#i should not have worn my fuzzy pants. and. i was nervous. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

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Out Tonight (Part 4)

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Summary: The morning after your drunken hookup with Rafael Barba, continued. More awkwardness and unpacking the dubcon.

3,294 words

You had been nervous waking up next to a stranger. You knew you’d both been drunk, and caught up in a karaoke dream. Now that the night’s carefree energy had worn off, and the glamorous glow of stage lights were replaced by the garish light of day, you were worried things would be awkward.

Of course, you had pictured something more along the lines of, he would think you were ugly, or you would freeze up and blurt something stupid, or he’d slip his wedding ring out of his pocket, put it back on his finger, and smack you on the ass as he swaggered out, and you’d feel like an idiot.

You had not expected the shitstorm of him not remembering anything.

He was drunk, but with the way he was spouting off legal advice, you would never have imagined he was blackout drunk. You never imagined waking up to being accused of drugging him. God—this was what you got for letting loose for once. It always seemed so glamorous when your college roommates brought guys home after a night of partying, but of course the one time you do, you’re a sexual predator. Fuck!

Then again, it was starting to make sense. Because immediately after accusing you, he practically tried to arrest himself. The open, flirtatious charmer you met at the bar was so unlike this tightly-wound ball of anxiety, he must have been down to his last brain cell last night. It was just that each and every one of his brain cells happened to contain the entire New York bar exam.

But that didn’t make you a predator, did it? He was fine. Maybe not fine, but not… It wasn’t like he was unconscious. Oh, god, was that really how low you wanted to set the bar? It’s fine to take advantage of drunk people so long as they haven’t passed out yet? Or so long as they’re men? Your stomach turned. Everything he said about filing charges against him… suddenly you were certain you were the one who should be standing in front of a grand jury.

***

Barba waved the compact hotel-provided blow dryer over his freshly washed and rung out boxers. His pants and shirt would need to be ironed before he would dare leave the hotel room (it was bad enough that he had none of his usual hair product and was already dreadfully fuzzy), but the large ironing board wouldn’t fit inside the small hotel bathroom. He would have to go back out there, but he didn’t have a change of pants. He wondered if would be appropriate to walk around in just his boxers. You had already seen him naked, he supposed. Maybe. He didn’t really know what happened between you, but it seemed a bit late to be feeling shy.

Then again, he still could not be certain he wasn’t the one who pushed himself on you. As he got into the shower, he had smelled you on his fingers, and the scent was so intoxicating he had to stop himself from licking them. A little clip of memory returned, your lips warm and inviting against his, the taste of your tongue, his hips rolling desperately against yours, and he realized what that feeling was that he could not quite place. It was attachment: a deep, carnal, passionate, bond. Probably the product of oxytocin or… pheromones? Some lizard-brain part of him had developed an irresistible need for you.

It wouldn’t be unusual for a victim in your situation to act friendly toward her abuser, if you hadn’t fully processed yet. If he had taken advantage of a drunk woman at a bar, he certainly had no desire to traumatize you further by strutting around half naked.

He put on his toasty boxers and mostly-clean undershirt, and knocked at the bathroom door, poking his head out into the room, eyes averted. “Sorry to ask, but do you have a pair of sweatpants that might fit me?”

There was a flash of movement, and a loud sniff as you jolted up into a sitting position. He looked up, and noticed you hadn’t moved from the spot on the bed where he had left you, and you were facing away from him, rubbing your eyes.

“I… I might have something,” you said, trying to hide the waver in your voice.

Without thinking he rushed out, closing the distance in three steps, then stood awkwardly by the side of the bed, suddenly aware that he had no idea what to do. “Are… are you OK?” he asked. A knot tightened in his stomach. It was him, wasn’t it? You must have remembered something he did.

Your big eyes looked up at him, red and glistening with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whimpered.

Oh. He dropped onto the bed beside you, staring at his lap.

“I didn’t think you were… You wanted it so much! You didn't seem…. But you were. God, you were crying! You hugged me at the bar and cried into my shirt, I should have known you were in a vulnerable place. I took advantage of you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to—what do I do to make this right? Are you going to press charges? I’ll do what you said you would, I’ll plead guilty.”

His lizard-brain had the strong impulse to pull you into his arms and tell you it was all alright. His lawyer voice answered automatically, “There’s no case. You committed no crime in New York State if I consented at the time, so long as I was not drugged against my will. Which you… didn’t?” he hazarded a guess. “Even if there was a sexually based offense here—a male victim and female defendant? No jury would ever convict you. The D.A. wouldn’t touch it without ironclad proof of wrongdoing.”

“Th-that’s not the issue! And that’s terrible!”

“It’s… the system,” he gave a commiserating shrug. “Justice has never been blind.”

“But if I hurt you…” You fell silent, and were quiet for awhile, not sure what to say, or do. His words were not exactly comforting, but they weren’t condemning either. You were more confused than ever.

“If you want to make it up to me, start by lending me some pants?” he asked with a smirk that was somewhere between rakish and about-to-die-of-embarrassment, dragging a corner of the blanket over his lap.

***

A tiny cloud of steam puffed from the clothing iron as Barba methodically pressed the appropriate creases back into his dress pants while smoothing the unwanted wrinkles out. His ejaculate had not left a permanent stain, and, vain as it was to admit, that had him feeling significantly relieved about the entire situation. That, and vomiting his guts out, taking an aspirin, and downing several cups of bad coffee from the coffee maker.

“Alright,” he said, taking his eyes off the iron just long enough to give you a probing look where you sat, cross-legged on the bed, “Walk me through everything that happened last night. Step by step.”

His gaze, though brief, was intense, like you were a witness for the defense and he was ready to poke holes in anything less than the full and complete truth. Yet it was harder to be intimidated now that he was wearing your pink and blue plaid Vermont Flannel pajamas, looking very domestic in front of an ironing board. And since you had noticed his pink heart socks that matched the color of his tie.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

The flash of memory of your warm lips sprang, unwanted, into the forefront of his mind. He pushed it away, and dug further back. “The McCaskey trial ended. Everyone took the verdict hard.” His lip twitched but he restrained himself from saying aloud that it was all his fault. Nobody needed a pity-party. “Everyone else had their own Friday plans, so I went out to drink alone. Don’t give me that look, I drink alone all the time.”

The look you were giving intensified.

“OK, I see how that sounded worse. I drink moderately. I have never done anything like...” He lifted the iron and used it to gesture to the entire waking-up-drunk-in-a-strange-hotel-room situation. His brow knit as he tried to peer deeper into his memory, but everything grew dream-like from there. “I need to know how this happened.”

“Do you remember singing?” you prompted.

“I sang?”

“We did half the soundtrack of RENT.”

“Dear lord…” In his stunned embarrassment, he stopped moving the iron and nearly burned his pants, jerking the iron up at the last second.

“You have a beautiful voice,” you smirked, suddenly quite enjoying his bewilderment.

“Oh god,” he moaned woefully.

He folded his pants and set them aside on the chair with his jacket, which also needed a bit of care, but would suffice enough for the walk of shame back home. He spread his rumpled dress shirt on the ironing board.

The thin fabric of his undershirt stretched over his chest, so that every movement showed off the working of robust muscles. Its low cut neck revealed a swath of dark chest hair. The overall effect made you fight with your inner voice not to run your hands all over him.

“Anything coming back?” you asked hopefully, but he only glanced up and shrugged. They say music has a profound connection to memory, so you risked singing a few bars. “What’s the time? Well it’s gotta be close to midnight...”

At first he just gave a wry little chuckle, focusing on ironing his shirt. Then his head snapped up, eyes focused far beyond the wall of the hotel room.

“They set up karaoke in my bar?” He set the hot iron aside as his mind worked over this bizarre realization as you nodded your head, confirming it was not some weird dream he had. He covered his shameful face with a large hand, pinching the tension building in the bridge of his nose. His eyes darted down at you between his fingers. “We sang together,” he breathed. He raked his hand slowly down the length of his face. As his palm brushed over his lips, the sensation of yours came back to him again: a supple, giving pressure, your tongue wet and eager and sweet like strawberry. A racing, fluttering in his heart made his breathing hitch. He felt sweaty.

He was just breathing now, staring down at you with such intensity in those leaf-green eyes, the urge to run your hands down his chest returned. But it was more than that. For the first time since you woke up, his eyes were looking at you with something like recognition. You almost glimpsed the friend you’d made, the one whose absence you’d been feeling like a hole in the gut. Then he shook his head, and it was gone.

“Tell me what happened next,” the prosecutor said.

***

The Rafael Barba of this morning was much more like what you’d expect a big-shot city lawyer to be. Now that you had seen him sober it was obvious how drunk he was already before he got up to sing. Everything you told him turned his face and his neck a new shade of red.

By the time you finished the story, he had finished ironing and changed back in to everything but his jacket and tie. He sat down next to you on the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress so you had to resist gravity not to lean into him.

“So we didn’t have sex?”

“No. I could tell you were too drunk to consent. You just fingered me. I probably shouldn’t have let you get in my pants at all, but I… I guess I really wanted to.” You blushed and your head fell, trapped between wanting to savor the delicious memory and ashamed of your conduct.

He groaned, pressing his lips thin into a tense but smug smirk. “Legally? Everything about that statement is wrong. New York law states that someone who becomes drunk voluntarily is not deemed mentally incapacitated to give consent.”

“I know. You’ve said that twice already. What’s legal isn’t always the same as what’s right.”

His bright eyes sparkled when you said that. “Agreed. But irrelevant,” he brushed off your interruption. “For the purposes of determining criminal sexual assault, New York law also does not distinguish between penetration by penis, finger, or foreign objects. In other words—if, hypothetically, New York changed its laws regarding intoxication and consent—I would be guilty of raping you.” He said it in his callous, matter-of-fact voice, then after thinking about the weight behind his conclusion, looked as if his head might explode. His eyes fell across the marks still visible above your collar. “The way you tell it...” he began hesitantly, low and shamed, “It sounds like I’m the one who got drunk and pushed myself on you.”

“No!” you cried immediately, with a force that startled you both, and aggravated your headaches. "You didn’t push. If I said no, you would have stopped… I checked,” you added with a small laugh.

He exhaled in relief. “Really?” he raised a soft brow with a bit more blond in it than his hair.

“Yep. You’re quite the gentleman, even blackout drunk. That’s why I didn’t think you were…” You trailed off.

“Well. It’s good to know there are lines I won’t cross.”

Your hands were folded tightly in your lap. He was hunched over with his chin buried deep in his fist. You opened your mouth to speak, but he spoke first, and you apologized at the same time for talking over each other.

“You first,” he said.

“I just… I’m sorry, Rafael. Mr. Barba? I don’t…” you sighed, and gave him a weary smile. “Last night was a lot of fun. We had fun together. I liked getting to know you. I’m sorry it turned into such a shit show. I should have just gotten your number and said goodnight.”

“I don’t know which one of us to blame,” he said with finality. You looked so helpless and small, the fierce urge to protect you welled in his chest. He hated to think of you carrying guilt over his own stupid mistakes. “I don’t blame you.” He reached an arm behind you to pat your back, but his hand froze, shaking, without making contact. He didn’t know how you’d feel about him touching you.

You leaned into the open space his arm created, turning your head into his shoulder in a side-hug. The primal impulse fighting him for control screamed in victory, taking in the smell of your hair and relishing it. His hand patted your upper back stiffly, three times, like a good soldier obeying conscious, sober, higher-brain Barba. You pulled back and stammered an apology, cheeks darkening.

“Well. Then.” He stood suddenly, swallowing. He bustled about the room collecting his things, touching up his hair, getting ready to leave.

***

You leaned against the wall by the door, waiting to say goodbye, debating and mentally practicing the words you wanted to say. Finally, he stood in the narrow entryway, and you had your chance.

“Hey. Maybe this is too forward, but… do you want to hang out again?” you asked, eyes having trouble deciding whether they wanted to gaze deep into his or avoid him entirely and stare at the ground.

“What could be forward about a date after this?” he shot you a look from under his eyebrows. “The fact that I would remember it?”

Ground. Your eyes made up their mind; you stared doggedly at the ground hoping it might open up and drop you eleven stories to merciful death on the lobby floor.

“It’s nothing personal,” he began buttoning up his jacket, “it’s just… this was a mistake. I do not have time to be frolicking about like a sophomore at a liberal arts school. I let myself get out of control. Whoever you met last night is not who I am.” He tugged the jacket to straighten it for emphasis, though all the while his heart was fighting against the bounds of his rib cage. You looked so downtrodden. Apparently you had a wonderful, magical time singing musical theater karaoke with his drunk alter-ego, and in less than an hour sober he had already made you cry once, and seemed poised to do it again. “You don’t know me,” he sighed. “I know you even less. I doubt you would like me very much.”

“But maybe I would,” you said, finally returning his gaze with fragile determination. “I’d like to at least get to know you sober. To see if this… meant anything. I don’t want to believe this was all a mistake, that everything I felt—that I thought you felt, too—was a lie. I don’t know if you’ll like me, either, but how do you ever get to know anyone if you don't give getting to know them a chance?”

His jaw tightened with the obvious answer that he didn’t. Barba had work, and he had his lonely Scotch at his usual bar (which it now looked like he might have to replace if it was turning into a karaoke dive).

“Aren’t you lonely, Mr. Barba?” you asked, as if reading his mind.

“No,” he said tersely, but then softened his answer, “My work keeps me too busy for relationships. I don’t have the time.”

“Is there no room in your schedule for one date? I’m not asking for a relationship, just… a half hour to do something fun. I feel awful about how bad this was for you. I just want to leave you with something to remember me by… that you’ll actually remember.”

He did have more fun with you than he’d had in years. Even from the handful of scrambled memories that came back to him, he could tell that much—how good it felt to let go and belt out songs he only ever sang in the shower, to have a partner singing back to him, completely in sync with each other. He remembered babbling on about laws, and you patiently listening like it was actually interesting and not obnoxious. As you fidgeted nervously awaiting his answer, you added a coy, “¿Por favor?” and his mind filled in por favor, papi. It brought with it another snippet of memory. A song you were singing, together, your beautiful eyes looking right into his, pleading. “The heart may freeze, or it can burn.”

He grumbled and shifted feet. “I have a lot of prep for my next case, but I should be finished with it by nine,” he said. His tone was so flat and sharp it took you a long moment to realize what he meant. “If you want to… have dinner.”

You beamed ear to ear, pushing off from the wall to bounce on your toes so vibrantly you made yourself nauseous and had to stand still. Then your face fell. “Ah—you mean tonight? I can’t tonight, I’m going to Hamilton with my parents. How about tomorrow? I’m getting dim sum with a friend at Radiance. She’s bringing her girlfriend so I’ll be a total third wheel if I don’t have a date.”

“You want to bring the stranger from your drunken hookup to lunch date with an old friend?” he grimaced. “Won’t that be, I don’t know, awkward?”

“Oh, incredibly. But we can lean into that, for fun, and science!” you grinned dangerously.

“How about breakfast,” he offered. “Coffee?”

“Coffee would be great.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom@thatesqcrush @dianilaws @permanentlydizzy@eclecticreader2020 @mrsrafaelbarba @da-po

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #Raúl Esparza #Barba x female reader #My writing

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years

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Christmas in the Penthouse - Jumin Han

Summary: this takes place after Jumin’s ending in the Christmas DLC. Basically just what you guys did when you got to his penthouse :) not inappropriate tho even though it sounds that way from this description

Merry Christmas to you all, happy holidays if you don’t celebrate Christmas. I love you all so much

“I can’t believe it’s all over. The fundraiser, and we took everything down all in one night!” You smiled at Jaehee and Yoosung. “You two did a great job.”

“I’m glad you came early. It helped a lot!” Yoosung smiled.

Jaehee nodded. “It did. It’s almost 11 at night. I need to be getting to the office. Please tell me when you both get home safely.”

Oh yes, going home. You’d just call another Uber, even though they made you nervous, especially at night. It’d be okay.

“Thank you Jaehee!”

She left, hurrying to get to the office and get right back to work.

“I wish I could make sure you got home okay,” Yoosung pouted.

You shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m going to stay for a little to say goodbye to Jumin after he’s done talking to V.”

“I can’t believe you two...”

Your face was heating up. “We didn’t do anything. But I do like him.”

“Well it looks like they just finished talking. V looks relieved. Hopefully this is good news for the RFA.”

“Yoosung, you did a great job today. Rika would be so proud. Go home and get some rest.” You gave him a hug and said your goodbyes, then made your way to say goodnight to Jumin. V had already left it seemed.

“Jumin, tonight was...” how would you put it into words? “So special. Thank you.”

He was blushing. The lights had just shut off, leaving him illuminated by the moon and a few streetlights. He looked handsome as ever. “I should be the one thanking you. You’ve made this holiday unforgettable.” He tugged lightly on the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Are you going home?”

You tightened your scarf around you. It was cold. “Yeah, I’ll take another Uber.”

His eyes were wide, filled with concern. “Are you sure it’ll be okay?”

You nodded, putting on a smile. “Of course...” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I may have just met you today but I can tell something’s wrong.”

You looked up at him. He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he grabbed onto your hands gently, moving them slightly to bring warmth back into your fingertips.

“I... that Unknown guy messaged me last night,” you confessed. “And it kinda scared me. He said he wanted to come to the event and when I wouldn’t tell him about it he went on and on about getting his revenge...”

His face fell. He almost looked... angry. But then it was back to normal. “I’ll tell Luciel. Why... why don’t you stay at my penthouse tonight? I have security guards and two bedrooms of course and you could finally meet Elizabeth the 3rd.”

“I’d like that a lot. And then I can go home in the morning,” you nodded.

“Okay. We’ll do that.”

Jumin held your hand the entire way to the penthouse. In Driver Kim’s car, while he called Jaehee, the way up in the elevator. He wouldn’t let you go. He stopped outside of the door to his penthouse. “This is my head of security. This is the RFA coordinator. She’ll be staying here tonight. Her safety is the upmost priority.” He informed the man guarding the door. The guard gave you a polite wave. Jumin still had your hand.

He put on a kettle for tea first. Then he showed you around, taking his time to detail where you could find books or cups or anything you might need. Then you got to meet Elizabeth. He couldn’t find her at first, but the moment you sat down on the couch she joined you, sitting by your side.

You reached your hand out for her to sniff, which she seemed to do approvingly, then gently let her head. “Hi Elizabeth,” you smiled, focusing on the way her eyes closed when you got the perfect spot on her ear.

“She seems to like you,” Jumin smiled, sitting down on the couch next to the cat. “I’m happy to see that. Oh! I didn’t realize you still had your scarf on. I can take that.”

You untied the scarf then handed it to Jumin. And then it hit you. It seemed to hit him at the same time. “You don’t have any clothes to change into.”

“I just realized that as well...” you looked down at your outfit. The event was formal! So of course you were wearing a sweater, and like a fancy suit jacket, and a skirt. And that wasn’t comfy to sleep in. You unbuttoned the jacket and took it off. “It’s okay. This isn’t too bad to sleep in.”

“I’m so sorry. I would offer to get you some new clothes but I don’t think anything is open, especially at this hour on Christmas.” He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. “I can call Assistant Kang and-“

“No! It’s okay.” You looked up at Jumin, a smile on your face. “I’m okay.”

“I have some pajama pants for me? I could give you those? I have sweatpants too! And shorts? They won’t fit you right but you could wear those if you’d prefer.”

As if you’d turn down the chance to wear Jumin’s clothes. “I’ll take a look if that’s okay.”

Jumin’s closet was huge. Most of it was dress clothes. But there was a part of the rack with some sweaters, like two t-shirts, and sweatpants. “I didn’t realize you wore this kind of stuff. But I guess you can’t wear suits all the time.”

“Yes. Well, this is for gardening. I’ve never worn the pants to be honest.”

You glanced at his line of striped dress shirts, your fingers instinctively reaching to it. “I can’t just wear this?”

His face was so red you thought he was going to faint. “No! No you can’t. That’s not suitable. I can show you my pajamas too. They’re over here,” he grabbed your hand, practically tearing you away from his dress shirts.

“I didn’t realize that would fluster you so much. It’s just a shirt. It was soft,” you told him, a giggle in your throat, as you kneeled down to go through his pajama drawer. Going through his drawer felt wrong. But he didn’t seem to have anything to hide so you assumed it was okay. You pulled out a plaid pair of pants, then teetered back to the closet to snatch a t-shirt. “This is okay though?” You asked, holding it up to him.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Yes. That’s perfect.”

You walked towards his bathroom. “I’m going to get changed. And you should too! I know you practically live in suits but I’ll feel super overdressed if you don’t change.”

He was in a silky set of powder blue and white striped pajamas. You were already on the couch when he entered the living room, your clothes folded neatly and set on the coffee table, Elizabeth in your lap.

He took a seat next to you, trying not to be obvious with how he looked you up and down. He chuckled. “My pants are too long on you.”

You had to roll them a few times for them to fit. It was no secret Jumin was tall. “I like it though. I don’t know, I feel all warm and fuzzy in this.”

He sat close to you, wrapping his arms around you like he had done earlier in the night. He moved close to cuddle you, nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. “You feel warm and fuzzy too.”

“Can you turn on the tv or something?” You asked. He nodded, turning it on and handing you the remote. “With all the excitement I need something to unwind before I can fall asleep.”

You stayed cuddled with him. He had his phone out, doing some messages for work due to the fundraiser. Every once in a while he’d kiss your cheek or squeeze you tighter so you knew he was still there. You knew you were getting tired. You’d just close your eyes for a minute.

Your phone was vibrating. Nonstop. You opened your eyes, reaching for it. Jumin was still holding you right. “4 missed calls from Zen!? Seriously,” you groaned.

“He found out you were staying here.” Jumin’s voice was low and quiet. He sounded tired.

You picked up the phone. “Zen? I was sleeping”

“Tell me you’re not at his house!?” He sounded like he was spiraling over the phone.

“Yeah, I’m with Jumin right now.” You glanced at him. He was smiling.

“You need to leave. All men are wolves, especially at night. You think he’ll be a gentleman just because it’s Christmas!?” He was half shouting. You had to hold the phone away from your ear.

“Jumin is a perfect gentleman,” you stated simply.

“No! I won’t let you fall for his tricks. I’m coming to pick you up right now.”

“And then what? I stay at your house? But all men are wolves Zenny~” You cooed. Jumin chuckled, pulling you closer even and kissing your head. You looked back at him and winked.

“Ah! I!” The line went silent. “Call me if you need anything! Anything! He’s not right in his head.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas by the way!”

“Merry Christmas Zenny!” Jumin called over the phone. You exploded into laughter. Zen groaned an hung up first.

“It’s time to get you to bed,” Jumin smiled, standing up and stretching. “As cute as your giggles are.”

“But Jumin! You promised you’d say something cute,” you reminded him of his promise earlier during the event.

“Oh! Have I not said anything cute this whole time?”

“You’ve got me there,” you shrugged. “You’re very cute.”

He walked you to your bedroom, stopping at the door. “Here’s your room for the night.”

You had finally had him. He had you. And it sucked to spend time away from him while under the same roof. “We really can’t share? Or just cuddle on the couch and sleep? You’re going to go back all the way to your room?” You crossed your arms.

“I am. Forgive me. I... I would not want to overdo anything tonight. I’m just so happy to have you here that I don’t want to do anything wrong.” He looked awkwardly to the side. “But if you need anything I’m right down the hall.”

“Okay,” your voice was soft. “Good night Jumin. Merry Christmas.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek, pulling your face so close to his that you could feel his every exhale. The other arm settled on your waist, pulling you slightly closer. “Could I give you a good night kiss?” He whispered.

You nodded eagerly. That was all he needed to close the distance, soft lips meeting your own in a slow, but loving kiss. He didn’t stay for too long, afraid of overstaying his welcome. He pressed one more quick kiss to your lips again. “Merry Christmas.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #Jumin han #Christmas

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arthurflecksgirl · 4 years

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Hi sweety!🥰 could you please develope a prompt where x reader goes to Arthur's apartment for a coffee (they're only friends maybe?) and then she forgot her sweater (🥺) by him. so the next day he goes to her apartment to bring the sweater back to her. And idk if you want to add some cuddles or a cold weather and a warm tea🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much

Oh sweetheart, your request warmed my heart and it was so much fun to write it. You know I have a weakness for sweater stories when it comes to our sweet Artie.Thank you so much. I really really hope you like it.

Pressing that elevator button felt different, knowing that you wouldnt go into your own apartment but ringing the bell on Arthur`s door. You knew each other since you moved into this building a few months ago but it took you weeks to finally make the first move and talk to him.

Arthur was a very shy man with intense eyes and a beautiful smile, which was hiding so much pain. You could tell from the way he was making jokes that he was sad. He was the kind of person who wanted to make others happy because he couldnt find happiness himself. Observing his loneliness made you sad. It hurt you to see that a wonderful man like him was all alone. Every since his mother was commited to Arkham state hospital he lived a lonely life in his dark apartment. Sometimes you could hear him laugh through the walls. It was a different kind of laughter, almost like he was in pain. One day he started laughing out of the blue and he handed this card to you, which said something about a condition. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he was too shy to interact with people. You have never seen him with someone else. Being his only friend felt special. Thats what you were. Friends. At least you thought so. Arthur never showed any kind of interest in being more than that. He was always very friendly, awkwardly shy and incredibly sad. Even when he was funny. Especially ehen he was funny.

You walked down the halls with a racing heart. You fell hard for this beautiful, sad soul. Just the thought of meeting up with him for a coffee made your knees weak. If only he knew if you were in love with him. But how could you vere tell him without risking his freindship? Maybe he prefered to be alone. Arthur always seemed like he could be scared away easily and you didnt wanted to. Just sitting beside him on his couch, feeling his presence was a gift. You could never risk to lose that.

Meeting up for a coffee after work was something you used to do pretty often now. Sometimes he would take you to the donut shop, even though he never ate one, but this time he invited you to come over to his place. Which felt so much more intimate.

You took a deep breath as you rang the doorbell.

"Coming" Arturs soft voice sounded like he was already smiling.

He opened the door. His brown curls matched his worn out chestnut sweater. A cigarette was tugged between his thin lips. He looked tired but his natural beauty was almost hurtful.

"Hi Y/N." his smile exposed his crooked tooth, which reminded you of how many nights you yearned for him to kiss you.

"Hey Arthur. I`m sorry I´m a bit late. I had to work longer today. "

"Its fine. I mean...I won`t go anywhere. I`m....here..." for a brief moment there was an awkward silence between the two of you. Then he turned around "Sit down...I mean....." he ran his fingers through his hair, appearently nervous ".....make yourself at home. I`ll make some coffee."

He headed into the kitchen while you sat down on the couch and took off your sweater.It was cold outside.Gotham city wasnt very pleasent during wintertime. The cold easily managed to get to your bones.

