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etoiile · 5 months

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RAINY REDEMPTION

synopsis: your ex-boyfriend shows up at your doorstep, soaked from the rain and hoping for a second chance.

starring mikage reo!

genre(s): angst/comfort, fluff at the end, exes to lovers wc- 1.4k

notes: first time trying angst like this. hope you enjoy!!

the last person you had expected to see upon opening your door was your ex-boyfriend of 2 months, mikage reo. he stood before you, soaked from the rain from head to toe, wearing a sheepish smile that contradicted the unease in his eyes. "can i come in?" he asked, his voice laced with uncharacteristic hesitancy. "it's really pouring outside."

stunned and speechless, you merely gestured for him to enter, an invitation he swiftly accepted. as you darted wordlessly to fetch a towel, a tumult of thoughts stormed your mind, each raindrop that fell echoing a question.

what was he doing here? why was he out in the rain? he never ventured into this part of town. what's going on?

shaking off these thoughts, you handed him the towel. grateful, he quickly began drying his hair – the beautiful, fluffy hair you used to run your hands through, to which he'd almost purr as he melted into your touch. the hair that had been long enough for you to braid and accessorize, filling an entire album on your phone dedicated to the different looks you'd given him. it had been months since you last saw it, and now, with no explanation, it was in your apartment.

breaking the silence, you questioned, "what are you doing here, reo?" your voice, calm and level, carried a coldness unfamiliar to him. he disliked it greatly.

"i was taking a walk, and it started raining." he answered simply.

you knew immediately and without a doubt that he was lying. you knew him best, after all.

eyeing him, you demanded, "what are you really doing here?"

a chuckle escaped his lips. that low, boyish chuckle that still sent shivers down your spine. he scratched the nape of his neck before nervously joking, "you got me. you always did know when i was lying."

"what are you doing here, reo?" you snarled, a sharp edge to your voice.

panic and fear washed over his features before he blurted,

"i still love you, y/n."

you took a moment to process his words before your entire world began to spin before your eyes.

your heart pounded, and your vision got fuzzy. your knees went weak, feeling like they might give out. nausea hit you hard, and you wanted to faint, cry, and run away—all at once. it was like a rainstorm of emotions hitting you like a torrent, messing with your whole system.

"..no."

"no?"

"no!" you screamed, tears flowing. instinctively, reo reached out to wipe them away, but you slapped his hand away, making him wince.

"you cannot," you sobbed, "break my heart, tell me it's over, and not talk to me for months,"

reo's eyes began to water too.

"and then come marching back to me, and tell me you fucking love me, reo. no. you cannot do that to me."

"y/n," reo started, but you cut him off.

"i," you breathed through tears, "was just starting to get over you, to come to terms with the fact that you didn't want me around anymore."

by now, reo was freely crying too.

"and then you just waltz through my doorway to tell me you love me? are you kidding me?"

"y/n," reo tried to start again, coming as close to you as he thought you'd let him. "i'm so sorry."

"you're sorry? that's it?" you spat angrily.

"hurting you," he uttered, "was the greatest mistake of my entire life."

gently, he took your hands in his, relief washing over him when you didn't push him away.

"i did so much to tell myself that i'd be fine, that you were just another girl, and i'd find someone else." you almost rolled your eyes.

"but it wasn't true," he breathed. "not one bit. not even close. no one," he squeezed your hands, "could ever come close to you."

"i miss your voice. i miss your laugh. i miss waking up in the morning and seeing you smile. i miss spending time with you doing anything: cuddling and a movie, buying groceries, baking things, going to restaurants. y/n, i miss you so much my entire body hurts when someone mentions your name. i miss you, y/n, and i'm so, so sorry that i hurt you."

you're sobbing uncontrollably now, and his heart aches, knowing he's the one who made you this way. he'd always hated seeing you cry, but he hated it a thousand times more when he was the cause. he vowed to never make you cry like this ever again if you decided to let him back in.

hesitantly, he reached up to your face, fingers trembling with the fear that you'd push him away once more. luckily, you don't. you don't slap him, nor do you yell at him. instead, you let him tenderly wipe the tears from your skin, a silent ode to his love. it felt like a soothing melody in the midst of chaos, a gentle reassurance. you allowed him to cup your tear-stained face, a silent acknowledgment that, in this fragile moment, a sliver of hope had found its way into both of your hearts.

"y/n, i need you. the months we've spent apart have torn me apart completely. so much so that i couldn't even get out of bed to get to practice. nagi had to come get me out of bed, and that should really tell you something."

he winced as he observed your unamused expression, then took a deep breath.

"i know i can't change the past. no matter how much i wish i could, i will never be able to take back the harsh words i said. i will never be able to undo my horrible actions. i know i was a terrible boyfriend to you, y/n, but please. i love you. i know i need to respect your wishes and boundaries, but if you still love me too, i'm not going anywhere." he looked at you desperately, his purple orbs silently pleading with you. "do you?"

silence lingered, the air thick with trepidation. then, you broke down again, burying your head in his shoulder. "of course i do," you mumbled softly, sobbing. relief deluged his body, and his hold on you tightened ever so slightly.

"reo, i love you with every fiber of my being. i love you so much that i never stopped thinking about you for a single minute since we split. i love you so much it took all of my willpower not to jump into your arms the moment i opened the door. reo, i love you so much that it scares me." you confessed, your voice no higher than a whisper. if he hadn't been desperately clinging onto your every word and move, he wouldn't have heard it.

"then please. one more chance. we can make this work, i promise. i swear to you with my life that i'll be better. i'll make you happy. i'll do everything in my power to be the best lover you've ever had." he looks at you anxiously, trying to read your expression. "we can take it slow. ease back into it. but please don't give up on me, on us, just yet. im begging you."

in the quiet aftermath that followed his plea, a heavy silence settled. the air thickened as his words lingered, creating an atmosphere filled with uncertainty and anticipation. your contemplative gaze met his desperate one, and for a moment, time stood still.

"please, y/n. i need you."

you stayed silent for a bit, and he held his breath the entire time. his heart was beating so fast he thought it'd leap out of his body.

"ok." you finally sighed. "let's give it another shot."

elation, bright as the sun after rain, soared through his body as he engulfed you in his embrace. the warmth flooded all your senses as he squeezed you tight, never wanting to let you go.

"thank you," he whispered, tears soaking your shirt. "thank you so, so much."

a nod subtly affirmed, an unspoken acknowledgment of the gravity in the air. "yeah," you breathed gently, taking in what had just occurred. "it'll be ok. we'll be ok."

"i love you," he sobbed, the words pouring out in earnest. "i love you so, so much."

excitement and joy rushed through his body like a heavy downpour upon hearing the four magical words you next uttered:

"i love you too."

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theinternetisfulloftrash · 3 days

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Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left.

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest.

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply.

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message.

‘Newark!?’

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand.

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back.

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!”

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more.

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?”

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.”

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you.

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else.

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you.

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him.

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait.

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.”

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair.

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin.

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms.

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.”

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own.

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants.

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin.

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest.

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…”

You swallowed thickly.

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.”

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank.

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours.

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity.

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet.

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down.

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor.

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would.

“Please…” you whispered.

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed.

He smiled and shook his head.

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear.

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk.

“Too late.”

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.”

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours.

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline.

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner.

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms.

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue.

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest.

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back.

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck.

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass.

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled.

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.”

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.”

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him.

“Relentless fucking tease–”

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again.

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.”

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet.

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering.

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm.

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with.

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers.

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan.

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth.

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe.

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds.

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist.

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out.

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt.

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out.

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall.

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable.

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones.

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–”

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip.

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot.

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck.

“I love you so fucking much.”

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.”

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.”

