#i’ve been putting it off cause i KNOW I’ll be rendered useless until i finish it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bullshxtvixen · 3 years

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Pairing: Bokuto x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Song: Put It On Me - Matt Maeson

Warnings: 18+, Coercion(dubcon themes), size kink, cream pie, virginity kink, corruption kink, rough sex, spitting, spanking, light choking, light assplay(I couldn’t help myself), dom!bokuto(he’s kind of an ass oops).

A/N: So uh, it’s finally here…My first fic in two months and i’m ngl, i’ve been dreading posting for so long, but i tried to give you guys something good for my return, so please let me know what you think and go easy on me, i’m a little rusty sksks. However, this is a gift for @thekraziesreside because she drew me them most amazing Kenma x Me icon and i needed to pay her back somehow!!

Shoutout to my amazing friends @deathcab4daddy, @dymphnasprose and @spicykzumeknma, who i’m sure are sick of beta reading this by now and having me freaking out about posting it. Thank you for all your grammar corrections that I will probably never learn from, I love you all

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I-I’m a virgin.”

The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

The large hands that had been tracing the contours of your body stilled. You had to stop yourself from flinching when his intense golden stare shot to your face.

“What…” He let the word trail off, a well-practised mask of surprise coming into place on his features.

It was second nature to him now, letting his face morph into whatever expression he needed it to at a moments notice. No one ever suspected the friendly Ace of being anything other than a good guy, and really, he wasn’t a bad guy. No, he just relished in taking the innocence of unsuspecting women who easily fell into his trap.

Like you.

“I’m a virgin, Kou.” Even though you were straddling him, you still had to look up to meet his eyes.

With the tips of your ears burning, you moved to get off of his lap as if you could escape from your embarrassing confession. You couldn’t believe you’d openly admitted you were an inexperienced virgin to the guy you’d only just met a week ago. A mutual friend had introduced the two of you, and you’d quickly fallen for his ‘nice guy’ act.

You hadn’t even put a foot on the floor before you were pulled back and thrown into the pillows. The weight of Bokuto’s body was quick to settle on top of you, pressing you down into the plush mattress.

“What are y-” before you could finish your sentence, your wrists were pinned above your head, rendering your arms useless in his firm grip. The muscles in your abdomen tightened at his rough treatment, and you couldn’t stop the small gasp that fell from your lip. Turning your head to the side, you tried in vain to hide your flustered expression.

Bokuto felt his cock twitch in the grey sweats that hung low on his hips.

The innocent ones were always the most responsive. He fought off a grin as the thought crossed his mind.

“Did you really think I was going to let you get away after telling me something like that?” He growled, warm breath ghosting over your face and across your neck. He watched with a glint in his eyes as you shivered under him.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Do you know what that means, little bird?”

Your heart raced at the nickname.

Could he make you sing for him?

Certain he could hear your heartbeat fluttering like a hummingbird's wings in your chest, you silently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The mortification you felt was palpable in the space between you.

Bokuto thought it was cute how bashful you were, so unsure and unwilling to show him your real feelings, even though your body told him everything he needed to know. Still, he’d have you voicing your innermost desires sooner or later- it was only a matter of time.

“Well?” He pressed, not allowing you to dwell on your thoughts any longer. He didn’t want to have to put in too much effort to break you.

Your voice was small and unsure when you answered him, eyes looking anywhere but his direction, “No.”

He was so close, closer than any man had ever been before. The proximity made it hard to think straight as the warmth of his body seeped into your bones, and his masculine scent invaded your senses.

It was almost stifling.

His tongue darted out, licking a wet strip up the side of your exposed neck before pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. He felt you shiver beneath him before pulling back and watching a deep blush journey down to your chest. It was so pure...He couldn’t wait to be the one to defile your virtue.

Gently grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, he turned your face until you had no option but to meet his simmering gaze.

Begrudgingly, you looked up at the man looming over you and found he was already observing your flustered expression. He stared so openly and without shame that you began to squirm under him.

Bokuto saw your blush deepen further and wondered what you’d look like when he eased his cock inside your virgin hole.

Would your eyes roll into the back of your head? Would your nails imbed themselves in his back? Or maybe you’d simply cry out in pain and pleasure as he ripped through your innocence?

All kinds of scenarios whirled around in his brain, sending his mind into overdrive.

Unconsciously, he ground the head of his cock against your clothed slit and was rewarded when he heard your sharp intake of breath.

Heat pooled in his groin.

It was such a pretty sound. He wanted more, and he didn’t need to feel the slick collecting in the crotch of your underwear to know your feelings mirrored his.

His smile was predatory as he answered.

“It means that I’ll be the first person to fill your tight little pussy up with cum. I’ll stretch your walls around my cock and pump you so full that it’ll be dripping out of you for days.”

The lewd words fell from his mouth with ease, and you found yourself shifting as your body all of a sudden became too warm as if the temperature in the room had spiked, but you knew it was his words alone that had caused your reaction.

You hated how easily he affected you.

“I bet you want me to corrupt your sweet little body, don’t you?” He already knew the answer.

Your body responded of its own accord, turning into putty beneath him. Your hips rolled against his as your back arched off the bed at the feeling of his cock nudging against your clit. The knot in your stomach tightened.

The grip on your wrists tightened. Bokuto took a few steadying breaths, struggling to hold himself back. You seemed so tiny and fragile as you lay beneath his brawny form, and he was scared he would break you if he gave in to his own desires too soon.

Maybe that’s what you wanted. The sadistic voice in the back of his mind purred.

“I- I don’t know.” Your voice wavered as you answered him honestly. Doubt had begun to gnaw at your gut. Waiting didn’t seem like the worst idea- there was no rush, after all.

He closed his eyes for a split second to hide the annoyance that no doubt flickered through them. When he reopened them, he became the personification of a bird of prey, and you were his next meal.

Your mouth became dry as you lied entrapped by his stare.

“Come on, I can make you feel good.” As if he was digging his talons in to prevent your escape, he rolled his hips against yours once more, making sure that his cock rubbed firmly over your swelling clit. The side of his mouth quirked up when a tentative moan left your parted lips.

“That’s it, you like that, don’t you? You want me to make you feel good, don’t you, little bird?” another roll of his hips, and he watched the doubt dissolve away for now.

“Koutarou...please.” Your voice was small, uncertain as you begged.

You didn’t know what you were begging for, you just knew he could give it to you, whatever it was.

Golden eyes flashed at the way your voice was saturated with need. For a moment he thought that maybe you weren’t a virgin, but instead, a succubus, come to steal his soul.

He would let you.

The weight of his body left yours, and in seconds, you were stripped of all of your clothing, which was thrown haphazardly around the room. His soon followed.

Eager eyes drank in the sight of your naked body before him. Your skin was so beautiful and unmarred by another person, so enticing and begging for his touch. Soon you would be littered in his marks as he lay claim to your body, inside and out.

Growing self-conscious under his prolonged stare, you tried in vain to cover your most intimate parts.

“There’s no use trying to hide from me. I’m going to become well-acquainted with your body by the time I’m done with you.”

A gasp escaped your lips when his fingers reached down and ghosted over your folds. A groan left him when he felt just how wet you were.

“Well, looks like someone’s already dripping at the thought of being ruined by my cock- isn’t that cute?” Though his tone was mocking, his words still sent excitement trickling down your spine.

Spreading your lips, he circled a thick finger around your twitching entrance, smiling devilishly when you whined for him. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he witnessed your jaw go slack as he eased the first finger past the slick opening, surprised when he was met with little resistance.

Soon he was able to work himself knuckle-deep, and your walls fluttered around him in welcome.

Such a slutty pussy for someone so untouched.

“You’re so tight, baby. Your pussy’s sucking my finger in so nicely; I bet you’re going to feel amazing when I stuff my cock inside.”

You groaned as his fingers started to move within your previously untainted walls. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling like you’d feared it would be- it was almost like a welcoming pressure had settled deep within you.

“Kou… more.”

A chuckle met your ears in line with his warm lips brushing against your pubic bone, “Your wish is my command.”

When the second finger was added, the discomfort became evident on your face. He didn’t pause his movements; instead, their pace increased as pain and pleasure fought for dominance at the apex of your thighs.

