smile, share a kiss, then go make breakfast together.

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

Sweet jesus, this was my white whale. i don’t know why it was so hard for me to finish this. i would write like 5 paragraphs and not touch it for weeks. it took me strapping down and forbidding myself from touching any other stories besides incomplete ones, even then i would skip this one. so i really hope y’all liked it.

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#exophilia #monster boyfriend #Enigma-IM #fluff #carnival #bonding

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dottiechan · 3 years

Text

Tempest (Pt. 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 4048

Warnings: mourning, mentions of death and torture, smoking

Summary: The private detective must work through the sudden and unexpected disappearance of Ava - quite literally, as she embarks on solving her greatest mystery yet. But she is not the only one who's been busy...

A/N: This chapter is a rather long one as there's much to unpack at this point of the story, and there is much to explain. Sorry for the long wait, and thanks for being so patient and supportive of me!

The Private Detective’s Office, London, 1898

5 months after Ava’s disappearance

The key turns in the lock with ease. The door creaks as it gives way to the dark office. The lights flicker in the corridor outside, and the entrance gapes like a mouth ready to swallow her whole.

She steps inside, unaware of her fingers skittering across the glass pane that has the name of her detective agency painted on it. Some have great bloodlines to look back on, and nobles and kings to proudly call their ancestors. Her legacy is this stuffy little office, her sigil is a hand painted business logo. But her ancestor - her father - was a warrior too, noble of heart, even if not of blood.

She hangs her coat and hat, and proceeds to smooth down her hair before locking the door and switching on the lights. The old pieces of furniture that would have been regarded fashionable 20 years ago are dimly illuminated, and the sight of them makes her heart ache. They belonged to her late father, and in a way he lives on through them. The dent in the cushion of his chair where he always used to sit, the scuff marks on his desk he carelessly carved into the polished surface with books and folders, the medical and law tomes he hoarded lining the bookshelves that hug the dark green walls... As a child, she was afraid of coming here in the evenings - something they often did after her mother passed away and her father tried his best to raise her alone. The heavy nailhead leather armchairs looked like hunched monsters in the dark, the looming mahogany desk with its long curving legs resembled a giant spider, and the serious wallpaper enveloped this macabre scene like some sinister forest. “The real monsters are in here, my darling,” her father would ruffle her hair affectionately, pointing at the files he came to pick up.

It is late, but the office no longer feels scary. Her rational mind knows she should have gone home to her empty bed and her unread books and the cold supper awaiting her. And yet she’s here because hardly anything matters anymore. Because no place ever really feels like home ever since her father left. Well, her small house felt like home for a while when she was still here. But she left as well, and with her she took the last tattered shreds of joy the detective had somehow managed to cling to. She is submerged in saturnine reticence now, and ironically it helps her stay focused, even though it makes her more and more like the person she tried to thaw out. More and more like Ava.

One should only embrace the iciness of a statue if they’re willing to risk turning into marble themselves.

The Commissioner would be lucky to have a detective such as myself, she thinks bitterly as she glances down at the neatly kept files piled on her desk. Most are petty cases, even she has to admit - cheating husbands, unanswered invitations and letters, and the likes. But she takes all the work she can, and she prides herself on her ability to solve them with the proficiency of a man. Ava used to praise her for that. Now she whispers praises to herself even if the words turn sour in her mouth, because she will not let anyone ruin her. She will not. (Even though Ava has, because the world feels different without her in it.)

Her sudden disappearance left her on the precipice of panic at first. Ava, along with her partner Nate, simply vanished into thin air as if they never even existed at all, as if they were a pleasant reverie she used to lull herself to sleep at night. No trace, no item that belonged to them was left behind. If not for the spare key to her house being gone - the one she gave to Ava - she wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference between reality and her mad suspicions. But oh, she was here. She was. Missing her is a malady burrowed in her heart, but it is also the testament of her existence.

She opens the file on top, and hums in bitter satisfaction. Right. The aching of her heart isn’t the only testament anymore. It took her months, but she’s finally one step closer to the solution, planting her foot firmly and holding her crumbling sanity together with a determination she didn’t know she had. Ava was probably never meant to be in the background of a photograph taken during the opening night of the National Gallery of British Art.

But she was. And it really only takes one mistake.

The private detective picks up the photograph gingerly, giving herself one second to lose herself in the whirlwind of emotions Ava’s angular silhouette awakens in her.

One step closer.

She leans back in her chair, her gaze gliding over the photograph and landing on her personal little project. The blackboard is filled with dates, locations and places with a map pinned to the middle of it - by now, it is practically a blueprint of Ava’s and Nate’s every activity over the past two years. The deeper she digs, the more unknowns she unearths about the people she once thought she knew.

But there’s still time to get to know them - first impressions are overrated anyway.