#Dylan O'Brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #trashy writing #welcome home fic #I mean... is this earth-shattering work?#nah #but hey!#I wrote something creative for the first time in a long time and that felt really good actually #so I hope you guys like this #MUCH LOVE CUTIESSS!!!!#time to go vomit because posting writing make me feel so anxious I wanna die

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httpiastri · 2 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/httpiastri/746212709248401408/hes-so-baby-girl-in-this-i-need-him?source=share

nono.... i think the people would like you to start speaking on his hands bc... um. i am thinking a LOT of thoughts right now.

lili 😭 i really shouldn't let my thoughts about this run free 😭😭 i have tried so hard to only post arms/hand/neck pics of oscar bcs that's who i started this blog for but... i may have slipped a few times...... and it's getting way too hard to hold back

lemme just insert these pics and then disappear bcs if i start to think about this... i will be up all night......

#he has really pretty hands honestly #the veins and the length and just #it's not too much imo it's all just perfect #them wrapping around the trophy or the champagne bottle….#doesnt get me thinking about something else… no no……..#i mean like tbh i wrote a full fic *just* from the thought of his fingers and hands and arms……..#🙃🙃🙃🙃 nah im very sane about it #trying not to freak out rn #lili <3 #asks!#paul aron

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campingwiththecharmings · 4 months

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no but, how do some of y'all write so much? sometimes i open a word doc for a wip and i stare at it so long it becomes sentient and starts heckling me 😑

#like yesterday #i opened legit like 10 wips #and wrote a little for each #but i was just not feeling any of them for some reason????#ugh #so frustrating when you have ideas and wanna write but your brain is just like 'nah'#writer problems #ignore me

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prince-liest · 1 month

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Been thinking about Vox (as one often does) and his very obvious type, especially in 666 and now the new fic. At some point you have to assume that Vox ENJOYS having to talk down psychopathic egomaniacs. I think part of that is that he must be good at it, either through practice or a natural talent or else he wouldn't like SURVIVE these relationships.

But I also think a large part of it is that he gets to pretend he's the only sane person in the room for a bit, and there's a bonus of the really fun kick that The Overlord Vox can get these fucking weirdos to do what he says, WITHOUT hypnotism, thank you very much. I dunno something like a fun mix of his control freak nature and what I'm sure is a fuckton of pride that only HE can get these fantastic lays to keep coming back to HIM (nevermind that no one else in their right mind would be putting this much effort into a relationship with Val or Alastor).

Anyway, you have me thinking about Vox all the fucking time now. I blame you for making him one of my favorite characters when at first I didn't think much of him. The charismatic loser that he is

I majorly agree with you, hahaha. I think Vox is an egomaniac with control issues who's on a massive power trip whenever he exercises his manipulation muscles on Valentino (and Alastor, in my fics). He gets away with seeming fairly pathetic at times when I write him, because I enjoy writing radiostatic and, to quote a comment, Vox's common sense flees any room Alastor enters...but that doesn't mean that he's not still a manipulative, paternalistic asshole as well as an overlord and the CEO of VoxTek. Even when he's down bad, he still thinks he's smarter, more clever, and more capable than anyone that he interacts with, in one way or another. Liking a person doesn't mean that he respects them - at least not always, or not in all capacities.

I actually think that every single member of the Vees spends a significant portion of their time thinking they're the only sane person in the room, hahaha. But Vox is particularly bad about it because he's put himself into a leadership position even among the trio, and a lot of his modus operandi is exercising control over every single person underneath him, including his friends.

#ask #personal #rexlover180 #hazbin hotel #vox #my writing #I'm SO incredibly glad I've contributed to Vox becoming one of your faves hahaha #he actually wasn't one of mine when I started writing 666 #I was an Alastor fan through and through and just thought their dynamic was very interesting #but the more I wrote of Vox the more I was like nah I fucking LOVE this guy he's SNAZZY #so: you and me both hahahaha

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fqiryspit · 2 years

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𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 ; 𝐞.𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫

Eren x Fem!Reader

part 5 of: baby fever

cw: breeding kink, praise kink, fingering, oral (m), lactation kink, cum eating, switch eren, cum cleaning, squirting, ball-sucking, committed relationship, pregnancy, rainy day sex.

summary: Its fathers day and Eren decides his gift is going to be impregnating you

you leaned on the door frame of the nursery, where a shirtless Eren swayed with your baby girl on his chest -taking soft breaths as she slips into a deep sleep.

he turns and sees you, making his cheeky smile even wider as he motions you over, with a slight sigh you walk to him just to get smothered in kisses

"Thank you" he whispered on your lips, the sun dimming down with an orange glow that fell on every inch of his beautiful features

"For?" you tease, he looks down and your eyes follow to the perfect little girl you both made

"For making her..." he whispered once more in fear of waking the infant, you smile while creasing his cheek having him to look back up to you

"If it wasn't for your baby fever we wouldn't be here right now" you let out silent laughs as he furrows his brows, cheeks becoming warm once the image of him impregnating you flashes in his brain

"speaking of baby fever..." he slightly sings, hips still swaying as the babe lays perfectly on his pecs

"no..."

"It's gonna be fathers day soon..." he teases even further

"eren jaeger no"

"and I was thinking"

"cover her ears because I'm about to-" "we should make another one"

The thrashing of rain pours in your ears but it's not enough to drown out his moans as Eren cries out for you.

thank goodness for your thick walls because Eren can't handle seeing you like this,

You're on your knees, completely naked as your milk-filled breast pout at him -basically begging him to suck them- as you suck him dry

these past couple of months have been about you, now it's time for you to praise him for this fathers day

your glossy lips are stretched out as he wrapped his fingers around your locks, and your eyes tear up with blurry pupils covered in bliss as Eren makes you rub yourself on the flooring

you rubbed your pretty little pussy lips back and forth as you simulated your clit, almost becoming too much with how you worked yourself up

he loved seeing your tits bounce with every hump as you choked on his dick, your hands reached up to cup his aching balls making a guttural moan escape from his throat

you slide him out as you flash your pretty lashes at him

"They're so sore, baby"

"Mm-hm you've been driving me fucking crazy" he admits as you watch in awe at this disheveled man crumbling from you

his hair is a mess, his bun is holding on for dear life as the rest sticks to his forehead, pretty red lips bruised from biting and kissing

a mischievous smile forms as you lean over to kiss his very achy ball

"s-shit"

you lick them wet before placing one into your mouth

"Oh my fucking- please don't stop" you let out a corrupt giggle causing vibrations to erupt from his sensitive area

your hands wrap around his sore cock as you begin to pump him while sucking and suckling onto his ball

"please baby" he whines while squirming, cock twitching over and over as the feeling of you begins to be too much

"cum" you order before harshly sucking his ball once more, he cries out a moan as white spurts out of his abused tip, his cum splashed onto your breasts as the rest dribbles out, leaving a kiss on his tip before beginning to stand up

you watch his dizzy eyes follow you as you stand, beautiful green eyes with pupils spinning with lust and desire -those eyes fall to your milking breasts

"on the bed" now he orders as you lay yourself down, he places himself on top of you as he swipes some of his cum up with his fingers

he brings it up to your eyes as the baby batter drips from his fingertips,

"open." you follow immediately as you open your mouth, woozy eyes following with every word he says

he doesn't hesitate to stick his fingers down your throat, choking you with them as you lap his cum up

"good girl" he praises before coming down to lick the rest of himself off your tits

it was something about watching his eager tongue lap up his own cum off of your that made you wrap your legs around his thigh and start grinding your needy little pussy on it

he chuckles while looking back up to you "that desperate for my cock sweetie?" he teases but you only nod with a cry leaving your occupied lips

he removes his fingers from your mouth and traces them down until they're at your cunt, starting to drag them up and down your wet folds

"p-please eren" you moan as he rolls his eyes at your impatientness and pushes his fingers in

he leans down to toy with your nipple, milk leaving the bud as he sucks a little too much on it, noticing how you whimpered at it made a smirk form on his precious lips

"can I milk you?" he asks so simply, like asking for the time -yes, he has drunken your milk before but this time, he is determined to suck you dry

"y-yes" you almost forgot is fluttering fingers inside you that were so delicately stroking your g-spot

he dove into your nipple as he placed his teeth on the areola, beginning to suck the pretty milk out of you