“That’s it, you can do it. The pain will stop soon,” At that moment he chose to curl his fingers and press them against the spongy spot deep within your sopping cunt. The pain dulled and was overshadowed by pleasure as he played with your body as if it were an instrument he was fine-tuning.

“Ah- fuck, I-” Your breathing accelerated as the pressure in the pit of your stomach began to increase . Your hips started to buck up off the bed when his thumb joined his ministrations and began working tight circles against your clit. Sparks of excitement like nothing you’d felt before shot through your veins. Stringing thoughts together became almost impossible.

If this was what his fingers could do, you weren’t sure you’d be able to remain sane once his cock entered you.

“There it is,” he cooed, fingertips rubbing against the same spot, this time with a little more vigour, “God, you look so beautiful with my fingers inside you, you’re drenching them, baby.”

A thick fog came over your mind as they stroked and stretched your walls, creating a pressure in your abdomen that threatened to overflow at any second. It almost scared you, and yet, you couldn’t prevent your hips from desperately grinding down against his hand.

“More,” you cried, your breaths beginning to come out in pants.

The wet squelching sounds of your pussy filled the room as his hand became a blur between your thighs. The sound only added to your arousal.

When your legs began to quake, he lowered his head and added his mouth to the mix, suckling skillfully at your puffy clit. His lips were cool as they attached themselves to your heated skin, the difference in temperature causing a prolonged whine to leave you.

His tongue swirled around the sensitive nub, his fingers working your insides, coiling, stroking and stretching until the pressure that had been steadily rising in your stomach finally exploded within your body. It erupted from your core, spreading through you like wildfire.

Your hands found hair, pulling and twisting the soft locks as you came hard around his fingers. He moaned at the flash of pain in his scalp- causing his own desire to heighten. Your walls pulsed as he continued to curl his fingers against your g-spot.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, Kou, fuck, oh god, oh god!” Your cries of delight were music to Bokuto’s ears. It excited him so much that he couldn’t help but gently rut his hips into the mattress. His cock was painfully hard now, and precum leaked freely from his swelling tip. He needed to be inside you soon or he’d lose his mind.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and began to eagerly lap at them.

“Koutarou…That was....” Your brain was still riding its high, unable to give you an end to your sentence.

He pulled his hand from his mouth, “I told you I’d make you feel good. Now, before I fuck your brains out, why don’t you see how good you taste?”

The musky smell of your arousal filled your nostrils as he brought his fingers to your lips.

“Open.” It wasn’t a request.

At your hesitance, he quirked a brow, “I promise you taste amazing. Now, open.”

You obeyed, still riding the endorphin high he’d pulled from your body. Because of this, you didn’t even notice that he’d reached over and pressed record on his phone that was propped up on the nightstand. He’d made sure to angle it so the camera pointed directly at your face.

He found people were much more...compliant... if he had video footage he could use against them in the event that they changed their minds.

With a grin, he placed the two fingers he’d had knuckle deep in your cunt against your tongue.

The tart taste of your release was quick to spread over your tastebuds. His eyes darkened when you began to swirl your tongue around his fingers, lightly sucking on them until they were completely clean of your arousal.

It was so erotic that you found it hard to maintain eye contact.

He released a shaky breath before pulling his fingers from your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” He teased, allowing one of his hands to come to rest next to your head while the other reached between your bodies. Taking his length in his hand, he watched a mix of anticipation and fear come over your features when you looked down.

Your audible gulp was heard in the silence that followed.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this was beyond anything your mind had come up with. Even though you’d never had sex before, you knew he was big. His cock was thick and heavy where it hung between his legs. Veins ran along the sides of his shaft, the largest one snaking directly down the centre before splitting in two near the swollen head. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like having something so big inside your body.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Your voice wavered, doe-eyes shining with fear as they met his.

He acknowledged your fear with a condescending sneer, “Oh, little bird, you really think you have a choice?” he nodded towards the nightstand.

The blood in your veins turned icy, and your body began to tremble as you lay eyes on the phone, screen open and recording.

Breathing became difficult as panic rose in your chest. You’d been so naive. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It’s been recording for the last couple of minutes. Now,” his rough fingers came to rest against the sides of your throat, squeezing lightly as he brought his face just inches from yours, “you can either behave, and this will feel amazing for both of us, or you can be a brat, and the only person this is going to be fun for is me. Not to mention, I’ll send the video around to every person you know, including your boss.”

At the mention of your boss, your whole body deflated. He had you right where he wanted you. While the thought of your friends and family seeing the video was mortifying, you couldn’t risk losing your job. Your virginity was a small price to pay to make sure the video stayed hidden.

Anger bloomed in your chest as you leered up at the spiky-haired man, but you had no fight in you. It was useless to even try.

“If I do this, you’ll make it go away?” You tried to make your voice sound confident, but it cracked at the end.

He couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face when he realised you were giving in, “Of course- no one else will ever see it.”

He watched the internal battle going on behind your mind before your eyes hardened.

“Fine, so be it. I’ll play your sick game.” You spat, what else did you have to lose?

Bokuto’s eyes widened when you reached down and removed his hand from his length before replacing it with your own. It was softer than you’d imagined, yet firm at the same time. Like steel encased in velvet.

“You like the feeling of my cock, baby? It’ll feel even better when I'm balls deep inside you. You’ll be my little slut and take it all like a good girl, won’t you?”

The man above you let out a rumbling moan from deep within his chest when your fingers flexed around him, head falling against your chest. Your wavering hands felt so small as they struggled to circle his impressive girth. It again reminded him of the size difference between the two of you.

Your eyes darted between him and the phone. He took the hint and reached over, turning the phone off and laying it flat against the nightstand.

He turned back to you with a smug smirk.

You wanted to slap the look right off his face, but violence would probably result in the video being circulated faster.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you dipped the head of the thick muscle between your folds. Your slick coated it instantly. Lining him up with your entrance, you waited for him to meet your gaze. When he did, he saw the hatred burning in them. It made his cock throb in your palm.

When he pressed his hips forward, all at once, the air left your body as heat flooded your core.

Bokuto studied your face intently, drinking in the way your pupils dilated and your mouth dropped open into a silent moan. If he could burn one image into his mind, it was your face at that moment as he stole the last remnants of your innocence from you.

“Hng-fuck...it feels...s-so-” Your hands blindly grasped at his broad shoulders, seeking some kind of anchor as the burning feeling of his cock threatening to split you open sent your mind into a frenzy.

“So what, baby?” He cooed, body tense above you. “How does it feel? Come on, little bird, use your words.”

Nails dug into his shoulder blades as he worked himself into you. Hissing out a breath, he savoured the way your lower muscles clenched around his girth before relaxing, only to repeat the motion moments later, pulling him deeper into your heated sheath.

“So full. So so full, so fucking good.” You whimpered, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It was a fullness, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Every nerve in your body had come to life, and a familiar heat began to pool in your lower body once again. Bokuto’s control began to slip, and he soon realised he was trembling above you in an effort to hold back. Heat was surging through his own body, clouding his mind and bringing him closer to his climax. If he didn’t move soon...

“Ah, fuck, I need…” He couldn’t finish the rest of his sentence, his mind was lost to the beast you’d unleashed inside of him. With a harsh snap of his hips, he sheathed the rest of his cock inside your wet heat.

A scream ripped from your throat as your poor cunt was suddenly filled to the brim with the Ace’s cock. His hips lay flush against yours as he bottomed out inside you, the plush head of his length kissing your cervix. He stretched your body in such a sinful way that for a second, you forgot how to breathe.

Even though you never wanted anything to do with him and the thought of him being inside you made you feel sick, you couldn’t stop your body’s natural reaction to him.

On instinct, your legs wrapped around his hips, heels pressing against his ass. You didn’t know where your confidence had come from, and in your lust-driven craze, you didn’t care. In fact, it was almost as if a switch had been flicked in your mind. All you knew was that you craved him.

“Shit, you’re choking my cock with that sweet little pussy. Fuck.”

“Koutarou...move. Please.” You panted, cutting him off, “I need you to move, now.”

The heels of your feet dug into his ass while you simultaneously rolled your hips into his. The movement sent flares of desire straight to your core.

Bokuto didn’t need to be told twice.

The first few of his thrusts were short and practised as if he was testing whether or not your body could handle him. When he was met with mewls and whimpers, he couldn’t stop himself from picking up his pace and slamming mercilessly into your greedy pussy.