It was the 3rd time you every sat here. The fabric was old and faded, yellow and blue pillows decorated the corners. Along with flowery and green sheets. Everything smelled like him. The scent of passion and romance. You always imagined Arthur to be a very romantic lover. The thought of that made you blush while he came back from the kitchen to hand you a hot cup of coffee.

"I`m sorry I only have these self made Murray Franklin show cups to offer you. Kinda embarassing." He took a sip of his own cup which looked exactly like yours , except for the handwritten letters looking a bit more shaky.

You turned the cup in yor hands "I think thats pretty sweet actually. Making your own cups of your fave tv show".

Arthurs eyes pierced you while he took another sip. The color of his eyes was everything.

"Yeah?"

"Sure!"

"You`re the only one who thinks so" he lit himself another cig and took a deep drag. His eyelids fluttered for a second. Details. details everywhere. Arthur was like a museum of details.

"My mother thought it was stupid. She said it reminds her of the fact that we dont even have enough money to buy the real cup."

You gave him a serious look "No, I really think its a creative thing to do. You are a creative guy."

His face lighted up "You think i´m crative? "

"Sure. You do write your own jokes, right?"

"Mhhh hmmmm, yeah"

"See? Very creative."

"Maybe I am" Arthurs left leg started bouncing and you caught yourself thinking how nice it would be to place your hand on his knee and make it stop by calming him down. You imagined how the fabric of his blue pants would feel under your fingertips. Or his naked skin...

Arthur sat close beside you, yet not close enough for his knee or arm to touch yours. You thought about how you could possibly touch him by accident. Feeling the fabcric of his clothes or his bare skin stroking yours was all you could think about.

He put the cup back on the table and looked at you in a way he never did before. His eyes focused you without blinking. Like the shyness within him was gone for a brief moment. You tried to mirror his stare, but it was impossible to look into his eyes without fighting the urge to grab his face and kiss him. So you focused on the curl that was dancing in his neck instead. Not a good idea as well. Looking at this vulnerable part of his body only made you yearn for more.

You caught yourself looking away, which made you hate yourself. How could you possibly turn your head away when he was finally looking at you like that?

"You`re a party clown right?"

Arthur finally blinked "Yeah."

"I`d love to see some of your acts some day"

"I also do stand up comedy. Maybe you`ll come to Pogos when I perform next week?"

"Ohh Arthur, I would love that" and all of te sudden your hand was resting on his thigh. Arthurs muscles twitched under your soft touch. Like he wasnt used to being touched at all.

His smile said more than a thousand words "Wow, thats great news. I would love to see you in the audience. I will try to give my best performance for you. You know what Y/N? I´m gonna write a joke especially for you. Would you like that?"

Your hand was still on his leg. Touching him was magical. Like your hand was always supposed to be there. You nodded. Unable to say a word.

He looked at the back of yor hand like he couldnt belive that someone was actually resting his hand on him. You could tell from his eyes how touch starved he was.

All of the sudden Arthur got up. Your hand falling off his leg felt wrong.

"So I think I better work on that jokes now." he mumbled while he headed to his desk.

Right now? You felt the disappointment rising in your heart. He wanted you to leave?

"They better be good if you`re gonna be a part of the audience!" he added.

"Okay Arthur. It was nice to have a coffee with you. Im sure your new jokes will turn out incredibly funny.""

He smiled his sweetest smile while he grabbed the pen, looking like he was already about to concentrate.

"You know, I wrote this joke last night but I havent figured out the punchline yet. Punshlines are important. And facial expessions. I feel like I always get them wrong. And I have to look into peoples eyes more often."

"Sounds like a great plan, Arthur. "

"Thank you Y/N. I`m trying. I really do."

"I know"

"I want my stand ups to be good enough for the big clubs." he pressed his journal to his chest.

"I`m sure some day you will be well known. Everyone will know the name Arthur Fleck and think of a grea comedian".

You noticed his eyes watering as he walked you to the door "Even kids?"

"Sure?"

"That would be sweet"

You wrapped his arms around him as you said our goodbyes "So, I`ll see you next week at Pogos?" he asked.

"Definitely!"

Your hug felt a little too tight for being just friends and you hoped he didnt noticed.

It felt a little too long too, but you couldnt help but trying to get a nose full of the smell of his soft curls.

Arthur looked after you before he closed the door behind him.

You walked down the hallway to get to your own apartment and immediately missed him.

Twenty minutes later you found yourself lying on your bed, realizing that you forgot your sweater on his couch. Should you gt over and get it? You decited not to. He porobably was working on his jokes right now and you didnt wanted to bother him. So instead of visiting him one more time you just disappeared under the blanket and dreamed of him for the rest of the night.

The next day felt like a fever dream. Fantasizing about Arthurs lips and hands for the whole night left you with a strange feeling in your chest. Was it wrong to think of him that way? You thought about your sweater and how it was lying in Arthurs apartment for the whole night. You wondered if he left it lying on the couch and if he was still sleeping on the couch now that Penny was at the hospital? You couldnt concentrate while working at all. Your beautiful neighbor filled your mind with so many questions and daydreams. Daydreaming about him became something that helped you to get through the day. Just thinking of him chuckeling made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like nothing could harm you anymore.

This man was magic.

And you wanted him so bad.

Somehow the day passed by like every day does and you found yourself alone in the bathroom, looking at the mirror, wondering if you were even his type of girl. You had no idea in what kinda girls he was into.

And just as you started wondering someone knocked at your door. Was it possible...?

You nervously hurried up to open it.

It was him.

Arthur was standing in front of you, holding your sweater in his hands.

"Hi Y/N. I dont know if you noticed but... you forgot your sweater yesterday and I didnt wanted to bother you and...."

"Ohhh Arthur. Thats so sweet of you. Yeah I noticed. Thank you."

You could swear that he was about to blush.

"You wanna come in?"

Arthur nodded while he stumbled through your door.

"Make yourself comfy, I am right back" you smiled as he sat down in the living room.

You disappeared in the bathroom, pressing your face into your sweater to see if it smelled differently. It did. There was a hint of Arthurs cologne on it. His flowery shampoo and the smell of smoke. Your sweater smelled like him.

You buried your face deeper into the fabric and breathed in.

It was your piece of clothing but it felt like it was his. Breathing in the scent that was so him was the most intimate moment of your entire life. Was that what it feels like to fall asleep in his arms? To cuddle with him on the couch while watching his fave comedy shows on the screen? Was that what he smelled like under his clothes? His bare skin? Was that the scent that would surrowd you while making love to him?

Your thoughts went all over the place while you rubbed the fabric against your blushing cheeks.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

Arthurs voice woke you from your daydreams "Oh, yeah sure. Just got to use the bathroom. I´ll be right back"

"Okay! "

A minute later you sat beside him on the couch, the sweater still in your hands.

Arthur stared at it. His hands lay on his lap while he played with his own fingers.

"I have to admit something" he said "It`s so embarrassing. I dont even know how to tell you...."

"You can tell me anything, Arthur"

"There is a stain on your sweater now. It was me. I`m so sorry. I ruined it. Its face paint. I still got it on my fingers after I cleaned my brushes. " he showed you the spots where he stained it.

Traces of him.

This somehow made you very emotional.

Its was his sweater now.

Through and through.

"Thats okay, Arthur. Dont worry. I dont mind."

"Really?" he seemed surprised.

"I dont mind at all !"

He shrug "Well there is another thing.... after I noticed you forgot your sweater on my couch... there was a reason I didnt came over to hand it to you last night. Its so embarrassing, oh my god..."

You giggled "Okay? Why didnt you?"

"I....put it on" Arthur buried his face in his hands "Sorry, dont hate me. Please. I put your sweater on and I slept in it." His legs started to bounce.

You coudlnt belive what you just heard. That was the cutest thing you could have imagined.

"Arthur,really? You slept in my sweater?"

He exposed his face.

"I know...I know....its...I`m sorry. Now you must think I`m a total freak or a stalker or something." He looked down on the floor, way too shy to look you in the eyes while he started to bite his nails.

"Actually I think thats pretty cute." you chuckled. The blood was rushing to your face. This man really got under your skin.

"What? Are...are you serious? You´re not mad at me? You dont think i´m a freak?"

"I could never think you`re a freak. I´m glad you told me. Now I`m going to tell you something much more embarrassing, okay? So you see that you are not the only one."

Arthur gave you an insecure look "Okay?"

"When I was at the bathroom before, I sniffed my sweater because I hoped it would smell like your apartment."

"I`m sorry if it smells like smoke now."

"Noooo not because of that! I wanted it to smell like... you!"

Arthurs eyes filled with love "You mean...."

You nodded as your eyes watered "I`m in love with you ever since I saw you for the first time. I just didnt knew how to tell you."

Arthur fell into your arms "Me too Y/N. Oh god.....me,too."

You pulled him closer. You never noticed how tiney he was in your arms. How fragile.

"Why havent you told me?" you asked him, while his face was buried in your neck.

"I didnt wanted to boter you. People often feel bothered by me. They think I`m weird. I was glad you even talked to me. Those short coffee breaks meant the world to me."

"Artie, this is just....I`m speechless."

He chuckled, now facing you "You just called me Artie".

"I know. Thats what I called you in my head all the time".

"I could get used to that" he smirked, which made his lip scar show even more intense.

"I cold call you Artie all night if you want to stay. " you whispered into his ear.

"I would love to. I mean its cold outside and some cuddles and warm tea would be nice..."

"Or some kisses" you added.

"Or some kisses....." Arthur turned his face to the left and put your face between his gentle hands.

His lips on yours felt even better than in your fantasy.

His taste filling your mouth was all you ever wanted.

And as you both fell into the pillows you buried your face into his curls and took a deep breath of Arthur Fleck.

@impulsiveclown @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle @duhliriouss @sadjesterautumn @therealjokerking10 @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie @jokerflecker @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend @nicoleverse @mdme-rosary @arthurhappyclown @neon-umbrella-for-stella @cherrymoon75 @call-me-harley-quinn @arthurjokersgirl

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

Cry for Help

Colton and the Host, referenced in this piece, are OCs who belong to @shameless-whumper.

CW: Owen is a violent abuser, and in this update the violence comes out in a big way, both verbal and physical. Kauri is an abuse survivor with patterns of justification and affection. Features noncon touching, choking, violent abuse, referenced dubcon/noncon. Please be safe.

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

“‘I hope Owen gets arrested, that sick fuck.’”

Owen reads the words out loud, pronouncing each syllable altogether too clearly, the glass of brown liquor in his hand holding Kauri’s frightened attention where he sits on the floor next to the coffee table, eyes carefully averted from the laptop’s screen.

The Host had put up a new video, featuring some story someone had written about Colton and Kauri and put up on the internet - and Kauri’s day had gone from secretly exciting to terrifying with unsettling speed.

He'd liked the video of the Host and Colton reading, actually - liked the way Colton had gotten into it a little in the middle. It felt almost like talking to him, or maybe just getting to see him talk to someone else. He kind of wanted to hear the bits where they were kissing again, even if the ending was sad.

Kauri could overlook a sad ending, if there were parts in the middle where things were okay, and he got to kiss someone he actually wanted to kiss.

Not that he wanted to, um-

Kauri made himself stop thinking that way, worried Owen might notice his red face and ask oh, you like that fucking pet that much? And Kauri was a good liar, but not when he was caught off guard.

The thing was, Kauri had really liked the video - up until Colton got upset at the end, when Kauri couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting with the urge to somehow soothe someone from miles and miles away - but Owen hadn’t liked it. Not at all.

Normally he watched the videos at least three times the first day, but he'd only watched that video once. He'd muttered, he's my fucking property. I'm not the bad guy, here, you fucking hacks can't write for shit - how the fuck did they know about your weird bullshit with my Roomba? Shit, it has to be someone I know who wrote this.

Then he started drinking.

Owen is still drinking, hours later. He hasn't watched the YouTube video again. Instead, he's doing something far, far worse - reading the comments.

People had linked to other stories about them, too, sharing recommendations and favorites, and it seemed like all the writing made Owen furious.

All he would say about whatever he saw was like fuck you’d ever be that forward. Baking cookies… fucking nonsense. Besides, I’d never let him get anywhere near you.

Too late, Kauri kept thinking, again and again, trying not to betray a single thought with his expression. Inwardly he felt thrilled, defiant, like he was keeping the world’s biggest secret all to himself. Too late, he’s already gotten near me, too late, he is what I think my type was if my type was guys, I've been thinking about him when I'm with you, too late too late too late.

You don't know I can still feel the hug.

You don't know how many protocols I would violate.

Owen wouldn’t stop reading, and he wouldn’t stop drinking, and Kauri started to become afraid... especially when finishing one bottle turned into opening the second.

His defiant private thoughts turn slowly to silent pleading.

Please please please close the laptop. Please put the bottle away. Please stop being so angry.

But Owen just keeps reading, and drinking, and there's nothing to do but wait.

Now he’s wrapped in one of Owen’s soft blankets, wearing the cashmere sweater he’d worn to meet Karen Renford and fuzzy fleece-lined black pants. It's too warm for all those things but the bourbon in Owen’s glass keeps his blood running cold and if he lets the blanket fall, he starts to shiver.

“Kauri, listen to these fucking assholes. This lady used her actual name? How stupid can you be? Anyway, Michaela Tompson. ‘Poor kids. I used to like Owen Grant, but now I guess I will burn all merch.” Owen snorts, eyebrows furrowed in dark anger over his eyes.

Kauri watches the liquid slosh around in the glass, and feels the nearly-healed bruise on the side of his neck ache in what might be phantom pain, or maybe just getting ready for the future. He curls up a little tighter.

“Go ahead, Micaela, stop buying merch.” Owen spits the words at the woman who cannot hear him. “My money’s all in the fucking stock market now, you stupid bitch."

Next to him on the floor, Keira beeps four times, slow and soft, a question. Kauri reaches one hand out from the blanket to lay it on her warm plastic and metal exterior. She whirrs beneath his touch and he thinks it's like the feeling of a cat purring even though he doesn't know what that's like… does he?

He can’t take his eyes off the drink or the half-empty bottle on the table. Can't stop looking up towards Owen's face, reading the simmering, awful rage there and trying to predict when it will be turned in his direction.

I am going to get hurt tonight, but I don’t know how yet.

It's a horrible feeling, a sick drop of inevitability in his stomach that makes him want to flinch every time Owen moves.

He feels trapped, penned in, locked up with someone dangerous that he cannot run away from. He doesn't even want to run, not really. He just wants Owen to stop being so angry about nothing, go back to touching him like normal, to holding him on the couch and making him watch things that make him uncomfortable or nervous.

This is just words. It’s just stuff people wrote, it was just Colton's annoyed and wonderful red face in the video, it was just words, and Kauri only knows what they are when Owen says them out loud.

And then argues with them.

It's just words, that's all, but Kauri remembers knowing once upon a time how important words can be. Before they took words away from him.

Oh, pets don't read. It'd just give you ideas, Kor-Bore.

Colton still gets to read, though, and that means what Owen told him - that all pets aren’t allowed - was a lie.

Kauri tells Owen a lot of lies, but he’s beginning to wonder what Owen has lied to him about.

"Let’s see who else… Bennyshere99 said, ‘Who thought this senator’s brat is so miserable he needed to buy a living s*x toy?’ Man, fuck that asshole. That’s not what you are, is it, Kor-Bore?”

Kauri jumps when Owen says his name, jerking his eyes from the glass to Owen’s. The green is a little glazed over with alcohol, and he swallows against his fear and answers in the softest, sweetest voice he can manage. “N-No, Mr. Owen. I’m a Romantic Companion with Combination skillsets-”

“Or at least if you are, you're the best fucking toy money can buy. Can't find you next to some sticky fucking DVDs," Owen mutters, interrupting him, ignoring - or simply not caring about - the stricken look on Kauri's face.

It’s one thing to know you’re a designated Romantic Companion Box Boy. It’s another thing to hear yourself called a toy.

“‘He looks just like Daddy Shield-'” Owen’s voice cuts off, and his teeth grind together. “See, that's the one thing I don’t like about the Host, they have a thing for Vince just like every-fucking-body does now. They don’t know who he is at all, they don’t know he’s just a fucking tease. You know? I mean, I could tell them about him, but… no one gets it. He puts on that stupid Good Boy Next Door act and every-fucking-body buys it. He came on to me, Kauri. Then he has the fucking gall… I overreacted, sure, but he's the one who started it...” Kauri watches him take another drink, the way his throat shifts, Adam’s apple moving as he swallows another mouthful.

He is going to hurt me again.

Owen is safe.

Owen is safe and he hurts me… and for me those are the same thing.

“Let’s see… ‘How likely is it there would be some person in the Box Boy system that looks just like him? And Owen Grant is the one to buy him? Weren’t he and Vincent Shield dating or whatever way back when’-... we weren’t dating, you fucking assholes. Although we should have been, if it weren't for Vince. Did you know, Kor-Bore, he hasn't even dated anyone except that fucking fake girlfriend since he walked out on me? He knows, he knows we were meant to be together and he ruined it!" Owen's hand slams down in a fist on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the laptop and half-empty bottle.

The sound makes Kauri jump, his heart skipping a beat, eyes wide. When he shrinks into his blanket, Owen glances at him and smirks.

"What's your problem?"

"J-just surprised, Mr. Owen, that's, um, that's all," Kauri squeaks.

"Jesus, you're like a mouse." Owen leans over and his attempt to grab at Kauri's chin goes wide at first, before thumb and forefinger grasp hard enough to hurt, forcing Kauri's eyes up to his. "Good thing you're pretty, you don't have much else in there, do you?"

Kauri doesn’t nod, or shake his head. He only stares, wide-eyed, and that seems to be enough.

Owen looks at him, licking his lips, thinking. "You are pretty, though, all this bullshit these assholes wrote… they didn't get that wrong."

Kauri knows this look, this voice - normally it makes him a little sick at the same time his training kicks in to get him to tilt his head and smile and use your nonverbal cues, it's not like it's hard.

Please, please don't, I don't want to learn- Hands twisting in his hair, forcing him down until his chest is on the floor and his hips in the air, spinning with dizziness from last eating two days ago, staring down at the boots of his trainer, the pain of the shock collar when his legs don't spread fast enough, far enough. Please!

He knew Owen's look the first day he came here, knew to smile and look like he wanted it, because no one touched him anymore, he wanted someone to touch him.

Sometimes Owen's look made him sick. Tonight, he feels desperate for it.

Please, yes, that's better, that doesn't hurt and you'll stop drinking.

The moment of deliberation ends with Owen shoving Kauri's chin to the side roughly as he lets go, making him fall back a little so he has to catch himself with one hand to stay up. Then Owen ruffles his hair with a hand that slaps down too heavily on his head, painfully tangles on his curls, all but yanks his head to the side. He winces, biting his lower lip, but Owen doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"Well," he says, turning back to the screen, "Whatever happened with Vince… At least I have you now and you're not going anywhere... Let's see the next one... ‘I’m sure this position is just so he is easier to wash’. Ha, nice.” Owen smirks, glancing down at Kauri. “Easier after ess eee ex, am I right?”

Kauri’s face flames red when Owen winks, Kauri's hand under the blanket digging tightly into the fabric of the soft pajama pants over his thigh. The lurch of sickness in his stomach fights with the dizzy rush of shame for what he is and what he does and remembers, sometimes, that he doesn't want to do. “I, I don’t-”

“Oh shit, that’s literally the next comment! Great fucking minds.” Owen grins back at him, and then he barks a laugh that makes Kauri drop his eyes back to the floor. “Look at your face! Kor-Bore if you don’t think everyone knows what I keep you for now…”

Hold position, 645898.

Pl-please, you can’t just m-m-make people do this, you can’t!

I said hold position.

No! I won't!

Administer shock.

Kauri hears distant screaming inside his mind, his own voice, feels his hands twitch with the memory of pain that spread from the collar around his throat.

“M-Mr. Owen, if I could just-... if I c-could maybe go to bed, please, we could go together-”

“No.” Owen refills his glass, takes another swig. His words aren’t slurred like last time, when he called Kauri ‘Vince’ and cried against his shoulder while it hurt and hurt and hurt. This bitter humor is scarier than his sadness was. “You stay right the fuck there, sweetness.”

He’s never called Kauri ‘sweetness’ before, but someone else has.

Oh, it’s the pretty little prostitot back to visit the real handler, huh? What’d he do this time, Everly?

645898 fucking bit me, Connor. He fucking bit me. I asked the supe to hand him over to you for a week to get his fucking shit in line. Marisa signed off on it, so congratulations. The only rule is you don’t touch the merchandise below the belt and you don't leave marks.

Ha. Not where anyone will notice, anyway.

No, remember, this one’s custom and the Director’s got an interest in it. Don’t leave any fucking marks, Connor.

Aw, but marks are how they learn.

Not this one. But he’ll do anything for a good touch these days.

Apparently he’s not into your good touch, if he bit you.

Yeah, well, maybe I… had a little too much fun with Position 21 this morning.

Oh shit, you mean he bit you bit you. I would, too, if you tried that shit on me. All right, 645898, let’s see… oh, sweetness, we are going to have fun teaching you not to bite anymore, aren’t we? I’d ask if you can keep a secret, but we both know you and the rocks you have in your head won’t remember a goddamn thing.

Kauri’s eyes shift towards the screen of the laptop, trying to distract himself from the memory of the dark-haired handler’s gloved hands pressing on either side of his jaw until his mouth was forced open. Trainers weren't supposed to get so involved but it wasn't like the trainees could complain to anyone and if no one saw it happen, then no one really cared.

Kauri had thrown up, was punished, and then he'd thrown up again. He was supposed to forget it - the memory of how they train you is supposed to be gone behind the wall of pain and fog and whatever they put in the water, with only the training itself left behind, there was a whole part of the brochure he had to memorize about it - but Kauri’s wall isn’t always functioning anymore.

Maybe it never was.

Owen is still reading comments, the screen a flat white covered in text, and Kauri braces against even the instinctive attempt to read them. The sharp pain in his head is nearly instantaneous, a sudden pounding, the threat of the white fog just behind it.

But Colton gets to read.

Kauri’s not exactly jealous - he wouldn’t want to live with the Host, either, with those too-wide smiles and the sharpness behind their eyes. Owen at least was soft, sometimes, and said sweet things that didn’t always have a bite or an insult behind them. But… but he is jealous that Colton gets to read.

Reading used to be my life. I used to write poetry. I can’t even look at words anymore.

Kauri remembers too much right now, and he doesn’t want the white fog to take it away again. Instead, he drops his eyes back to the ground and slowly nods. His heart is beating too hard, too fast, but Keira doesn’t say anything.

Keira doesn’t ask why, this time, and he knows she’s tracking his condition because she always is, and the soft sound of her inside machinery has changed.

He wants to believe she doesn’t want Owen to know he’s upset.

“Some weirdo named @burtlederp said, ‘Oh, is the Host doing product placement for the new Fifty Shades of Gray movie’?” Owen barked a laugh, reaching over to run a hand down his cheek and the side of his neck. Even with the nervous worry that pounded behind his eyes every time he looked at Owen’s glassy green gaze, the touch feels nice the same way all soft touch feels nice, and Kauri leans into it. "Like I'd ever let anyone else see how much you like that."

On his knees with his hands behind his back, the black leather cutting across pale skin, the pain he wasn't trained for. Owen’s tie on the floor, making Kauri’s mouth go dry.

Kauri's stomach flips again and he bites down on his lower lip so hard he feels the pain radiate out into the rest of his face. It settles under his skin alongside the shame he feels, that he’s not supposed to be able to feel any longer. The training was supposed to make him shameless.

But Kauri feels twisted, and dark, and wrong with the way Owen smiles at him now, before turning back to the screen.

I didn't want this, not with you, I didn’t want-

"'... to be fucked by a closeted gay with Mommy issues and an ego overblown by fame'..." Owen is still mumbling the comments out loud, sipping and sipping from his glass, and Kauri's eyes skip back, trying to measure how much he's had to drink by now. "'His mom's conservative, so he must have a hard time'. Yeah, that's the fucking truth, LesbiansUnite. You get it. Shove it, ChewwieCan. Oh, this guy just says they love the Host, what a good job they did, like always. Good, nice to see a nice damn comment on this page…"

He stops, the good humor draining from his face, and Kauri’s heart stills, too.

“‘I want to see Colton and Kauri interact more.’ You barely fucking interacted that time. 'Colton looked so sad at losing Kauri… the Host should read one where they get to be together' - never, Kauri, never. Listen to me, listen. I will make sure you never, ever get to have anyone but me. ‘SaveKauri20XX’ oh what the fuck, save you from what?” Owen rounds on him, like he was the one asking to be saved, and Kauri wilts back into his blanket, pulls it more tightly around himself.

Just a pair of frightened blue eyes and curly black hair.

The condo is huge but in this moment Kauri feels like it is slowly getting smaller, closing in around him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Owen knocks the edge of the glass into Kauri’s forehead hard enough to hurt, in a way he seems to think is playful, but it feels like the opening to something much, much worse to Kauri. “What do you need saved from, huh? Save you from never having to work a day in your life? From having all the time you fucking need to practice your positions, and do yoga, and, and-... like cardio and shit? Save you from flexibility?”

Kauri says nothing - only swallows the hints of bitterness that want to find their way out. He stays quiet. He tries not to look into Owen’s empty, glittering eyes.

“Listen to these fucking assholes, Kauri. They want you out there starving in the streets instead of right here, where you’re taken care of. They act like they care about you, Kauri, but they don’t. If they did, they’d know that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Doing exactly what you’re made to do. Listen to this-” Owen turns back, takes another long drink. “‘This was so precious,��” and he sneers the words, finally starting to slur the syllables. “Colton is so sweet, being sad about losing him. Exclamation. Point.’ Yeah, sweet as pie, that little shit glared at me. He fucking glared at me. How dare he. ‘Kauri is too good for Owen anyway’.”

Owen glances over at him again, and Kauri sits up a little straighter. His heart is pounding in his chest, he’s half-dizzy with fear, breathing in silent shallow gasps that barely move his chest.

Please stop reading them, please stop, please-

“What do you think, Kauri?” Owen asks, in a low voice. “Are you too good for me? Do you like Colton better?”

Yes.

“No,” Kauri says with all the earnest sincerity he can force into his lie. “Of c-course not, Mr. Owen. I’m yours, I was made for you. Colt-” His voice hitches, just a little, but he covers it with more fear and Owen softens, just a little - he always forgives Kauri when he seems really, really frightened. “Colton’s just another pet. I don’t care about him. We don’t care about each other, that’s not how it works.”

Owen stares at him, and Kauri thinks for a second he didn’t buy the lie, and he wonders what part of his skin will be torn up this time, and if Owen will bring out the cane maybe or just use his teeth. Then he relaxes, his green eyes going soft with affection or maybe just the whiskey. “That’s right, you don’t care about each other. That’s right.”

He turns back to the laptop, and just as he opens his mouth to read another comment, his phone lights up with a photo at the front and a 70’s rock song starts playing, She’s just a devil woman, with evil in her eyes.