"eren!" you cried out as you dug your fingers into his now loose hair, spreading down into your chest as his pretty green eyes looked up to you between the curtain of hair

his fingers curled into your pussy walls, your cunt gripping onto his fingers as they sucked him in deeper

"eren fuck! I'm gonna cum!" you sobbed as he brought his free hand up to your other breast, gripping around it so your milk would dribble out -causing a sweet moan to leave your lips and for him to let out a deep moan, drinking you up as the best fucking meal

striking eyes never leaving yours as your cum squirts out of you, shaking from the intensity of your orgasm

"fuck baby did I just make you squirt?" he chuckles as he looks at the mess you made, his wrists covered in your cum as the bed suffered as well

his cock standing at the incident, even just from that you're already closing your thighs at the sight

he nibbles on his bottom lip from your doings, moving your thighs apart to get between them

"ready f'me?" he lazily says as he is hung up on the idea of your sweet walls choking his dick

"yes! please just fuck me eren!" you whine as he taunts with a swipe up your folds

"okay baby, I'll fuck you"

and just like that, he slams his cock in you with one quick thrust, you cry his name out as he shuts his eyes, your pussy suffocating his cock so fucking perfectly he focuses on not cumming immediately in your awaiting womb

"alright ima start movin now baby" he slurs, already pussy drunk as he begins to thrust into you

kissing your cervix as he kisses your lips, your pretty red pillows swollen with blurry eyes -so fucking pretty for him

you could hear the wetness of your pussy with every thrust, the cum being a great lubricant as he sped up into your drooling cunt

you felt every drag of his cock, balls slapping against your ass as he rams himself in and out, you looked up with spinning pupils seeing this gorgeous fucking man lifting one of your legs up and over his shoulder to dig his cock deeper into your hole. his green eyes lighting up the whole room as he towers over your needy body, his abs glistening with sweat as his hair falls low on his collar bones

he is fucking you like a whore

"you're so beautiful, baby"

-in the most loving way possible

"eren you look like a god" you babble out at his previous statement, causing a genuine laugh to erupt from his chest

"then honey, you're my goddess" he speaks purely as his cock slides in and out of you, walls tightening around him at his complement

the little light in the room hit his features perfectly as he thrusts himself in and out, this intimidating man towers over you and he can't help but sputter out compliments about you

"I love it when you're dizzy, you're so fucking pretty" he smiles, looking at how your eyes can't focus on anything as the main thing on your mind is pleasure -how your thighs are covered in slick and your mouth is stuck open, letting out needy moans as you beg for him, how your breast bounce with each thrust and how your eyes squeeze shut on a particularly good place

"Fuck, I need to cum in you"

"w-what?" you managed to mumble out as you felt your orgasm about to snap

"Baby, I need to fill you up...please let me help make another baby" he winces in your ear as he speeds up into a feral pace

his cock treats you so well as it slams into you, the room spinning as you feel him in your stomach so fucking full of his dick you can't think as your pussy keeps sucking him in deeper

hell, why wouldn't you make another? You love your baby so much, maybe another one won't hurt...

"fuck! yes, cum in me just please don't fucking stop!" you cry out as your coil snaps, creaming on his cock as you hear Eren whimper out,

"Fuck baby, yes please fucking cum on me, I'll fill you up so good" he whines as he rams in and out

"Fuck! I'm cumming I'm cumming!" he cries out as he shoots his baby batter into your womb, even after he collapses onto you, you can still feel him spurting out cum into you.

you cuddle into his warm body as his cock still sits snug in you, rain crying out into the window you catch your breaths as Eren begins to speak up

"do you really want another baby?" he whispers on your neck as your back away to face him and kiss his pouty lips

"I'd love to be impregnated by you once more Eren Jaeger" you state proudly and his face goes fucking red as he avoids your gaze as if he doesn't have his dick snug in your pussy

"...you could've just said 'yeah'" he mumbles while laughing into your neck, kissing it up to your laughing lips

the slow cries of a baby could be heard from the other room, Eren closes his eyes for a moment as the screeching continues making you giggle, kissing him once more as you whispered on his lips,

"happy fathers day, daddy"

an: AHHHHH HEYYYY SHAWTYYY! HAPPY FATHERS DAYYY!!!! AND THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS! 💞 "tho, I will say for my 600 special I won’t be doing baby fever 5 lmfao" that didn't age well 💀 —this is my 600 special, even tho I just gained 1000 followers!! I’ll be doing 700, 800,900, and 1000 specials soon! Thank you guys so much for all the support! I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCHHH OMGGG MWAUH MWAUHM MWAAUUHHH 💞

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majimasleftasscheek · 1 year

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thanks to you, im now a proud tigerfish shipper. but now it also just makes me wish nishiki lived past kiwami 1... can we see more of them pleaseee :(

a lil wooden Miku and the boys for the soul~

#we got another one boys 😏#I have a really dumb tigerfish comic idea and I'm like what if it's too dumb #then I'm like nah dude I wrote the stupid burger fic I can't possibly get any dumber (I can)#OUGH I NEED TO DO SOME ISHIN TIGERFISH #saejima taiga #nishikiyama akira #tigerfish #my art #hatsune miku #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku

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amberlynnmurdock · 3 months

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Give Me Your Pain

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Summary: The first time Dex sees you cry, he decides he never wants to bear witness to it ever again.

A/N: LOL so I was really sad before and actually started crying because #healing and #heartbreak and I wanted to channel that into a fic and what better way than to use Dex for it lol literally the most random drabble ever hope you like it

The first time Dex sees you cry, it catches him off guard, even for a skilled federal agent like himself. He’s in the kitchen, washing the mugs the two of you had just shared coffee out of, when he turns off the sink and questions if his mind is playing tricks on him.

He places the white mugs on the drying rack and pauses in his movements like a sleuth to listen better. It’s hard to tell from where he’s standing, so he slowly inches toward his half-shut bedroom door. He stops in his tracks when he hears sniffling coming from you, accompanied by the most quiet sobs he’s ever heard in his life.

Dex stands still for a moment, unsure of what to do. He’s never seen or heard you cry—he almost wondered if you were even capable of emitting such a heavy feeling, a feeling that came all too easy to him. He could hardly bear the weight of his sadness—he’s learning he can’t bear it when it’s coming from you. Not you, not someone like you who shouldn’t know this kind of pain, whatever may be causing it.

He’s still standing there, frozen in his movements. Caught between wanting to burst in there and hold you, and standing right here wondering if you needed space like he did. If Dex didn’t know better, he would’ve done the latter.

Slowly, he pushes the door open.

“Hey,” he cooed, slowly stepping inside. And when he sees you on the edge of his bed, face in your hands and shaking, a part of himself inside crumbles. No, he never wants to see you like this again. It’s something he’s not sure he can take.

“Dex,” you softly cry, wiping your tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Dex questions, confused by your apology and not wanting to take it; he doesn’t need it. He finds his place next to you on his bed and wraps his arms around your fragile frame, bringing you into the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong?” Dex whispers in your hair, breathing in the fresh scent of your hair.

“I’m just sad,” you manage to say through your tears, though it feels like a ball is in your throat. It feels like a cement block has replaced your heart. And you can’t stop shaking in his arms.

“Okay,” Dex nods. He understands your answer and doesn’t pry anymore. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just hold me,” you whisper, clutching at his shirt. Dex can do that. He can do that forever if you ask.

“I have you,” Dex murmurs, words he wished he heard himself when he was down and out, which he spent most of his life feeling. I have you. “Lay down with me.”

He feels you nod your head against his chest, a wet spot forming from your tears on his shirt. He holds you close as he gently lays back and brings you down with him. You cuddle into his chest and he wraps his arms around you holding you tight. It’s all you need, this right here. Laying with Dex in his bed, him holding you close, letting you cry for as long as you need. He closes his eyes and envisions himself soaking your pain so it would go straight to him. He can handle pain better when it’s not you bearing the weight.