The pressure you’d experienced before started to build once again, only this time it felt more intense, almost out of control as you writhed beneath him.

There were many ways you’d imagined losing your virginity; slow, soft, romantic sex with someone you’d known for years; gentle caresses and stolen kisses beneath a slither of moonlight as your lover whispered loving words into your ear.

This was nothing like that.

Bokuto’s thrusts were bruising, unforgiving, and the power behind each one jolted your entire body. He was animalistic as he fucked into you.

This wasn’t love-making. This was rough, hard fucking, and you found yourself growing intoxicated as you were forced to drink in every sensation he was pulling from you.

He’d been wrong before, you weren’t like the other girls at all. They’d all cried and begged for him to go easy. But you, you thrived on him using your body, even savoured the feeling of being fucked like a whore.

The realisation made his head spin. If you liked being fucked like a whore, he was happy to oblige.

A strangled cry echoed through the room when his teeth latched onto the sensitive skin of your nipple. His hot tongue swirled around the pebbled nub, sending bolts of desire splintering through you as the pressure inside you bubbled up and threatened to explode at any moment.

His mouth left you all too soon.

“Such a good girl. You’re taking my cock so well. Who knew a virgin could be such a dirty little slut? I bet you’re loving this, being used like a cocksleeve.” The words left his mouth in a rush as if he’d forget them if he didn’t get them out fast enough.

Leaning back, he hooked his arms beneath your knees, still continuing his assault on your cunt. He couldn’t help but reach around and press a hand on your stomach. Desire stirred in his groin when he felt himself moving beneath his palm.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. I’m practically in your stomach…” His words died off when he felt your walls begin to spasm.

“Kou, I’m- fuck- I’m going to cum.”

No, he wouldn’t let you cum just yet, it was too soon. He knew if he drew it out much longer, you’d be too sore for another round, but he wanted- no, he needed- to test just how far he could corrupt you.

Without thinking, he leant over your body and allowed a string of his saliva to slowly drip from his mouth. It gave you enough time to move if it was too much for you.

You didn’t move. No, instead you eagerly stuck your tongue out and waited for his spit to drip onto it, like a puppy begging for a treat.

When you swallowed it with a smirk on your face, he finally lost all semblance of control.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened next, but next thing you knew, you were stomach-down on the bed.

“Wha-”

The sound of impact as Bokuto’s hand met the supple flesh of your ass rang in your ears. You barely had time to register the searing heat blooming across your rear before he brought his hand down again on the opposite side.

“Get that fucking ass in the air.”

Bringing your knees under you and sticking your ass out as much as you could, you waited for his next move as your orgasm began to dwindle.

Bokuto bit his lip as he watched you present yourself to him, puffy lips glistening in the dim light.

Gripping your hip with one hand, he used the other to give your ass a few slaps with his length before realigning himself with your entrance. You were so wet and stretched so well that with a harsh snap of his hips, his entire length was buried deep in you with no resistance.

“Fuck!” Your voice was hoarse as you cried out from being stuffed with his cock again.

The angle this new position set had his cock dragging along your walls, caressing them as he fucked into your heat. The new pace he set was brutal as he chased his own high.

Skin against skin became the only sound in the room as his weighty balls slapped against your clit- each time the coil in your stomach tightened.

Your body stiffened when you heard him spit, followed by the feel of moisture coming into contact at the top of your ass.

He’d been lost in his mind as he watched your puffy slit suck in his length, and when his eyes travelled up to the puckered hole just above, he couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t worry,” He spread the spit around your pucker with his thumb before gently applying pressure, “I’ll ruin this hole next time, little bird. But first, I want you to get an idea of just how good I can be to you.”

When his thumb slipped past the tight ring of muscle, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

A sense of euphoria settled deep within you as you lay there and let the Ace pound into you with reckless abandon.

Bokuto became drunk on the cries he was sure you didn’t even realise were falling from your mouth as drool pooled beneath your cheek and turned the bedsheets a darker shade.

It wouldn’t be long now. He could feel his balls tightening as heat spread through his body. Not to mention, your legs had started to quiver with the first signs of your release.

“You ready to come for me again, baby?” His hips never faltered from the harsh pace he’d set.

“I can’t...too much...fuck.”

He found it almost endearing that you thought you had a choice.

“Wrong answer.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to fuck you any harder, but a last burst of energy had him pistoning his hips into you with such force that you had to reach above your head and press a shakey hand against the headboard to stop your body from jolting forward.

Your body couldn’t take much more stimulation and seconds later you cried out your release into the mattress.

Your first orgasm was nothing compared to the pure ecstasy you felt in those following moments as you came hard around the thick muscle still pumping into your aching walls.

Stars flashed across your vision as your toes curled, and your hands blindly clawed at the mattress. It was as if you’d been washed out to sea in an ocean of bliss, and you had no choice but to ride the waves crashing through you.

Bokuto’s thrust became sporadic until finally, his body went taut behind you, balls tightening as he emptied his seed into your spasming walls.

His cum was warm as it splashed against your cervix, staining every inch of your insides with the thick fluid.

White noise rang in your ears as your body rode out its chemical high.

Bokuto pulled his thumb and cock from your holes once his balls were empty. Once removed, your body collapsed to the side, exhausted.

Bokuto’s own energy was about to run out, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your twitching cunt. His cum had started to dribble out from between your swollen lips in a steady stream of white.

Instinct had him reaching out and pressing as much of it back into your body as he could. He ignored the weak cries that the action coaxed from your mouth as his fingers brushed against tender flesh.

He’d fucked you raw.

You’d be sore for days after this. Hell, a dull ache had settled in his own muscles.

With a groan, he used the last of his energy to scoop your thoroughly fucked body off the bed and carry you the short distance to the bathroom. Placing you gingerly down into the toilet seat, he only let go when he was sure you weren’t going to fall face-first onto the cold tile floor.

Grabbing a small cloth, he made quick work of rubbing the musky smell of sex from your body before jumping into the shower and ridding himself of the thin layer of sweat sticking to him. The warm water felt amazing against his skin, and suddenly, tiredness came over him. All of his limbs felt heavy as if weights had been attached to them. He’d definitely been rougher than he meant to- fucking never usually took this much out of him.

You’d been so lost in your after-sex daze that he almost jumped out of his skin when you finally spoke.

“So...When can we go again?” Your voice was far more lucid than he’d expected. It seemed in your daze you’d forgotten your hatred towards him. He knew some gentle persuasion was all it would take to unlock your inner animal.

Raising a brow, he turned to see a sly smile creep onto your face as you sat naked on his toilet.

You at least had the decency to blush at your request.

“I mean...that’s if you want to. Oh, and you’d better delete that video or I’ll rip your cock off and shove it down your throat.”

He thought you might just be a succubus after all.

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

Text

Lay Me Down (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, again! We have reached the endgame, as in we have reached Endgame in the timeline. Loosely inspired by Sam Smith’s “Lay Me Down”. Pieces from the film are used, but definitely have adjustments to fit the story. Let me know your thoughts!

Summary: How will the events of Endgame play out for Y/n and Wanda?

“Can I lay by your side, next to you? And make sure you're alright, I'll take care of you. I don't want to be here if I can't be with you.”

It felt as though everything went dark for just a moment and almost immediately you were back. The first sight that greeted you when you opened your eyes was a man in a cape, much to your disappointment. You would have much rather been greeted by a certain green-eyed woman who held your heart. The man urgently informed you that you all had been gone for five years, erased from existence by Thanos. The idea was so troubling that you almost didn’t believe him, but something within you knew it to be true. You had felt it in your final moments in Wanda’s arms before you faded away.

Wanda. She was the first thought to enter your mind. Had she existed the last five years on her own? Was she erased from existence with you? Was she okay? The last thought struck fear into your heart. You wouldn’t know what to do if she wasn’t.

There was very little time for processing though since the man, who said his name was Stephen Strange, told you it was time to fight again. If you all didn’t act quick, Thanos would be sure to succeed in his wicked plan again. This required everyone, and you didn’t hesitate to agree when Strange opened a portal for you to enter through.