Kauri’s heart leaps with gratitude that she would call now and distract him, pull him away. Owen picks up his phone, screws his face up into an expression of annoyance that Kauri knows too well, and then says tiredly, “Mom, I don’t want to talk about the Youtube thing any longer.”

Tinny, a voice he can barely hear, Carlotta Grant snaps through the phone well what you want to talk about went out the window when you had your little custom slut spread his legs for my constituency to see!

“Look, I didn’t know they were going to have him do that part, I-” Owen pushes himself to standing, glancing down at Kauri, holding out his hand with the fingers straight and palm out, and Kauri nods quickly to show he understands the command to stay right where he is. “Mom. Mom, listen to me, that wasn’t pre-planned or anything. The Host just likes to surprise people. It’s fine, it’s not like everyone doesn’t already know what Box Boys end up doing half the time.”

We are getting inundated with calls about you!

“I don’t doubt it. Look, you don’t need to freak out about this.”

I am not ‘freaking out’, Owen John, this could severely affect our chances in the next election!

“No, it won’t. Listen, everyone loves a good ‘maternal love conquers all’ story. Just tell them that you didn’t know, but you still love me anyway. Act all shocked about it. Give a press conference, or something. Stop trying to hide from who I am and just, just let me fucking own it.” He nudges Kauri with his foot and grins down at him “Like I own Kauri.”

Kauri smiles back, nervous and trembling, blanket pulled as tightly around himself as he can get. As Owen shifts away from him, Kauri can’t hear Carlotta any longer, but Owen rolls his eyes and that tells Kauri most of what he might want to know.

“What? Yeah, ‘course he’s here, Mom, where else would he be? … No, it’s not like it matters what he overhears. That’s like giving a shit if the fish in your aquarium hear us. Kauri barely has the brains of a goat, I made sure of it.”

645898, says here you were a 4.0 at your university. English Education with a minor in… shit, Connor, listen to this bullshit. Minor in Creative Writing.

What, really? Oh shit, man. There had been glee in the Connor Trainer’s voice. Kauri’s - 645898’s - trainer and the Connor trainer had been really good friends, and even though Connor only worked with the really disobedient Box Boys, 645898’s trainer talked to him all the time. Oh, fuck. So this hot piece of ass wanted to be a teacher? A writing teacher?

I know right? We’re going to take a fucking honors student and put him in some rich asshole's bed. I must have made the Director real happy somewhere back there, you don’t get a job like this every week.

Jesus, Everly, I’d kill to get to fuck up a nerd like this.

Stop ‘bending’ the rules with the merchandise and you might get to.

Like you're one to talk.

Owen walks away and Kauri listens to his footsteps heading down the hall, fingers tightening into the fabric of his pants. Step, step, step, step - Owen’s heavy footfalls, part of the soundtrack to his life.

The bedroom door closes, and Kauri knows Owen’s conversations with his mother last for an hour most of the time. An hour for Owen to start sobering up, to lose interest in the words on the screen. An hour of safety. He lets out a quick breath, relaxing his shoulders, the way they end yoga in the videos he watched on Owen’s TV. First relax your neck, then your shoulders, arms, wrists, hands… his fingers loosen, splaying over his thighs.

The laptop screen is still up.

Owen always talks to his mom for at least an hour.

Do I have a mom, somewhere? I know I have a Keira, the other one, the real one. I know I had her. Maybe… maybe her owner lets her read, too.

Maybe the owner watches the Host, like mine does, and lets her read.

It's a long shot, but…

Kauri swallows hard, glancing back over his shoulder at the bedroom door, and then he scoots a little closer to the computer.

And then a little closer, still.

The headache starts up, a sudden burst in heart rate alongside it, and Kauri bites his lower lip, craning his neck to try and look at the words. He’s not dumb, he just has nothing to do and nothing to think about. He used to be able to read, reading and writing used to be his life. They made him dumb, just like they took everything else away from him, just like they took Keira.

But Kauri isn't the only pet who doesn't want to be one.

And Colton gets to read.

Which means that they didn’t take the skill away, they just made Kauri afraid of it. He's not stupid, they just locked the things he had learned up behind the pain.

But who he is hasn't changed.

He scoots closer, and closer, and closer, until he can read the comments, the black text on the white screen, despite the ache behind his eyes.

It was open to Kauri is too good for Owen anyway, lol… and for this sinful earth.

Kauri reads each and every word like a gift, breathing hard. A smile starts to find its way onto his face, just a little one.

Someone thought he deserved better than Owen Grant's bed.

Kauri heartrate accelerate, Kauri beeps next to him. Marked change in physical condition.

“Ssssshhh, it’s okay, Keira, it’s okay. Um, uh, don’t tell him I was reading, okay? Please? Don’t tell him anything.”

Owen Grant, owner. Overrides. Keira’s robotic little voice is quiet. Keira answer Owen Grant, if queried.

“I know, I know, but… can’t you just not tell him? Um, uh…" What has he heard Owen saying to flip the override switch… "Um... override code sixteen four ball reindeer seven two. Don't tell Mr. Owen anything, okay?"

There’s a pause. Owen Grant, owner. Keira beeps again, a little more insistently this time.

Kauri looks down at her, eyebrows furrowing together. If she tells Owen he was reading, he’ll go into the box again, into the sensory deprivation hood. He’ll be alone, with no sounds and no smells and no sights and nothing.

He hesitates, considering closing the screen and going back to sitting and staring, living with a head full of rocks just like the trainer said. Then, he slowly turns back and starts reading again.

“I’m going to trust you, Keira,” Kauri whispers. “I’m going to trust you to help me and not tell him anything.” Keira doesn’t speak or beep again, only starts her cleaning routine all at once, abruptly, like she’s mad at him and trying not to show it. Even though Owen says Roombas don’t have emotions, can’t have feelings like that.

Kauri knows she can - he knows it. He knows that Keira likes him, as much as a robot can like a person, that she seeks him out to sit in his lap on the balcony and knows when he’s sad, the days he spends when Owen is at meetings doing his yoga and positions until his muscles are trembling, just to get rid of the emptiness inside his head.

I hope Colton and Kauri run away together, the next comment reads, and Kauri blushes, biting his bottom lip nervously. The words slip and slide around the page but he chases them down, ignores the growing pain inside his head. He’s had worse headaches than this, before, when he tried to do things he’s not supposed to do.

“That would be nice,” Kauri whispers. “I don’t know where we’d go, though…”

Owen yells something through the phone at his mother and Kauri jumps, looking down the hall with a panic, but then his voice drops back to normal. He doesn’t come out, and Kauri turns back to the laptop, scooting closer and closer and closer.

Some part of Kauri whispers not to read the comments, never read the comments, stop violating his protocols, but when he keeps looking, squinting against his pounding headache, he realizes that while the comments were making Owen angry, they’re not mean comments at all.

I totally get why Colton looks so mad! I’d be mad too if I didn’t get to keep Kauri at the end! Kauri is such a cutie. I wish I had money… I would’ve treated him better, anyway. I bet Colton wishes he was rich enough to just buy a Kauri for himself!

That’s ridiculous, pets can’t own other pets. If he had that much money he’d just buy his freedom or something, right?

Yeah, but then buy Kauri after. Or at least someone who looks like him.

The Host enjoyed this all way too much, don’t you think? I mean, it seemed like they were really enjoying being so mean to poor Colton! And I don’t think they even understood what he was mad about at the end.

Yeah, I love the Host, but this one seemed kind of… cruel. Although I guess they say the pets don’t even know to care about what they are, it’s part of the training or something.

Jesus, what their parents must think about them signing up for this!

Yeah, I wondered about that with the last video, with the two Box Boys in it. What do you think Kauri’s parents think happened with their son? Do you think he told them before he signed up? I mean, say your son signs up to be some brainless sugar baby. What do you tell their siblings, you know?

Did you just literally ask us to please think of the children

What about that Colton? What must his family think, signing up for the program just to be a famous Youtuber's pet?

I mean, I'd be thrilled. Colton gets a nice bed, all his meals taken care of, and all he has to do is play along reading fucking fanfiction? That sounds like my ideal life.

I used to think people were overreacting, you know all the fucking snowflakes these days freaking out about every single thing. But… this seems really weird, right? I can’t believe this is reality now.

I KNOW WHO COLTON IS

Do you think anyone’s shown Vincent Shield all this shit about the Cory kid?

Kauri wonders, too, after having to answer to the name - after seeing the Host’s genuine surprise at his face, after hearing Owen lie and say it was random when he’d told Kauri over and over that he was a custom order that had to look a specific way. Is the person he’s meant to replace for Owen out there looking at his face, knowing who he is?

Click on my profile to win a FREE box boy AND 1000 subscribers!!!

Honestly kind of disappointed there wasn’t anything about the YOU KNOW WHAT positions in this fanfiction so we could see Colton make that funny face again! Anyone got a link to a good smutty one?

Oh, I know I saw one where Colton gets really dark and mean and the Cory boy super likes it, l’ll go find the link and message it to you.

Oh fuck yes, give me all the good smut

Oh, I saw one where they’re in love, it was really super cute, let me get that one too

Real disappointed Youtube won’t let the Host read the really good stuff. I’ve watched that competition video like six times on repeat, if you get my drift. Kauri’s like, super sexy.

Kauri’s eyes widen at that one, the red back in his face, an uncomfortable heat.

I’ll see myself out, I swear, but… those soft eyes? That lip all stuck out when he gets scared?

Kauri catches himself still biting on his lip and stops, pressing them together into a thin line, swallowing hard.

You just want to kiss his tears away and fuck him slow and glorious. Make him the happiest man in the world.

Hell yes, I’d fuck him. Pet or not, you think the Host and Colton didn't want some of that action, too? I'd bet the Host's Lamborghini that they did.

Do Lamborghinis even have spacious enough seats for that?

I'll bet the Host knows the answer to that question.

Ha, by now Colton probably does, too. Think he closes his eyes and thinks about Cory?

Kauri makes a face, but he reads the comment again, lingering a little over the idea that people other than Owen (one person) might think of him that way, that maybe someone else thinks of him while he is busy thinking of them.

He reads the comments again… and then one more time.

The whole time he can hear Owen’s voice muffled back in his bedroom, and he keeps one ear out for it while reading what people say about him.

Anyone else concerned about Kauri??? Someone needs to help that poor boy. Colton seems like he can handle himself but Kauri was so fragile! He looked like he’d shatter if he got one more shock from those barbaric shock collars.

It’s just a discipline tool, it’s not a big deal. It doesn’t even leave a mark.

You can torture someone without leaving any marks, you jackass!

What do you guys think would happen if their families saw these videos? Like, what if Colton’s got a sister or something who sees him being used as a prop in the Host’s videos? Or what if Kauri has parents out there, and they see him do that, that thing he did in the last video?

What, spread his legs? He probably does that every night. He doesn't care. Romantic pets know what they're for.

Kauri swallows, hard, as much because it's true as that he doesn't really want to be for that. His hands start to shake, and he takes in a deep breath, and then another. Then he slowly raises them, lays them over the keys on the keyboard. His heart beats hard in his throat, making him breathe in gasps, terrified little nothing-sounds coming helplessly from his lips.

He hits the REPLY button, gives himself a temporary username - it all comes back easily to him, he used to use computers all the time, and his body remembers how to do it even if his brain isn’t supposed to any longer.

He finds a comment he wants to answer.

Kauri would look so pretty with long hair...

His head hurts worse and worse and worse, and he can barely keep his fingers moving, eyes squinted down to slits until he can’t read the blurry black text he’s typing at all.

Tehfogcmesin0414: kauri has a sistrr with long hair her naem is keira help her cheep cheep littl brds keera I miss you I'm sorry I didn lisen to you you were right

There’s a crack of white light inside his head followed a half-second later by an explosion of pain but Kauri grinds his teeth together as hard as he can, holds onto consciousness with every ounce of strength he has left, and keeps looking.

All he can hear now is the pounding of his own blood behind his face, in his neck, down to his wrists. The rushing in his ears overtakes every other sound.

If they can find Keira, she can tell them who he is. She might be hurt but maybe not, maybe she's out there somewhere and he remembers her, she is his twin, she won't stop looking, he knows it.

Someone will read it and see it and show Keira. Someone will.

Keira will see it and she will know he’s here and he doesn’t want to be, she’ll know, she’ll tell them his name is-

Not. Erased.

Kauri gasps at the knowledge comes back to him, all at once, the words like big black block letters against the white trying to take over his mind. He knows his real name. He knows who he is. He knows where he came from, and what happened when they put him and Keira in the van.

He remembers the prick of the needle and he remembers Karen Renford’s face the first time he ever saw her.

You have agreed to participate in a very special program, 645898.

Stop calling me a fucking number! I have a, a name! Where's my sister?!

That is not important. What matters is that you are going to serve a very special purpose soon. Haven't you always wanted a purpose?

Take me back to my sister! Please, you've got the wrong people, we're just-... we're just college kids, we're not even from here!

Oh, 645898. Do you genuinely not understand that your market value rises with that fact? We need an asset in place to utilize the leverage when Mr. Grant's browsing becomes buying.

I'm not anyone's fucking pet, you bitch!

You will be. It is time for you to forget.

But he remembers.

He remembers, he remembers, he remembers.

The pounding pain inside his skull tells him he’s not going to remember for very long. Memories slide and slip through and around his thoughts, disappearing and reappearing and sinking down again.

He doesn’t get to know his own name, no Box Boy gets to know their own name, but… but maybe they can remember someone else’s. The Facility won’t know to tell someone else not to know his name…

There's just one person he can think of.

He scrolls back up to the top, where the Host has a link to send a message. Colton reads a lot of the messages, now. They said so in a video, that Colton reads and answers and sometimes the Host doesn't even look for days. Which means Colton will read this message.

He has to.

He’s the only person in the world Kauri might be able to trust.

Owen is

SAFE

not safe

I CAN TRUST

can’t trust

Owen

Colton is a

PET

a person

who IS SERVING A PURPOSE

needs help too

I can FOLLOW PROTOCOLS

remember

FORGET

remember who I am

SERVE

remember

Kauri swallows hard, half-blind, the white encroaching from every corner of his mind to overtake it. His heart won’t stop pounding, and he can hear Keira beeping high-pitched and loud, but only barely. It’s a soft noise, it can’t be louder than the noise inside his head.

Kauri reassurance require

"No."

Kauri ceases action causing physical distress?

"Not until I tell him."

Keira request Kauri ceases action-

"No! We can help each other! I know we can, I just, he just has to remember this, they won't know to make him forget a name that doesn't mean anything to him!"

Except it's everything to Kauri.

Kauri clicks [GOT A QUESTION? I GOT ANSWERS!] and types out a message, as fast as he can, a rush of keyboard clicking.

plees have colton red this. hard for Me to tYpe rite Now And My fingErs hurt If you See this Lissen, it's Important some Arent signups soMe get taken didn sign up its a lie their lying to us

He sends it, opens up a second message, fingers numb, heart racing, eyes a blur of pounding, throbbing ache.

Colton remmbr for me my naem is

ERASED

The pain is gone and the world is white and white and dark and then the world is nothing at all.

Kauri wakes up on his side on the floor next to the coffee table, blinking hard, his headache gone like it had never been there, tangled in the blanket. “Oh, what did I-”

His eyes light on bare feet, the bottom of Owen's pants, and then they travel up and up and up.

Owen is leaning over him, and the green eyes are like hard chips of stone, focused right on him. He reaches down and grabs Kauri, digging fingers into the back of his neck as jerking him halfway upright with a surprised cry, before slamming him back down, cracking his forehead on the corner of the coffee table.

Flash of light and pain, tearing thin skin, and the sudden sting of red blood dripping onto cream colored carpet. "Ah, hnnnh, Mr., Mr. Owen, I don't, I don't uh-understand-"

“You little piece of shit,” Owen hisses, a half-whisper of rage, slamming Kauri down again, a burst of terrible light, the pain that comes just after. The world spins, and when Owen lets go Kauri stays on his hands and knees, breathing in pants along with the rhythm of the pain pulsing with his blood.

There’s an arc of blood on the carpet.

Kauri thinks with wild irrationality, The cleaning lady will hate that I made that happen, too.

“What the fuck did you do?”

He points, and Kauri follows his gesture with dazed eyes, looking over to the laptop to see the words MESSAGE SENT on the screen.

It sent.

He doesn't know his name anymore, but he knows he knew it, and he sent it to Colton, and someone out there will know who he was, will know that he didn’t sign, that it wasn’t his idea.

Someone who can read.

Someone who can write it down.

He feels thrilled, and terrified, and guilty.

But mostly terrified.

Owen’s hand snaps out to grab him by one arm and pull him to his feet, rough and bruising, and Kauri cries out when Owen throws him by his arm across the room, still dizzy from hitting his head.

“What. The fuck. Did you. Do?!”

Kauri stumbles, trips and falls, slams hard into the bookshelf, DVD and Blu-Ray cases raining down on him, one of Owen’s statues from a trip to Africa smacking hard into the middle of his back and he whimpers at the sudden flare of pain.

I’m not trained for pain

Owen stalks over to him, grabs him, throws him again, and this time Kauri bangs his shoulder into the corner of the entertainment center, tries to twist away from the next grip but he can't move fast enough.

Shoved hard into a wall with his head cracking back into it, the world is a sudden flash and then Owen's hands are on his shoulders gripping tight, too tight. His fingers hurt they press so hard into skin. Kauri stares, blood trickling from a wide, shallow cut across his forehead.

He can feel the warmth of it turning cold as he stares up at Owen’s furious face.

“I d-didn’t do anything! I didn’t! I just, I just, I remembered that I didn’t… I didn’t sign up. It wasn’t my choice, I didn’t choose this! You said, you said they showed you my contract but I didn’t sign it! I didn’t sign it. You have to, you know the ethics people… I think I’m from Illinois, I think, I think my sister and I were stolen!"

Owen starts to laugh. It’s a drunken, unkind, slurred bleary pissed-off sound.

“You stupid little whore." Owen tightens the hands on his shoulders until Kauri whines in his throat at the ache. When he tries to raise a hand - just to wipe away blood - Owen jerks him forward and then slams him back again, head slamming back into the wall with another burst of awful white and black sparks, and Kauri whimpers, trying desperately to curl in on himself. "Jesus, they really went the full nine yards making you dumb. Did you really think I didn’t know exactly where you came from? Of course I know about that. And your stupid sister. You’re not supposed to remember any of it. What did you send the Host?”

Kauri licks his lips, eyes wide. “You already knew? But, but you said-”

“I lied. I know exactly where you fucking came from. You think I give a fuck about how they got you back to me, Vince?” Owen snorts, disgusted with him, and Kauri has loved him so much and knows with real certainty that what Owen feels for him is not anything close to love at all. “What did you send them? Was it that pet you were trying to talk to? You like him so fucking much, huh? Think he'll see your little message and come rescue you? He's gonna be your fucking prince charming, Kauri? You stupid fucking whore, no one wants you but me. No one ever will. I wanted you dumb as shit, but this is something else. What did you send?”

“Nothing,” Kauri whispers. “I couldn’t see well enough to type, it was nonsense, I-”

“Fuck that. I’ll just wait until they respond, I know they respond to all their messages. I’ll figure out which one is you, but no one’s going to believe you… and you won’t get to see what anyone has to say.”

“I won't?” Kauri whispers, and when Owen leans in to kiss him - bruising, a crush of lips and teeth and tongue that isn't affection but ownership - there’s nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to hide. He tries to tilt his chin up, to answer it, but it isn’t the kind of kiss you can answer, only the kind you have to endure until it’s done.

The smell of his cologne surrounds Kauri, cedar-y and woodsy, and usually Kauri smells it as something soothing and sexy, but in this moment it only makes his heart beat harder in fear, the terror of how badly he has messed this up, how much he will hurt in the morning.

“You know you’re not allowed to read and write, Kauri,” Owen says with deceptive gentleness, letting go of his shoulder to run fingers through his hair, twisting in the black curls until it hurts, until Kauri winces against the pain outside and in. “I’m going to have to have them fix that for me. I’m going to have to fix it.”

Owen's mouth drops to his neck, a press of warm tongue and lips, and Kauri shivers at how good it feels even as he quavers in fear of what might come next, even as the rest of him aches.

“Oh, Kauri,” Owen breathes into his neck, real regret in his voice. “You know better. I’ll make sure you never read anything ever again. Being able to send messages is the first step to leaving me, Kauri. I couldn’t take it if you did that, just like him. I would die if you left me. You wouldn’t ever leave me, would you? Would you, Kauri?”

Owen raises his head to look him in the eyes. He looks calm. Serene.

Kauri is trapped, he thinks, with a monster.

“N-No, Owen,” Kauri says softly, shaking his head. “I love you, I wouldn’t… You, you said-”

“You call me Mr. Owen.” “Mr. Owen,” Kauri whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I said I’d never, ever let you leave, Vince. Not again.”

Kauri swallows, hard, as the hand that was so gentle in his hair slowly slides down to close around his throat. “I’m, I’m not Vince.”

"Ssshhhhh, shut up. You left once. I knocked out your teeth, I kept you locked up for days and I fucked you up I loved you so much but you still left me." Owen's thumb drifts back and forth across his Adam's apple, considering, and there is a bright madness in his eyes that Kauri has only seen once before. “You left me once. I won’t let you leave again.”

This is how he will hurt me.

Owen’s grip begins to tighten, and Kauri breathes in deeply as fast as he can, hoping he can hold his breath. Breaths turn to gasps, spots dancing in his vision, trying to breathe through a straw.

HELP KAURI. Keira's voice is high-pitched, loud, insistent.

"No," Owen whispers, then the volume of his voice raises louder and louder. "Vince, you stupid little slut, you don't get to leave me. Never again. Never again. How dare you, you piece of shit, you were meant for me, we were meant for each other!”

He’s screaming by the end of it, spit in Kauri’s face, making him flinch back in terror, his eyes wide, certain that this is it, this is how he dies. Owners aren’t allowed to kill pets but no one’s going to stop him and it wouldn’t matter if someone found out, Kauri would still be dead.

He's going to kill me and it's not even me he's killing.

Kauri scrabbles at Owen's hands with his own in a sudden panicked desperate attempt to survive, fingernails digging desperately into skin and Keira is screaming HELP KAURI HELP KAURI HELP KAURI at their feet until Owen kicks her viciously away.

Keira slams into the corner of the coffee table's leg, and Kauri hears a horrible crack before her machinery goes silent. He tries to scream but all that comes out is a whistle of what little air he has left.

"Keira! N-no, pl-please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Kauri chokes out the words, a hissing airy whimper, but Owen tightens his grip and cuts even more air off until his voice is gone, lost in the desperate fight to breathe and the incredible suffocating pain.

"I'll make sure you never fucking leave," Owen murmurs, his voice gentle and loving. "You'll never, ever walk away from me. I'll figure out what you told the Host and I'll make sure it's fucking wiped from your memory. If it isn't… doesn't matter. You're not leaving me. I'll kill you first."

His hands around Kauri’s throat feel like metal, worse than the choke-chain in training. Kauri’s hands come up to close over the wrists, feeling Owen’s tendons standing out in his forearms, staring with wide, pleading eyes, begging without words for Owen to please, please let him breathe.

I'm sorry, Keira, I'm so fucking sorry I didn't listen to you…

I hope someone remembers my name.

The world around Kauri sparks once more and then fades to black. The last thing Kauri hears is Owen's heavy breathing and his own final gasp.

240 notes · View notes

emgkheadcannons · 4 years

Text

Clothes Headcanon Part 4

Here is part 4. It just got long so I put in a keep reading to make it easier to scroll.

Lingerie

Kelly likes clothes. He likes the way they can make him feel, and dressing nice makes him feel better about himself. He has been on the runway, and in photo shoots. The thing is sometimes Kelly doesn’t want to dress like a rap/rock star. Sometimes he wants to be really comfy, sometimes he likes to feel soft, pretty, and delicate, and sometimes he wants to be sexy, and beautiful, and the clothes that make him feel this way are oversized sweaters, fuzzy socks, lingerie, and other pieces of clothing that society says are for women. He likes how he looks in clothes, though he doesn’t let anyone else see him in them.

******

Kelly owned a lingerie chest before he started dating Em. It is a tall, narrow chest with five drawers and a jewelry box on top. He keeps it tucked to the side, out of the way. He has a few pairs of panties, some bralettes, a couple of babydoll tops, and a little bit of everything. He has never shown or told anyone about the chest before. Most see it and think it’s a jewelry box and nothing more.

Em stumbles upon it when looking around Kelly’s closet one day. They had ended their beef a while ago and were sort of dating. Kelly had been giving Em a tour of his house, when he got an important phone call. He told Em to make himself at home and feel free to explore.

Em had been looking around Kelly’s closet when he saw the tall, narrow chest. He opened the lid to see a few pieces of jewelry, nothing really stood out to him. Then he opened the first drawer, and inside were only two pairs of stockings, and a single garter belt. The first pair were black, fishnets with a thick band of lace at the top. The other pair was a set of delicate, white lace, with an intricate flower design; the top was scalloped, and edged with a silk ribbon, with a little bow on the side. Em gently put the stockings back in the drawer, and closed it before opening the next.

The second drawer wasn’t even half way full with maybe six pairs of panties. The first pair Em sees is a pair of black, silk, ruffled boy shorts. He grabs the pair of light blue panties next to them, and pulls them out for a better look. The front of them look pretty normal, just kind of sheer, then he turns them around to look at the back. The back was a mixture of lace and straps. Two straps came from each side and were connected to the lace in the center. The lower part of the ass was all blue lace that tapered up ending when it met the top strap that went around the waist. There was even a silk bow at the top where the lace met the top strap.

Looking at the panties made Em mad. How dare Colson keep his ex’s underwear, and in a special chest of drawers. How dare he keep his sex trophy’s in such an ostentatious place. He looked down at the again and noticed that the panties were cut differently. Then it hit him. These things weren’t Kelly’s ex’s clothes, they were his. These panties were for men.

Em folded and placed the blue panties back drawer and closed it. He walked away deciding not to open another drawer. It did make him wonder who Kelly had worn those panties for. Would he wear them for him?

Em walked back over to the chest of drawers and decided to try a different drawer. Inside were three sets of silk sleep clothes. The first was a dusty pink camisole with matching shorts with some beige lace around the edge. The second was another camisole with matching shorts, except these were cotton with a sunflower pattern. The last was a black, babydoll, nightgown. Em lifts the nightgown out of the drawer by the straps. The bodice was silk, in a simple heart cut, with a light blue ribbon that runs under the chest, ending in a bow, with the sheer, lacey skirt, with ruffles on the hem. The fabric is so soft as he rubs it between his fingers. He gently puts the dress back where it belongs, and softly closes the drawer, imagining Kelly wearing the nightgown for him.

The next drawer has what looks like a corset. He picks it up, and it is a corset. A silky black corset, with red trim. There is another one under it, but before he can put the garment back, Kelly walks in. They both freeze, neither one knowing what to do, or say. Em noticies how red and embarrassed Kelly looks, and decides to break the silence. “Hey it’s okay. A lot of people have kinks, and this isn’t a weird one.”