Train station, Wayhaven, 1899

7 months after Ava’s disappearance

January quickly set to work and changed the countryside. It swooped down from the heavens and gently buried the forests and the hills under a heavy blanket of snow, concealing the detective’s childhood home from her as she exits the train, the handle of her heavy bag already digging into her gloved fingers. The shapes are still visible though underneath all the snow and ice - she sees the old station with the crumbling roof, the road leading into town, the bell tower of the small church peeking out just above the treeline. She recognises them all, though she sorely wishes she didn’t.

Because with the recognition comes the inevitable sting of her memories. Faces emerge in her conscious she hasn’t seen in years. The kindness of her mother’s eyes and the curve of his father’s lips, both lost forever now, never to be seen again, cutting deeper than a knife ever could.

An old woman is prating about her insufferable nephew, a business man is constantly checking his pocket watch with a disdainful look from across the station, three young women gossip, a man is rubbing his hands together in an effort to stimulate his circulation in the cold weather. The detective tunes out the comfortable commotion of the small town station, imagining she is still in London and not here. Anywhere but here. People brush past her, the train whistles and whirs to motion, and before she knows it, she is alone, paralysed in one spot, snowflakes catching softly on her fetching ensemble of a royal blue travelling dress and matching hat.

She takes a shaky breath, almost already on the verge of tears.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

No.

“Of course,” she turns with a slight smile. “Just admiring the view. I used to live here.”

“Ah, then the gossip about you was true,” the man nods, his eyes glinting intelligently under his bushy brows. There’s an apologetic smile sitting on his lips, and a twinge of regret spoiling the beauty of his otherwise handsome square jaw and bold features. “I apologise, I couldn’t help but overhear some women on the train talking about your father. About you.”

“I didn’t know our name carried such weight,” the detective admits cautiously, one hand reaching up to fix her hat self-consciously. The man seems to notice the way her fingers linger over the hat pin, and he almost cracks a grin. It would be a highly inappropriate moment to joke, and besides, he’d rather befriend this interesting person than anger her to a point where he’d end up being skewered by the hat pin in question. After all, her friendship and assistance is why he’s here.

“Your father served in India with Sir Edward Bardford, the current Police Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police,” he adds gently. “You were betrothed to Montagu Edward Bradford.”

“How do you know about that?” the woman asks, her eyes widened by shock as she takes a step closer to him.

“Who didn’t Montagu tell?”

The strained grin the stranger allows himself seems to put her momentarily at ease. Montagu did tell everyone, God rest his soul. In a way, she could never really begrudge him for the betrothal - it was their fathers’ scheming, even if Montagu really didn’t seem to mind. She always wanted a way out, but she never wished for his death. He was in India when it had happened, and she was in London. In a way, even 9 years after, it feels surreal. She never saw the body. For years afterwards, she sincerely thought he would turn up one day unexpectedly as if nothing had happened.

He never did.

“How awfully rude of me to not even introduce myself!” he exclaims suddenly, sheepishly sticking out his hand. “Dr Van Helsing. Abraham Van Helsing.”

“I believe Mont had spoken about you,” she nods as she shakes his hand, deliberately squeezing his fingers with more force than a mere handshake would warrant. Yet another trick she learned from Ava.

“I hope so. We were... we were quite close. I know it’s been a while since he...” Van Helsing pauses as he withdraws his hand and waves it in the air before drawing it up to his ginger curls. “Please accept deepest my condolences.”

“Thank you, Dr Van Helsing.”

Her tone signals the end of the conversation, and she nods her head stiffly before turning. She knew coming back here would unearth the loss of her parents, but she is not ready to speak of Montagu yet. She bared her soul once regarding the matter, and only to one person, but she will not repeat the experience again. As liberating as it had been to tell Ava everything, she wishes to leave this heartache and guilt where it belongs - in the past.

“Please wait. We got off on the wrong foot! I didn’t come here to ask you personal questions - in fact, it is a disappearance that I was hoping to discuss with you.”

“You are a physician, not an inspector, correct?” she asks over her shoulder, not bothering to slow down her steps as she strides towards an unclaimed hansom.

“Yes, but-”

“Are you here to hire me?”

“No-”

“Then we have nothing to talk about, Dr Van Helsing. Good day.”

The driver, smelling a wealthy client who’s just arrived from London, clambers down from his seat quickly to open the door for her to get in. Just before she could disappear inside, the physician speaks again.

“I’m trying to find Miss Ava Du Mortain and Mr Nathaniel Sewell. I was hoping we could help each other out, but more importantly, I was hoping to warn you.”

“Warn me?” the detective pauses, looking back at Van Helsing with genuine shock on her prepossessing features.

“They’re not who you think they are - what you think they are.”