The portal that Strange created for you opened into a bleak field, and as far as the eye could see were waves upon waves of Thanos’ army. Thousands of them. There was one thing that gave you hope though. One thing that made you believe that the battle wasn’t lost yet and that was seeing countless members of the Avengers step out of similar portals. Despite the myriad of people stepping out of various portals there was no sign of Wanda which caused anxiety to bloom in your chest. Unfortunately, you weren’t given much more time to look for her as the members of Thanos’ army appeared to push forward eagerly.

You knew that your main focus should have been preventing Thanos from erasing half of humanity again, but you couldn’t help the fact that Wanda was the one thing at the forefront of your mind. She always would be. The heartbroken look on her face as you faded away was burned into your memory. You needed to find her, and you needed to find her now. You needed to see for yourself that she was okay.

You didn’t care if you had to tear Thanos apart with your bare hands to do so.

When Thanos’ army began to push forward even more, you got into a defensive stance, everyone around you doing the same. A unifying sense of determination was heavily present around each of you. Losing was not an option this time.

The sound of a familiar voice caught your attention. As you glanced over you took in the sight of Steve who looked worse for wear but okay overall. Breathing, and that was what mattered. A sense of relief washed over you because at least you knew that he was okay. “Avengers,” he called and reached a hand out, your eyebrows quirking in surprise as he summoned mjölnir. “Assemble.” He finished assertively as each of you rushed forward, prepared to overcome any obstacle that stood in your way.

The anger that you felt at the situation made it easier to harness your powers. Anger that Thanos thought he had the right to take life, anger for the knowledge that he succeeded once already, anger for being taken from Wanda.

Looking around, you noticed that one of the bigger threats was a metal looking creature that was firing down at everyone. With a deep breath you focused your attention on the being and slowly brought your hands together, forcing the vessel to fold in on itself and rendering it useless. Smirking in satisfaction as you watched it fall to the ground.

As soon as the army noticed who destroyed the creature more of the beasts began attacking you. Dozens had surrounded you when you saw a small glimpse of red energy flash out of the corner of your eye. It was faint and in the far distance but you’d recognize it anywhere. The red energy could only mean one thing. Wanda. She was still here. Your heart pounded anxiously.

You need to get to her now.

Making quick work of the creatures that surrounded you, you began sprinting in her direction as fast as you could. As you got closer you could hear her voice over the chaos.

“You took everything from me.” Wanda gritted out through clenched teeth as her eyes glowed with a wrath you had never seen in her before. Her hands stayed at her side, glowing brightly.

Thanos stared back at her unflinchingly, “I don’t even know who you are.”

The calm in Wanda’s voice sent chills down your spine. “You will.” A moment later you watched her begin to attack Thanos and it was clear that he didn’t stand a chance against her. He didn’t stand a chance against this powerful woman who’s heart he had played a role in destroying.

You knew you couldn’t call out to her because if you did her concentration would break and she would be put at risk of Thanos overtaking her. Instead you focused on defeating his members that were coming to his aide so he would have to face her on his own.

He was destined to lose at her hands.

It seemed Thanos was aware of that as well as he called for the larger of the flying ships to begin firing down into the field to get Wanda off of him.

“Wanda!” you shouted as you saw her attempt to shield herself from the attack, only to get thrown by the force of the hit. As quickly as you could you built a barrier around her and began running in her direction. Not caring that you were leaving yourself exposed to the blasts.

The distance between you two was hastily closed as you instantly dropped to your knees at her side, pulling her in your arms and checking her for any injury. She stared up at you like she was seeing a ghost. “Y/n?” You tenderly stroked her cheek as you nodded.

When she finally processed the sight of you in her arms, life filled her eyes again as they illuminated with affection. It didn’t matter to her that you both were in the middle of horrifying battle with an evil being. All that mattered was that you were there with her. The emptiness she had felt when she saw you fade vanished and was replaced with an inconceivable amount of love.

Wanda surged forward and clung desperately to you, a choked sob escaping her lips. “I thought I lost you.” she said shakily into your neck.

You clung to her just as desperately, tears of relief falling down your cheeks at the knowledge that she was safe and, in your arms, once again. “I thought I lost you.” Came your shaky response.

Just as Wanda was about to respond another blast hit the ground right next to you and sent you both flying. You managed to hang on tightly to Wanda and land under her to lessen the impact. “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly as she pushed your hair lightly out of your face.

“You know, under any other circumstances, I would have loved to be in this position.” You said cheekily.

Wanda let out a watery laugh at your response. “I’ve missed you.” She said before connecting your lips passionately. You wrapped your arms around her waist as you eagerly pulled her closer.

Wanda pulled away a moment later. “As much as I’d love to continue, we have a battle to win.” She stood up and offered you a hand which you gladly accepted.

“To be continued?” you teasingly replied with a wiggle of your eyebrow.

Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but laugh. Falling more in love with you than before if that was even possible. This. You. It was everything she needed for the rest of her life.

“To be continued.” She confirmed.

The playful look on your face fell when you realized something. “Why did they stop shooting at us?”

Wanda tilted her head, she hadn’t noticed that until you pointed it out. Both of your gazes turned skyward as a bright beam of light crashed through the largest ship that was in the sky. “I’m guessing it has to do with that.”

“Badass.” You whispered quietly to yourself as you watched.

Wanda smirked in amusement as she took your hand. Your gaze shifted to meet the emerald eyes you cherished. “I love you.” She said adoringly.

“I love you, too.” You replied without hesitation. You’d never hesitate to say those words to her again. “Now let’s go get rid of this giant purple monster, so we can have that happy ending I promised you.” Wanda bit her lip and nodded, melting at your words. That was all she wanted. To live happily with you.

Together you began running in the direction that the gauntlet appeared to be. Only letting go when you both had to use your hands for your powers.

“I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that.” You heard Peter tell the woman who you recognized to be Carol Danvers from Fury’s stories.

Both you and Wanda landed at her side a moment later, “Don’t worry.” Wanda began confidently.

“She’s got help.” You finished with determination. All the women on the team joined together and charged fearlessly forward into the battle. You and Wanda worked together on destroying the ships and creatures in the sky while some of the other women cleared a path on the ground for Carol to transfer the gauntlet to Scott’s van.

There was only a short distance between Carol and the van when you noticed Thanos throw his weapon aiming directly towards said van. You tried to run towards it to stop the impact, using your hand to try and summon the metal within the weapon. The problem was that you noticed it a moment too late. The spear like object had already impaled the machine. The force of the explosion threw you back into a large stone, your head taking the majority of the damage.

Wanda looked over worriedly from where she was keeping a group of at least two dozen creatures at bay. You gave her a thumb up to ease her worries. She seemed reluctant but turned back to getting rid of the creatures.

When you were able to focus on the scene in front of you, you saw Carol get launched into the large rock right beside you from the force of Thanos’ hit. Shortly after Thor and Steve appeared to attempt to stop him from snapping his fingers once again. Both being removed by Thanos despite their superhuman tolerance and strength.

When you saw Thanos approach Steve who was on the floor you jumped up protectively and flicked your wrist. His feet sunk into the ground, preventing him from getting any closer. You didn’t have superhuman tolerance or strength like Steve, but you’d be damned if you just sat there and watched Thanos attack him and then erase half of humanity again.

“Y/n, stay back.” You heard Steve grunt from his place on the ground.

Your action was enough to get Thanos’ attention as you began using your powers to manipulate the metal in his hand to stay open. Distracted by trying to keep his hand open, you didn’t notice him getting closer. Steve finally got up and raced over only to be a second too late. Forced to watch in horror as Thanos’ opposite hand that held the power stone hit you in the head at full force.

Wanda landed just in time to see you go through the large rock you had been leaning against just moments before. She screamed.

As she gathered you in her arms, she gently tried to coax you awake. Fear sinking into her heart when you didn’t even flinch. With shaking hands, she checked your pulse and was relieved to still feel your heartbeat thrum steadily beneath her fingertips.

Suddenly, everything around Wanda went quiet. When she lifted her head, she was relieved to see Thanos’ army fading to dust around her. She tenderly pulled you closer to her body. Tears brimming at her eyes. “We won, Y/n.” she said shakily. “We won. We can finally have our life together. Our happy ending. Please, wake up. Please.” She begged quietly.

The only comfort she found was the way your breath softly fanned across her cheek and the way she could feel your heartbeat steadily against her own. Tears fell down her cheeks, but she refused to let you go.