“It’s not a sex thing, well mostly not a sex thing. I just like the way I look in them. I feel pretty. I grew kinda poor, and being able to wear nice clothes makes me feel good about myself. They also feel good wearing them; most of them are really soft, and silky.” Kelly explains.

Em understood. Growing up on a single parent income, seeing what others had, having to wear second hand clothing all the time, it not always fitting. He also knew Kelly was bullied a lot in school for being poor. Who is he to judge what the guy wants to wear now that he can afford nice stuff.

Em looks over to Kelly, seeing him shifting his weight from side to side. Em looks down at the corset in his hands, then back at Kelly, before opening his mouth. “They are very pretty.”

Kelly relaxes a little, but still looks pretty nervous, waiting for Em to say more. “So which … um ... which ones are your favorites, or like to wear?”

Kelly shows him his collection of sweaters, to the side of the chest; soft normal and oversized sweaters, cropped sweaters, or the semi see through loose knit sweater are all stacked neatly, on shelves. He pulls down a soft, white, oversized sweater that has long sleeves, and a cowl neck.

“This is one of my favorite sweaters.” Kelly says with a blush. It looked very soft, and comfy.

“Do you want to wear it? I wouldn’t mind seeing you in it. I’ll be back in your room.”

Kelly puts the sweater on, along with some fuzzy socks and joins Em in his bedroom, who is watching some sports game. Kelly is stiff and is sitting too far from Em, in his opinion. Em grabs Kelly’s arm, pulling him over, so Kelly will hopefully curl up against him. It works, and they have a nice evening together.

******

Em works hard to make Kelly comfortable wearing his pretty clothes around him. He even starts buying him pieces. He makes sure to complement Kelly when he wears something. Em loves soft comfy Kelly. It usually means that they are going to have a night in and do simple things like cuddle one the couch, watch movies, and lazily make-out. A cuddly Kelly is a happy Kelly. Em starts to join Kelly and wears his sweaters more. He even buys more because Kelly likes to wear his sometimes, and Em fucking loves seeing his boyfriend in hs sweaters. Kelly might be taller but Em was bigger, and bulkier. Over time Kelly gets really comfortable wearing pretty clothes around Em, and now he has a section in Em’s closet just for some of the special clothes that he and Em love; he has moved his lingerie chest into this section.

******

Kelly knows Em is really driven by what he sees, and he uses it to his advantage. He knows some of his pretty clothes turn Em on, like his nightgown, and pantes, but that his boyfriend respects that he wears them mostly to feel good, but sometimes Kelly wants to be sexy in them too.

Kelly comes back into the movie room, with his favorite sweater on, and some matching socks that disappeared under the hem of his sweater. He sits next to Em, curling into his side like he did on the first night he wore this sweater for his boyfriend. Em’s arm automatically wraps around Kelly’s waist. Kelly puts his head on Em’s shoulder, and nuzzles his neck. Em looks over, thinking how cute his boyfriend looks, and goes in for a kiss.

As their lazy makeout turns more heated, Kelly moves to straddle the older rappers lap, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Em has one hand on the back of his neck and the other hand rubbing up and down Kelly’s thigh. Once they break apart, breathing heavy, Em starts to make his way down Kelly’s neck. The cowl neck of the sweater gives Em access to his neck and collar bone, letting him bite and suck along the curve, making Kelly release breathy moans and gasps. The hand rubbing Kelly’s thigh moves up toward his ass. Em feels the lacey material and groans. Kelly was wearing panties for him.

“I think we should move this to the bedroom.” Kelly purrs into his ear.

Em shifts his hands to support Kelly’s weight better and stands up, with Kelly in his arms.

Kelly lets out a yelp at the abrupt movement, squeezing his arms tighter and wrapping his legs around Em. Em carries Kelly to the master bedroom and sits on the bed, with the blond sitting on his lap again.

“So what brought this on?” Em asks as he leans against the pillows groping Kelly’s ass through the sweater.

“I wanted to be pretty, but i’m also horny.” Kelly replies bluntly.

“So are you going to take off your pretty sweater, or do you need me to do it?”

Kelly is blushing; he knew Em would be into him wearing panties, but he didn’t realise the man would like them this much. He rises to his knees, grabs the hem of his sweater, and slowly pulls it up and over his head, revealing the lingerie he is wearing. He twists his torso so EM can see more of his outfit.

The panties are a pair of sheer, lacey, baby pink hipsters, with a trail of silk pink bows down the seam in the back, and dotted with pink and white rhinestones. They fit Kelly’s ass perfectly, hugging all the right curves. He can see some of Kelly’s ass peeking at the edges.

The coset starts under Kelly’s chest, and ends at the top of his panties. It was the same lacey baby pink fabric, with rhinestones at the bottom. The laces in the back were silky like the bows on his ass, and were pulled tight, with the ends tucked in. It wasn’t a shaping corset, more of a fashion statement.

Em is breathless, not only is Kelly gorgeous in them, but sexy as fuck. Em can’t remember the last time he was this hard.

Kelly sits there waiting for the older man to say something, shifting as more time passes, without Em saying anything. Doubt slowly creeping in.

The soft smile drops off Kelly’s face, thinking that maybe this was too much for Em. “Um … do you …. Is … is this okay?”

The question brings Em back to the present. Looking up at Kelly’s face, seeing the worry, Em knows he needs to say something, but for once his words have failed him. Instead, the older man surges forward, capturing Kelly’s lips. One hand tangling in the blonds hair, the other grabbing a lace covered ass check.

Shocked Kelly takes a moment to return the kiss, but when he does, the taller man wraps his arms around Em’s neck, pushing their bodies closer together.

******

Now that they spend more of their time at Em’s house, the lingerie chest is now located in Em’s closet, along with many of Kelly’s other clothes, normal and pretty.

Em loves Kelly’s pretty clothes, and loves buying them too. He regularly buys him new socks, stockings, sweaters. He has also taken to filling the chest with lingerie he himself has picked out for Kells, and jewelry to fill the top.

Most of the time Kelly still wears his pretty clothes for him but sometimes he wears them to have fun with Em.

#emgk #clothes headcannon #part4

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 198

198

Pinching himself, Keith couldn’t tell why he hadn’t woken up. Lance came out the bathroom blushing in fucking lingerie. His boyfriend in lingerie. It broke his brain. He didn’t have a lingerie kink... He’d never wear it. Lance... once wouldn’t have worn it. His boyfriend was a boy... and though embracing more “feminine” clothing as his body had changed, Keith knew Lance missed the days of jeans and button down shirts with jackets.

Blushing harder as he stared, Lance sighed at him

“I... does it look bad?”

“Nope”

“Okay... I’m kind of nervous here... I kind of feel really stupid and not that sexy”

Ooooh. Lance was sexy. He was sexy without the lingerie... and he was sexy with the lingerie. The blue green tones looked amazing against his skin. The bra had like a skirt thing that split at the front falling like curtains against Lance’s gravid belly. Google showed him not everyone really “popped out”, Lance did. Lance did and he loved it... even if it sucked for his boyfriend.

Climbing off the bed, Keith pinned Lance back against at the wall, the vampire gripping the door frame as Keith kissed him hungrily. He knew Lance had body issues since the start of his pregnancy. He still took photos of his stomach weekly, but some days he looked thoroughly miserable over his swollen belly... when he thought no one was paying attention. This trip was about reuniting with his dad, but it was also a trip for them to be able to spend a few days alone. Slotting his knee between Lance’s legs, his boyfriend raised himself to mount his knee, grinding down with a breathy moan

“Keith...”

“Bed. Now”

Lance knelt on the bed with his hands against the wall. Keith couldn’t have things both ways, no matter how he wanted them. He wanted to lay Lance out beneath him, finger him as he blew him, yet laying flat on his back without support wasn’t comfortable for his lover. Running his hands up Lance’s stomach, he groped his breasts, rutting up against Lance’s arse as he did

“Don’t... they’re tender”

“They’re heavy...”

“I... know... fuck... Keith... don’t... I don’t want them to leak”

Like the rest of Lance, his boobs had a mind of their own and would leak whether he wanted them to or not

“Don’t worry, love. I’m going to fuck you... but I might just take a bite out of you first”

“Just hurry up...”

“Nope... you did this for me, I’m going to enjoy it”

Meaning he was going to torture himself until he couldn’t hold back, then it wouldn’t be so embarrassing when he came as soon as he was inside Lance. He already wanted to come in his pants from how good his b-fiancé looked. His ego thoroughly approving of their mates choice in attire. He’d dropped his pants before they’d ended up in bed, Keith half wished he’d kept them on to keep himself in check... except that was all actually lie and he couldn’t wait

“I’m going to eat you out”

“Keith... I appreciate the thought, but I kind of need your dick up in my business right now...”

Keith had shocking self control. Pulling Lance into his lap, his boyfriend had prepped himself enough as he changed. The werewolf’s claws tearing through the lacy underwear with ease, shredded at the back to give him enough access. Holding Lance by the breasts, his fiancé held himself up enough for Keith to fuck him from beneath. Lance’s head lolled back onto his shoulder as Keith’s mind went all fuzzy. He loved the way Lance felt around him. He loved the way he moaned. He loved the way he rocked his hips without meaning to. With each thrust Lance’s breasts wobble, his stomach supported by his hands holding it, dick completely hidden by the swell. His mate was perfect. He was perfect and this was all just for him. Biting Lance’s shoulder, his orgasm came before Lance’s, riding out the waves of pleasure as deeply as he could get as the warmth of their kind of sex washed through him. With sloppy jerking thrusts, he finally brought Lance to orgasm, come splattering across the top of the bed as his boyfriend flopped back, panting hard.

Running his hands down, Lance shuddered as he placed them over his fiancé’s. Lance loved belly rubs, and he’d been somewhat neglectful with them. Completely debouched, Lance looked a mess. When he pursed his lips, Keith moved to kiss the corner of them

“I love you”

Lance hummed, blissed and foggy. Scent calming unfortunately

“Mmm... I love you, too... I can’t feel my legs”

“I don’t mind carrying you... you know, the best part about you being pregnant means I don’t have to pull out before I fuck you again”

Now he was a werewolf, he had a body that could keep up with Lance’s needs. His ego not sated... refractory period barely existed now. He’d literally only just stopped coming, and he was ready for the next round

“Keith...”

“Can you take another round?”

“Will you go gently on me?”

“Do you want me to go easy?”

“I want my fiancé to go a little crazy with me. I like it when you’re hungry for me”

“You’re going to pay for that one”

“Will you spank me?”

“No, but I might just take a chunk out of this arse of yours”

Baiting Keith had resulted in Keith losing control. His second orgasm not sating his werewolf, and Lance’s arse took the brunt of it. Both of them responded to each other’s aroused scent. Keith breaking the bed with how hard he thrust, Lance dickmatised into a whole other reality. He strongly felt they would have kept going had they not accidentally broken the leg on the bed.

Still. Sex with Keith felt amazing. He felt sexiest with his man’s hands on his body, knowing Keith was going absolutely crazy for him. Keith... who was now his fiancé. He kind of wasn’t hit by it until his words sank in. Embarrassment and self berating hitting as he changed. He hadn’t at all been romantic with his asking, and really hoped that Keith would let him ask him again in a much more romantic way. Still... fiancé’s sounded so good. Their lives had come together like puzzle pieces. Proposing felt right. He’d nearly fallen back to sleep until he realised what he was rambling about, but he didn’t regret letting his wish become vocal... he just wished he’d been more romantic and spoilt Keith rotten before hand... even if it’d happened in a kind of clumsy way that felt very them.

Thankfully their doing of the do happened during the day, so they didn’t have to worry about keeping their “neighbours” awake. As he thought about it, everything up until proposing seemed to take on a surreal feeling, as if it couldn’t possibly happened all on the same day. He did worry that he’d taken advantage of Keith when Keith was feeling low, then Keith had gone crazy for him and fucked away all his worries.

Insisting on carrying him to the shower, Keith helped him shower for the second time that day. Three showers in one day was something he wasn’t used to. It felt like a chore to wash Keith’s scent off his skin, but his ego was comforted by the smell of their sex in the air. His bo-fiancé’s pheromones as strong as his own, egos spurring on the passion. Touches sending warmth rushing through his body as if he could physically feel Keith’s love for him in a way that wasn’t simply him being drilled senseless.

Dressed by Keith, he troweled his hair off, pressing kisses to Lance’s forehead every few moments. He’d chosen his surprise for Keith so carefully that he wasn’t prepared for how little he’d feel sexy when he looked at himself in the mirror. When he’d come out the bathroom, he’d wondered if Keith might be disgusted by the sight of him, despite having trimmed as nicely as he could without being able to see beyond what the mirror showed.

“We should get some food”

Mentally groaning to himself, Lance wanted to blow off the food thing in favour of waiting until he’d healed. His legs felt ready to fall out their sockets, yet he knew he couldn’t. The twins needed every calorie they could get. They’d been stressed before, which was dangerous and he knew it. Still, going out didn’t seem fun. They’d have to fix the bed before they went to sleep, or Lance was in danger of sliding down the bed seeing it was his side the leg broke on

“What do you feel like eating?”

“You”

This time Lance groaned out loud. Keith had literally bitten his arse, as if he really did want to take a chunk out of it

“You already had me”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve had enough of you”

God. He needed to get Keith a training collar, or a cone of shame until his urges lessened. His ego was loving this attention. It’s diva side wanted to strut around and shout from the roof that Keith had not only agreed to marry him, he’d bent him into all kind of positions that pregnant people shouldn’t be bent into... and he’d loved it

“The twins need the calories. I need to fix my diet back up...”

From his crouched position on the floor, Keith stared up at him

“I’m sorry, I got carried away”

They both had. The shower was only tame because they both felt sheepish about breaking the bed when he was on his hands and knees with his stomach pressed against the blankets and his arse in the air. Really not a comfortable position, but it was great for Keith being able to thrust in as deeply as he could. His poor arse flooded with Keith’s seed, like he was trying to knock him up again. Hazarding a guess, he’d say Keith came twice as much as he did before. Though wolves went into heat every six months and bore one young, werewolves had seemed to evolve to spread their curse as far and wide as they could. Keith’s ego must still have felt out of whack as Keith had been human when he’d impregnated him.

Cupping Keith’s face, Lance smiled at him

“We both did, but with such a charming fiancé, me and my ego were swept away with how good of a mate you are”

The words had Keith smiling. Lance knew to praise them both because Keith’s ego would easier on his lover for it

“I lost my cool”

“It felt good. I haven’t... been feeling very... confident in my body. I know you know I haven’t. I really wanted to feel sexy”

“Babe, you are sexy. I know your body keeps changing, but I love you. It’s like what you were saying about people not being able to see the good...”

“I know. That’s why I don’t like to talk about it. I know how I’m being, and I wanted to change that line of thought, but then I get a look at myself and think how handsome you are... I’m overthinking things. We’d better get dinner out the way. I don’t know what it about holidays. Either you want to go out and do everything, or you just want to sleep like there’s no tomorrow. Fuck. You were supposed to call Shiro”

Keith turned his head to kiss Lance’s hand, before bunting into it for the head pats Lance knew he wanted

“Dinner first. Then, I’m calling Coran to send out a search party”

“I’m sure she’s okay...”

That Krolia hadn’t called Keith back was niggling at him. He had a very sneaking suspicion that she’d dropped everything to come up here, and that was why she wasn’t answering

“I still wished she’d check in. Maybe we should have put Pidge’s GPS on her?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure if you call Pidge she can just use Krolia’s phone to track her down”

Keith’s eyes widened. Lance ashamed he hadn’t thought of that sooner... like two hours sooner... he estimated two hours had passed because though intense, neither of them lasted long mid-do

“I didn’t think of that... but if I did that, then the gremlin would know I’m worried”

“Dude, she’s your mum. You’re allowed to worry. I know how much you wanted to talk to her”

“I don’t even have to talk to her, I just want to know she’s safe”

“I know you do. I’ve been avoiding my phone all day. She might have tried to contact me”

“Where’d you leave it?”

“Bathroom”

“I’ll go look for it”

Lance was going to tell Keith not to bother, but his fiancé was desperate to hear anything he could from Krolia right now

“Okay. I’m going to grab some liners for my bra. You did a number on them”

Had Keith had a tail, Lance felt it’d be wagging. Not a hint of regret in the werewolf’s eyes. Yep. He definitely needed a come of shame for Keith, and maybe some oven mittens for the safety of his chest? Maybe he could even find some kind of chastity bra and keep Keith’s hands off his aching chest for the rest of the pregnancy? No. No... that was going too far. As much as he loathed that he was lactating, Keith did help to make him feel less self awkward about relieving the pressure. All he really should be worrying about was the fact nipple stimulation was known to bring on labour... and with how stimulated his chest had been, they were lucky he was going into labour right now.

“Okay. I’ll get your phone. You should get a jacket. It’ll be cold outside once the sun sets. We both know how cold you get”

“I wouldn’t object if you’d like to wrap me up like a cute vampire burrito and carry me around”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed

“You might not, but did you think about how I’m supposed to explain that to everyone?”

“Not my problem. Burritos don’t talk”

“Sweet. Now I know how to shut you up when you’re mad at me. Roll you in a blanket, call you a burrito, and bam! Argument over”

Rolling his eyes heaving, Lance had fallen into a flaw of his own making

“I hate that you’re right. Now, go check my phone and then we’ll go. We still need to fix the bed”

Keith snorted as his gaze flicked to the corner of the bed... God... the sex had been so good... so good he kind of felt he needed to confess

“Fuck it. It makes the room look better”

“And there goes our security deposit...”

“And there goes my desire not to fix it”

It didn’t matter that the restaurant was right down the road, both of them silently agreed upon driving. Keith helping Lance to the car, then climb in, Lance cursing his precious bronco for being so damn tall. Neither of them wanted to socialise, the plan to was to get dinner and go back to their room. People seemed too peoply for them to handle, and Lance could barely keep his eyes open. He knew he needed blood. A bit of blood would have boosted his healing, but being face down with Keith’s hands on his didn’t exactly give him a chance to feed.

When they got the restaurant, Lance insisted on going in with Keith. He didn’t care what he looked like. Mami would have been appalled at how underdressed he was... Still, it was a 15 minute wait for food, that was long and loud. That feeling of fear kicking in due his fatigue, Keith playing with his hair as they cuddled in the booth and waited until his name was called.

Keith all but lifted Lance back into the bronco, Lance didn’t like admitting he’d starting drifting off in public. The day had been so stupidly long, yet that was what you got when you’d been awake since dawn. Climbing into the drivers side, Keith nearly upended their precious food as he noticed Lance hadn’t done his belt up and his exhaustion made him forget he couldn’t do two things at once. It was cute. The vampire felt almost intoxicated by Keith’s love... and the fact that they could call each other “fiancé” made him all warm inside. Stuffing the food back in the bottom of the bag to prevent escape, Keith was even cuter still as he ruffled Lance’s hair

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll be back at the hotel soon”

“Mmm... yeah. Back at the hotel with my fiancé... we need to grab the jack out the back of the car”

He deserved the weird look Keith gave him. His words tumbling out to be finished with a loud yawn

“I think I’m tireder than I thought, because I don’t get it”

Yawning again, Lance tried to do his belt but was too clumsy. Keith helping him out before he could get frustrated

“To jack the bed up... it can wait until tomorrow... food, sleep, you... that’s all I want”

“Sounds good to me”

“Good... your monster dick destroyed my arse... I really love your dick... and you...”

Keith snorted at him, ruffling his hair again

“Me and my monster dick love you too. You sexy vampire fiancé...”

With a content sigh, Lance let his eyes slide closed. Keith would always keep him safe and warm... His ego loved him so damn much... A life with Keith... yeah. Yeah, he wanted that... he wanted to spoon up in Keith’s arms and have slow sex. Not just going crazy for each other, but painfully slow sex with lots and lots of kisses and cuddles. Maybe Keith would suck him off? He wanted all of Keith he could have... he was so selfish... or maybe just a horny idiot

“Damn right I am... mmm... now I wanna fuck again... can we fuck later?”

“Let’s get you fed first, then we’ll see how things go?”

Whatever, he was too sleepy to care. He had the worlds best man all to himself

“Okay... I still really love you dick”

“I love your dick too...”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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pinknerdpanda · 5 years

Text

Perfect

Characters: Dean x Reader Word Count: 2,006 (including lyrics) Warnings: Fluff, self-doubt, a teeny-tiny bit of angst if you squint, flustered!Dean, the song “Baby It’s Cold Outside” (see A/N 2 after the story) Requested by: @sandlee44 Beta’d by @shy-violet-soul

A/N: This was written for my Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles - though this is decidedly not a drabble. Ya’ll...I just have too much to say to be concise. Brevity is not my strong suit and, for that, I apologize. Ok, I lied. I’m not sorry. Enjoy a little Dean fluff this holiday season.

Perfect

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, surveying the labors of his work. He’d spent the last two hours meticulously arranging and rearranging the room. He still wasn’t happy with the way the fuzzy, white blanket was draping across the arm of the sofa. It was too...something.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath as he picked up the blanket, shook it out and placed it again. He wanted it to look perfect without appearing like he’d spent too much time making it seem that way.

The candles had been the most difficult part of the setup. At first he’d lined them up fastidiously, spending way too long making sure they formed a crisp line around the couch. Taking a step back, he’d hated it and fought the urge to toss every last candle into the snow. After searching online for the most aesthetically pleasing configuration, he’d chosen to group them in odd numbers in various spots around the space.

There weren’t many things Dean Winchester had spent this much time agonizing about. Then again, there weren’t many things worth the effort.

But you were.

He’d fallen hard over a game of pool a year ago. You’d kicked his ass and laughed when he asked for double or nothing. The mischievous gleam in your eye as you sauntered away from him had his heart in knots and his mouth dry as sand. He’d been falling ever since.

He’d wanted to ask you out for months, now, but somehow always found his courage failing him. He felt ridiculous; he fights demons and monsters every day of his life, for Christsakes, but you - with your shiny hair and bad dad jokes - had him shaking in his scuffed boots.

Until last night.

The hunt had almost ended badly. The vampires turned out to be shacked up with a coven of witches and their combined power had sent you both reeling. But, you’d both made it out with minor scrapes and bruises and a hell of a lot of dead monsters in your wake. When he found you wiping blood off your chin with a dirty bandana you’d dug out of the trunk, the words had come out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop them. Maybe it was a lifetime of what-ifs and abandoned futures, or maybe it was the thought that he could have very nearly lost you before knowing the feeling of your lips against his, but the courage he’d been lacking met him head-on. Well, sort of.

“Y/n, I know this isn’t the best time,” he’d ducked his head, bashfulness trying to crawl it’s way out, “but I really like you. I know this life is messy and there’s no promise of what tomorrow will bring...I mean, I guess that’s true for everyone, not just hunters. Although, it definitely holds true for people like us. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I mean it’s almost Christmas, and they say it’s one of the most romantic times of the year. And if you’re not interested, I’ll never mention it again, but I think you might be…”

You’d cut him off, trying to hide a blushing smirk from your face. “I’d love to go out with you, Dean.” You crossed your arms over your chest, looking down. “I was starting to get worried you’d never ask.”

Dean had never been so elated in his whole life.

But that was yesterday.

Today, with the excess adrenaline from the hunt now waned, and his unrealistic expectations of what a perfect first date with you should be, the anxiety was getting the best of him. He’d known immediately that he’d wanted to hang back at the cabin he’d rented rather than go out to a loud bar or busy restaurant. The fact that he already had a romantic fireplace setup was a stroke of luck he’d never expected to have. But now he worried if you’d think the idea too forward. Maybe he should call one of the nearby restaurants to see if they had reservations left.

Dean pulled out his phone to make the call when he heard a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock - 7:30 pm. Of course you’d be on time. Dean tucked his phone back into his pocket and rubbed his hands on his jeans. He gave the room another glance and sighed. It’s now or never.

---

The chilly December air was thick and froze your breath as soon as it left your lungs. You fiddled anxiously with the hem of your sweater as you waited for Dean to answer the door. If it wasn’t for the glossy black car sitting outside, you’d wonder if you were at the right cabin. Maybe you should have worn something nicer, but Dean had been vague about the details of your date, so you opted for comfort - a pair of jeans, an oversized sweater and tall boots - over fashion. Standing here at his door, however, you wished you’d dressed up a little more.

Just as you raised your hand to knock again, the door swung wide, startling you. Dean smiled, and you were a little relieved to see that he looked just as flustered as you felt. Who’d have thought the Dean Winchester would get nervous about a date.

“Hey,” he breathed, his cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

“Hey yourself, Winchester.”

Dean stepped back and held his arm out, a silent invitation to come inside.

The cabin was small, but stunning. Flames danced along the tops of dozens of candles spread out across the room. A cream colored, fuzzy, woven blanket hung over the arm of the sofa next to a small wooden table containing two steaming mugs. The room was silent except for the soft crackling of fire devouring a small stack of logs inside the fireplace and the sound of your heart hammering inside your chest.

Dean rubbed his hands down the front of his pants, nervously, and smiled at you. The candlelight flickered across his handsome face as he stepped forward.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out and running his knuckles down your arm.

You ducked your head and cleared your throat. Your face suddenly felt extremely warm and your pulse jumped behind your ribs.

“So, uh...what’s the plan?”

Dean held out his hand and cocked an eyebrow at you. The air seemed to sizzle with electricity as you placed your palm in his and he led you to the couch.

“Well, I thought - since it’s so cold outside - maybe we could stay in,” he flinched as he motioned for you to sit. “I mean, not that you have to stay here, I know that sounds...you know what? Nevermind, we can just go out, maybe grab a bite to - “

Squeezing his hand, you cut him off. “Dean, stop.” You smiled reassuringly at him as you sat down. “I know what you mean. I think that sounds nice.”

Dean’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a breath before smiling broadly at you. He stood there, looking tenderly down at you, as though in a fog, for several seconds before he snapped abruptly. Shaking his head gently to himself, he took a step toward the pair of mugs on the table and grabbed one in each hand.

“I made you some hot cocoa,” he said, handing you a mug and lowering himself to the seat beside you.

The warm scent of chocolate tickled your nose as you took a small, tentative sip. You hummed in delight.

“This is delicious. Thank you.”

Dean wrapped his hands around his own mug, fingertips playing along the rim as he stared down into it.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was so low you almost missed it, but you didn’t and his words surprised you. Your cup suspended in midair, the attempted second sip now forgotten as you stared at him, confused.

“What?”

Dean turned the mug between his palms, his brows creased.

“I’ve just,” he paused, his tongue darting out to sweep across his lower lip. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, and I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

“What makes you think it’s not?” You brought the cup down, resting it gently on your knee.