#literally wrote this to feel better #it kind of helped actually #hopefully it will help you if you are sad #i might do more one shots like this #nah i definitely will #dex #ben poindexter #benjamin poindexter #ben poindexter x reader #benjamin poindexter x reader #wilson bethel #bullseye

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giggly-squiggily · 1 year

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The Little Things (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Don't mind me, I'm just gonna-

*drops a near 6k word count fic on y'all all about Shin Soukoku cause I can while dancing to Super Mario 2 music sped up version*

Kay bye! *leaps out window*

...Nah but seriously. Heyo everyone! Awhile back I wrote this for a friend while we were yelling about these two (You know who you are- hi bestie! :D) I originally sent it to them via google doc, but given how easy the links to those fics are to lose (The amount I've lost...gone but not forgotten *cries*) I've decided to post it here!I hope you like it!

CW: Swearing, violence, guns, self-loathing, angst, wasted food (RIP Pork Buns), mentions of the Port Mafia Boss and Elise

Summary: In between assignments and tasks, Atsushi and Akutagawa find time to enjoy the little moments within their strange relationship.

~Chocolate~

“Is that cake?” Atsushi raised a brow at the small slice of chocolate cake Akutagawa pulled from his plastic bag. It looked homemade- maybe someone in the Port Mafia made it?

The idea of anyone there baking sweets was wild.

“No, it’s a bomb.” Akutagawa deadpanned, peeling at the plastic wrap around the plate. “Watch yourself- it just might blow up.”

Atsushi started. Did Aku just make a joke?

At the silence, Akutagawa offered the first forkful in silent inquiry.

“Oh, no thanks. I hate chocolate.” He smiled, fighting down a laugh at the brief look of shock on Akutagawa’s face. “Never been a fan. You however-I didn’t know you liked sweets.”

“Is that an issue?” His expression went hard.

“Not at all. It’s just…unexpected.” Atsushi held up his hands, smiling sheepishly. “Do you like all kinds of sweets or do you have a favorite?”

Akutagawa narrowed his eyes at him, suspicion rolling off his tensed frame like waves. For a moment. Atsushi wondered if he just blew their lunch date-meetup. Then he sighed, turning back to his cake.

“I like chocolate.” There was the barest hint of a blush on his cheeks. Akutagawa shoved a forkful of cake in his mouth with a slight grimace, refusing to look his way.

As if he couldn’t get any cuter.

…..Huh? Atsushi felt himself flush.