When Steve placed a cautious hand on her shoulder, she jumped. “We have to get her to a hospital.” He said meekly, his eyes troubled as tears fell from his eyes as well.

Grudgingly she let him pick you up and load you on the waiting jet, blind to anything going on around her. When Steve said he’d meet her there later she barely heard him as she took your hand in hers, pressing her lips firmly to the back. Shortly after feeling the jet rise in the air and begin the short trip to S.H.I.E.L.D’s facility where their top medics were waiting to tend to you.

“I’ll take care of you. We’ll have a happy ending.” Wanda gently stroked your cheek, smiling slightly at the warmth that she still found on your skin. A moment later tears began falling as she rested her head against your hand. “I don’t want to be here if I can’t be with you.” She whispered despairingly, hoping that you’d squeeze her hand, or open your eyes, anything. You were all she wanted, all she had. She couldn’t lose you. She wouldn’t recover.

Part 12! Can you believe it? I’m honestly shocked we’re already on part 12. Only one part left though. What do you all think is going to happen in the last chapter? Annnyway, as always, hope you each enjoyed reading this part. Thought and comments welcome, seeing them makes my day :)

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angel-fire · 4 years

Text

set my soul alight

summary: loki finally has you right where he wants you.

warnings: slight dubcon, very very nsfw. knife play, enemies to lovers because if you’ve ever spoken to me you know i’m about that shit. as always, don’t read if you’re under 18.

A/N: okay this is like... almost pure filth i don't even know what to say. but in honor of no nut november being over imma share what i finished writing the second i had an orgasm for the first time in a month. title from supermassive black hole (yes the one from twilight!!)

---

You’ve done plenty of stupid things in your life. Chasing whiskey with wine coolers, texting back people you probably should have blocked – deciding that yes, working alongside the Avengers seemed like a perfectly reasonable career path for the rest of your life.

You could deal with the spies, the weapons dealers, the abandoned Hydra bases you’d raided for intel from time to time. You’d made peace with the fact that at any moment, you could be summoned for a mission you wouldn’t return from. And, well, it’s hard to regret your decision when it’s more than just walking the line between life and death. It’s the bonds you make with your teammates, the lifelong friendships you know will last with people that leap into the abyss right alongside you.

Oslo, Norway. It was supposed to be simple. You weren’t supposed to get caught. Taken. The question of how you got here is unnecessary, simply chalking it up to just another ill-advised decision you’d make in your life. If it lasts.

The God of Mischief stands before you, clear blue eyes raking over your bound form as he observes you. Your wrists are tied up above your head by what feels like silk, your ankles tied with the same material, bound to what feels like a post attached to a wooden beam. You’re upright, head lolling around on your shoulders as you rouse into consciousness. You become extremely aware of the fact that you’re still in the jeans and top you were wearing while you were supposed to be undercover earlier. Undetectable. So much for that.

“You’re awake.” Loki remarks, taking a calculated step towards you. No shit, you think. You drink him in, clad in an all black suit with his hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He’s still disarmingly attractive, which is an in-fucking-convenient thought for you to be having considering he’d kidnapped you about – from what you can assume by the absent sun outside the window to your left – one or two hours ago. “Good. I’ve missed you, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing?” you mumble, tired limbs struggling against your bindings in a futile attempt to free yourself. At least it isn’t rope, you muse. Being tied up with thick ropes and subsequently tased until your bones rattled under your skin had been the least fun you’d had six months ago in Venice. The most fun… well. That’d been involving the god before you, teasing him into a frenzy ending in a hushed whisper of salacious promises detailing the things he would do to you if he got you alone. You suppose decision making is definitely not your strength, because after you’d rebuked his filthy whispers with a mere smirk accompanied by a wink, you expected that to be the end of it. Flirting with the enemy can only get you so far.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that day?” Loki inquires, ignoring your question entirely. “When you’d begged so sweetly into my ear for me to fuck you, to take you in the most filthiest of ways? I’ll admit, you rendered me speechless.” He chuckles to himself at the memory as your face flushes.

“I was not begging, and I didn’t mean it,” you respond automatically, the lie tasting like ash as it slips off your tongue. Loki only smirks, making you internally cringe at yourself. No matter how good a liar you might be to any other enemy, your teammates, your friends - you knew you couldn’t lie to him. Not to the God of Mischief.

He’s not just your enemy, a small part of you whispers. You shove the thoughts down before they can gain any traction.

“I should punish you for trying to lie to me,” he glides closer to you, eyes trained on your heaving chest at having him in such close proximity. “Shouldn’t I?”

There’s an unmistakable sound of a blade being unsheathed, your eyes flicking down to his right hand and widening when he produces a dagger from his wrist. It’s long, sharp, the light of the moon reflecting along its blade as it glints at you. You shudder instinctively, fear and arousal licking up your spine the longer your stare lingers on it.

“You were always my favorite,” Loki muses, standing a breath away from you as he draws the knife closer and closer to your body. “So headstrong. Unbreakable. I do look forward to seeing you fall apart for me.”

“Fuck off, Loki,” you snap, pulling against the silk ties at your wrists once more, realizing that they’ve likely been spelled to stay put. You would have been able to break free by now if they weren’t. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. “I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, I know it,” he chuckles darkly. “I can practically smell your fear. The way your body responds so deliciously to it. You’re dripping in spite of it, because of it. And if I did this-“ he raises the sharp edge of the knife up to the base of your throat, dragging it across the length of your clavicle to where it meets your shoulder. You shiver in anticipation, toes curling, and his eyes flash. “-you wouldn’t be able to hide just how much it excites you.”

“Shut up,” You gasp, watching the tip of the blade travel over your shoulder and, with a quick maneuver of Loki’s wrist, tear through the fabric of your top. “God, Loki, what the fuck?”

“Don’t act like you’re not aroused by the feeling of the steel against your skin alone,” he counters, dragging the blade clean through your top all the way down to its hem, effectively exposing your left side. “Knowing I could hurt you so easily if I applied just-“ he presses the knife’s tip into the delicate skin of covering your rib cage ever so slightly, drawing a shaky breath from you as you feel the rush of arousal flood between your legs. “-the right amount of pressure. Your body betrays you, little mortal.”

“You’re sadistic.” You breathe, unable to deny the urge to clench your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“Maybe,” Loki simply chuckles, pulling the knife away from you and flipping it between his nimble fingers in a way that makes your eyelids flutter and your heart race. His left hand travels up your other side, drawing your top above your breasts, gathering the material in his hand as he yanks you close. “But you love it, don’t you?”

You have no time to answer before his lips connect with yours, teeth biting at your lips and tongue curling around yours as you gasp into his mouth. The taste of his tongue sends you into a tailspin, wrists straining not just to escape, but to bury themselves into his raven hair and drag him closer. You chastise yourself for feeling this way, but when Loki pulls away and promptly lowers to his knees before you, your mind goes blank.

“Fuck,” you whisper, watching with wide eyes as he takes his knife and cuts straight through your flimsy jeans, waistline to ankle. You hope he doesn’t notice the way you tremble in excitement ever so slightly, but when you hear him hum quietly in approval, you realize it’s useless to try to hide it from him. Well, he is a god, you muse.

“There it is,” he murmurs, lithe fingers teasing at your skin as he cuts your jeans completely off of you, tossing the remaining scraps of it somewhere to his left. “You’re lovely when you give in, darling.”

“I won’t, you bastard,” you curse, shutting your eyes tightly and tilting your head back in an effort to delay the inevitable.

“You will.” He promises, and you feel the tip of the blade dance up your ankle, over your knee, pausing at your thigh as he brings it inwards towards your femoral artery, before passing over the crevice between where your thigh meets your sex to play at your hip bone. Loki lightly traces indiscernible patterns along your skin with the knife, and your spine alights with pleasure as heat builds in your core. He’s teasing, building up to something else, and you know it by the way he growls as he senses you becoming more and more aroused by the second, trading the knife for both his hands as he pries your thighs apart as far as they can go in your position. Your eyes snap open at the feeling of his hands on you, so close to where you want him, so close to where he’s very capable of making you give in.

The last coherent thought you have is about how you can no longer feel the tightness of silk binding your ankles, but the last thing you feel is Loki’s dark chuckle against your thigh before he dives in.