“I don’t know. It’s like when I’m with you, I feel like a bumbling idiot. You deserve to be wined and dined and, and, and, ” he paused again, his gaze finally finding yours, “cherished.” He gulped. “But this -” he gestured limply around the room with one hand and looked down again. “ - this just feels awkward. Or something.”

The ceramic clinked against the wood as you set your drink aside. You carefully reached for Dean’s mug, unwrapping his calloused fingers from their hold and depositing his cup next to yours. Dean tensed when your hands closed over his, his mouth falling open slightly.

“Listen. This?” You mirrored his earlier motion. “This is beautiful. You went to a lot of trouble planning this and I feel like a really special girl to be seated on this couch next to you. You’ve got to get out of your head, Winchester.” You smiled warmly at him, gripping his hand a little tighter. “I like you, Dean. A lot. So whatever pressure you’re putting on yourself to impress me? Just forget it, ok?”

Dean’s lips pressed together in a tight line, his brows still creased, but he nodded. He pulled his hands from your grip and stood. Your heart dropped a little as he turned from you and walked across the room. A few seconds later, the quiet was replaced with music and Dean stood in front of you, offering you his hand again. Two singers began their gentle, musical debate, a song you loved despite the kerfuffle in recent years surrounding it.

I really can't stay (but baby, it's cold outside) I've got to go away (but baby, it's cold outside) This evening has been (been hoping that you'd drop in) So very nice (I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice)

“May I have this dance?” He crooned, his face having relaxed somewhat and his lips curved in a shy smile.

As Dean pulled you gently to your feet, the firelight glowed in his eyes, making their green depths twinkle in the darkness. He rested one hand on your waist and held your right hand with the other. Your fingers splayed across his back as you pressed in close to him, following his lead as he swayed with the music. Sighing, you rested your head against his shoulder and you felt him take a deep breath.

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and couldn’t stop yourself from singing along.

You've really been grand But don't you see?

Dean dropped his head to rest against yours as he joined you, quietly singing along with the responses to the woman’s half-hearted protests.

There's bound to be talk tomorrow (think of my lifelong sorrow) At least there will be plenty implied (if you got pneumonia and died)

Pulling back, you looked up into his beautiful eyes, unwilling to resist the smile playing along your lips as you sang the last lines together.

I really can't stay (get over that old out) Baby, it's cold Baby, it's cold outside

Dean beamed down at you, his face mere inches from yours. Without giving yourself the chance to back out, you leaned up, placing a chaste, but lingering kiss against his lips. Dean’s grip on your waist tightened gently as you broke apart, his eyes flicking anxiously as he looked at you. The second kiss was anything but chaste, your lips parting as he pulled you tighter against him and sighed into your mouth.

Another song began but you’d stopped swaying, both of you lost in the taste and feel of each other. When you pulled apart a time later, Dean closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to yours and sighing happily.

“Dean?”

His eyelashes fluttered open, his pupils wide as he looked at you.

“This is perfect.”

----

A/N 2: Look, I know everyone has feelings about this song, and I’m not here to debate it. I think I got an ask last year telling me not to write about this again because the song is “problematic.” I understand the concerns regarding consent and though I see the song differently, I know some people have a problem with it. Just understand, this is the third year in a row I’ve gotten a request to write a fic with this song, and I’m simply fulfilling the request of a lovely follower. I hope you understand. Thank you!

----

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #merry manda's christmas drabbles #merry manda 2019 #panda writes #i lost my queue

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nocturne-inuyasha-ff · 5 years

Text

Nocturne - Sapphire in Moonlight

Author's Notes: I had a dream, and I had to get it out. I hope it goes well since it is my first time doing non-canon pairings. I'm not sure if I will continue it beyond a chapter or two, but we will see with the response I get from it.

Happy reading, and enjoy!

WARNING: The Mature warning is valid for this first chapter. I'm trying my best to be the right level of explicit, so if you are easily offended, this story may not be for you.

Nocturne - Chapter One: Sapphire in Moonlight

Rated - M (for VERY suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, and coarse language)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

The call was strong, the drive to go. Her feet moved of their own volition, and her mind was too hazy to consider why. Thoughts not her own raced through her mind, pushing and urging her to keep moving forward even when the brush and thorns laced over her exposed skin, causing tiny droplets of blood to pool and drip down her arms. Vague hints of pain lanced through her foggy mind, but the urge to keep moving pushed her along the path.

It was dark, and there was no moon to light the way. Only a sliver of the pale disc marked its place in the sky, and even that had become obscured by clouds. There was something else guiding her through the woods, something deeper and more primal. It ate at her thoughts, filling her mind with carnal desire, and compelling her to keep moving.

Somewhere, deep down in her mind, she wondered where she was going and why she was being pushed far away from her futon in the dead of night. No one had seen or heard her leave, so no one stopped or came after her. She moved unhindered once she reached a path of trodden grass. The track was not well-worn, but animals had used this trail to move silently through the forest so she could traverse through it with ease.

Kagome had walked miles in her mindless state. She ended up at the mouth of a darkened cave. Creepers had grown up the sides and mouth of the cave, making it appear as though it had grown out of the hillside. The mossy sides of the ragged cave opening gave the illusion of a green maw gaping in the night, waiting to eat her up. Under normal circumstances, no sane person would enter the dark and eerie black hole.

The compulsion to move forward into the darkness overtook her, propelling her into the fathomless black. Her world was now enveloped in darkness, but there was no fear. The force that had moved her to this location dissipating and now urging her to stay.

'Stay.'

'Wait.'

The voices whispered in her head with conviction. Somewhere, even deeper in her consciousness, she clung to herself and called out to be heard. But nothing answered beside the call of voices that pressed her to remain.

She turned to face the entrance of the cave but was only met by darkness. The creepers vines had blackened out the forest beyond, and only the sounds of night crept in. The sounds of crickets permeated the space around her, and silence threatened to overwhelm her from behind, further inside the cave.

How long she stood there, planted in place waiting, she did not know, nor did she have the capacity to care. Standing there in a simple nightgown, her body felt the chill of the night, evidenced by the raised flesh of her arms. Still, the voices told her to wait.

The night seemed endless, but perhaps only a moment had passed. As she stood there vaguely aware of herself, she could feel rather than hear a presence near the cave entrance. Despite the darkness, she could see a black figure hovering just beyond the vines that separated her from the night.

A hand pushed through and parted the vines, and a tall male figure entered. The aura that she felt was powerful and nearly overwhelmed her as it stepped closer. Like a predator, the man circled her in slow, steady strides. She felt a shudder erupt, and the voices inside changed. The urgency of their whispers now pushed her to kneel. One foot at a time, she went to her knees, and her head hung low.

From behind, she could feel the heat of the man's body envelop her. The temperature quickly invigorated her, reviving her cold-leached limbs. Had her mind not been so numb, she may have felt nervous or embarrassed by her circumstances; kneeling in a cave wearing barely anything in the middle of the night. In spite of her compulsion, her pulse quickened, and her breathing hitched.

There was a soft, light touch on her right shoulder that sent another shiver through her body. The brush was velvet and brief but followed by the hot breath of the man as he lowered himself behind her. A hand reached out and traced the outline of her neck and down her shoulder. Kagome felt herself leaning into the touch, nearly nuzzling the hand with her cheek. He grabbed both of her shoulders, at first resting gently with some form of restraint, but the grip went from gentle to firm. She could feel the barest of pricks from the sharp nails that encircled her shoulders.

'Claws?' the fuzzy thought formed in her head.

The clawed hand gripping her right shoulder moved slowly down her arm and then back up. The breath on her neck moved closer until she could feel the wet warmth of his tongue and lips connect to her skin. She moaned against the contact and felt herself melt. His hand drifted down to caress the fullness of her breasts, and her head snapped back, and she felt her jaw go slack. Delicious longing contracted through her middle and settled between her legs. Suddenly the warmth pulled away in retreat. Kagome nearly sighed in dismissal. How could someone reject her so quickly, a small part of her wondered.

The voice echoed in her mind, 'Kneel,' 'Stay,' 'Submit.'

'Submit,' she thought on the funny word.

It meant to yield to a superior authority of another person, she recalled in the depths of her consciousness. So she was supposed to comply with this guy's will? She would have laughed at any another time, but not now. Now she felt that she would die if she did not feel the warm caress of his skin upon hers, or his lips touching the tender, exposed curve of her neck.

She could hear the rustle of clothing and a loud clang as metal hit the rocky floor and resonated through the silence of the cave, echoing beyond into the darkness. The sound made her flinch in spite of herself. Her mind was still fuzzy, but her desire was clear and overwhelming.

Kagome remained kneeling, and the man walked around her. Though the voices had instructed her to 'submit,' she raised her head to look at the man. It was still too dark to see, but she could make out the barest of outlines. She had already seen that he was tall, and that was confirmed as he towered over her. For the briefest of moments, his eyes glowed golden in the darkness, and her breath caught in her throat. Those eyes... she knew those eyes.

He lowered himself down in front of her, their eyes locked on one another. Could he see her in the darkness with those glowing eyes? He must have been able to see her; he reached out with his hand and cupped her face. He pulled her close, and she could feel the warmth of his skin. She could feel his face so close to her own, and she longed for that gap between their lips to be filled.

There was restraint within him. She could sense that much. It was like there was something inside, waiting to pounce and devour her. And she wanted to be devoured. She longed for it. Could he tell? Could he sense her desire?

He reached behind her and used a razor-sharp claw to trace a precise line down her back. She should have been afraid. He could have killed her quickly, she knew. Hazily, she realized that the fabric of her nightgown fell apart in the back, leaving her exposed. Kagome let the spaghetti straps fall from her shoulders, and the garment pooled at her knees.

Satisfied with his work, his eyes worked down her figure, coming to rest on her undergarments. Placing his hands on her hips, he gripped them firmly and looped his thumbs within the fabric of her lacey negligee that rested there, sampling the feel of the different item. He removed his thumbs and gripped her hips again. In a deft motion, he flipped her around so that her back was facing him again. The movement was so abrupt that she put her hands out to stop from hitting the ground; leaving her on all fours. When she tried to push herself up, she was stopped by pressure on the back of her neck. He wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled, causing her head to pull up slightly and her spine to arch down. She could feel him, pressed up against her, and it caused her to ache.

A moan erupted from her lips, and the sound seemed to incite something in him. His mouth claimed her neck, and his tongue stroked there in slow, languishing movements. She groaned under his touch, unable to keep quiet when his canines nipped her skin. She was panting softly at this point, unable to keep her breath even.

His hair must have been long; it cloaked their bodies in a silvery sheen while he bent over. She could see it from the corner of her eyes even though his hand was still tangled in her hair and holding her in place. She longed to run her fingers through his hair, but her hands were planted firmly on the ground.

Kagome gasped when he pulled away from her neck. He still gripped her neck possessively, holding her down; not that she had a current desire to be anywhere else. The voices she had heard earlier were gone, replaced with her desperate pleas for more.

She ached in sweet, delicious pleasure. The need to touch him was too high, but she was happy to have him touch her and touch her he did. His free hand roamed down her rear and cupped the curve of her backside, squeezing. Too slow, she thought. She wanted to say it aloud and urge him to continue, to touch her, to kiss her, to give her what she desired; release. Yet he was hesitant, and she could sense it.

A delighted cackle resonated through the small, neglected room. Dirt and moss encrusted the walls, and much of the decaying decor and household items lazily strewn about. A hearth, located in the middle of the room, took up much of the space afforded to the tiny domicile, and atop the hearth was the only thing inside that looked reasonably well cared for: a black cauldron. Mysterious contents bubbled from within the pot that held what seemed to be a bone ladle.

An old, haggard woman picked up the bone ladle and stirred the pot, still sniggering as she peered within. The woman was a witch - an onibaba. Her long white hair was wild and unkempt. Her kimono dirty, tattered, and exposed much of the crone's bony body. With an absent hand, the onibaba picked at a loose fray of her robes. "Kekekekeh," she continued laughing and stirring her large pot.

"HA!" she guffawed.

"Teach em, we will," she said to the cauldron.

"WHAT?" she hollered to no one, pausing from her random stirring.

Her gaze looked beyond the decaying walls of her hut.

"No, no, no," she said with a shake of her head and returned to stirring.

A snake slithered amongst the debris of her home. Light from the fire under the cauldron reflected off the reddish scales. It coiled slowly around the foot of the pot before it continued to slide towards the onibaba. It scented the air with its forked tongue and found the crone's foot. It ever so slowly made its way up her lower limbs until it came to rest, draped over her neck. The crone patted at the snake absently, to which the snake responded by striking her exposed breast.

"Gah. Mamu…" she grabbed the snake with a hand, bringing it's diamond-shaped head to her eyes.

One milky eye focused on the snake, whose maw was still open and exposing two deadly fangs.

"Do ye want to go into the pot? Naughty beastie," she asked.

With the beast still firmly in hand, she took it's head and pressed the exposed fangs onto the side of the cauldron. Twin milky streams beaded down the inside of the pot and into the bubbling contents. Without a thought, she flung the snake over her shoulder and gazed back down into her cauldron.

"Look!" she exclaimed, pointing into the pot. "I've got ye now mutt."

She began cackling again and jumping from foot to foot in glee. "Kekekekeh. He'll pay, won't he Mamu?" she asked the wall.

From the moment he'd entered the mouth of the cave, he knew he'd claim this woman. She had knelt suppliant before him. Good, she had the sense to keep her head down. Otherwise, it would have been a direct challenge to his position. He'd lived long enough to know that there was magic clouding his judgment. He also knew that it was better to ride it out rather than fight against it.

This old type of magic that coursed through his veins was a summoning spell. It was meant to summon two people to a particular spot and fill them with desire, and it had worked very well. He wondered who had cast the spell. Who was stupid enough to work magic against him? Perhaps they had a vendetta against the girl; their aim for him to kill her in his carnal form. He filed the thought away until his mind was clear of the intoxicating scent before him, and he had complete control of his faculties.

Sesshomaru took even breathes. The woman in front of him was human, and if he unleashed the full force of his desire, he would surely kill her. What shred of control he had over his primal nature had been put to being as gentle as possible.

So far, he'd been successful in his endeavors, but the woman was pushing him to his limits. She dared to look him in the eyes. He had to fight the urge to claim her then and there; shredding her clothing with his claws and entering her within one breath. No; instead, he looked at her, seeing everything. Every curve of her body, every shallow breath she took as she panted before him. Even the pulse from her veins was evident to him.

He knelt in front of her, their eyes locked, and reached out his hand to her. He saw into her dark, lapis colored eyes and witnessed her desire for him. It took everything in him not to claim those lush rose-bud lips as his own.

The urge to taste her was nearly overwhelming, but he knew that if he'd sampled her, he would not be able to stop. Instead, he glanced down, remembering that there was still a light barrier between them. It needed to be gone this instant, he declared and reached behind to relieve her of the garment, if that could even pass as one. The sheer fabric left nothing to his inner thoughts, and it made his hardness nearly unbearable.

Taking his hands down the curves of her waist, he came to rest upon a curious undergarment. It was made from a strange fabric in an unusual pattern. Regardless of what their purpose was, they needed to be removed. Soon enough, he thought, but not now. He was done waiting. He flipped her over on all fours. The movement surprised her, and she had tried to right herself, but she had to be taught respect. He wrapped her hair through his fingers and pulled tightly. Seeing her in this position, so indecent and ready, caused his member to throb.

'Not yet,' he scolded his inner beast.

A guttural voice echoed through his mind, 'mine. Take. now.'

With his eyes, he could see the pulse beat from the curve of her neck. He held her head firm and claimed that area, lavishing it with his tongue.

'Enough!' the voice boomed, causing him to pull away.

He growled low in his throat at a decibel too low for her to hear. Whether his yoki permitted him or not, he was going to be gentle with this human woman. His hand roamed downwards and savoring every inch. He could feel her pant beneath his touch, and a smirk blossomed on his face.

He could sense that she wanted more, and he was happy to oblige, in his own time. He released his hold of her hair, trusting her to stay put, and gripped her hips instead. He pushed the fabric of her undergarments aside and slipped his fingers into the sensitive folds of her wet entrance. Her head tilted back further, and her shoulders arched up at the contact. Her muscles contracted and squeezed his digits tightly. He began to push them in and pull out slowly, all the while, she began to mewl under his touch. After but a few strokes, he could bear it no more.

The beast within was demanding payment, and the girl splayed out before him was taunting with the push of her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers. A subtle sheen of sweat misted her skin and likely his own. He removed his fingers, and she yet again gasped at the loss of contact.

'What a greedy mortal woman,' he thought.

He tore the fabric away with a deft flick of his claws, laying bare her supple entrance. No more time, it had to be now. He positioned himself behind her, barely nudging the warmth that begged him to come in. He pushed into her with one fluid motion, and she cried out in delight. He pulled back, and this time pushed in a little slower, savoring the feel of her clenching around him. Her hips pushed back to meet him as he thrust into her again and again.

He was so deep she could hardly stand it. The force of his thrusts were so pleasurable yet held distinct moments of discomfort. She found that pain was welcome as he hit the spot within her that caused her to want more, eliciting a breathless cry from her.

Her arms felt weak, and without anything to hold her up, she crumpled beneath her weight in a sagging motion, her hips yanked upright to continue lunging into her. This new position opened her up to accept even more of him. Her body accepted his length with the volition of its own, and she let out a breathless cry.

She heard him growl, in pleasure or warning, she wasn't sure. She didn't care. Pressure was building in her core, threatening to explode.

He leaned over her, now able to put more weight upon her back. He wrapped a hand around her middle to hold her in place, and the other hand on the ground beside her to bear some of his weight as he continued to pummel into her. She could feel him growing thicker and harder and knew that he was near to climax. Thankfully, she, too, was near the end.

She was unsure of how much more she could take of this wild, unbridled passion. Kagome could feel his hot breath near her ear as he panted along with her.

"Mine," the word spilled from his lips with feral intensity.

Once the word was uttered, her orgasm tore through, causing her to cry out and his own spilled out into her, but a second later, his body shuddering on top of her in ecstasy.

Kagome laid there for a moment, panting, trying to register in her hazy mind if what had taken place was a fantasy or reality. She was sore and cold now that he had moved away from her. She wanted to get up and move around, but she was only able to roll over. A sudden urge to sleep slammed into her like a brick wall, and her lids became heavy. Warmth enveloped her; it was that soft warmth that cradled her body. She curled into it, letting sleep and exhaustion take over.

The warmth from the morning sun broke through in narrow rays between the creeper vines covering the mouth of the cave. Kagome rolled over, and consciousness hit her like a truck, her eyes snapping open. She sat up and looked around, trying to get a bearing on her surroundings. The faint rays of the sun did not breach too far into the cave but allowed enough light to make out some of the surroundings.

How did she get here? She wondered, but part of her knew the answer. It was taking a while for the events of last night to catch up to her brain. She felt sore and cold. What had she done? Looking down, she noticed that she was nude but a very fine-looking hankimono that draped over her lap. She fingered the material, and a realization hit her nearly as hard as consciousness had.

"Sesshomaru?!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

She was afraid to say it too loud, lest others overhear. Even though none could be near enough to her to have done so, she grabbed the hankimono up and pulled it over her bare body. She had to get back to the village before her husband noticed that she was missing.

#nocturne #sesshomaru #kagome #sesskag #romance #fanfic

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dyscrasia-eucrasia · 4 years

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Part 15

Angel had never been to Billy Brook before. He didn't exactly make it a habit to go out into the countryside. He was too flamingly gay and not nearly white enough to feel safe out in small towns. Hell, he didn't even really feel safe in Charleston.

But Demie felt worth taking a risk for. He hadn't felt that close to someone in a long time, and after the disaster that was Clayton Howard, he needed to feel genuinely wanted. And Demie seemed to genuinely want him. He'd invited him over - hell, he'd said he liked him. This would be good.

He was in a good mood for the entire drive out. It was kind of peaceful, actually, driving through nature on twisting, turning roads. Almost zen. A chance to meditate on his life, to think about how lucky he was to have found Demie.

Still, he couldn't help but get butterflies in his stomach as he passed a sign welcoming him to Billy Brook. The sign was full of bullet holes.

The town itself was small - it didn't even take him a full minute to pass through the main street of shops. Everything was rundown and dingy, like no one did any upkeep. They probably didn't - this was a poor town.

Angel drove slowly, constantly checking the directions. The trees grew wild along the side of the road, obscuring street signs. He almost missed his turn more than once. At one point he went so far down a dirt road with no signs of landmarks that he was sure he'd taken a wrong turn.

His phone didn't get any signal this far into the country, but then again, Demie hadn't given him an actual address that he could plug into the maps app. He was on his own.

He came upon a large tree with an 'All Trespassers Will Be Shot' sign on it, and had it not been for the fact that Demie had explicitly described the tree and the sign, he would've thought he was walking into a horror movie. One of those creepy cabin in the woods kind. And he didn't even have anyone with him that he could shove in the way of a cannibalistic redneck so that he could get away.

It still took him about five minutes after the tree before the road opened up to a huge clearing, at least an acre. A grungy old trailer sat in the middle of the space. To one side of it was a septic tank, to the other side was a large shed. Most of the clearing was fenced off, except for a long driveway leading to the trailer's front deck. Goats milled around behind the fence.

Angel sat in the car for a minute, leaving the engine running. Demie had said that if he saw goats, he was at the right place, but he hadn't pictured it like this, way out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods. He was way out of his element.

There was a flicker of movement in the trailer, a curtain moving just slightly. Angel kept his hand on the gear-shift, ready to knock it into reverse and get the hell out of there if need be.

But then the front door opened, and Demie stepped out onto the deck. He raised his hand in a slow, awkward wave. He didn't exactly smile, but the edges of his mouth ticked up just a little.

Angel exhaled loudly, only just realizing he'd been holding his breath. He relaxed his shoulders and unclenched his jaw, too. He turned off the engine and got out of the car, raising an arm and smiling.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Demie replied. He spoke in the same dreary monotone he always did, but Angel thought he could hear a little bit of happiness in his voice.

As Angel walked by, the goats rushed up to the fence in a huddle, bleating softly.

"They're cute," he said, pausing to look at them. "Can I pet them?"

"Yeah. You can feed 'em, too, if you want to."

"Omigod, I would love to feed your goats."

"Hold on, let me get their treats." Demie disappeared back inside the trailer.

"Heeeey," Angel cooed, reaching over the fence to let the gaggle of goats sniff at his hand. They all jostled to shove their noses into his palm.

"Here," Demie said, coming down the steps of the deck with a metal cookie tin that looked like it should've held sewing supplies.

He came up to Angel and Angel was reminded of just how tall he was. He towered over him as he opened up the tin and held it out.

The tin was full of little treats that looked like cookies. They were lumpy and not all the same size, and looked homemade.

"Hold it up over the fence," Demie said. "Don't hold it down beneath, or they'll all go after it."

"What, do they bite?"

"Oh yeah."

Angel took one of the treats and held his arm out. The goats swarmed the fence, pushing and shoving at one another. One reached up and plucked the treat away with its lips, but another body-checked it, and the treat went flying. The entire group ran after it.

"Wow," Angel said with a laugh. "Are they always this pushy?"

"Nah. You're just a new person. They're trying to take advantage of you. Here--" Demie handed him the entire tin, taking a few of the treats himself. He whistled, and the goats came back. They tried to swarm the fence again, but Demie kicked one of the boards.

"Go in, get!" He commanded, and they scattered.

"Alright, one at a time," he said, holding out a treat. A large white goat with floppy ears took a treat, and Demie rubbed the knuckles of his other hand between the goat's horns. The goat took off away from the fence.

Demie continued like that, reaching back to grab more treats from time to time, until he'd fed each of the goats.

It was as he was leaning over to pet a particularly small one that Angel noticed something - he was wearing the curled ram horns he'd worn at the show. Looking down, he was wearing the fuzzy pants and hoof-heels, too.

"Y'know," Angel said as Demie reached back to take the tin, "you didn't have to wear the show costume. I'm pretty sure I'd recognize you without the horns."

Demie froze. His face became utterly blank, save for his eyes, which had widened. He looked like an animal that had just had a very bright light shown in its face. His whole body was tense, as though he might take off running at any second.

"Um, I mean, if you feel more comfortable dressing up, that's fine--" Angel started. Who knew, maybe Demie was a furry. That was okay. He could date a furry. Fursuit pants weren't any weirder than a leather harness, when it came down to it.

He didn't get to explain that thought, though, as Demie interrupted him.

"You'd-- you'd better come inside," he said. Stiffly, almost robotically, he turned and bounded up the steps to the deck. He was surprisingly fast and agile for someone wearing such extreme heels. Angel considered himself pretty graceful, but even he doubted he could spring up a set of stairs that fast in heels.

Demie entered the trailer without waiting for Angel, leaving the door open.

When Angel got to the doorway, he was a little shocked at the state of the trailer's interior. He'd known some sloppy guys before, but Demie's trailer was something else. It looked like it was decades old, the walls lined with wood panelling that was cracked in places. The living room carpet was a disturbing shade of brown that might have once been beige. The furniture was sagging and threadbare.

The weird thing was, other than a pile of dishes visible in the kitchen sink beyond the living room, the trailer wasn't particularly messy. A few magazines and empty beer bottles on the coffee table, but no other trash. Yet somehow the trailer seemed crushingly squalid and impoverished.

Maybe it was just the age of it. Or maybe it was the overwhelming animal smell that filled the entire space.

Demie was pacing on the kitchen linoleum, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"You, uh. You'd better sit down," he said, gesturing at the couch. He seemed nervous, and that made Angel nervous.

"Look, I've heard a lot of weird fetishes, it's not that strange--" Angel tried to say, but again was cut off.

"No. No, you should sit down. Really."

"O-okay," Angel said, blinking. He inspected the couch to make sure that none of the stains were freshly wet and perched himself on the edge of a cushion.

"Like I was saying, it's not that wei--"

"Could you… not talk? For a minute?" Demie said as he paced. He had gone from clenching his hands to now waving them at his sides, as if trying to flick sweat from his palms. Angel could feel his heart rate increase, but did as Demie asked and didn't say anything.

"Okay," Demie said, turning to face Angel. But then he quickly muttered something to himself in what sounded like another language and began pacing again.

"Okay, okay, okay," he murmured. "You can do this. It's okay."

He again turned to face Angel. Despite his olive complexion, his face looked pale.

"Take your time," Angel said. "Really. Whatever it is, I won't judge."

"These are my real legs."

Angel sat in silence for a moment. "Come again…?" He asked.

"These," Demie patted the sides of his thighs, "these are real. So are the horns. This isn't a costume."

Never in a million years could Angel have anticipated that answer. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to interpret it, so he just said the first thing that came to his mind: "Huh?"

Demie sighed, stepping back into the living room. He walked around to the chair opposite the couch and collapsed into it. "This," he said, raising one of his feet, "this isn't a costume."

"So… what… what are you saying?" Angel asked, still struggling to understand.

"I'm not… I'm not human."

"Oh." What kind of Twilight shit was this? Angel thought. "Okay. So… what… are you, then?"