“Hm.” Was all the weretiger responded with, taking a long drag of his teacup, ignoring the raised brow Akutagawa sent him.

~~~

“Hey, Akutagawa! Here!” Atsushi shot his arms out before the other could stop him, pressing a small handkerchief wrapped box into his chest. It was hastily wrapped- as if he was tying it while running to their usual meetup spot. “This is for you!”

“....Huh?” The wide eyed shock on his face was priceless. Atsushi resisted the urge to laugh as he watched Akutagawa handle the box like one handled a baby- careful and slightly terrified. “This is…?”

“Open it!” Atsushi encouraged, resisting the urge to bounce on his feet in his anticipation. “I didn’t knot it that bad!”

“Okay, okay, settle down.” Akutagawa’s lips twitched as he gently pulled at the knot, going especially slow, much to Atsushi’s chagrin. When the ends of the cloth fell away, it revealed a little plastic box, within it a variety of chocolates.

“Oh?” Akutagawa stared, seeming to freeze. Atsushi felt himself sweat, tugging at his shirt hem.

“I know it’s not much of…well, anything- I just remembered a while back you mentioned you liked chocolate, and I had some lying around and figured you’d like it- of course if you don’t, I can always take it back-”

“You remembered.” It wasn’t a question. Atsushi blinked. Something soft was in Akutagawa’s expression, and his hands trembled some as he held the small box of treats. Atsushi felt his heart squeeze. “I didn’t think you would…”

“Of course I did! I remember everything you tell me.” Then he flushed, eyes wide. He said too much. “For the missions! And our tasks! Ehe…”

“Yes..having a good memory for those things is important.” That faint blush was back, and Akutagawa wouldn’t look at him- not directly, anyway. “Ehem…This is…” Then he paused, brows furrowing.

“Wait- where’d you get this?” Akutagawa finally met his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you hated chocolate?”

Seems like Atsushi wasn’t the only one remembering details about each other.

“I do…but like I said- I just happened to have it on me, hehe.” He grinned, deciding not to mention where his source was. He’d bring Ranpo a fresh box of chocolates on his way back from this meeting. With all the snacks he keeps on hand, he wasn’t likely to miss it before he got back.

Akutagawa raised a brow, not entirely believing him. Then he looked back at the box of chocolates, that content expression returning. “I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a gift…so thank you. It means more than you know.”

Atsushi swelled, feeling rather proud of himself. He would make this a habit he decided in that moment; all to see that soft expression.

Though he’d probably have to start buying his own chocolates.

~Rain~

“Ugh, no way…” Atsushi groaned miserably as the sky began to cry. Raindrops dropped in a slow mist at first, but within minutes it began to pour, flooding the alleyways they snuck through. He could already feel his shoes fill with water, making his toes curl unpleasantly.

“Hm, how troublesome indeed.” Akutagawa mused, brows furrowing as he came to join Atsushi beneath the thin railings of the alley. His shoulders felt damp already, and a chill shot down his spine from the icy droplets. “Walking back in this will be rather annoying.”

As of late, it seemed like he and Atsushi couldn’t shake each other. Whether it be on impromptu missions Dazai set them up on, or just little moments like running errands and returning home- somehow in this big city, the demon and the weretiger were never far from each other.

A part of Akutagawa couldn’t deny he liked it that way. That however was a part he’d rather strangle until blue with Rashomon before ever admitting.

“Man, I should have brought an umbrella! I figured it’d rain while we were inside the warehouse and stop after, but I guess the universe has it out for me…” Atsushi shoved his hands through his bangs, groaning in his hands. “This is revenge for Ranpo’s snacks, isn’t it, world?” He mumbled.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little water, weretiger?” Akutagawa shrugged, Rashomon shooting out of his back and forming a shelf above him, shielding him from the continuous onslaught of rainwater. “Though I suppose it’s expected, given what you are.”

“Shut up! I’m not a cat- I just happen to turn into one!” Atsushi glared, rubbing his arms with a slight tremor when the rain began soaking his shirt. In an act of defiance, he took a step out into the elements.

And immediately regretted it.

“Oh my god, that’s COLD!” Atsushi flew into Akutagawa’s shelter of Rashomon, clinging to his coat and shivering. Then he glared, cheeks pink. “Not a word.”

Akutagawa didn’t think he could speak even if he wanted to. This close, beneath the immediate smell of rainwater and warehouse dust, the weretiger smelled like tiger lilies. He could see the strange ombre in Atsushi’s eyes, the way they went from a rosy pink to a warm gold- like a sunrise. The way his lashes framed those odd but pretty irises of his.

So unfairly pretty. Akutagawa forgot how to breathe.

“Hey? Is something wrong…” Atsushi began, only to flush a brilliant red and jump back into the rain. “Oh god- I’m so sorry, how invasive of me- Ah, this rain! I uh…”

Maybe it was how pitiful he looked, soaked and embarrassed. Maybe it was the way he looked at him just now, with those damn sunrise eyes.

Maybe that part of Akutagawa’s heart wasn’t so small after all.

Slowly, as if it were a machine coming back to life after many years, Rashomon extended outward, creating an umbrella-like cover beside its owner. The space was…tight, but it would give Atsushi room to walk with him. “Come on, before you catch your death.”

The weretiger blinked, eyes wide. Akutagawa could feel his face heating; he pretended it was from irritation while waiting for the other to make a decision. “Hurry up before I leave you here.”

“Oh! Right- thank you.” Atsushi ran over, standing within the cover. This close, he could smell tiger lilies again. Did he wear perfume? Would it be weird to ask?

Would it be weird to just reach out and hold his hand-

“Don’t mention it. Just- come on.” Akutagawa made his voice as curt as he could, hoping it hid the fluster he felt himself slipping into. In silence the pair walked back, Akutagawa’s hands shoved in his pockets while Atsushi continued rubbing his arms, trying to warm up.

When he peeked, the weretiger looked equally flushed.

Must be getting sick, he told himself.

Yeah. That’s it.

~Blackout~

When he got back to the agency; Atsushi decided, he was going to murder Dazai.

Just a simple task, he said. Scout out the scene for us to make sure it’s safe, he told him. There shouldn’t be any trouble, he insisted.

Of course, Dazai forgot to mention the literal Mafia meetup being held in such a place.

Atsushi knew he should leave- turn back before any of the Port caught a glimpse of him hovering near a dirty window. It was fairly high up- the main reason why Atsushi was sent on this particular request was due to his cat-climbing skills- so the chances of being caught were slim.

He should go, had he not caught sight of a familiar face. Stoic as always, black fringe fading into white that framed his pinched face, hands shoved in his pockets. Akutagawa.

He was standing by with a short redhead- Chuuya, he assumed. Dazai had mentioned a redhead in the Port who he’d encountered a few times before. He looked especially irritated, whomever they were meeting up with apparently was late.

Finally, after around half an hour, two grungy looking guys came through the large metal doors, their footsteps echoing across the filthy floor. Between them a smaller man led, his body bent forward and his hair a halo of thinning grays around his wrinkled face.

“I take it your boss sent you with what I wanted?” He asked, and Atsushi felt himself straighten. Despite appearances, the man’s voice boomed and carried, demanding respect with each word. Within the room, even Akutagawa and Chuuya straightened, the latter glowering upon realizing it.

“Yeah. You got what we want?” He demanded, waiting. There was a tense silence before the old man gestured for one of what Atsushi assumed to be his guards. The man opened his jacket, revealing a tightly wrapped parscal.

“Toss it over, we’ll do the same.” Chuuya commanded, straightening to his full height. The old man chuckled, clearly amused.

“Kids these days- never learn to respect their elders. Fine then.” He nodded, and the parscal went flying. Rashomon was out in seconds, catching it with ease. Bringing it to his eyes, Akutagawa peered within, face grimacing.

“This is it. Boss’ order.” He didn’t sound too thrilled about it though.

“Good grief. Alright, here.” Chuuya kicked the box by his feet towards the men, his gravity control making it sail easily across the floor. It landed with a loud thump by the guard’s feet. “I’ll take it this should cover it?”

The guard peered within the box, nodding after confirming the contents. Atsushi couldn’t help but wonder what was in it. Money? Jewels? And what was in the parscal?

No time. He really had to go. He watched Chuuya and Akutagawa turn to leave.

Just as the remaining guard pulled out a gun.

“TURN AROUND!” He heard himself scream. Shit! The old man’s eyes flickered to the window-

And suddenly there was a boom of red. Rashomon exploded out of Akutagawa’s back, sending the guards flying. Interesting enough, the old man remained unfazed. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all. Rashomon bounced around him like water hitting a rock.

“His ability- it’s a shield!” Chuuya yelled, already jumping into action. He crossed the room in seconds, taking the two guards on. Despite the size difference and being outnumbered, Chuuya was easily the better fighter. He dropped low, kicking the goon with the gun in his hand in the ankles. As he fell back, he grabbed his fallen gun, pointing it at the other one. He pulled the trigger-

But the bullet bounced! Seems this old man’s ability expanded beyond just himself. The guard smirked cruelly as he charged, tackling a surprised Chuuya dead on and sending him flying.

Akutagawa started, Rashomon shooting out to catch Chuuya before he could hit the wall. Too late. The old man was upon him. He moved so fast, an elbow flying to Akutagawa’s windpipe as he brought a knee to his gut. Rashomon quivered as Akutagawa wheezed, gasping for air.

Chuuya shot out of the rubble with a roar, flying at the guards. His gravity power saved his life, but just barely- Atsushi could see he was wounded- crimson against orange hair, bruises forming on the side of his face.

Akutagawa stumbled, the old man hooting softly as he watched the boy drop. “Such a shame- the Port Mafia really has let themselves grow weak if this is the best they can offer.”

Hot rage shot through Atsushi's veins. Just who did this old creatin think he was? He got up, ready to jump into the fray- and stopped.

Why was he getting involved? This wasn’t a mission assigned to him by Dazai or the boss back at the agency. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Right now would be the ample time to leave; to use the chaos within to slip away before anyone else saw him.

Saw him.

Saw…

Atsushi’s eyes dropped down to the breaker box just outside the warehouse, an idea already forming in mind.

Within the warehouse, it was chaos. Chuuya had disposed of one of the guards, his body crumpled in the background as he fought the one still guarding. From the looks of things, the shield only protected from the front. Right now- the redhead was trying to get around and go for the back, but the guard stayed on him like glue.

Akutagawa and the old man were fighting once more- this time however, Akutagawa was prepared. Rashomon bounced again and again off a shield, keeping him at bay. He couldn’t land a hit, but neither could the old man. It seemed he needed his arms held up in a specific way to keep it on, leaving them in a stalemate.

Just one moment. A second was all Akutagawa needed. He looked up-

Their eyes met. Atsushi mouthed only one word. Blackout.

Then he tore out the breaker box with his claw.

The warehouse went pitch black, blending in with the night sky. Atsushi rolled down the wall as gunshots exploded from within, the faint sounds of two men crying out before everything went eerily silent. For a short, heartstopping moment, Atsushi was scared one of them was Aku.

Then the doors opened, Chuuya and Akutagawa stumbling out, bruised and wounded, the parscal in hand.

“Next time that creepy bastard wants us to pick up dolly dresses, he better get them through Amazon.” Chuuya growled, limping as he dragged himself down the quiet streets. Akutagawa seemed to be half listening, nodding along as he rolled his shoulder. His throat was bruised, and he was covered in small cuts, but he was alive.