There’s a stretch of silence between them as her eyes assess the tall, lanky man as he stands just before the hansom, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his breath fogging in the chill air as he looks back at her expectantly. The nerve on this man alone is making the private detective want to leave him high and dry in the snow, but her insides twist and her pulse quickens at the mention of Ava’s name. She’s all but given up hope - for months now, she could find nothing regarding the woman and her partner, or the Agency they claimed to work for. She knows virtually nothing about this man, but her need to find Ava outweighs her better judgement.

“Are you hungry, Dr Van Helsing?” she asks, scooting further down the seat to make room for the man.

“Is eating and working on disappearance cases simultaneously a habit of yours, Miss?” the physician asks as he climbs in next to her.

“And here I was trying to be nice. I suppose I will not offer to pay for your lunch then.”

“I take it all back! I am positively famished.”

Meanwhile, across the train station

Lucille Licht twirls her cane, lips pressed into a disdainful frown. Cities at least have crowds upon crowds of people to distract her, but small towns such as Wayhaven hold no entertainment value whatsoever. She isn’t here on pleasant business anyway, she thinks to herself as she sighs, pulling her fur coat tighter around the expensive suit she’s wearing. No, she is here on ghastly business indeed, even by demon standards. But the prophecy was clear - though irritatingly vague too, no doubt to account for the rather large margin of error witches have these days in their prophecies. They’re more lawyers than soothsayers by now, their profession diluted by those who hunger for nothing but profit and security, and who are willing to sacrifice quality for those two aforementioned gains. Lucille finds sordid business such as this distasteful, even in her line of work. Falling from grace is one thing, but living in the Agency’s ever growing shadow is no excuse not to have honour among thieves. Or rogues. Or both, when it comes to the social circles she frequents.

A small voice in the back of her head whispers sadly, poisoning the faux assuredness she’s lulled herself into on the train. She’s just like I was, in a strange way. Before it all happened. And now I’m about to do the same horrible things to her that were done to me.

But the private detective is the one she’s been waiting for. She has to be. It all fits - the dead father, the career, the place where she was born. Lucille can’t smell anything strange about her blood yet, but she is sure she can bring about the power that was promised to reside in her veins. She has her ways, and her old magic, and her knife. And most importantly, her determination.

It was centuries ago, when she was stripped and bound and the curse was carved into her flesh. Strange, how vividly one can remember a single terrible moment, even centuries later. Even though the ancient magic rendered her undead, she can still feel the searing pain all over her body, red lines raging like fire in the form of symbols and Echolian text. It made her immortal, but it also bound her to her creator. He is the reason why she’s on the hunt. Why she is desperate to gain power beyond what she could achieve alone. Even as a human, as a meagre farmer’s child, she was roaming the fields of her father as she pleased. She was free. It was so long ago that she can’t even remember the name her parents gave her, but her freedom she remembers.

And nobody enslaves Lucille Licht and gets away with it.

Her slow burn vendetta must be coming to an end soon. There’s only so much of the supernatural underworld she can bring under her control - what she has will have to suffice. She already runs a widespread rogue organisation, with its key leadership positions held by her loyal Daughters, as she eloquently calls the women she’s bound to her service over the centuries the same way she was bound once. A necessary evil. Pawns in the game she plays with the Ancient One. There is nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure her victory in the coming battle. I will not be outwitted again by that Echolian bastard, she thinks, whacking away at a nearby bush with her cane. Specks of snow and ice glitter where her hits land. And yet she always finds herself hesitating before turning another human.

The abhorred feeling of helplessness always comes creeping back. As well as the pain, and the panic of thinking your life is about to end. She has to push it all down. Grit her teeth and get it over with. Months of preparation leading up to the final act that barely lasts ten minutes. And then you wait, and 3 days later their pain and mortality will be but a distant memory.

But she’s slipping. She no longer only hesitates before, now the intrusive self-doubt catches up to her after the rituals too. The Ancient One is still the centre of her nightmares, but the dream has changed. She is no longer the helpless little lamb brought to the slaughter. She is one with the Ancient One, his hand is hers too as it raises the knife, their voices merging together as they chant the same curse together.

She knew this victory would cost her everything. But she never imagined the real price to pay would be stepping up to fill the void the Ancient One’s death will create.

Lucille never wanted to be like him. She only ever wanted to kill him. But it seems those two things are one and the same.

She awakens from her thoughts when the man joins the private detective in the hansom. An annoying little man, that Dr Van Helsing is, though harmless in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t matter that he’s taken care of a Transylvanian rogue vampire with his entourage, it would take far more to stop her plans now. Lucille focuses on the woman instead, letting her will force itself into her mind. All too easy, she raises her eyebrows in an unimpressed fashion as she flicks through her thoughts as if she were reading the latest issue of The Times. She thought she would be more difficult to read. To control. But alas, she is just like everyone else, aside from the love that seems to seep out of her every thought for none other than Agent Du Mortain.