"I'm a satyr."

"What's… what's a satyr?"

"I'm a goatman."

"I don't… I don't really understand."

Demie sighed, running a hand through his hair. Angel noticed how the horns didn't budge when he touched them. "You know that video that that guy made, the one you told me about a while back, about the Goatman?"

"I… never actually watched it." He'd watched the second channel vlog, but hadn't ever watched the main channel video from that day. In fact, he'd unsubscribed from both channels. Watching Clayton made him feel sick.

"Okay, well, the goatman that they were looking for... that's me."

"Okay, wait, so…" Angel looked around the living room, trying to spot a camera. This had to be some kind of elaborate prank. "That would make Marius a goatman too, though, wouldn't it?"

"Right."

"But… that's stage makeup."

"Have you ever seen him without it?"

"Oh." He followed Marius on Instagram. Every story, every Live, every picture, always had the horns. "No, I haven't."

"Yeah."

"Oh. Huh."

They sat in silence for a while. Angel leaned forward, chin in hand, elbow on knee, looking at Demie. He couldn't really bring himself to look Demie in the eye, so he examined his legs. They certainly looked realistic.

"Wait, if those are your real legs, wouldn't your dick just, like, always be flopping out?" He asked after a minute. He was staring directly at Demie's crotch, but he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to look at.

"It's called a sheath. All goats have them. My balls are out, though."

"Huh." As a matter of fact, now that he was looking… yeah, he could see a lump and two larger lumps on Demie's lap. He hadn't noticed at the show because it was dark, and, well… he just hadn't been staring at Demie's junk.

"So, like… is it… a birth defect, or…?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"I got time."

#writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #gay fiction #lgbt fiction #original characters #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

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lovelynyeongie · 5 years

Text

title: chest (part 2)

author: lovelynyeongie

pairing: yugyeom + reader

genre: fluff, one shot

summary: from the time yugyeom started unbuttoning some of his buttons on his shirts, you grew to have an obsession over his chest

word count: 2555 words

a/n: I cry about yugyeom’s chest every night oh dear aLSO this story has two parts since I just knew that tumblr has a text limit when it comes to posting :)))

date: 07/26/19

【in case you haven’t read the first one, here !! -> part one <-♡】

You don’t know how many times he has worn his button up shirts with his chest revealed, but dang do you enjoy seeing it every time he wears it.

Of course, you were too flustered to tell him about it since it’s weird and he’ll get uncomfortable about the topic. You can’t even compliment him about it, you guessed that you were too conservative with your words or something.

And here you were, some of Yugyeom’s shirt all around the bed after cutting of buttons of it just for you to suffer even more.

Your phone vibrated, signaling a text message.

From: Gyeomie

“Hi baby! I’m almost home, I can spend time with you today since the guys and I didn’t have much schedule to do. See you later, I love you hehe.”

You heard a knock on the door downstairs.

Fuck, how is he fast?

Your eyes widen and you felt like time froze. Quickly, you threw the buttons that you removed in the trash can and hung the shirt inside the closet with some of the button up shirts that you cut the buttons off and ran down the stairs to open the door.

“Hi!” Yugyeom said, a large grin plastered on his face. He kissed your cheek and removed his shoes before coming inside, he plopped down the couch and patted the seat next to him, signaling for you to sit.

You obeyed and sat down with him, giving him a shy smile.

“What have you been doing today?” He asked, playing with your hair.

“Oh nothing, I cleaned the apartment and studied, nothing much happened.” You said, trying not to sound nervous about the fact that you cut off the buttons on some of his button up shirts.

“Are you okay? Your voice sounds shaky, is something wrong?” He asked, voice filled with concern.

Guess you failed at hiding it.

“Y-yes! I’m alright, I just feel cold.” You said, hugging yourself, pretending to be freezing.

“Then come closer, let me warm you up.” He smiled, opening his arms wide.

You blushed, shuffling closer to him. He closed his arms, cuddling you as you laid your head in his chest. You sighed, snuggling even more, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Yugyeom chuckled and pulled you closer.

“We haven’t spent that much time together, huh?” He asked.

“Yes, but I understand don’t worry.” You said, looking into his eyes.

He frowned, “I feel a bit guilty though, I should give you attention too, not just on my career.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to always be with me, you have your own dreams too. I’ll just be here supporting you and wait for you here at home, just to see you and care for you.” You reassured him.

He smiled, “I really don’t deserve to have such a wonderful girlfriend in my life. But still, we’re going outside today. Let’s go on a date, it’s a nice afternoon outside anyways.”

“Are you sure? You might have a surprise schedule or something…” you trailed off.

“As I said before, there’s not much schedule for today and besides, we’ve already done everything in advance so we’re just chilling a bit before we are bombarded again. So come on, let’s go get dressed.” He pulled your hand, walking up to the bedroom.

You smiled to yourself, thinking of what plans he had in mind and what to dress for the day.

Dress?

Pants?

Shirt?

Shirt.

Oh shit.

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering the button up shirts. You were already walking in the hallway, Yugyeom’s hand still in yours, you quickly pulled his to the point he almost stumbled onto you.

“YUGYEOM WAIT!” You shouted, halting your feet.

“WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT DID I DO? ARE YOU MAD?” Yugyeom exclaimed, panic evident in his face.

“N-no, I just remembered that I left the oven on! Let’s go down quickly!” You exclaimed, trying to pull his hand with all your might.

Unfortunately, he was stronger than you. He pulled you back into his chest and held you close.

“Chill, I’ll turn it off. Go change already.” He said, letting go of your hand and sprinted down the stairs.

You quickly ran inside the bedroom and grabbed all of his shirts from the closet and stashed it underneath the bed. You checked around the room if there are still shirts and buttons around, but everything was clean.

You sighed in relief and planned on what you want to wear.

You heard Yugyeom’s footsteps coming closer to the room. You tried to act normal as possible as he entered the room.

“Babe, are you pranking me? Because the oven was off the whole time.” He said.

“I got you hehe,” you played along to calm yourself down, “it was really off the whole time!”

He rolled his eyes, “I swear, I’m not that gullible.” He said, walking towards the closet to change his shirt.

“You are though, from past experiences.” You giggled, entering the bathroom to change your outfit.

“I WAS PANICKING THAT TIME CAUSE I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA DISBAND JUST BECAUSE OF BREAKING A FREAKING WINE BOTTLE!” He exclaimed.

You laughed, hearing how whiny his voice is.

You finished changing and fixing yourself up, you went back in the room and see a shirtless Yugyeom.

“Babe, have you seen my plaid button up shirt? I know it’s in here somewhere...” he trailed off, scavenging inside the closet.

You froze and tried to calm yourself down, “I-I don’t know, maybe it’s in the laundry.” You said calmly, trying to change his mind.

“I just saw it hung on the closet’s handle yesterday, maybe it fell.” He said, kneeling down to look underneath the pile of clothes inside the closet.

You were so nervous that you held your breath, watching him on the side of the bed while he was finding the shirt.

“I guess it’s not in here, even my other button up shirts are not in here.” He said, standing up.

“You can just wear another shirt, then we can find it later when we get home.” You assured him.

“Alright.” He said, grabbing one of his shirts inside the closet and wore it.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked.

Yugyeom walked towards you, but he felt something soft and light material underneath his feet. He looked down and saw a long sleeve of a shirt.

You looked down and you felt panic and worry once you saw what he was stepping on.

Fuck, I’m screwed.

He reached down on what he stepped on and pulled it out coming from underneath the bed.

“It’s my shirt! And it has missing buttons.” He amused.

He bent down and looked underneath the bed and pulled out more shirts that you hid from him.

I’m so fucking screwed.

“These shirts also has missing buttons...” he frowned.

You suddenly felt guilty about what you did before, you didn’t say a word about the clothing.

“Babe, why are all my shirts underneath the bed?” He asked, grabbing all the shirts and plopping it in the bed.

“I d-don’t know...” you said in a soft voice, averting your eyes away from him.

“Baby, I’ve known you for years and I can tell that you’re lying to me. Do you know about this?” He asked gently.

“Alright, I was the one who did that to your shirts. But I do have a reason! It’s just very weird...” you couldn’t hold back the guilt anymore so you blurted everything out.

“Which is...?” He anticipated for your reasoning.

“It’s just a small thing so I hope you won’t get mad or weirded out...” you trailed off.

“No, I won’t! Why would I? It’s just a shirt. Now, tell me why.” He said, placing his hand on your shoulders and squeezing it reassuringly.

“I just...love seeing how exposed your collarbones and chest are when you wear your button up shirts with some buttons popped off so I decided to just cut off some buttons of your shirts so that I would always see it, please don’t be mad.” You said your reason as fast as you can and squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for a disappointed Yugyeom to come and decide to break up with you.

But to your surprise, you heard laughter filling the room.

You opened your eyes slowly and you can see your boyfriend laughing on the bed, about to tear up.

“It’s not that funny! And aren’t you going to be mad at me? I ruined your shirts...” you said, looking down at your feet.

He sat up, still giggling, “why would I be mad when that was the most cutest thing I’ve ever heard from you?” He smiled.

“It’s not cute! How can ruining one’s clothing be cute?” You said, sitting down beside him.

“For me, it is. Also, you could’ve just told me in the first place that you liked my body so much, I could’ve flaunted it more whenever you’re around.” He smirked.

You became flustered, not having the power to look him in the eyes or you might melt and die from embarrassment.

“Ah seriously, why are you like this?” You sighed.

“I should be the one asking you that, you naughty girl.”

He suddenly pushed you down the bed and moved on top of you. You were too shocked to function or even process what’s happening. You were surprised yet again when he removed his shirt off and threw it somewhere around the room.

Your eyes were wide and didn’t know how to breathe properly once you saw his milky skin and structured chest. You unconsciously put your hands on his warm torso and traced it until it reached his collarbones. Yugyeom sighed at the feeling of your hands all over him.

“Are you really that obsessed with my chest?” He chuckled.

“Yes...” you replied back, so engrossed into his whole being.

“Forget the date outside then. Right now, I’m all yours.” He leaned down and captured your lips to his.

At that point, you can tell how much you loved every part of him. You were so in love with his wholeness.

#kim yugyeom #got7 yugyeom #yugyeom scenarios #yugyeom imagines #got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #im jaebeom #mark tuan #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #bambam #fluff #one shot #lovelynyeongie

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rosedavid · 6 years

Note

maybe a 5+1 fic for tyrus???

Thanks for the prompt! Sorry it took so long.

5 times TJ kisses Cyrusand 1 time Cyrus kisses him

1. forehead

It’s nights like thesethat have easily become Cyrus’s favorites. Nights where he lounges on the couchwith TJ, who he can now more recently call his boyfriend. His arm drapes aroundCyrus’s shoulders and Cyrus leans into him. It was only one week ago that theyconfessed feelings to one another, tentatively and awkwardly stammering outsincerities. Although the boys felt comfortable showing affection to oneanother before the started dating, there was the added pressure of being‘boyfriends’ that both excited and terrified Cyrus. TJ often wrapped his armaround Cyrus, as he is currently doing. They’ve held hands and hugged, both inprivate due to their want to keep the relationship away from the public for now(not including their friends). One thing they haven’t done, though, is kiss,and Cyrus gets more and more nervous as time goes on thinking about everypossible outcome.

They’re watching Love,Simon, one of Cyrus’s all-time favorite movies. The whole house is dark asidefrom the glow of the television screen and the reflection of the street lightsin the windows. From the edge of his vision, Cyrus sees TJ look over at him.Cyrus turns, as well, and their eyes connect. TJ smiles softly, a smilereserved only for Cyrus. He smiles back fondly, admiring the happy gleam inTJ’s eyes and his un-gelled, messy hair sticking up.

When the reach the end ofthe movie, where Simon gets together with Bram on the ferris wheel, Cyrusrealizes he’s sniffling and holding back happy tears, even though he’s seen it multipletimes. Still, now that he’s with TJ, it moves him differently. TJ tightens hishold on Cyrus and leans closer.

Cyrus nuzzles his headinto TJ’s neck as the credits roll, neither of them wanting to move from theirbubble.

“I like you a lot,” Cyrusmurmurs into his boyfriend’s collarbone, lips almost brushing against skin butnot quite. His breath is warm on TJ’s neck.

TJ puts his own head ontop of Cyrus’s, breathing in the smell of shampoo. “I like you a lot, too,” hewhispers into his hair. They continue to sit there even after the creditsfinish, breathing contently. The air around them feels fuzzy and comforting.That combined with the sound of TJ’s pulse causes Cyrus’s eyes to close as hefeels heavier and heavier.

As he’s on the brink of sleep,he feels TJ move slightly, and before he can comprehend what’s happening, hefeels TJ’s lips brush against his forehead so gently that he barely feels it. Atthat point, it feels like a hazy dream. When Cyrus falls asleep moments later,he dreams of him and TJ, happy and in love.

2. fingers

“Hey,” TJ greets hisboyfriend, who’s swinging half-heartedly and staring off into the distance.“When you weren’t by my locker after school, I figured I could find you here.”

Cyrus sighs, “I’m sorry Iditched you with no warning. I guess I’m just not in the best mood right now. Ijust came out here to clear my head.”

“Don’t worry about it,”TJ replies, forehead creasing as he worries about Cyrus. He sits in the swingbeside him, for once not swinging high. They both just sway back and forthgently in the breeze. “I’m here, if you want to talk, but no pressure.”

Cyrus smiles sadly.“Thanks, TJ, but I don’t think you’ll be able to help. It’s just my stupidinsecurities ruining everything again.” He kicks up the dirt underneath him.

“Insecure about what?You’re amazing,” TJ says honestly.

“Sometimes I just feel…Idon’t know, I don’t belong with you.”

“Do you not want to bewith me?” TJ asks worriedly, his insecurities suddenly starting to come out.Cyrus’s eyes widen and he immediately backtracks.

“No! I mean yes, ofcourse I want to be with you. I just meant that…well, you’re you, and I’m me…”He trails off, looking back down at his feet. “I don’t understand how I’menough for you.”

TJ hates hearing Cyrusberate himself. It tears at his heart. He reaches over and grasps Cyrus’s hand,interlocking their fingers. This causes Cyrus to slowly lift his head up untilthey’re eye to eye.

“You’re enough, you’remore than enough Cyrus. I’m so lucky that you’re my boyfriend,” TJ confesses,squeezing the other boy’s hand to emphasize his point. “I chose you for areason.”

Cyrus slowly squeezesback, and TJ relishes the feeling of Cyrus’s fingers interlocked with his. Hefeels connected to him. TJ bends closer to the other swing and brings theirjoined hands up to his face, kissing the back of Cyrus’s fingers. He sees a blushtinting the other boy’s cheeks.

“Should we swing ourinsecurities away?” TJ asks, letting their hands fall between them once more.

Cyrus nods, and they bothstart propelling themselves a bit higher, hands still joined. Soon, Cyrusbegins to giggle, which makes TJ’s heart pound. He giggles with Cyrus as theycontinue to swing, worries and fears momentarily left behind on the ground.

3. nose

A harsh ringing noisewakes TJ up from his slumber. He grunts, grappling blindly for his phone. It’sCyrus calling, so TJ doesn’t hesitate to pick up with a groggy, “Cy?”

“TJ! Have you lookedoutside yet?” He sounds way too perky for so early in the morning.

TJ chuckles at hisenthusiasm. “No, why?” He yawns.

“Wait? Did I wake you up?I’m so sorry! I’ll let you sleep—”

“No, it’s fine, Underdog.I don’t mind when it’s you,” TJ interjects as he sits up in bed, rubbing onehand over his face tiredly. “What were you saying?”

“It’s snowing! The firstsnowfall of winter!” Cyrus grins.

TJ rolls out of bed,shivering and heads toward the window. Sure enough, snow flutters from the hazyskies above. Already, a few inches have layered the ground. The trees shimmer fromtheir frost covered branches. Looking out, everything feels peaceful andbeautiful.

“Come play in the snowwith me?” Cyrus begs. TJ can hear the pout in his voice and knows he couldnever resist it.

“Let me get ready, thenI’ll meet you over at your house?”

“Yay! Thanks, T. See yousoon.”

—

Half an hour later, TJ iswalking up to Cyrus’s front door. Cyrus is waiting for him, opening the doorbefore TJ even has a chance to knock. His boyfriend is already covered inlayers of warmth, despite being indoors. He’s wearing a puffy winter coat, whitegloves, tall boots, and an adorable hat with a pom-pom on top.

“You’re here! Come on,let’s go make a snowman,” Cyrus laughs, grabbing his hand and tugging him backoutside.

Together, they startforming the body of the snowman, both pushing it as it begins to get larger andlarger. Cyrus slips and falls in the snow as they push, laughing as he lands.TJ laughs with him, offering him a hand up which he gladly accepts. Next, TJworks on the middle while Cyrus forms the head. The proportions end up beingextremely off, base much bigger than the middle and the head a little lopsided.All that matters is that it stands, though.

“We need a face,” Cyrusproclaims as they stand looking at their creations. “And some arms. Maybebuttons, too.”

They end up gathering abunch of random materials buried under the snow. Cyrus comes back with twosticks for the arms along with large rocks for the buttons. TJ finds pebblesfor the eyes and mouth along with a small stick for the nose.

“Our masterpiece isfinished,” TJ says, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend proudly.

He feels Cyrus shiver,and glances over at him. The boy face is completely red from the cold withchattering teeth. His snow pants and gloves are soaked from when he fell down,and snow has obviously fell into his boots.

“Want to take a break towarm up?” TJ asks him.

Cyrus nods thankfully.“Yes, please. We have hot cocoa we can make inside.”

Inside, they remove theirwet snow ware at the door. As they are hit with the heat, TJ realizes he wasshivering, as well. The boys head to the kitchen, and Cyrus makes the cocoa. Hehands TJ a mug, which makes his hand burn slightly. Then, they move to thetable, sitting beside each other with knees and shoulders knocking. Cyrussmiles, ruffling TJ’s hair up.

“You’re covered in ice,”He explains. “You should’ve worn a hat.”

“Your face is brightred,” TJ retaliates, “Especially your nose.”

Cyrus giggles, “I can’thelp it! I’m cold.”

TJ leans forward onimpulse, pecking the tip of Cyrus’s nose. “Better?”

Cyrus looks up at himfrom junderneath his eyelashes. “Perfect.”

4. neck

“—and if you take x overto the other side…TJ, are you even listening?”

‘Mmhm,” He mumbles,smirking at Cyrus’s frustrated face.

“No you’re not. You know,if you don’t pay attention this will just take longer,” Cyrus threatens.

“I’m listening, I swear.Moving x over?”

Cyrus sends him a lookbefore finally turning back toward the book between them, continuing hisexplanation. Truth be told, TJ wasn’t really paying attention. He was toofocused on the other boy to comprehend anything else. The two were currentlylounging on their stomach’s on his bed working on math homework. TJ really wasworking on math at first, but Cyrus was just so distracting.

He gazes over at Cyrus, heartpounding wildly. His hair is smooth and sleek aside from a few pieces whichdangle in the air as speaks. The boy is also wearing his gray, circular readingglasses, the shape contouring to his face perfectly. Behind his glasses, hiseyes are a deep, melted chocolate color with flecks of gold. TJ follows thecurve of his nose down to his lips, where Cyrus is still talking. He looks at asmall trail of freckles leading down his neck underneath his shirt.

“TJ! Now I know you’renot listening,” Cyrus complains. “I called your name like four times.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Math isjust really boring,” TJ sighs. Cyrus rolls around and flops onto his back, armscrossed.

“That’s why I’m trying tohelp, so you can get this done with.”

TJ looks over at hisboyfriend. “Well, you’re not helping.”

He sees Cyrus’s shockedexpression that’s quickly turning to anger. TJ sputters, trying to backtrackand explain himself.

“Wait! That’s not what Imeant,” He starts as Cyrus gets up from his bed, starting to pack his stuff.“Really, I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I just meant—ug, you’re just sodistracting!”

Cyrus turns toward him, apuzzled look on his face. “What?”

TJ grabs his hand,leading him back toward the bed. They sit next to each other, knees brushing.“I mean, I just can’t stop looking at you. I try to focus, but your face isjust…”

“Hideous?” Cyrus jokes,knocking his shoulder.

“No!” TJ groans, puttinghis face in his hands as it burns with embarrassment. “Beautiful.”

He peeks through hisfingers and watches as Cyrus’s face turns red.

“Y-you, what?” Cyrus stutters,clearing overwhelmed.

TJ gains confidence, “Isaid, you’re beautiful. It’s so frustrating. Your stupid hair and eyes and lipsand freckles…” He pulls Cyrus into his side, pressing a kiss to a prominentfreckle under his ear.

“Teej,” Cyrus whispers,turning toward him. They’re closer than they’ve ever been, breathing in eachother’s air. They keep leaning in, and TJ closes his eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” A voiceshouts, causing the boys to jolt apart. TJ instantly finds himself instantlymissing the warmth radiating from the other boy.

They sit there awkwardlyfor a few seconds before Cyrus stands up and says, “We should probably go downand eat.”

“Yeah,” TJ swallows. “I’mstarving.”

5. cheek

“Are you busy tonight?”TJ asks Cyrus on Friday as they walk through the school hallways before class.

“Nope,” Cyrus smiles.

“Well then, I waswondering if you’d want to come over to my house for dinner?”

“Of course! What’s yourmom making?”

“Actually,” TJ stammers,stopping in the middle of the hallway. He tugs Cyrus to the side by thelockers. “I know we’ve been dating for a couple weeks and we haven’t even hadan ‘official’ date yet, so I was planning on cooking for you.”

“TJ Kippen can cook?”Cyrus grins slyly and starts giggling.

TJ rolls his eyes, pokingCyrus’s side, “Kind of. It won’t be anything fancy, but I thought it might benice…” he trails off, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his idea. “We don’thave to, though, if you’d rather do something else.”

“Hey, look at me,” Cyrustilts his head up, “I’d love to have a date at your house. Be there at seven?”

“Sounds great,” TJ nodsenthusiastically, “Yeah, great.” Cyrus giggles again, waving him goodbye as heheads to his first class. Now TJ won’t be able to think about anything elseexcept their date tonight.

—

Cyrus shows up right atseven o’clock, knocking quickly on TJ’s door. He wasn’t sure what to wear, ashe didn’t want to dress too fancy since they were staying in, but it was also adate, so he had to dress nice enough. Eventually, he decided on a deep redbutton up with dark pants, hoping it was alright. Even though they were alreadydating, Cyrus still felt anxious since this was their first official date as acouple.

The door opens, and TJstands there smiling, wearing a plain midnight blue shirt with his sleevesrolled up part way and light-colored pants. His hair is styled meticulously asusual, and his eyes are sparkling.

“You look amazing,” Cyrusblurts out.

“You look amazing, too,”TJ responds, holding the door open as Cyrus steps inside. Immediately, henotices that the lights are dimmed. TJ takes his coat and hangs it on the coatrack before grabbing Cyrus’s wrist and leading him to the kitchen.

Cyrus gasps as he seesthe table. There are candles all around it, omitting a calming orange glow. Thefood is all of Cyrus’s favorites, including what looks like homemade babytaters, and it makes Cyrus flutter with joy. He smiles at TJ as the other boy pullhis chair out for him.

“This is impressive,”Cyrus says, “I never knew you could be such a romantic sap.”

TJ laughs, “Well, you haven’teven tasted the food yet. For all you know, it could be awful.”

“It won’t be awful, buteven if it is, it’s the thought that counts.”

Sure enough, when Cyrustries the food, he’s instantly in love. “This is so good,” He sighs betweenbites. “You have to cook for me all the time now.”

“Are the taters better thanthe ones at the Spoon?” TJ asks teasingly.

“Well, I mean, part ofthe appeal of the baby taters is the ambiance of the Spoon,” Cyrus begins, “Theseare great and all, but the Spoon comes first.”

TJ chuckles, “You’reannoying, you know?”Cyrus shrugs, half of his mouth upturned. “You can be oblivious.”

TJ shares a private smilewith Cyrus from across the table. Then, TJ kicks Cyrus’s foot. “Eat your food!”

Cyrus bursts outlaughing, wondering why he was so nervous for being with TJ. Even thought itwas a date, it was still just the two of them together. They spend another houreating by the candle light, and TJ even brings out homemade muffins fordessert. When it’s time for Cyrus to leave, he tries to hold off as long aspossible.

“Thank you for the date,”Cyrus says as he stands outside the doorway with TJ inside, leaning against theframe. “It was fun.”

“I’m glad,” TJ responds. “Asmuch as I’d love for you to stay, though, you should probably head home beforeyou get in trouble.”

“I know, I know. I guessI’ll see you this weekend sometime?”

“Obviously,” TJ mocks.

“Goodnight, T,” Cyrussmiles, eyes lingering on his boyfriend.

They start automaticallyleaning in, and TJ momentarily freaks out and defaults to kissing the other boy’scheek. His cheek is smooth and warm against TJ’s lips. He feels Cyrus’s lipsmove up into a smile. He lingers for a second before finally pulling back andlooking down at Cyrus lovingly.

“Goodnight, Underdog.”

+1. lips

Cyrus had a TJ problem.

For the past three weeks,the two have been dating, but TJ has yet to kiss him on the lips. Every timeCyrus thinks TJ is about to kiss him, he either pulls away or kisses his cheek.Logically, Cyrus knows that TJ is probably just nervous, much like Cyrus is,but the irrational part of his brain wonders if he just doesn’t want to kisshim.

“You haven’t kissed yet?”Andi questions, noticeably surprised.

“With the way TJ looks atyou, I would’ve thought he’d have kissed you the second you started dating,”Buffy admits with a grossed-out expression on her face.

Cyrus sighs, “Well, he hasn’tkissed me on the lips. It’s like every time he tries, he hesitates. On ourdate, he was leaning in but defaulted to my cheek! It’s like he doesn’t want tokiss me.” He slouches down in the booth and pushes his baby taters away, toostressed out to eat.

Andi and Buffy turntoward each other, sharing the same incredulous look. “Are you serious? Thatboy is ridiculously smitten with you,” Andi tells him. “It will happen, trustme.”

“I know that logically,but he’s so annoying sometimes and I just want to kiss his stupid face,” Cyrusgroans.

“Ew,” Buffy complains,fake gagging. “Please never say that again.”

“Well when are you two seeingeach other again?”

“I’m not sure. TJ haspractice right now, so maybe later tonight.”

“You need to go find himand talk,” Andi assures him. “Let him know he’s important to you, and tell himhow you feel. He’ll kiss you for sure then.”

“You’re right, he’s secretlya huge sap,” Cyrus nods. “I’m going to go tell TJ exactly how much I like him.”He stands up, gathering his stuff from the booth. “Thanks for your help! I’lltell you how it goes!”

“Oh god, no. Please, spareus the details!” Buffy calls out, but Cyrus is already hurrying to Jefferson. Practiceended soon, but he would be able to catch the tail end if he rushed.