Atsushi felt himself breathe again.

“Are you even listening? Ugh, forget it.” Chuuya waved him off, walking ahead as he carried on complaining about their boss. Akutagawa paused then, turning his head.

And directly looked at Atsushi.

The weretiger didn’t call out. He didn’t say a word. He merely looked back at him, watching. Akutagawa blinked once. Then twice.

Then the rarest thing happened. He smiled.

It was small, nearly unnoticeable and a bit pained, as if it hurt to move his face. Judging by the bruise blossoming on his cheek, it must have been.

Still- that smile. It erased it all. The injuries, his messy hair, the torn clothes- all of it faded away as Akutagawa smiled at him. It was like he was a god, so painfully beautiful it was near impossible to look directly at him, and yet Atsushi did. He didn’t care if his face was on fire, or if he was gaping like a fish. All he wanted to do was get lost in that beautiful smile.

And then Akutagawa looked away, and reality came back. He was gone in minutes, fading away in shadow, leaving Atsushi sitting there, still thinking about that smile.

~Piano~

Akutagawa hated instruments.

More specifically, he hated the piano.

The boss was so insistent he’d learn to play it. Think of how useful of a talent it’d be if you ever found yourself needing to blend in. Blend in where, the orchestra? Good luck with that. They all knew the real reason why Mori wanted him to learn to play.

Because Dazai used to play.

Not the piano- but the Violin. Akutagawa remembered watching him play a few times- the way he’d stand tall, the instrument like an extension of his body as he ran his bow over the strings. His songs were always so sad sounding; they never failed to make someone cry- usually Chuuya, even if he’d never admit it. When Dazai left, Mori burned the instrument, and music was snuffed out, much like those who betrayed them.

Apparently he was now back in his music phase and decided Akutagawa would be the next musician. Had it not been for Gin and her soft encouragement for him to learn- “Ma and Pa would have liked it, I think” she told him- he’d probably set the grand instrument ablaze himself. Just what would he play on it, anyway? Songs of sorrow and anger? Christmas tunes? Suppose he could play a quick death march before a bullet lodged into his brain or a knife to his jugular.

Wasteful. The worst part? He was a natural talent. The lessons flew by and before long he knew all the cords and how to work them into songs. Gin liked them- she would lay across the top like those women in the movies, face in her hands and feet kicking while he practiced. Sometimes she’d sing- her voice soft and delicate. It was those moments that he liked best.

And then Mori asked him to play for him and Elise when they’d marry. He stopped playing it after that.

Now he found himself lingering by a different piano- dusty but well loved, sitting in the corner of what he assumed to be a church. It was abandoned now- the room stale with lack of movement. His fingers glided over the top, making streaks against the smooth black surface.

Like magic, he felt himself back at the music room with Gin, playing a song and her singing-

“Nothing of interest here- hey, is that a piano?” Atsushi’s voice shook him free from his memory. The weretiger joined him, his shoulder bumping gently into Akutagawa’s as he took a seat. “I love the piano! I wonder if it’s in tune?”

Things have been…interesting, these past few encounters with the weretiger. Since the warehouse incident, they’ve been less stiff, more relaxed. Atsushi didn’t jump away if he got too close, and he smiled more easily at him. Their once harsh word exchanges melted into soft bickering, and more than once Akutagawa felt himself fighting down laughter whenever they talked. Not mean, condescending one but genuine mirth at the little things he’d say and do.

What the hell was happening to him?

“I know like- one chord. There was this woman at the orphanage; she was the only nice adult there. She tried to teach me to play, but I never quite picked it up.” Atsushi made a big show of cracking his knuckles, wiggling his fingers. “Okay, let’s tickle these ivories!”

More like make them scream, Akutagawa soon learned. He winced as Atsushi slammed his fingers down into the keys, hitting random clumps and creating what he could only describe as “mindless noise”. He sang along with it, the words lost in the sound as he swayed with his chaos.

“Oh, there once was a cat named Piccolo! He was the fattest cat anyone ever known! He rolled and he cried, and he’d spit in your eye, so the village chief ordered him to-”

“Weretiger!” Rashomon shot out, grasping Atsushi’s wrists and preventing him from hitting more keys. The church rang with the noise. “What happened to knowing only one chord?” He growled through gritted teeth.

“Oh, right! It was…um…” Atsushi looked at the keyboard. “You know- I can’t remember. But it was one of them I just played, I’m sure!”

“That wasn’t playing- that was slapping.” Akutagawa pulled Rashomon back, shaking his head. “I don’t think I heard a single chord in any of that.”

“Oo, you can hear chords, can you? Alright, Yiruma- it's your turn.” Atsushi stood, offering the piano. “Let’s see what you can do!”

Akutagawa stared, first at the piano, then at Atsushi. A mix of nostalgia and disgust filled him when he thought of playing again; Mori ruined any enjoyment he had with it.

And yet…Atsushi was giving him those eyes. The ones that presented a challenge. And Akutagawa had a hard time turning down challenges.

He also had a hard time turning down Atsushi.

What-

He sat down in the warm seat before those intrusive thoughts came back. Stretching his fingers, he let them rest on the cool ivory, wondering where he should begin. “Any requests?” He asked, be it a tad sarcastically.

“Whatever you wanna play.” Atsushi smiled, leaning against the side of the piano. Akutagawa hated how attractive he looked like that- FOCUS AKU! “I’m all ears.”

At first, he simply pressed keys- not the way Atsushi did it- this was far gentler, and actual cords. The weretiger’s smug grin melted into a look of surprise, making the other smirk. “Show off.” Atsushi grumbled. Akutagawa fought down a chuckle.

Then he was moving his fingers against the keys more intentionally, a song coming to mind. He didn’t know all the words- he only heard a chunk of it once when he was walking with Gin through the city. He did know the chords though.

Soft music played throughout the church, Akutagawa’s fingers playing out the beats in a steady rhythm, getting lost in the sound. He felt himself right back with Gin again, her smile encouraging and kind- the few beckons of light in the awful world of the Port Mafia.

Then he was singing. He probably sounded terrible; but he kept hearing Gin encouraging him to, so he gave in.

“If you had it all, would it be enough?

Can you find the way and still be lost?

I write songs about being someone else

That say fuck the world, you’re not angry enough.”

Beside him, he heard Atsushi suck in a breath. Be it from surprise or relation to the song, he didn’t know. Akutagawa kept going.

“Yeah everybody tells me it’s alright.

Everybody tells me I’ll be fine

Everything is not o-fucking-kay,

Oh but they can’t tell me why.

I put the picture on the shelf

Leave the memory behind

But the truth is I can’t say goodbye.”

Was he getting too real? Maybe. Atsushi was quiet beside him, not interrupting, just listening. He took that as a sign to keep going.

“So I made friends with all my demons

Let ‘em sink their teeth in

Got used to the feeling of letting it go

So give me something to believe in

Or throw me in the deep end

It all feels the same with your eyes close

So you can throw me in the, Deep end

Deep end

Deep end, Deep end”

And..that’s all he knew. The rest of the song was lost to him. He dared a peek up at the weretiger, waiting to see him fighting off laughter or wincing at Akutagawa’s singing.

Instead, he was leaning into the piano, eyes misty and something incredibly soft in his expression. There was no disgust, no second hand embarrassment, none of that. Only the look of a man who found something he was fond of, the smallest of smiles on his lips that took Akutagawa’s breath away.

Surely he must be thinking of someone else. There was no way he was looking at him like that.

The idea that Atsushi was thinking of another made his chest ache, a strange hollowness within tearing at his insides. In a haste, he slapped his hands onto the keys, startling the other out of his reverie. “I don’t know the rest- really, I hate the piano; we shouldn’t have done this. We have to go before the cops show up-”

“Aku.” Atsushi’s voice made him pause, halfway out of the seat. He was focused again, the expression he was wearing tucked away and replaced by his usual smile. “That was amazing. Truly.”

His chest ached again.

“It was just a thing I learned at the mafia. That’s all.” His voice sounded foreign to his ears, cold and distant. In the corner of his eye, he saw Atsushi wince. “Just forget about it.”

“Aku-”

But he was already out the door; the cool air of the city blowing on his warm face as he stumbled out. He walked at first, but then he was running. And then he was bolting. He needed to get away- to go somewhere else. He found himself flying down alleyway after alleyway, stumbling over his own two feet before crashing hard on his knees, coughing in his hand.

When he pulled it back, it was wet. However, it wasn’t blood that made it so. When did his vision get so blurry? He blinked, shaking when he realized it was tears.

He was foolish. A complete idiot! How could he let himself fall for the Weretiger? A Detective Agency member- the Mafia’s enemy. They’d never work out; and soon- he’d leave him. Just like how Dazai did all those years ago.

It would never work. Nothing ever did in the Port Mafia. They were sewer rats- destined to live and die among the filth they waddled in. And Atsushi…he didn’t deserve someone like that. He deserved someone who could stand in the sunrise with him, who could see how it matched perfectly with his eyes. Someone who could listen to his songs and jokes and antics and laugh freely alongside him. Someone who could make him happy.

And that wasn’t Akutagawa.

Curling up, he wrapped Rashomon tightly around himself. In past experiences, he found his ability rather sound proof. It was only then did he finally let himself sob.

~Kiss~

Atsushi sighed as he leaned back into a park bench, head still reeling. It had been a few days since the church incident, and there was no Akutagawa in sight. He could be busy, but Atsushi was sure he was avoiding him. It hurt- the sudden shut down from the other. Atsushi recounted the event in his mind hundreds of times, trying to figure out what exactly he did that made him flee.

He truly meant it when he said Akutagawa’s playing was amazing. Really- he was referring to his everything; the way he played, the words he sung, the way they broke something within his chest as he found each lyric incredibly relatable. That last moment, when the song ended and Akutagawa turned to look at him- there was so much…vulnerability in his gaze. Was he waiting for Atsushi to say something then?

Oh dear- perhaps he failed him afterall.

Pulling the bag of pork buns closer to his hip, he stood, deciding to head back to his apartment. It was probably dumb, waiting here for him. They hadn’t agreed on a meetup spot; Atsushi had hoped if he remained at the same location for the past three days, he’d pop up. So far, it proved fruitless. He made his way to the entrance.

And found himself staring at Akutagawa.

Silence so thick it could be cut with a knife, the two stared at one another; frozen. The rest of the world seemed to go silent, the people walking by shut off like a mute button. Akutagawa seemed stunned, and Atsushi doubted he looked any better.

For a brief, terrifying moment, he was scared Akutagawa would bolt. He remained standing. Then-

“Weretiger I-”

“I bought Pork Buns-”

They had spoken at the same time. Akutagawa blinked, startled. Atsushi felt himself return to reality.

“I uh…I bought Pork Buns. At the local convenience store? I remembered you liked them and..” He waved the bag in the direction of his apartment. “It’s probably not a good time, and if not you can just take them but��do you want to come over and eat? I bought too many…”

Akutagawa stared, the look making Atsushi squirm. Then he spoke once more. “I’m not busy…sure.” Relief flooded Atsushi’s chest.

“Great! Come along then.”