His tongue plunges deep into your pussy, lithe digits holding you open for him as your thighs shake and your legs ache to be released, to wrap around his head and squeeze in retaliation for this assault of pleasure. He pulls away just enough to raise his dark eyes up to yours, a sly grin dancing across his lips.

“Oh, Agent... Your cunt tastes absolutely divine.” Loki purrs, long tongue flicking out of his mouth to catch your essence spread across his lips. No sooner after, he dives back in, the wet muscle of his tongue flicking against your clit and urging your hips to arch into his mouth. He drinks from you voraciously, hungrily, a man starved of touch for so long that he can’t get enough when he finally has it.

“I wonder if your precious Avengers know just how sweetly you moan for their enemy,” he coos into your thigh as he takes a moment’s pause. “I wonder if maybe I should make them watch, next time. Watch you come apart at my touch, my tongue.”

The feral expression on his face as he devours you combined with the sounds of your slick heat between your legs in response to his ministrations causes you to let out a high pitched moan, jerking your hips wildly, to which Loki simply buries his face further into your folds. He wrenches your thighs even further apart and wraps your legs around his neck, ankles crossed between his shoulder blades as you clench around his tongue while his hands press bruises into your thighs. You’re helpless in resisting, taut body tensing above him as you hurtle towards your peak at an alarming rate.

“I feel you holding back, darling,” he murmurs against you, the rumble of his voice rippling through you like an electric shock. You let out a gasp when he inserts a long finger up and into you, making you tremble with delirious pleasure as you give another sharp moan. “Let go for me. Give in. Let me make you come.”

You squeak when he pushes another finger into your wet heat, stretching you open as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, your body unable to hold your release in any longer as you come apart in a wave of unbridled passion. You’re nearly bent backwards in half, Loki’s arms holding you up by your quivering thighs as you come into his mouth. He laps at you greedily, emitting growls that reverberate against your pussy, drawing whimpering moans from you when it only seems to prolong your orgasm. You’re lost in rapture, hands grasping for something to hold onto in an attempt to stay grounded but coming up with nothing but cold air and the sensation of silk on your wrists.

Loki’s already gazing up at you with darkened eyes, fingers lazily pumping in and out of you as you come down from your high. “Feel good, do you? You sang so beautifully for me, little mortal.”

You huff indignantly, narrowed eyes lowering to meet his blown pupils that surely mirror your own. “Don’t think this means anything.”

“It’s valiant of you to believe you aren’t already mine.” Loki hisses, dragging his fingers out of you and, as he rises from his feet, abruptly shoving them into your mouth. You inhale sharply around his fingers, the taste of yourself on your tongue jarring and intensified by his face nearing yours once more. Your eyes lock, and the challenge in his stare nearly makes you submit completely. Nearly.

Eyes still trained on his, you throw him a salacious wink before circling your tongue around his fingers, lightly sucking them into your mouth as you watch his stare grow darker and his breathing become heavier.

“Oh,” Loki rasps, voice thick with arousal. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

Abruptly once more, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and winks in retaliation as he licks the rest of you off himself, humming in delight as he tastes the mix of your cum and saliva on his tongue. With the same hand, he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back to look up at him. A pang of arousal shoots through you and you let out a quiet whimper, Loki’s breath fanning across your face as his eyes scan your features.

“You want it, don’t you?” He beckons in a low voice, removing his hand from your hair to grip your jaw with bruising pressure. “You want my cock so deep in you that you see stars.”

With your breath trembling, you mutter what you hope comes off as an affirmation in a moment of pleasure-induced weakness. You take his satisfied smirk as confirmation that it did.

“Now,” he purrs into your ear, lips tracing down the length of your jawline and up to your mouth. You’re shaking with it, this need that could only be sated by his touch and his alone. “Are you mine?”

You’re breathless, aching for more – of his tongue, his lips, his cock. You manage to shoot him a sly smirk of your own, craning your neck towards him to whisper in his ear. You know the answer, and he knows it too, but you don’t pass up an opportunity to make just one more ill-advised decision.

“Why don’t you untie me and find out?”

#marvel fanfic #marvel smut #loki laufeyson #loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #okay if this is terrible im sorry ksldflsdk #kva writes

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angelisverba · 4 years

Text

golden

in which y/n’s life is dark, but the fae king sees she’s golden.

word count: 12k

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: allusion to suicidal thoughts, angst, & a very sad reader.

note: This is my fic for the #FineLineFicChallenge that @hsogolden is hosting. I submitted for Golden! Enjoy :)

It was a known fact, that one isn’t to mess with the Fae.

Don’t try to communicate with them.

Don’t try to find them.

Don’t do anything with them.

Masters of twisting the truth because they cannot tell lies, the ethereal beings were dangerous in the sense that they cared not for anything but their own interest. If they wanted your lover, they would do everything to take them from you.

But y/n wasn’t one to listen to the rules.

Especially one that promised her a better life, at no cost other than to seek it.

Her life wasn’t exactly shit, but it also wasn’t enjoyable. It was bland. And, to put it straight, lonely.

She had no family, and no friends or lovers. Life had made surviving her number one priority, and bouncing from job to job her favorite hobby. The girl lived in an apartment that had her feeling like a heroin addict, and she’d never had a dose of drugs in her life that wasn’t Tylenol. And, well, she had the looks of one; a feral, dead look in her eye accompanied with a malnourished body from eating what her pocket change allowed her to: ramen noodles.

It was pathetic. She had to shower using a cup because the overhead didn’t work, and she couldn’t sit because the bathtub was full of rust on the edges. Her walls were cracked and at night there was a faint scratching of nails in the ceiling. The sink was missing a knob, the light bulb in the mini-fridge didn’t work, and neither did the one in her room.

But, she couldn’t complain because it was all she could afford. Y/n was grateful that she had a roof over her head, even if it was infested with rats, and the cheapest, tattered clothes on her back. At least she had food, water, clothes, and a home, right? Even if it was the worst quality and her unfortunate state of mind made it worse?

View it however, she was done. Had been for a long time, but she didn’t really know how to stop, how to live a new life.

Until that night.

* * *

* **

It was another lonely night for y/n, and those she usually spent in chic bars she would never be able to afford, sipping on drinks and observing. Learning; mentally taking notes of how rich people lived their lives and all the mannerisms that came with it because maybe, just maybe, if she acted like one, she’d be one. That dainty toss of the wrist, the graceful, hypnotizing tilt of the chin that told a man you were interested.

She didn’t dress like she was going to the bar, which made her stick out like a sore thumb in the high-ceiling, leather-furnished, glass-walled place, and she didn’t drink alcoholic beverages. She sat at the far end of the bar counter, sipping on a glass of tap water the bartender gave her because he pitied her, and watched. That last part didn’t really matter because it turned out, rich people got more drunk than people with less money than them-- a blacked out woman (or three) ending up on the marble floors at the end of their outing. Men never tried to talk to her because she always showed up in ragged jeans and shirts with holes in them, and women wouldn’t even look her way.

That is of course, until another dead-eyed person walked up to the counter.

She was a Scottish woman, or maybe Irish-- y/n couldn’t remember much. Only that she talked of fairies prancing and singing around mushroom tops and a fairy king that got angry when she said thank you. Drunken slurs, that were only made more incomprehensible by her accent, spilled from her lips at the first sip of brandy, and at the sound of her foreign tone, y/n’s ears perked to hang onto every word.

“Never in my forty two years of putrid life did I see something like that, and I doubt I ever will again.” The woman said to the bartender. She was wearing a sleeveless cardigan the color of hazelnuts when they’ve fallen off trees, decorated with golden medallions that jingled every time she moved her shoulders. Big, was an appropriate word to describe her hair; voluminous, blown out Barbie waves that plumped at the top of her head and bounced all down her back to end at her hips. Her eyes were an engaging amber color, the kohl black charcoal on her eyelids enhancing them like boiling magma, the reddish-brown shade in stark similarity with the blood-red shade of paint on her thick lips. “Dance with us, to your heart's content, so fun you’ll want to never stop, them little brats tried to get me, they did! If it hadn’t been for the Fae King, well--” she huffed, a jerking movement with her entire body, “-- I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”

The bartender, a middle-aged man in a flannel with a 5 o’clock shadow sprinkled on the lower half of his face, pursed his lips and rolled his eyes as he wiped down a shot glass with a rag. “Sure as hell never seen a drunk lady talk about faeries before. Santa Claus? Sure, but faeries? You must be on some heavy stuff, ma’am.”