He speed walks the wholeway there, pulse pounding and hands sweating. He turns the corner to the gymand flings open the doors, only to find no one in there besides a very startledjanitor. He missed them! But he still needed to talk to TJ, so he pulls out hisphone to text him when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps in surprise,spinning around to come face to face with the boy he was looking for.

“Cyrus? What are youdoing here?” TJ wonders. His hair is still dripping from his shower, waterdroplets sliding down the back of his neck. His face is slightly red from exertion,and he smells of sweat and soap. He looks tired, yet his eyes are shining. Aslight smile graces his face. The sight of him makes Cyrus stop in his tracks, almostforgetting why he came there. Then, it all comes rushing back to him at once.

Before he can comprehendwhat he’s doing, he wraps his arms around TJ’s neck and yanks him down untiltheir lips meet. It’s both everything and nothing that he expected. He feelslightheaded and giddy, but TJ grounds him. The kiss only lasts for a fewseconds, but it’s perfect. When they both pull away, they are both speechless.

“Woah,” TJ finally stammers.“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither,” Cyrus scratcheshis head. “But I had no choice. You hadn’t kissed me yet and I was nervous thatyou never would.”

“What? That’s crazy. You’reall I’ve been thinking about recently,” TJ admits. “I guess I was just toonervous. See, I told you you could do anything, Underdog.”

“I know,” He grins, “Thanksto you. Now, will you kiss me, TJ?”

He doesn’t hesitate thistime.

#tyrus #andi mack #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #fanfic #tyrus fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #fluff

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wafflesandkruge · 6 years

Note

I can't decide between #2 (I know it's 3 in the morning but I can't find my cat) or #17 (ignore me, I didn't see anything) so dealer's choice! for wesper!

“I know it’s 3 in the morning, but I can’t find my cat.”

—

Jesper woke to loud pounding on his door. His first thought was that the frat boys down the street had finally figured out who’d stolen their pop tarts. He cursed as he hopped around his room trying to pull on pants and a shirt at the same time. The bed on the other side of the room was empty- Kaz was probably staying at Inej’s tonight, after her big track win.

He finally yanked the t-shirt over his head and he grabbed the baseball bat the leaned against the wall before opening the door a crack. “Can I help you?”

“I know it’s 3 in the morning, but I can’t find my cat,” a nervous voice stammered. Jesper looked down and found Wylan, the adorable redhead from his chemistry class. “I thought you could…”

His voice trailed off. Jesper followed his gaze down and finally saw what he’d pulled on in the dark. A bright yellow shirt he was pretty sure he hadn’t worn since high school with a fuzzy Spongebob decal right in the middle with a pair of lime green silk pajama bottoms he’d bought on a dare. Great first impression. He wanted to dig himself a grave.

“Um is it a bad time? I can ask campus security to help me, don’t trouble-”

“No!” Jesper winced at how loud his voice was. He tried to inject some of his usual suaveness back into it. “I’ll help. Where’s the last place you saw…”

“Plumje. He was napping in my dorm’s garden, but when I got back from my shift, he was gone and now I can’t find him what if he’s lost or hurt or-”

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down,” Jesper soothed. He put a hand on Wylan’s shoulder and gently guided him inside. “I’ll make you some tea. Calm down, and then we can start looking for him.”

After three cups of tea, they embarked on a search that ended up with Jesper trying to climb a tree at the crack of dawn. The offending creature, Plumje, had somehow gotten stuck on the top branch and mewled pitifully as Jesper tried not to rip his very expensive pants.

“Come on, you stupid cat,” he muttered as he scaled another branch. “Help me look good in front of Wylan.”

He stretched out an arm and just barely brushed the branch the cat was stuck on. Not needing another invitation, the cat latched onto his arm. Good for the cat, bad for his balance. A string of vulgar phrases flew out of his mouth as he windmilled frantically, trying to not fall to his death. A particularly loud expletive was shouted as he lost his balance and fell. Thankfully, he was able to grab a branch on the way down. Pine needles scratched at his exposed skin and there was an uncomfortable tug on the waistband of his pants. But somehow, Plumje was still there, purring at him as if he didn’t just almost die.

“Nice boxers, Jes!” a familiar voice shouted. Jesper closed his eyes and considered letting himself fall to his death. When he opened them, he could see Kaz with the biggest smirk on his face. Beside him, Inej had her phone out, no doubt documenting Jesper’s humiliation. Wylan looked scandalized and was gazing at the ground.

“Can y’all help me? Or should I just die?”

“You might want to after I send this to Nina,” Inej replied evenly as if she didn’t hold Jesper’s fate in her hands.

“Ineeeeejj for the love of all that’s holy please help me.”

“Mhm. Hang on a sec.”

Some gravity defying acrobatics later, Jesper was safely on the ground with Plumje in his arms. Inej and Kaz went off in search of breakfast. Wylan’s cheeks reddened as Jesper handed the cat back to him.

“Thanks. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Jesper winked. “My pleasure. Though next time please give me more of a warning so I can wear something more appropriate for adventuring.”

He looked mournfully at his pants, now ripped and stained in several places. Perhaps it was for the greater good.

#soc #six of crows #soc writing #wylan #jesper #wesper #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #six of crows writing #ask #my writing #my post #kaz #inej #kanej

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rizlowwritessortof · 7 years

Text

Friendly Advice

I wrote this for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Mimi’s RomCom Fluff Challenge, and it was a lot of fun - thanks, Mimi! My fluff got a little smudged into smutty fun, but that happens, right? :D Also, thank you @mamapeterson for reading over this for me and being the lovely bundle of encouraging warm fuzzies that you are <3

This is written in two POVs - Dean’s thoughts are in italics, and the reader’s are in regular font. I hope you enjoy! <3

Dean x Reader, a little over 3300 words, fluff and smut and hopefully happiness all round!

“Dean?”

I look up, and she's standing there in the doorway. She's in her pajamas, and it should be the farthest thing from sexy. I mean, she's got little owls all over her pants, wearing a worn-out old t-shirt that she stole from my laundry one time. But her eyes are all soft and shy, her hair's curling loose over her shoulders, and I have to force my eyes away. “Hey, kiddo. What's up?”

She takes a deep breath, like she's gonna say something, then stops and turns to leave. “Never mind. I don't want to bother you.”

“Hey.” She turns back, and I smile at her. I don't want her to go. “You're not bothering me. Does it look like I'm doing anything important? Get your ass in here.” She bites at her lip a little, GOD that gets me... and then smiles back and comes in. I pat the mattress beside me. “Sit down, tell me what's on your mind.”

I scoot over to the middle of the bed to give her some room, prop myself against the headboard. She sits down and turns to face me, folding her legs and resting her arms on her knees. I can't read the look on her face, but I can tell she's nervous about something. “It's okay, sweetheart. Whatever it is, I'll help if I can.”

~~~~~

He's looking at me with those big green eyes of his, and I feel like I always do – that he can see right through me, read my thoughts or something, like he's looking right into my soul. I don't know if I can do this. But I have to, because if I chicken out this time, I might never get the courage to try again.

“Dean... I was hoping you could give me some advice.”

He laughs. “Advice? Me?”

“About men. Well, about a man.”

His smile fades just a bit. “Well, I am one of those.” He frowns slightly. “Somebody I need to beat up? Or kill?”

I laugh, just a soft little huff, and he relaxes a little. “No! No, there's just this guy. I see him pretty often, and I've spent some time with him, just friendly, at the bar and stuff.”

“Do I know him?”

Oops. I shrug a little, avoid the question. “My problem is... I like him. I mean, I really like him. But he seems to just think of me as a friend. Or a sister. Or maybe just a person, I don't know. It's really hard to tell.”

He's listening, like really listening, and his tongue darts out over his lips, making my brain short out completely for a couple of seconds. He's still waiting for me to go on, so I force more words out, hoping they make some kind of sense.

“This is really embarrassing. I don't know how to say...” I look up into his eyes, taking a deep breath, and think brave thoughts. “I need to know how to make him see me. You know, as a woman. How to catch his attention. Because I really need to know if there's any chance at all that we could have something.”

~~~~~

What, is she kidding? Is this guy blind AND stupid? “Sweetheart, if he doesn't see you, then he either needs his eyes checked or he's playing a different ball game.”

She blushes a little as she smiles. “No, that's not the problem. I just don't think he's ever thought of me like... like I want him to think of me. You know?” She puts her hand on my knee, this pleading look in her eyes. “Can you give me some tips? I mean, what catches your eye when you're attracted to a woman?”

Shit. I reach up and rub my hand over the back of my neck, my brain is scrambling for words. I hold my breath and then blow it out, closing my eyes for a second. Some asshole has her all fired up and he doesn't have the brains to see what's right in front of him. Probably not good enough for her, but I guess that's not my call.

“Well... the first thing that catches my attention is somebody who's just being themselves. Not putting on a performance, you know? Like those bimbos that come into the bar and act like they own the place and every man in there should be flattered to have them attached to their arm. Like a fucking leech. I like a woman who's comfortable with herself, can just have a conversation about whatever. Doesn't take herself and every little thing too seriously. Not catty, making mean comments about every other female in sight.”

“Okay, so not acting like a bitch, and just being themselves.”

“Yeah. That.”

“Okay, but I already do that. It's not helping.”

“So you want to turn up the heat a little.”

She nods her head, looking up at me with big, trusting eyes, nibbling at that lip again, and I wanna take over that job so bad I can taste it. “Well, anything you can do to draw attention to your mouth is good.” I clear my throat a little, because let's face it, she's making me sweat. “Like biting at your lip, the way you do when you're nervous, or when you're on the laptop trying to figure something out, or like – like you're doing right now. That's – uh – that's hot.”

~~~~~

Oh my god, is this actually working? I watch him as I moisten my lips with my tongue, and he definitely squirms a little. “So… how about touching? Do guys like it when we touch them, like a hand on their arm or their knee or whatever when we talk?” I put my hand on his knee and squeeze lightly, then let my fingers just trace a little design on his thigh, and his face just – stutters. His lips are parted, I can see his tongue pressed up behind his top teeth and his eyelids flutter a little.

“Sure, yeah, that’s good,” he says, his voice taut. He clears his throat again.

I pull my hand back and smile. “Good! I just didn’t want to come off too – pushy, you know?” I look thoughtful for a second, then pull my hair up into a loose pile on top of my head, incidentally pulling my shirt tight across my chest and baring my belly a bit for good measure. “So, hair up? Or down?”

~~~~~

Okay, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. I can’t take much more of this. I force my eyes away from that faded, thin t-shirt that’s doing nothing to hide her nipples. “Down. Definitely down.”

“Okay.” She lets it drop back down around her shoulders, and I try to breathe. “What should I wear?”

Sweetheart, what you’ve got on right now works for me. Ahem. Yeah. “You look great whenever we go out, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but should I kick it up a notch? Make him notice me? Like a low-cut top, or a short skirt?”

Fucking hell. “You know what, sweetheart? You do what you want, but let me tell you something. If you have to go to all that trouble, if you can’t just be who you are… If he doesn’t really see you without all that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

~~~~~

Jackpot. “Really? You think so?”

Wow, he’s dead serious, looking right into my eyes right now. “I know so.”

“So… if all this,” I say, motioning with my hand, “shouldn’t be necessary, then how do I know? How do I find out if there really could be something between us?”

Oh, boy… now he’s not looking at me at all, his jaw is clenched, and he’s the one biting his lip. It takes him a minute to answer. “Maybe you just need to tell him how you feel. Maybe he’s just one of those guys that needs things spelled out for them.”

You can’t help smiling a little. “You know, he’s sexy as hell, and completely adorable, but he is a little slow about some things.”

He shoots me his ‘I’m not surprised’ eye roll with a half-cocked smirk, and I smile even bigger. “What?” he asks, completely clueless.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.” He looks back at me, waiting. Not. A. Clue. So I move closer, crawl over his lap, straddling his thighs, watching the truth dawn in his eyes.

“No way.”

~~~~~

There is no way in this fucking world that this is happening right now. But she’s nodding her head, looking at me like… like I’m what she wants.

“Yes. You, Dean. I just didn’t think you could ever feel the same way, so I’ve never told you. But I couldn’t go on the way we are without knowing.”

Her eyes are sparkling a little with tears, and god, it feels like she’s squeezing my heart in her hands right now. “Sweetheart, you don’t want this – me. I’m not… you deserve...” I can’t even finish a damn sentence, she caught me so off guard.

She just looks at me, those tears shimmering in her eyes, and I can tell she’s getting herself under control. “You can tell me that you don’t feel the same way, Dean. You can say you haven’t thought about me the same way I’ve thought about you, that you just don’t feel that way about me. I’m a big girl, I can take it. I’ll live through it, and I’ll move on with my life.” She takes a deep breath, a little shaky, and when her eyes connect with mine again, I can see she’s pissed off. “But if you ruin what could be the best thing that ever happened to me, to us, because of that ‘I’m not worthy’ bullshit, I swear to God, I will kick your self-deprecating ass.”

Self-deprecating? Holy shit, she is pissed. Kinda looks like an enraged kitten, with her little owl pajamas and her eyebrows all frowning at me – she’s cute as hell. I can feel my smile, I can’t stop it, but she doesn’t stop glaring at me. “Don’t go all ‘college girl’ on me, now. I mean, do you always start throwing big words out at people when you get pissed off?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Dean,” she warns, and my smile just gets bigger.

“I’m not, sweetheart, I promise. You just look so – damn – cute.” OOOOOFH. “Ow!” That fucking hurt, right in the ribs.

~~~~~

“You are such an asshole!” I knew this was a bad idea, I just knew it. I’m getting the hell out of here and if he’s lucky I might be talking to him by the next hunt. I move, intending to leave in a furious huff, but suddenly his arm is around my waist and he still has that stupid grin on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re in the middle of something here.”

“We’re gonna be in the middle of you bleeding all over yourself if you don’t let me go!” I gear back, ready to punch him right in the face, and he somehow gets my arms all captured under his and I can’t fucking move. “Dean! Let go of me, now!”

And then he does it. He just gathers me in and then his lips are on mine, and I'm done. I thought I could handle rejection, which I probably couldn't – but this... GOD he's kissing me, his lips are so warm and soft and he's like nibbling at me and his tongue sweeps across my bottom lip and then suddenly I'm tasting him oh god and jesus and all the saints somebody help me because I'm fucking melting from the inside out and I'll never survive this...

His arms are so solid and strong, and he pulls me closer, and I can feel him, hard and hot and LARGE against me, and shit I'm so wet he can probably feel it already. My body is betraying me, I can't stop the whimper that escapes into our kiss, and he finally lifts his head a little so we can both take a breath. He loosens his grip on me and brings his hand up to my face, his thumb grazing over my cheekbone, and the green of his eyes is dark and intense. “If you still want me to let you go, I will... but I don't want to,” he says, his voice soft and deep, and the air catches in my throat for a moment. “Do you know how I felt when I thought you were talking about wanting some brainless lowlife? I wanted to punch the fictional asshat in his fictional face, partly for not wanting you and partly for wanting you after you told him how you felt. Fucking hell, Y/N! But this... us? I can't even wrap my head around it.”

“Neither can I, Dean. But it's all I've been able to think about. You're the only one I want.” This time I lean in and kiss him, let my arms go around his neck, press my body against his chest as I nip at his full bottom lip. He groans and tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer, tilting his head to deepen our kiss. His other hand is slipping underneath my shirt, caressing my back, and then moving forward to squeeze gently at my breast.

~~~~~

Mmmmm….. I want to gather her up and hold her, all of her, I mean - I need more hands right now. I need to touch everything all at once and still be able to watch her face, and tangle my hands up in her hair and smell her and shit if she moves like that one more time I might not make it to the finale.

Her skin is like warm silk, and I need to feel it against me. I pull the hem of her shirt up, slow, just in case… But she pulls back from me and rips it over her head herself, then reaches for mine. She’s gonna have to wait juuuuust a minute or two because that nipple right there, I’ve gotta taste it. Oh, and I want more of those little noises from her while we’re at it. Just let go, baby girl, show me what you like. When I give a hard little suck and rub my tongue over that sweet little nub, she moans all throaty and warm, so damn sexy I can feel my cock jump.

I sit back up and let her take my shirt off, and then… heaven. She just leans into me and kisses me like she’s fucking starving for me, and God knows I’m craving her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Like, I can’t wait to be inside her, even though there are so many more things I want. But right now, I need it like I need to breathe.

I hold her close and move, easing her to her back. I slip my fingers into the top of her pants and work them down, my mouth on every inch of skin I can manage until I pull them off and drop them to the floor. I can’t pull my eyes from her as I shove my pants down and get rid of them, then crawl back up between her thighs.

~~~~~

Somebody help me, he’s completely naked, golden and freckled and I just want him to stand there while I memorize every damn swell and dip and scar and bulge and JESUS I cannot believe that is going to be inside of me…

But then there he is, I can feel him all hot and smooth and insistent against my thigh, and I want it so bad that I don’t care about anything else right now. Ooommmmgggg, his fingers just pushed inside me and he’s moving and rubbing and his thumb is making hard little circles on my clit and I just might scream now jesus god fuckfuckfuck “DEEEAAANNN!!!!”

~~~~~

Damn, that was hot… I move up and leave kisses all over that dewy skin, nuzzle up next to her ear and tell her how sexy and sweet she is, how bad I want her. She turns her face towards me and I kiss her, and back her down real slow and gentle. When she starts reaching for me again, grabbing onto my arms and kissing me back like her engine’s revvin’ back up, I can’t wait any more. I move just enough for my cock to push against her, just a nudge, but she moans and lifts her hips, and I know she’s ready.

I start pushing in, real slow, and she wraps her legs around me and – holy shit, she’s strong. She’s squeezing those thighs, flexing her calves to pull me into her faster, and I ain’t arguing. I stare down into her eyes when I bottom out, sunk deep inside her where it’s hot and tight and smooth, and she looks like she wants to eat me alive. Fuck, I’d let her right now. I’d let her do just about anything she wanted.

~~~~~

“Dean… Please...” I can barely even form words right now, I’ve never felt so complete and yet so fucking on edge in my life. I swear if he was any bigger he’d be wedged up against my tonsils. Oh. My. God. “Please..”

“What do you need, baby?” he asks me, and his voice is just as wrecked as mine. “Tell me, I’ll do it.”

“Move. Please, move…” As soon as I say it, he does it, and “Ahhhhhggggghhh...”

~~~~~

She wants me to move, and I’ve never wanted anything so bad. I’m taking it slow, but that slick drag, the way her body’s trying to hold me tight inside while I pull back, shit – this isn’t gonna take long if I don’t get a grip. I think she’s ready to go again, I can feel her just pulsing around my cock, and her head’s thrown back, her body’s all arched up underneath me… I can’t take it, and I just let go. It feels too good, short hard thrusts, our bodies crashing together, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind and I don’t even care. I reach for her, pull her up against me while I gear back on my knees, and she’s soft and smooth against me, her nails digging little divots into my back.

I’m. Gonna. Fucking. Explode. I’m pounding into her as hard as I can, and just when I think I can’t do it any longer she’s shaking and then she just shouts, cussing and my name and some shit I don’t even know what, and her pussy’s clenching around me, I can feel her practically gushing and then… ShitFuckBabyFUCK I’m coming like I haven’t in I can’t remember when and shit I’m fucking dizzy my head is spinning and I’m holding her so tight I hope I’m not hurting her fuck I need to lay down like right the fuck now…

~~~~~

Never. I’ve never had sex this good. And this was just a ‘wham bam we need it too bad to take our time’ fuck, what the hell is he like when he does take his time? Somehow he laid us back down, I don’t even remember, and he’s on top of me but it’s all good, I’m not ready for him to pull out, not yet not yet not yet…

I’m just kind of petting him, my fingers are playing through his hair, my other hand just smoothing over his back, and we’re both just sweaty and slick and hot and spent. I’d be happy to just die like this, I’m not even kidding. I’ve wanted him for so long. So damn long.

~~~~~

I’ve gotta move, she’s gotta be smothering under me. But damn, the way she whimpers and holds on when I pull out, must not have been too bad. I just fucking collapse beside her and drag her into my arms. I’m not letting go of you yet, baby girl. Not for a while. Actually, not fucking ever. I kiss her head and just hold her, and it feels right. I don’t know why I kept fighting it. I mean, hunters don’t get much chance to be just – happy. I guess maybe we’ve earned it.

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#mimi's romcom fluff challenge #friendly advice #dean fic #dean x reader #my fic #dean fluff #dean smut #dean x reader POV #hope y'all enjoy this

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pudding-bretzel · 7 years

Text

For his sake

@blackpaladinweek - Day 2: Original/Divergent:

Rated: G

Relationships: Gen

Summary: Shiro is not a clone. But the Galra weren’t just sitting on their hands when they held him captive. They wanted to bring back their Champion. The Champion, that acted on the witch’s command. The Champion, that killed for the Galra. The Champion, that Shiro can’t remember being. But he’s still in there and Haggar is doing everything she can to bring back her Champion.

It had been only a few days since Shiro had successfully escaped the Galra. Again. And just like last time, he couldn’t remember anything.

The first thing he’d felt after waking up on that ship had been fear. Pure terror rising in his chest and screaming at him to move and run, run, run. And he made it. He came back to his team. To his family. To safety.

Not being able to pilot the black lion had been a shock, but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d learned what would happen if the connection to the lion was forced and he did not intend to end up like Zarkon.

With the days passing by and him getting used to the headaches that accompanied him since his escape, he started to get into a routine. He was reluctant at first, not knowing what he was supposed to do, how to help his team.

When they were fighting with Voltron he could help Coran in backing up the team with the castles defense systems. But as soon as a mission involved boarding an enemy ship or fighting on a planet’s surface, he was useless. That’s when he went to the training deck to distract himself and not be a nuisance to the team (because a nervous whatever-he-was-now making unnecessary comments was no help to anyone). But he got used to it and was thankful for the little order that routine gave his life on the castle ship.

At least, until everything came crashing down in the span of a few hours.

****

Shiro felt that something was wrong. His headache was growing stronger and ever more persistent with every passing day. It was now a throbbing pain that ran along his temples, through his jaw and down his neck. The pain was too much to suppress anymore and every throb sent a new nauseating feeling down into his stomach. He tried to cope with it on his own for a long time. He took breaks from missions or meetings if he wasn’t necessarily needed. Left the backup to Coran if possible and skipped training sessions more frequently. The team gave him worried looks every time he excused himself and asked if he was going to be okay on his own.

‘I’m just a bit worn out. Just need to take a nap,’ was his rehearsed answer, which the team stopped buying after a few times.

But he didn’t have the nerve to consider their well-meant suggestions about taking it slow and not overdoing it. How could they even say that? They didn’t have such luxury. And it was not like he provided much help in saving the universe right now anyway. Additionally, his throbbing head and a strange wave of pugnacity made it impossible for him to really listen to their words. He’d snapped on them more than he wanted to admit. Mostly for trivial things, such as Lance’s and Keith’s bickering, Pidge’s ramblings or Hunk’s whining. He felt sorry afterwards, but every time he wanted to apologize he felt a new wave of aggression building up inside him, consuming his remorse.

Then came the blackouts.

He woke up at places he didn’t remember going, with his body aching, as if it had been in constant strain. He tried to think of any possible cause of his night-time adventures, but couldn’t think of anything. Not even the database of the infirmary had any clues to his condition.

He started to ignore his blackouts, having no way to do anything against it, but after the fifth incident he wasn’t able to run from this problem anymore.

He’d planned to go and rest in his room because of his headache. But with his condition not getting any better, his team was more worried than ever.

“I’ll go with you,” said Keith, concern written all over his face.

“What, you think I can’t manage to get to my room on my own?” He retorted with a gruff voice before he could stop himself. He knew they were only worried and wanted to make sure he’s okay, but honestly, he felt patronized. He didn’t need someone to hold his hand all the time. He didn’t need their concern or their pity. A leader didn’t need any of that. Hell. He hadn’t survived all of this because of the Galras empathy. He’d lived through it because of his own strength and will to survive. He’d live through this too. He wasn’t one to give up because of this splitting headache and continuous tenseness. Never. Not the Champion.

Wait. What?

He wasn’t…He was Takashi Shirogane, the Black Paladin of Voltron. He’s not…the Champion. No prisoner or slave. He didn’t have to live through this alone, like he had in that cold cell. He had teammates, friends, a family to help him now. How could he forget that?

He opened his eyes to look at the others, prepared to see their hurt expressions. He hadn’t meant to snap at them like…wait. When had he closed his eyes?

He was in the corridor that lead to their quarters, at least a four minute long walk away from the lounge where he was just a second ago–

At least that’s what he’d thought…

It happened again and this time he hadn’t even been sleeping. He’d been wide awake but still had another blackout again. And on top of it, Keith was right next to him, talking as if everything was normal. He hadn’t even realized something was wrong. That Shiro hadn’t been there. Not consciously, at least.

“You know that we’re here for you, right?” Keith gave him a concerned look and his brow furrowed in a way, Shiro hadn’t seen since the wormhole incident a few months back. He was seriously worried, as if whatever was happening would be able to do as much damage as Haggar’s damned attack back then.

“Shiro?”

When the thought of the Altean witch crossed his mind a new wave of pugnacity overcame him. He had never felt it so strong before. It made his mind go fuzzy and his thoughts felt like they’re rampaging in his head. He couldn’t get a hold of a single clear thought.

A pang shot through his head and he gasps for air.

Suddenly there was a new feeling creeping up his confused mind and making its way through the jumbled mess in his head. His hands started shaking first, followed by his shoulders and legs. Sweat began to run down his neck as another stab of pain shot through his head. Panic. Panic of his own mind he could no longer get a hold of.

“Shiro!” Keith was kneeling in front of him, face twisted in worry.

Why was he on his knees. Shiro never…

Oh. It happened again.

Without realizing it, his legs had buckled underneath him.

Panting for air and cradling his head in both hands, he looked at Keith again.

“What’s wrong? Shiro, talk to me!” Judging by his strained throat he seemed to be shouting, but all Shiro heard was a muffled whisper.

The damned brat should better stop shouting or he would rip out his quiznaking tongue and-

No! No, no, no. This wasn’t… He shouldn’t… What was going on?

Finally, the panic subsided and he waited for his body to calm down, so he could get a hold himself. But the opposite happened. The last thing he consciously felt was his left arm reaching out. The last thing he heard was Keith’s muffled and surprised cry.

That wasn’t right. Keith was not supposed to make such a painful sound. Especially not, when Shiro was with him. He should protect the younger boy, keep him from harm and pain. If Keith was crying out in pain, that meant that Shiro was doing a really bad job at keeping him safe.

He had to make sure nothing bad had happened.

When he opened his eyes, he was bent over a pool of vomit, the rancid taste still stuck in the back of his mouth. He was kneeling on the floor, his right hand propped on a wall and his left holding his throbbing head. Before he could even begin to try and grasp the situation, a pang in his head caused another wave of nausea in his stomach. With a gag he threw up the last bit of his lunch, while trying not to lose the grip on the wall and falling right into the mess.