~~~

The walk back was terribly awkward. Neither spoke, but it was tense this time around, words heavier than steel stuck in their throats as they finally arrived at Atsushi’s place. Fumbling for the key, the weretiger pushed open the door, flicking on the light. “Pardon the mess, I didn’t get to clean up this morning.”

Removing his shoes, Akutagawa looked around. If he noticed the messy futon and leftover ramen cup, he didn’t say. Instead, he nodded. “Thank you for having me over.”

“Yeah, yeah- sure.” Atsushi smiled, hating how polite everything felt. He wanted so badly for Akutagawa to point out something- to make a comment on his tiger plushie that the other gave him in return for the chocolates- to tease him about knocking things over on the counter. He wanted anything else but this super quiet, super polite version of Akutagawa. “Erm, let me go put these down-”

“Weretiger. I must apologize.”

Atsushi froze, scared to turn around. Oh no, was he leaving already?

“The other day- I left without a word to you. That was incredibly rude of me, and I’m sorry.” Akutagawa sounded…choked. Like there was something else there he wasn’t mentioning. Atsushi figured he’d let it be.

But then, would anything actually change if he did?

“You ran pretty far after you left. I didn’t see where you went, you just kinda- disappeared.” Atsushi turned, facing him. “I never got to finish what I was saying.”

“I didn’t want to hear it.”

Ouch. Okay. Atsushi tried to hide the hurt with a smile. “Fair enough.”

“Wait- no. Fuck, this is hard.” Akutagawa ran a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “That’s not what I meant. Sorry. I mean- I was…” He struggled with the words, waving his hands. “Weretiger, I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

Another dagger. Atsushi felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Doing what?”

“The whole- whatever this is. It’s killing me.”

A third. Atsushi felt his eyes sting. “Just say it, Akutagawa.” He sounded harsh in his own ears. Good.It’ll make him leave faster. “Say it and be done, already.”

Akutagawa flinched as if struck. Then he straightened, eyes intense.

“I’m in love with you, Weretiger.”

The buns hit the floor.

“I’m in love with you- I’ve been in love with you since- I don’t know how long now. Everytime I close my eyes, I see you. I hear you laughing in my dreams; I see you smiling at me when the pain’s at its worst and it’s killing me because I’m not good enough for you. I’m not the kind of person you deserve- a sewer rat who’ll only stain you with my filth-”

“Shut up.” Atsushi sounded strange. Akutagawa stared.

“Shut the hell up, you son of a-” Atsushi stormed across the room, grabbing the front of his coat.

And then he was kissing him. His lips crashed into Akutagawa's like a man craving water. At first, Akutagawa was frozen in shock. Then he was kissing him back, clutching the other tightly, pulling him in against his chest like he couldn’t get enough. He tasted like chocolate. For once, Atsushi found himself liking it.

When they pulled away, flushed and breathless, Atsushi reached up, gently pulling at the fringe framing the other’s face.

“Now you listen to me, Aku.” He tugged, earning a mild wince from the other. “First of all- you don’t get to decide who deserves me. I decide who deserves me. Second of all-” He released his hair, poking a finger into his chest. “I don’t want to ever hear you describe yourself as a sewer rat ever again. If I get stained, I get stained. Despite the white fur, I’m not some pristine tiger figurine.” He moved the hand poking his chest up to cup Akutagawa’s cheek, running a thumb against the smooth skin. “Finally- I never got to say what I wanted to say the other day. So you better listen.

“I think you’re amazing. The way you carry yourself; how you’re still so you even after everything you’ve been through in the Port Mafia. How you have these cute little quirks about yourself and how you’ve got so many hidden talents. I think you’re amazing, and I’m in love with you too. I’ve been in love with you for a long time now.” He smiled at the wide eyed stare he got, watching the hope in Akutagawa’s eyes meld into soft happiness.

Then he pinched his cheek, pulling slightly.

“But if you ever just up and run off on me again, I’ll kick your ass. I’m a weretiger- we like to eat little sewer rats who drive us nuts.”

“Sorry.” Akutagawa said through a deformed mouth. Atsushi released his cheek, leaning up to kiss it. “I thought you'd be in love with someone else.”

“Who else is there? Ranpo?” Atsushi raised an eyebrow. Then he looked thoughtful. “It would make getting you chocolate easier…”

Akutagawa couldn’t stop it. The laugh he fought down so hard bubbled over, then another. Before long, he was leaning into Atsushi, laughing for the first time in what felt like forever. The weretiger stood stunned, then he was giggling. Next thing he knew, he was laughing just as much, clinging to the other and squeezing tightly.

“Ohhohoho my god. I fuhuhucking love you, Weretiger.” Akutagawa wheezed out, wiping away a combination of happy and mirthful tears.

Atsushi looked just as teary, his cheeks warm and smiling like sunshine. “I love you too, Aku.”

Thanks for reading!

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prettyflyshyguy · 2 months

Text

He's a monster, and he's hungry.

Wrote this over a few days because I'm. Not ok about this. It's on AO3, and under the cut cause it's a short one. Not super edited, just got desperate for more content exploring when Dean was a vampire and when I found none I was like "well alright. Guess I'll make it then."

“I can’t believe it.”

Dean paced the length of the hotel room, passing back and forth by the table where his brother sat, prowling like an animal in captivity.

“You just stood there and watched that freak turn me!”

He stared at Sam, hoping for a change in his reaction, a look of sympathy, an admission of guilt, some form of recognition that something fucked up happened in the alley. Sam’s face was blank, his heartbeat steady, and frankly he just didn’t seem to care. In fact, he hadn’t seemed to care about much recently. He was a cold, lifeless, empty husk and Dean was tired of it. His usual quips brought no frustrated response, no snappy replies, he was simply brushed off. There was no banter, no anger, simply complete and utter apathy no matter what he said. Sam had his moments, everyone did. Dean knew he had a tendency to push his luck, many people had told him this. But Sam was different, they were siblings. Sam putting up with him being an ass was just how things were, and would always be. At least it's how it should be. After everything they’d seen and done together… If Sam held any resentment, he’d have made it clear by this stage. He was a good liar, but Dean could always tell. They both knew each other too well. If he had any doubt something was off about Sam, it was quickly disintegrating as he stalked the room, watching him blankly staring up at him from the small table. Not even fidgeting in the slightest.

They’d been pushed to their limits before, and Sam was always the first to speak up when something was wrong.

“Dean.”

His lip curled at the sound of his name. It was so hollow. So static. It reminded him of school, when his teacher would check the roll call. It was an obligation and a requirement, not something done out of genuine care.

He decided to push a little harder.

“I mean what the hell was that all about Sam? Revenge? To get me back?” he growled.

“You know you’ve talked so much shit about me taking risks, is this all just some master plan to show me the error of my ways? A jab back at how you still, somehow deep down, think I’m Dad’s perfect son?”

He stood still, observing for a change in reaction. Dean desperately wanted to find a tiny shift in body language, a subtle twitch in his eyes or mouth, that sad glint in his eyes.

He breathed out slowly as Sam once again stared back with soulless eyes and a steady heart.

Not enough, Ok, he thought. He was an expert at this. Maybe Sam had steeled up after all these years.