She grins, remembering her failed attempt at getting to the private detective earlier. She’s learned several invaluable lessons in those two years. One, you can’t trust dark elf mercenaries, no matter how much you pay them. Two, it’s better to divert the attention of the Agency first before you try to kidnap someone who has important connections in the London Metropolitan Police. Three, love makes people do really, really stupid things.

Thankfully, Lucille Licht is a smart woman, and an even better strategist - not to mention a quite powerful demon with telepathic abilities and her boot firmly planted on the supernatural underground’s neck - and this time, she has learned from all three of her mistakes. This time, there will be no Agent Du Mortain rushing to the rescue. (But that doesn’t mean she can’t use her name as bait, yes?)

Cemetery, Wayhaven, 1900

1 year and 8 months after Ava’s disappearance

He doesn’t appreciate being jerked around the way he has been lately, but he isn’t a man to grumble too much either. He was closest to the backwater little town, he gets to check out the possible supernatural case. Everyone draws the short straw sometimes, and he’s learned to cope with it. He has certainly lived long enough to do so.

The wind shifts, and suddenly Agent Fuller’s nostrils are invaded by the stench of magic. Things finally start looking up for him, and that thought alone is enough to make him pick up his pace, excitement coursing through his body. He lights a cigarette to conceal the smirk threatening to overtake his lips when he sees the pallid looks of the constables as they pass him by. One stops him to ask what his business is out here, but the Agency has already notified the meagre Wayhaven police force, and he is soon on his way again to the centre of the commotion. Cemetery of the commotion would be a more accurate description though - the little town was as dead in the mid-February frost as a place could get, and aside from the bored stationmaster who gave him directions, these men are the first living beings he’s encountered since his arrival.

“Name’s Agent Fuller. What can you tell me about the crime scene, constable?” Fuller asks as he exhales a lungful of smoke, turning to the least disturbed looking man surveying the scene.

“Welcome to the middle of nowhere, sir. Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

A handshake and a suppressed grin later Fuller follows the young man down a row of tombs. They take a sharp turn to the left, and immediately it is clear why he was called here. The sight is confirmation enough, but the smell of potent and ancient magic is the real giveaway.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a walker,” Fuller snorts as he crouches down, picking up a piece of the crumbled marble.

“The poor woman was buried only 3 days ago,” the constable mutters, rubbing his hands together before bringing them to his lips and blowing hot air onto them, desperately attempting to revitalise his frozen fingers. “Who could do such a monstrous thing?”

“Indeed, who could...” the agent mutters, too focused to really pay attention to the human on his right. The tomb was torn open, the coffin deserted, the body missing. It coincides with many reports made over the centuries - it’s unfortunately not rare for the dead to be taken and repurposed again for magic, but this particular pattern is characteristic of demonic rogues having too much time on their necromantic little hands. He will need to consult a few colleagues to confirm it, but the 3 days and the apparent magic hanging in the air is all the evidence he needs right now.

He stands, the lapels of his dark coat flapping in the chilly wind ominously. There’s a page typed up about the busy life of his missing body in his pocket, crumpled around the edges from being handled carelessly, but he takes it out to skim over it again. That’s when he spots the little detail about the private detective’s history with the Agency that he seemed to have missed the first time around.

‘1896-1898: under Agency protection

Threat: classified

Agents on the case: A. Du Mortain, N. Sewell’

The Agency gossips like there’s no tomorrow, and ever since Lady Ashbury’s return to the main facility, the gossip about the ‘Ice Queen’ and her pet detective have been the most fashionable thing to blabber on about. And since Fuller has been to the scene, it will be him who will have to provide all the answers when Du Mortain comes with her demanding questions, no doubt breaking down doors in the process as it is in her nature. Fuller is by no means a man who shies away from conflict or hard work, but he’s never been particularly good with emotions. Explaining to a lovesick elder vampire that her alleged lover is now very dead, and also quite probably the plaything of a very bored and elusive demon who likes to play with necromancy is not a task he would gladly carry out.

“Well, shit.”

Fuller shoves the page back into his pocket and sighs. He should retire and buy a house in the wilderness. Get a cat. Maybe try some cocaine - he once saw Heinrich Quincke use it for spinal anaesthesia before one of his surgeries, and have been meaning to try it out ever since. But he does none of those things - he never does.

He walks back the way he came, trying to prepare himself for the most awkward conversation of the century.

Needless to say, he couldn’t prepare himself for what was to come. But for once, he couldn’t feel mad about a messy situations. He just felt a little more hollow afterwards. And then he got another case as this one was closed and the woman was declared dead once more. And he moved on.

But, like with all his cases ending in death, he never forgot.

#dottiechan writes #ava du mortain x detective #a du mortain x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #ava du mortain #a du mortain #a lot to unpack here #i know a lot might still appear strange but i promise it will all make sense soon haha

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