Y/n was staring into the center of her glass, watching the water ripple, strangely comforted by the slow movement of the liquid; her fingers tapped rhythmically at the ridges molded into the edges of the cup. It looked as if she wasn’t paying attention, with eyes cast downwards, but every inch of her was standing on edge, eager for a story. Essentially, this was the reason why she came to these bars when she felt like it, to catch a story; be entertained. Her own life wasn’t enough, she needed more, even if it didn’t belong to her.

“Aye, lassie!” shouted the woman, lifting her glass with a pointed finger towards the lonely girl at the other end of the bar.

At her loud exclamation, y/n glanced up to see what was the cause of the remark, and found the woman looking at her with a peculiar, interested look in her eye. Y/n twisted to look behind her, oblivious that the woman’s true subject was her. Expecting someone to be standing where the woman pointed, she returned to her original position, confused.

“Lassie, it’s you I’m talkin’ to, listen to this tube, says faeries aren’t real. You believe me don’t you?”

Because the feeling of humor was so scarce in her life, it had turned into a strange and foreign feeling rendering her useless in how to react-- and while y/n found the woman humorous in her drunken ramblings, she wasn’t quite sure how to express it. A wormy smile played on her lips as she nodded her response, the bartender throwing her a bewildered look because it was the first time he’d seen her interact with anyone other than him.

“Well den, I guess you’ll listen to me, won't you? I’ve gotto tell sumone or I’ll go radge.” The woman throws her head back and finishes what’s left of her drink, wiggling two fingers at the bartender to signal: she wants another. Y/n watches from her seat as the lady hops off her seat, one hand on the counter to keep her standing as she wobbles over in her direction; the medallions on her cardigan tinkling with every swish of her hips. When she stood, the dull heels of her knee high boots slapped against the sleek floor, the noise making y/n jump.

“Listen, here,” she sat on the empty bar stool next to y/n with a labored huff, “don’t you ever go walking round the woods on a full moon. My own mother been telling me that since I was on her tit, and I should have listened.” Her tone was slightly spiteful, and exasperated at her own action. She made the same gesture at the young girl, two long-nailed fingers curling and drawing y/n closer to her, as if she was going to tell her a secret.

Never go walking in the woods on a full moon.

“The trees- they speak. Got ears I’m telling ya,” The woman’s voice rasped at her hushed tone. “Will o’ wisps are sweet talkers, I’m telling ya!”

Y/n bit her lip in efforts to keep a building laugh in. The stranger didn’t look at all drunk, she was in complete control of her facial features, and her voice was funky because y/n wasn’t used to the accent. If it hadn’t been for the tell-tale empty glasses she kept generating, one wouldn’t even be able to tell.

Finally deciding to propel the conversation further, she said, “Is that so?”

“Swear on the Fae King himself, I do! Told me to find the mushrooms for a good time, coz I was out for a piss half mad with moonshine. Knew what they were doin, they did. I thought they meant those that make ya loopy, shite don’t even know what made me listen to them.” She grumbles the last part to herself, her chin tilting down to touch her chest as she frowns.

“What happened next?” Y/n asked, propping her chin on the flat of her palm.

The woman looked up, startled like she’d forgotten there was someone there. “Next? Next…. Next, oh yes!” Crossing her legs, she angled her body sideways to y/n. “Will o’ wisps said to walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms and I did! I did! And, and it got me to the fairy realm. ‘Course I didn’t know until after the king himself told me. But this... this circle of sky opened up-- like,” her head tilts to the side as she thinks of ways to form her thoughts into words. “Like the sky fell and was standing before me. Go through it and find eternal happiness, they told me.”

Walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms. Go through it and find eternal happiness.

As soon as those words left the Scottish woman’s lips, y/n was hooked. A part of herself that had slowly been locked away throughout her pitiful, self-depreciating life, and, that part of her came to life-- it bloomed awake, triggered by the words eternal happiness. An earth-shattering revival.If this woman wasn’t spitting shit, then… this was her chance.

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her voice went soft and hazy, recalling the images of a far away land. “It was green… everywhere. And the flowers were alive.” She snaps back into a more solid tone, “They fairies were too-faced little bitches, though.”

Y/n nodded, noting and agreeing. “Tell me more.”

Needing to further probing, the tales continued. “They tried to get me to eat, to dance. And I nearly did, you know? I would have, had it not been for the king… I’d be dead.” The bartender slid a glass their way, a manicured hand reaching to catch it without turning to look at it. “He saved me from them. He apologized for his subjects actions, even housed me for the night, and escorted me out the next day. Mentioned something about…” Her head cocked, eyes squinting. “A star telling him not to wipe fairy dust against my forehead to make me think it was just a dream.”

Someone in the distance dropped a glass, and a shattering noise was heard; reduced to a meager tinkle. The bartender whipped his towel in anger, and went to see what the fuss was about.

“He was truly… well I can’t even explain it. You’d have to see it with y’own eyes.”

Y/n tapped her forefinger on the plushy center of her lips three times before saying, “And, what exactly do I have to do to see it with my own eyes?”

The question simmered in unknown waters while the woman registered what y/n had asked. It was clear; the transition of her eyes going from unfocused and dazed to serious.

“Why, lass, would you want to find those piece of shites?” Her head bobbled. “After I just-”

“I just wanted to hear you tell the story, that’s all.” Y/n shot to respond, set on getting the stranger to tell her how to get to the fairy realm. Every atom in her buzzed with friction against each other, excited, elated to have what basically a reason to life again. What Wonderland was to Alice, this was to her.

A rabbit hole.

“Legend goes that if a pure-hearted being leaves offerings for the Fae, the Fae may respond. This is why lil’ tikes always talk about, having dem-- imaginary friends. They’re fairies-- they friend, that is. Fae people show themselves to children because they’re pure. Maidens before their wedding night, if desolate, go missing in the woods because the fairies take them. As for me? They wanted to take advantage of me. It’s process; fickle people they are.” A hand waves in the air, brushing away intrusive thoughts. Y/n leaned further into the woman, lips pursed in interest. “Anyways, my mother, her mother and her mother’s mother, have all had encounters with them after long periods of offerings of home-made foods, and planting flowers in the woods. Slowly, over-time, they gather the courage to show themselves. But, what happened to me was the Summoning of the Full-Moon. And- HEY! ‘Nother one please.” She repeats the same motion from before, sliding back the empty glass.

“What is the Summoning of the Full-Moon?” Tapping her fingers to attract her attention again, y/n’s eyes follow the woman’s desperately.

“Right, right. Fleet aren’t you?” She chuckled. “The Summoning of the Full-Moon happens when the moon is full, and you drink a glass of moonwater from the past full moon. To get the moon water, just leave out a pitcher of water in clear view of the moon when it’s full, that way, when the next full one comes around, you drink a glass. The moon charges the water with it’s energy, and it’ll give ya’ the ability to see will’o wisps.”

The bartender slid another glass, and the woman took a swig before continuing. “Will ‘o wisps are spirits that appear as floating blue flames of fire, usually three atta time at first; one disheartening and appearing behind the last as you move closer to them. They guide travelers, y’see? They lead you to what your heart wants the most-- or wherever destiny takes you-- depends on which one is mighty. It all takes off from there.” At her last words, the small glass listed, and slammed back down empty.

Y/n nodded slowly, absorbing the information that was unloaded on her. Moon water. Will o’ wips. But,

“What happens next?”

“It’s up to Destiny and wherever She wants ta take ya, lass.” The woman winked, her long, curled lashes fluttering closed momentarily. “Of course, that is if we’re talking about a hypothetical situation, isn’t it?”

Y/n was about to give a flustered response, when a man decked out in a black and white suit, with shades, an earpiece and slicked-back dark hair, tapped the woman on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. The woman lifted a hand and dropped her eyes to the floor, directing some but not all attention to the man. An abrupt change in her voice sends shivers down y/n’s spine; the friendly rasp converting into a chilling, demanding scorn. “Tell Alex he’ll lose 30k from his next check if he doesn’t fix this in an hour. I’ll be out as soon as I wrap up the lovely conversation I’m having with this lassie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The man says, nodding and walking the way he came.

Lifting her eyes from their casted gaze, the woman locks with y/n’s curious, seeking eyes, and sees. She understands now. The questioning. The peaking glint of interest.