It wasn’t a completely unreasonable possibility.

“I almost hurt Lisa and Ben, Sam! I came so close, I could have killed them and no one would have been there to stop me, but you were!”

He took a step towards Sam as he spoke, the venom of the accusation lingering in the air.

Sam breathed out and shuffled in his seat. Finally, a response.

“Dean, you need to calm down.”

You calm down.

He took another step closer, noting the slight increase in pace of Sam’s heart. Progress, hell yeah. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips though Dean’s eyes were as cold as Sam’s.

“Oh, that's rich coming from you! That’s easy for you to say when you’re not being assaulted by noise like you went to the movies and an intern did the mixing.”

He took another step closer.

The thrumming beat increased in speed once more.

“Dean.”

“S’matter of fact,” Dean slid his fingers across the tabletop, tracing the grooves in the rough wooden surface, “you’re exceptionally calm given I’m now stuck doing a bad David Boreanaz impression for an indefinite period of time, with no guarantee this Campbell special will even work.”

He looked up from where his hand slid along the table to match Sam’s unwavering gaze. His brother tilted his head to look up at him as Dean hovered above, adjusting in his seat. Sam slipped his left arm over the backrest of the chair.

Dean’s expression turned cold once more.

“And I’ve been thinking, Sammy. It’s ironic. Between that creep, you just standing there and watching, and…” jabbing his thumb back towards himself he gestured “... me…”

Dean slammed his hand back down on the table, leaning in closer. The headlights of a car flickered through the slim gap in the middle of the window curtains drawn behind them. It reflected off of Dean’s eyes for a split second, making Sam flinch. It reminded him of the animals on the side of the highway, peering at them through the bushes before darting away when they drove late at night.

“Begs the question,” Dean continued. “Which one of us is the real monster?”

Sam swallowed. The first real visible sign of him showing some nerves. He’d finally cracked him.

“Since you can hear my heartbeat,” Sam spoke slowly, “what does it say about me now?”

His tone was outwardly calm, but Dean could hear through him.

“It says you’re shit scared, Sammy.”

Sam waited for a few seconds before opening his mouth to respond. Whatever he said, Dean didn’t seem to notice, as his gaze began to shift from Sam’s face down to where the light of the window caught the curve of his exposed bare neck. A pang of hunger swelled in the pit of his chest as the noise and light and intensity of the room faded away until all that was left was the steady sound of the beating, beating, beating.

A sharp, intense pain stung the side of Dean’s neck breaking him free of the trance as he collapsed to the ground groaning and twitching in pain. Through fading vision he looked up to see Sam still sitting on the chair, slouching back, but holding a syringe in his left hand. The contents empty.

“You… sonof-abich…” his words formed a slurry as his body went limp.

“Nice of you to join us Samuel.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Sam’s showing me what all those years of boy scout training taught him to do.”

Dean sat on a chair, his legs, arms and chest bound with thick twine rope. Smiling at Samuel for a moment, he motioned with what little mobility he had in his hands to indicate. Samuel glanced at his brother with a questioning look.

“You did this?”

“He shot me full of dead man’s blood, and I gotta say, that’s one hell of a drug.”

Dean’s tone was dry and unimpressed. Samuel assessed the room, looking as though he wanted to ask more questions, but decided against it.

“Anyway you said you were getting something to help?” Dean’s voice broke the silence.

“This is help.”

Samuel pulled a glass jar out of a brown paper bag, setting it on the table. The contents was dark and viscous. It had sloshed around in transit, coating the airgap at the top of the jar. The light pierced through the clear glass and bright red light danced across the varnished wood tabletop.

“Wh- what is that?”

“Cows blood.” Samuel said curtly.

“That’s help?”

“It’ll keep you alive.”

As he twisted the lid open Dean’s eyes flicked between the jar and the two men.

“Well can you at least untie me first?” he pleaded, his voice straining.

The rope dug into his wrists and the thought of being spoon fed cows blood was sending his mind to a dark and violent place.

“Dean, it's just a precaution.” Samuel attempted to be reassuring.

Dean clenched his jaw. Precaution for what. You weren’t even here to see Sam attack me.

“Oh cut the bullcrap!” Dean spat, pulling against the rope binding his arms and legs. “C three P O over here was a bit too cautious back in the alley and look where it got us!”

Samuel stared at him tensely. Dean winced as a spike of sound ringed in his head from a car horn outside.

“Look I’m fine, Samuel. Really. Just untie me.”

The older man hesitated.

“Please?” Dean cracked a smile that usually got him whatever he wanted.

Usually.

Samuel watched him carefully while he placed the jar lid on the table. The unmistakable smell of iron, meat and death began to waft through the room. He leaned into the scent as he realised just how hungry he was. How dry his throat was. How much the deep, dark red called out to him.

“Samuel I will kill you if you try and hand feed that shit to me.”

The older man raised an eyebrow in response, unimpressed, and picked up the jar.

“Wait!”

Dean grimaced and hissed through gritted teeth as Sam called out from the other side of the table.

“One drop of human blood is enough, are we sure that cow’s blood is clean?”

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me Sammy…” Dean groaned.

Samuel paused, running it through his mind, blinking a few times, he contemplated the risk and the chance. Looking back, Sam shrugged silently.

“Sam has a point. If any human blood, from a cut or a scratch, got into this at the abattoir, you’re done.”

Dean ignored him and glared at Sam.

“God I can’t listen to you right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Sam blurted in frustration.

“Your fucking heartbeat man! It's so loud, it's so monotonous it’s killing me! Look, Samuel, just cut this fuckin rope and hand me the fuckin jar.”

Reluctantly, and cautiously, he pulled out a hunting knife from a holster on his belt. Staying as far from Dean as possible, he nicked part of the rope on Dean’s right arm just enough for him to wiggle it loose. Waving it in the air and stretching the fingers, Dean looked back to the two who were eyeing him off.

“See that wasn’t so bad now was it.” Dean’s tone was sarcastic and he tapped the armrest with his index finger.

“C’mon guys don’t look so nervous. You can just drug me up again, it’s not like that's off the cards is it Sammy.”

Sam glanced away at the mention of his name, Samuel grunted in frustration as he reached for the jar and took a step towards the chair. In an instant the background thrum of his heart filled Dean’s mind, it was faster, full of nerves and fear compared to Sam’s horribly persistent flat tone. As he approached holding the jar out, Dean felt something shift under his lip.

“NO.”

His voice boomed as he jerked back in his seat, the legs scraping against the floor. Breathing sharply, he tilted his head down avoiding the stares of his associates.

“Get away from me.”

Grunting and breathing through gritted, sharpened teeth, he glanced up.

“Sammy, drop the machete.”

They’d both instinctively reached for their weapons. Brandishing them high, already poised for a clean decapitating swing. Dean growled and heaved deep breaths of air, flexing the remaining restraints. He could break free, if he wanted to. With one arm loose, he could easily rip the remaining rope off. He contemplated the thought, reveling in how powerful it made him feel.

“Dean?”

Samuel’s voice snapped him back to reality. He’d placed his machete back on the table, Sam had lowered his but still gripped it.

Dean extended his free arm out and flicked his hand towards the table.

“Just hand me the fuckin jar already.”

Samuel was quick to oblige, and quicker to back away once Dean had it in his grip. He tried to not dwell on the way his companions looked at his mouth instead of his face. He could feel the second set of teeth against his lips, his tongue. The smell of blood was suffocating him now, a mixture of alluring coppery tones and the stench of raw stale flesh. He wasn’t sure which was making him feel more ill. The pungent aroma or the fact he liked something in it.

“So you two just gonna watch like this is some sort of peep show or what?”

Neither responded, still fixated on his every move. Pulling a face, Dean limply held the jar up as it to toast before bringing it to his lips. Taking a tentative sip, he recoiled as blood spilt down his chin. Groaning and sputtering he violently spat it out.

“Augh, god this tastes disgusting–”

“I promised you help, I didn’t promise it’d taste nice. Now drink it.”

22 notes · View notes