Once his stomach was emptied and the throbbing pain had weakened he slowly tried to stand upright. Waiting for his blurred vision to return to normal, he tried to make out where he was. But the corridors in the castle looking almost exactly the same didn’t make this any easier.

What was he doing here? He couldn’t remember why he was in this corridor or where he had been going. This looked like the corridor leading to their quarters, but he wasn’t quite sure. Maybe he’d wanted to go to his room.

He winced when a quiet moan resounded from the walls. He turned to the source of the sound and froze.

Only a few feet away on the white floor, lied Keith, motionless. On his forehead Shiro could see blood, leaking out from a wound above his right eye. The wall next to his unconscious friend was stained with dark red blood.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Shiro began to understand what had happened. What he’d done to his friend.

Within seconds the panic was back, making his legs wobble and his hands shake. He turned the opposite direction and ran. He couldn’t stay here. Not when he still didn’t know what was happening. Why he attacked his friend. Why he couldn’t remember doing so. But he wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back to Keith or the others. He wouldn’t put them in needless danger, as long as he didn’t know what was going on.

He stumbled aimlessly through the empty halls of the castle for a few minutes until he finally slowed his pace and tried to calm down.

His panic and pugnacity had a competition over which emotion would drive him insane first. The fear of himself, of the things he did or the things he could do, or the pugnacity, wanting to crush and destroy everything in this damned castle. Then he would be free, right? He could go back. Back to her. She would take care of him, like she did back then. If only these quiznaking kids would stop to poison his mind with false hopes and promises. The only place where he could be safe was with her. He belonged to her side. The Champion had no place here.

Huh. So the pugnacity was winning. Quiznak.

“Shiro!” The quiet shout echoing through the halls yanked him out of his thoughts and his head started throbbing again. Would this never stop?

“Where are you?”

“Shiro, please! Answer us!”

A quiet moan escaped his mouth as he cradled his head in both hands. Slowly, he staggered onward in the opposite direction of where the shouting came from.

He managed to walk for a few minutes, the shouting growing more distant with every second, when the castles speakers came to life and Coran’s voice merged with the others.

“I found him.” Shiro stopped and searched the area hastily. There’s no way Coran had already caught up to him. The others were nowhere near him and he’d made sure to walk away from them, not towards them. But where was…Oh. The bridge. He used the castles security systems to find him. Just like they’d found Ulaz, when he’d infiltrated the castle. “He’s in the lower levels near the pod bay.”

The pod bay? He’d never intended to come here, but his legs had taken him here on their own accord. Maybe he should just knock some sense in them with his right arm and hope they would listen to him again. Or maybe the pugnacity still had the upper hand and he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Suddenly there were steps behind him growing louder and louder.

“Shiro!”

Not good!

Why were they here already? Had he been standing around for that long?

He turned around and saw two paladins running towards him. Allura and Keith. Keith? But he had been unconscious just a few minutes ago, lying on the ground with the wound Shiro had inflicted. And now he was up again, running (with a small stagger, but running)? The blood on his face had dried and the wound seemed to have stopped bleeding. Maybe he hadn’t hurt him that bad after all.

Quiznak. He should have put more force into his attack. Maybe then he could’ve cracked his skull or–

A pang and his mind stood still again, the pain, pugnacity and fear were the only things existing. He tried to concentrate on the fear, tried to swallow down the pugnacity, but it was just so overwhelming. And it felt…safe. As if giving in would stop the pain. He could be free again. Not a prisoner in his own body and mind, caught between the wish to die, because of the constant fear that wouldn’t let him find peace, and the wish to lock himself up, because of the pugnacity that made his actions unpredictable even for himself.

“Shiro, what is going on? Why did you attack Keith?”

A hand rested on his shoulder and his head snapped back up, just to see Keith watching him with a reluctant but worried expression. Allura was next to him, her hands folded in front of her chest and a similar look to Keith’s, but with less reluctance. She had no reason to be. After all, he hadn’t tried to smash her head against the wall.

Not yet.

With a yelp he staggered backwards until his back crashed into the wall. “Stay away from me!” he managed between shallow breaths.

“What? Shiro–” Keith made a step forward reaching out with one hand.

“I told you to stay away!” He snarled and felt his heart pounding faster in his chest, pumping more blood through his veins. Filling his body with adrenaline to prepare him to fight for his life. But he didn’t intend to let it come to this. When he heard more footsteps coming closer, he knew that this was his last chance to get away. He could trick two of them, making an opening for him to get away, but that wouldn’t work against all five of them.

With a huff he pushed himself away from the wall and ran towards the pod bay. But he miscalculated. Maybe he was faster than them under normal circumstances, but in his current condition it took Keith only a second to grab his natural arm and stop him. He turned to Keith and saw the teens wide eyes. Was he scared of him? If so, good. None of them should trust him right now. He didn’t trust himself right now either.

“Let go of me,” Shiro growled and he could feel his face twist in fury.

“Shiro, what– Please!” The pleading voice was so muffled that Shiro could barely hear it, but he knew defiance when he saw it.

“I said, let go of me!” He shouted the last few words as he grabbed the collar of Keith’s jacket. His prosthetic hummed to life and he heard the muffled screams of the others.

No. Please, no, he screamed in his mind while his body moved on its own.

He didn’t dare to open his eyes. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Afraid of what he would see.

His hand stuck in Keith’s head. Or his head completely severed from his torso. Or perhaps Allura had thrown herself in front of Keith and he’d killed her instead. Maybe he’d killed all of them. Not that it would make any difference to the amount of blood that already stained his hands. He would never be able to atone for all the lifes he’d taken in one lifetime. Or was this his atonement? Losing his sanity and attacking his friends? Maybe it was.

The choice was taken from him, when his eyes snapped open and he looked at Keith’s face. His not split or melted face. His unhurt face, except for the wound on his forehead.

Then he noticed the heat next to his face that came from his still activated prosthetic and the strong grip on his right biceps, holding his arm back. The next thing he noticed was the tugging sensation on his chest and legs as Pidge’s bayard wrapped around him. With a crackle her bayard activated and Shiro screamed.

His body jerked as the electricity made his heart skip a beat and sent his blood shooting through his veins. Another spasm rippled through his body and carried him off his feet. Before he hit the floor, his mind drifted away and he finally passed out.

****

He woke up lying on his back. Immediately he felt the pain in his body. His muscles felt sore, just trying to move his fingers hurt and breathing sent a sharp pain down his throat and chest. Even swallowing left him with a pricking sensation in the back of his throat as if he’d screamed. A lot. He was exhausted.

His head on the other hand...He couldn’t remember the last time it’d felt so light. Not a single throb shot through his head and down his nape. Until now he hadn’t realized how severe his headaches had been. How they had clouded his mind and made it so difficult to think.

He heard a quiet hum to his right and his eyes snapped open. The bright light made him wince and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Back with us again, Number One?” A voice said wary and cautious. He opened his eyes again, this time slower. He tried to lift his hand to shield off the light, but he couldn’t move his arm an inch. That was when he felt the straps holding him down. Both his legs and arms were bound to the cold table beneath him. The purple light flickered slightly when his eyes finally got accustomed. Fast breaths escaped his mouth as the panic came crawling back. He searched the room for them, but they were nowhere to be seen. Neither was she. He was alone, just like the last time, only that they had learned from their mistakes. This time he was tied up, making it impossible for him to move. And to breath.

The strap over his chest bent with his panicked breaths but cut off the air to his lungs. The air wouldn’t reach his lungs and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe-

“Calm down! You’re okay! You’re safe, it’s safe here!” The voice again, every hint of calmness gone and replaced by dread and horror. But he was alone. How was there a voice when he was completely alone. Was he finally going insane?

And he still couldn’t breathe!

“Close your eyes, Shiro!”

He did as he was told to and hoped the voice would go away. But it didn’t. “Now breathe. In and out. Can you do that?”

He was trying! He was trying to breathe, couldn’t they see? But it just wouldn’t go past his chest, because this damned strap wouldn’t let it!

“Do it with me. Slow and steady. In,” He heard a deep inhale and he mimicked. “And out.” The air escaped their lungs with a loud exhale and he mimicked again. Then they repeated it. And again. And again.

They stayed like this for several minutes, until he finally stopped sweating and his heart wasn’t racing in his chest anymore.

After a few more seconds of silence he dared to open his eyes again. Instead of purple walls and lights he was greeted by the white and blue colors of the castle of lions.

Coran stood next to him, his hands on the edge of the bed Shiro was laying on. Its soft cushions supported his sore muscles and the feathery pillows made his head feel even lighter. He relaxed and sank even further into the cloud-like bed.

The Altean’s face was twisted in a frown with more wrinkles than Shiro’s ever seen on his face. It looked wrong on him, made him look ten times older than he probably was. Coran’s gaze was locked onto Shiro and he watched him intently, waiting.

He hadn’t said anything since his panic attack. But what was he supposed to say?

“Coran, I–?” He started at the sound of his hoarse voice. Coran didn’t seem surprised by it and relief settled over his face.

“Good to have you back, Number One.” He patted Shiro’s arm, his lips curling to a smile that didn’t quite reach up to his eyes.

“What happened?” He was almost too afraid to ask, but he needed to know why he was strapped down to a bed. (Which, by the way, made him feel very uneasy, but he was sure- or at least hoped- his friend had a good reason for doing this to him.)

“What is the last thing you remember?” Coran’s smile disappeared as fast as it came and was replaced by an exhausted frown.

“I…We were in the lounge and…and then Keith and I were on our way to the quarters. Then I-” His eyes widen in horror when the memories came flooding back to his mind. “I attacked Keith!” He teared his gaze away from the Altean and searched the room frantically, but there was no one else in the room aside from the two of them. “Where is he? Is he okay? Are the others-” He choked on his breath and his throat corded up, his breathing already picking up again.

Coran was there in an instant, his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “They’re all fine. No one is hurt.”

“But Keith. I-”

“He’s already been in a pod. It took only a varga and he was as good as new.” Another smile, but this time his eyes lit up as well, overflooding Shiro with reassurance. A relieved sigh escaped his mouth and his breathing calmed again.

“Where is everyone?”

“We received a distress signal from Obrox. But that was three vargas ago, so they should be back soon.” With every passing second, it seemed as if Coran’s mood was rising bit by bit. His positivity helped to steady Shiro and grounded him. Not having to think about the last however long it has been and relaxing like he hadn’t been able to in…well, in a long time, was nice.

Suddenly a soft alarm went off and Coran’s hand slipped off Shiro’s shoulder. “Talking of the mjeldor.” He gave Shiro another smile and took the holographic tablet from the table next to the bed. A swift motion with his thumb and a familiar voice crackled through the comm’s line.

“Coran, we’re on our way. We’ll be back in a few doboshes.” Allura’s familiar voice said, accompanied with a touch of exhaustion.

“How is he?” Another voice interjected before Coran could even try to counter something. Keith.

“Oh, he’s awake,” Coran said and turned to look at Shiro again.

“Like, him-him or him?” That was Hunk. He hadn’t heard Hunk sound this anxious since they’d first arrived at the castle.

“Shiro’s all with us. So you better hurry back,” Coran answered with a teasing smile.

Gasps of relief echoed through the comm and with that the line was disconnected.

“Coran,” Shiro said before the Altean could even move, “what is going on?”

The alien looks up from the tablet. “Right, we were interrupted,” He layed the tablet back on the table and took his position by Shiro’s bed once again. “You remember that Number Five had to paralyze you with her bayard, right?”

Shiro gave a small nod.

“We decided to bring you to the infirmary and find out what pushed you into…attacking the others, but…” He trailed off and his gaze wandered to the straps on Shiro’s hands.

“But?” Shiro almost didn’t want to know the answer.

“Before we were able to really start to look at you, you awoke.”

“What? But I didn’t… A-at least I don’t–” He cut himself off.

Of course, he couldn’t remember. He never remembered. He’d had many blackouts over the past few weeks. Holes in his memory, cut in like an acid, biting through metal and not leaving a single trace. Except for the splitting headaches, the nausea and his aching body.

“No. It wasn’t ‘you’ who woke up.”

Shiro swallowed hard. He really didn’t want to know. He knew he should know, but he was too afraid of what the truth would hold. What he’d tried to suppress this whole time, that was now breaking free and endangering his team. “Who...,” was all he managed to say between heavy breaths.

“He called himself ‘Champion’,” Coran said.

Shiro had known it was coming, but he couldn’t stop himself from tensing at the name. “He attacked us. Managed to give us some nasty bruises, but the paladins tackled you- him down and we had to sedate him.” He turned to Shiro again and looked him in the eye, guilt mirrored in his expression. “We had to strap you to the bed. We…we didn’t have a choice. He demanded us to let him go or he would kill us. Said he needed to go back to her. But he never said who she was, only that she would keep him safe.”

Shiro sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of her. Slowly his breaths quickened, and the fear and panic came rushing back.

He could see the glint of her eyes and her sickening grin, both etched into his mind. He remembered her touch on his skin, her nails digging deep into his flesh and her mind invading his and molding it to her desire. The memories felt so real. Are too real.

Suddenly he felt it. The place where only he should be, taken by her and something- someone else. Filled with too much. It felt like it was about to burst in thousand teeny bits and pieces, leaving nothing of him behind.

Her bony fingers traced along his mind, leaving trails of her corrupted magic behind. He followed her, touch after touch after touch. He could feel that he was getting closer, his fear and pugnacity rising again. He needed to get there. Needed to get her out of there. She was not supposed to be there. He reached out with his mind, trying to drag her out, but a sudden pang tore him away and out of his mind.

His eyes snapped open again and he immediately realized that he had been in control again, because he was not alone with Coran anymore. The other paladins were surrounding him, worried, angry and confused expressions looking at him.

“Shiro?”

“Buddy, is that you?”

“Please, answer us.”

“C’mon, Shiro!”

“Stop crowding him,” Coran stepped between his bed and the paladins.

It felt so wrong, him lying on this bed, weak as he was and them watching him with all this concern, trying to figure out why he was so out of it. But he wasn’t their leader anymore. He didn’t have to pretend to be the strong and reserved leader. He was just another dweller in this too big castle with no real purpose. And now he was keeping them all from saving the universe.

“’M sorry,” he rasped and all gazes turned to him again.

“What?” Hunk gave him a confused look.

“Dude, you have no reason to be sorry.”

“Yeah, Lance is right,” Pidge crossed her arms in front of her chest and threw him a set look.

He wanted to answer back, but a pang shot through his head, stronger than any before. Hot pain flashed behind his eyes and sent a sickening feeling down his throat. The wave of nausea tore at his gullet until he couldn’t bear it any longer. He retched and tried to sit up, but failed with the straps around his chest holding him down. Panic filled his mind as the retches grew stronger and he couldn’t breathe. He threw his head to the side and ended up vomiting on the pillow. Having already thrown up all his lunch before, the only thing he had left to vomit was bile. And he did so, possibly record-breaking.

When he was finished he sucked in ragged breathes and felt the bile dampen his shoulder and his neck.

“Jeepers, Shiro!”

“What the hell?”

He opened his eyes blearily and saw Keith’s blurred face. The wound on his forehead was gone, just like Coran had said and his skin also looked healthier than before.

He let out a relieved, shaky breath and the pain and fear subsided. “Keith,” he huffed. His voice was barely a whisper, but Keith’s expression of horror changed to relief and he let out an equally shaky breath.

“How are you?”

Shiro didn’t answer. The pain in his head came crawling back slowly and he had to close his eyes again, trying to block out the blinding light. He wanted the pain to stop, to leave him alone and have a moment of rest, after weeks and weeks of pain. Now that he finally knew what the cause of the pain was, he was more afraid of it than ever. And it was growing stronger and stronger, slowing down his mind and making it harder to think clearly. She must have felt him. Felt, that he was seeing through her game.

“Shiro?”

He groaned as another pang shot through his head and down his neck.

“M’ head‘s…killin’ me,” His slurred voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Do you have something like a painkiller?” Lance’s voice was distant, but he could hear the worried undertone.

“Sure,” said Coran as steps started to resound and a shuffling followed right after. “You can paralyze a horde of yelmors with this.” Shiro managed to crack his eyes open and saw Coran holding a small bottle of…something in his hand.

“Good, but I think a small dose will be enough for his headache,” Pidge said.

“Of course, he’s a human after all, not a horde of yelmors,” Coran said with his usual chipper voice, trying to lift the mood.

He made his way back to the bed and through the crowd of paladins. He filled a syringe with the liquid from the bottle and brought it close to Shiro’s arm. Too close for his comfort.

His body tensed again and he started shivering uncontrollably. “No…Won’t help,” he slurred and tried to move away from the syringe. Coran stopped and looked at Shiro with a hesitant movement.

“What do you mean ‘It won’t help’?” Lance said incredulous.

Well, for starters, if this painkiller wasn’t also some kind of miracle healing that would also banish her from his mind, it would only leave him even weaker,almost defenseless against her attacks.

Good. Now he only had to tell them. But talking was really hard right now, with the now constant pain and her digging deeper and deeper in his mind. What was she even doing there?

“Shiro?”

Oh, right. Lance.

“T’s her. She won’t…s’op.” He closed his eyes again, relaxing from the strain of talking.

“She?”

“Not you too, Shiro.”

“Um, this is starting to get really creepy.”

“Only now?”

“Shiro?”

He pried open his eyes and looked at Allura, who was standing at the other end of the bed and gave him a pensive look. “Who are you talking about?”

His gaze trailed from her eyes to her markings. The same she had, except Allura’s didn’t look like bloody tear tracks, etched into her skin. Right, Allura is also Altean and she has been able to overpower her. Perhaps, she could help him. He would rather have Allura digging in his head, than that damned witch.

He mustered up his strength and waited for the last pang to subside.

“Haggar.”

Allura’s expression darkened and he could see pure fury etched into her features. “Do you know what she’s doing?”

“Diggin’…an’…Nng.”

Another pang, followed by another wave of nausea. It must’ve shown on his face, because the others were at his side in an instant. Hunk tried to help him sit up, in case he threw up again and failed miserably at it, with the straps still holding Shiro down. Lance stood next to him, in his hand a…bucket? When did he get a bucket? But this time he managed to keep from throwing up, swallowing the bile down again. “’S okay,” he slurred and tried to give them a reassuring smile.

As soon as he relaxed into the pillow again Allura walked up to his left and put her hand on his shoulder. He could feel her cold hand through his sweat-soaked top and only then realized how hot his skin was. Closing his eyes, he exhaled a long, shaky breath and felt his mind drifting away again with the help of Allura’s calming and grounding touch.

“Shiro,” her soft voice sounded muffled, as if she was talking to him through a thick pane. With too much effort than it should’ve cost him, he cracked his eyes open again. “I can feel her magic. I can help you to lift her curse, but you will have to guide me, else I might…It is hard to see where she ends and you start,” She gave him a look filled with guilt, “I’m so sorry, Shiro. If I would only have noticed this earlier.”

Before he could even think about a counter to reassure her, another pang rippled through his head and body and he seized, his back arching and his chest wrenching at the straps. She was getting desperate. He could feel it as if it was his own emotion. She felt that he’d found her out and she was running out of time.

“’S okay.”

“No, it’s not. But it will be,” She said with a firm voice and moved behind his back. She placed both her hands on either side of his head. “You said you could feel her?”

He gave her a small nod, “Almos’ had her… but she...,” He started trembling at the thought of her presence. Getting close to her meant nothing good. Every time it happened he’d felt the loss of control over his body and the excruciating pain.

“Don’t worry. I already managed to shield off her magic once and I will do it again.” Her warm smile filled him with hope and faith. “I won’t allow that witch to hurt my friends anymore.” While she managed to control the tremor in her hands, the grudge in her voice was unmistakable.

“Can we help somehow?” Hunk’s unsure voice stood in contrast with his determined expression to do anything in his power to help him. The others nodded in agreement and gave Allura a questioning look.

“I fear not. It’s safest if we do this alone. I’m not sure I can protect all of you from her.” The other’s shoulders drooped and they shared downcast looks.

“But don’t worry,” Her expression softened. “We can do this.” She looked down to Shiro and her confidence washed all his doubt away and filled him with new strength. Strength he didn’t know he still possessed. That was when he realized, that she was already using her magic, the pain in his temples slowly decreasing.

“Are you ready?” She asked as her touch continued to soothe him. He nodded determinedly. “Good. Close your eyes and try to concentrate on her presence.”

He did as he was told and closed his eyes.

The darkness of his own mind engulfed him and dragged him away almost immediately. It wasn’t hard to find her disrupting presence in the depth of the darkness. A black-violet lightning was spreading and rippling in his mind, rampaging like a crazed animal that was desperate to find its prey. With Allura’s guidance and protection he was able to get closer to her than ever before. He still felt the pain, but it was duller than before and almost felt like a distant memory that tried to crawl back into his mind. The continuous tugs and drags at his consciousness ripped away parts of him, making them scream in agony. She slowly took him apart, with no thought wasted on the outcome of her violation.

Why was she doing this? It made no sense for her to just rip him apart like this. He’d done everything she wanted. Had dirtied his hands for her and fractured his own mind for her. Wasn’t that enough?

Pugnacity crawled up in his mind and tugged at him. It felt almost desperate and…scared?

Shiro felt it surrounding him and nearly lost his connection to Allura, but her calming and warm presence kept swirling around him like a soft veil.

Outside of her protection he could see a dark magenta-black slime dampening her white radiance. It spread at an alarming rate and covered both Allura and Shiro whole in a matter of seconds. Allura tried to get rid of the slime with desperation, but it was no use. It almost looked like it tried to hide them from Haggar.

Get away, a desperate and familiar voice whispered in Shiro’s mind. It took him a frustrating long amount of time to realize whose voice this was-

It was his own.

Shiro froze and watched the slime as it continued to struggle against the veil. Through a small gap in the muddle he could see that the sickly black-violet lightning had stopped ripping at him and had turned to watch him with a sickly contentment emitting from it.

There you are, her voice seeped through the slime and veil and made Shiro recoil. But her words weren’t meant for him, he realized.

The slime stopped moving and Shiro swore it started trembling with panic. Get away, it said, its voice trembling, not safe here.

With a sudden force the slime was ripped away from Allura’s veil and landed next to the lightning with a loud shriek.

I’ve finally found you, the lightning whispered, as it stretched its arms around the now unmoving slime on the ground. For a moment the crackles and streaks that made up its being stopped and they both stood still.

Shiro didn’t dare to move an inch and felt the same confusion he felt emitting from Allura.

With a sudden movement the lightning turned and said with Haggar’s unnerving voice, Now I must get rid of this redundant burden.

Before Shiro could even comprehend her words, she lunged forward and ripped at the veil with her countless arms, multiplying them with every second. She was strong. Too strong. She stripped off several parts of the white radiance surrounding Shiro and the pain returned stronger than ever before. A scream escaped his mouth as she tore him apart. He felt himself, slipping from his grasp and leaving behind a void that started to grow with every brutal tear.

Hope, love, desperation, happiness. It all faded into the void and left him with nothing but pain, pain, pain.

As the veil started to fade bit by bit his mind started to stutter and slow down. There was nothing to care about anymore. Nothing that had any meaning to his empty mind, other than the pain and the void.

He barely noticed the crackling arms still tugging at him. He barely noticed the faint remnants of the radiant veil as it disappeared. But what he did notice was the sudden rumbling of the ground and the void slowly closing. He did notice the whirling heat that engulfed the lightning’s arms and started to burn them to ashes, the strong tide that washed away the remains and the vibrant roots gathering and stitching together his torn mind.

The lightning fought back desperately, regrowing new arms with every second. But the heat was ungiving and burnt the arms down at an alarming rate. She had no chance of winning here anymore.

He watched his friend’s overpowering attacks as his mind was filled with love and gratefulness at the display of their care and determination to protect him. Underlining their solidarity, the radiant veil also returned and covered him, mitigating his pain.

With its light illuminating the darkness something else caught his attention. The strange dark slime was still lying motionless on the ground. No, it wasn’t completely motionless. He could see its tremors as it watched the lightning being burned repeatedly. It feared for her.

Slowly it started to back away from the brutal scene and Shiro finally realized. It wasn’t afraid for her. It was afraid of her.

It crawled further away and the trembling continued to shake its swirling form. Aside from the fear Shiro could feel something else emitting from it. Anger, fury- pugnacity. He felt all the emotions that had overtaken him in the past few weeks. Emotions that he hadn’t been able to control and that had drowned and concealed his mind ever since his escape from the Galra back then. Ever since Haggar had corrupted his mind. And then, finally, Shiro understood. What Haggar was after. What had happened to him and why he’d lost control over his own actions.

When a loud shriek rang out, Shiro was torn from his thoughts and brought back to the fight, where the last bit of Haggar’s lightning was finally burning to ashes. As her anguished pain echoed through his mind he saw the slime tensing and charging at his friends, trying to do what it thought was right. The other four presences turned and prepared for a counter to defend their friend’s mind from any more damage, trying to do what they thought was right.

Shiro did likewise and managed to step between the two parties before any harm was done. All five of them stopped immediately and looked at him with radiating confusion and barely controlled curiosity due to his interference.

It’s okay, he told them with as calm a voice as he managed after all that had happened, I’m safe.

His friends backed away from him hesitantly. Suddenly the whirling heat burst forward and brushed his mind with its anger and worry. But there’s still-

Don’t worry, it’s okay, Shiro looked at the slime hiding behind him and trying its best to control its emotions, We’ll be okay.

The heat was carefully washed away by the cool waves and slowly their presence grew weaker.

We’ll wait for you. The veil softly untangled and together with the others, gradually disappeared until the only things he could feel were his own and the others mind.

He turned around to see the slime fading away as well.

Wait, he said and the other froze. You saved me.

It was no question, because he knew what- who this was with certainty, and what he had done for him.

Thank you, he quickly spoke before the other was completely gone. He had a feeling, that it would take some time and hard work until he would be able to talk to him again to figure this out once and for all. But for the time being this would have to be enough.

He relaxed and took in the peace that had finally settled down in his mind again. He still felt the small cracks, left behind from the swiftly closed void and the mess of his stitched self, put together just for the sake of not being apart. He knew it would be hard to heal all this damage for good and to return to who he once was. All his emotions whirring in a gigantic mess so that he could barely tell them apart from each other. But through all this jumble he also felt something that he hadn’t thought he would ever be able to feel again.

There was no interference to stop the soothing purrs to reach him anymore. For the first time in a long time he was able to relish in the soft glint and brushing gust that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

He wasn’t alone in this anymore. He finally dared to feel safe and just fall into a deep, deep slumber, releasing all the tension he’d held onto for all this time and knowing that he didn’t have to fear anything anymore.

He could relish the calm and rest for now. His friends would watch his sleep and his returned partner would protect his mind from danger.

#voltron #shiroweek2017 #day2 #shiro

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