It makes sense.

“Play your cards right, child.” The woman sighed, her voice suddenly ages older than she seemed. “Play them right, and you’ll find eternal happiness… but, make one wrong move and you’ll screw yourself over forever.”

Then she got up and left. Feet landing one after the other with a firm stance, and a swagger in her walk that hadn’t been there before.

Strange, y/n thought. How quick her demeanor went from drunk to composed. After that fleeting thought came a tsunami of questions. What was she doing in the woods? What woods? What dis the woman take with her?

But it was too late because the was far gone, and she was left to sit and ponder the countless outcomes that could come if she were to go through with this. For one, eternal happiness. It’s natural for anyone to try and seek it. Who wouldn’t? Especially y/n, who’d been deprived of dopamine for... well, forever. Her childhood was about as good as her current life. Parents who yelled at each other, and at her, leaving her only company to be the stray cats that would lick the tears off of her cheeks; raspy tongues eliciting giggles from the small girl. It was a treasure, what she had found.

She would be stupid if she didn’t at least try.

* * *

* **

Y/n left her measly apartment on a day where the clouds looked like objects you could pluck from the sky; fluffy, white cotton shapes that overlapped and left small sifts of space where the sun shone through in beams. All was shadowed with soft colors; rough edges turned tender, perfectly appropriate for the way the giddy girl felt inside. Floaty, heady, and delicate with a skip in her step. Aloof with happiness and a tickle in her rib. She no longer cared about anything. The latter was true. She didn’t even tell her landlord she was leaving, or anyone else for that matter. Everything that belonged to her and truly significant, was inside a wicker basket she tucked in the crease of her elbow. Food, and a blanket because she wasn’t sure how long she’d be waiting for the Fae to respond.

The Fae.

After extensive research at her local public library, y/n realized how… complex these creatures were. It was no joke was she was getting into, and the Scottish woman has been right. Make one wrong move, and it was over. The ethereal beings had the power to make the rest of her life living hell if she messed up before eating their food.

Eating their food,

was all she had to do

to stay.

Bound by whatever magic they possessed, she wouldn’t be able to leave the Fae realm if-- when-- she bit into something from their world. Like giving your soul to the devil, but instead it was faeries who pranced in delight, not flames. This promise, this reward had restored something in y/n that hadn’t been there in years. Child-like glee, innocence, purity. Call it what you want. But it was there; a fresh sprite in her soul. Restoration of a youthful essence.

But it was there, and it was back twice as strong as when it previously existed in her. Ignited by the words she drank from her computer screen; early morning rises to the library, and late night walks home after closing time fueled her through two months. The first, she dedicated to attaining a jar of moon-charged water.

There was a mason jar in her cabinet that she used to eat blueberries and milk in, which was the only portable-type cup she had. The night before a full moon, she filled it with tap water, and set it on her window sill. For the first three hours into the dark, y/n watched the moonlight dance in the water like the aurora borealis. Her eyes would focus and unfocus with possibilities of her future; the possibilities of her eternal future extending from the tips of her toes like the yellow brick road. Images of dewy meadows and heart-shaped ponds full of lilies flooded her mind. Willow trees and flowers to make flower crowns and tea out of. She wanted it. Wanted to live among the Fae, and wander aimlessly with beauty and prose.

She yearned for it.

Y/n woke the next day with a jar of... water. It didn’t look any different then from when she poured it into the cup, other than the fact that the glass was dewy from the cold of the night. Her fingerprints decorated the sides where she gripped it, and after bringing it up to her eyes for closer inspection, she set it on her pillow, and left for the library.

Her seek of Fae knowledge continued, with more vigor now that she’d acquired the water. Everyday consisted of books, online pages, audiobooks; anything she found she ate up like she was starving for it.

And in some ways, she was.

Swallowing more that could fit in her mouth, y/n came to learn that the Fae weren’t exactly the comforting go-lucky deities she’d come to perceive them as. Beautiful, sure, but not all of them. And certainly not sweet.

Anything, but sweet. Y/n found that faeries were actually formidable creatures that enjoyed watching trouble develop. Legend has it, that the Fae were those caught in the in-between land at the time God shut the gates of heaven, and Lucifer trapped demons in hell. They could be angels or demons; fallen angels, outcasts, forgotten on the human plane. Belief in angelic behavior is reported, but lesser than the haunting actions, or bewitching incidents. It was a blind treasure hunt, the one she was getting herself into.

However, it she wouldn’t let that stop her. In some ways, she felt entitled to an explanation, a slice of truth; and answer. It would be an act of sadism to derive her of euphoria after she’d lived so, so shitty. She owes it to herself to seek them out.

Even if they could haunt her forever, take her first born, and or make her dance until her feet were reduced to stubs, she needed to look. Anything would be better than her reality.

Her adventure started with the seek of Rowan trees, sacred trees commonly associated with the Seelie court, the lesser malicious group of fairies. If... her expectations are even a fraction real, then she’s set. Good to go. Safe.

Or at least, once she found them she would be safe. The woods before sunset were enchanting, with golden tones littering the leaves and bark with glittering light. Pieces of peach-colored sky peeking through the empty spaces in the tree canopy, shadows dancing on her skin with every giddy step she took. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, only that she was looking for the Rowan trees, and the increasing amount of flowers was a good sign (according to the internet). It had been about an hour since she went off the set trail, the ground growing more unleveled with each step. Squirrels and rabbit would scurry across her way every time a branch cracked underneath her feet, and since her eyes were set on the shrubby part of the trees-- looking for the tell-tale red berries of the trees she was looking for-- the furry animals skittered more often than nought.

Slowly, the sun snuggled deep in the horizon, and the remaining light shifted to created harshly shadowed edges on the trees. This prompted y/n to panic, her searching eyes growing faster in their movements. No, no, no, it couldn’t be dark yet. She hadn’t found the trees yet. It would be dark with....

With no light to light her way.

Light. Small flames of blue light, was what the Scottish woman said the Will ‘o wisps were. And to see them, all she had to do is drink the moon water.

The moon water that was in her wicker basket.

With the last of the sun floating away, y/n hurried to flip open the top of her basket, deft fingers dipping in to wrap around the cool mason jar. She screwed it open, lifting it to her lips and taking two generous mouthfuls of the water. She needed to sip at it cautiously, because the offering acceptance took time, and she’d need more than one night to work this out.

To find her way back to whatever spot the spirits took her, she’d need the water. There would be no waiting at the gates of the realm, given that the faeries were suspicious creatures, and it would take time for them to judge and be comfortable around her; deem her a pure maiden at heart. Hovering in the area where she placed her gift would jeopardize any chance at them accepting, or even considering her entrance into the realm

She would have to be patient. And she would be.

Y/n was full of buzzing energy and she let her eyes adjust to the growing darkness. The sun had gone down completely. The trees reduced to smeared shadows and mysterious shapes. Her skin was victim to a crisper kind of air- the cold having a sharper edge to it in the absence of sun. The moon shone brightly, she could see it through the same spaces where the sun had shown through; a milky-white face in the sky, frozen mid-yawn, and though her light was strong, it wasn’t enough to penetrate through the wood’s thick roof of leaves.

The path space that formed in the gaps of the trees, was cloaked in a pitch blanket, general figures of branches and trees ghosting in her squinted line of vision. Shivering, she shrugged the quilt she carried onto her shoulders, and it was when huddled into herself when she heard the first whisper.

We hear you.

It was one voice; one whisper. And hundreds resonating behind it. A small, shy, wispy call out to her, sounding as if it were right at the lobe of her ear.

Y/n is startled, and she jumps, clutching her fists tighter towards her chest, the basket digging into her hip and chafing on the skin in the crook of her elbow, but she doesn’t pay any mind to it because holy shit it’s happening.

Often reported, the wisps whisper or make high pitched whirring noises to catch the attention of the traveler. This was it. What she was hearing, was the calling. The will o’ wisps.

Her head whipped wildly from side to side, searching for the hovering blue and it’s incandescence. Eyes wide with seeking fervor, lips parted as puffs of air left her lips when her chest came down, y/n felt a rush of adrenaline course through her spine.

“Who can hear me?”

Suddenly, a flashing burst of electric blue color appeared in the distance, about 10 steps away from her current position. She gasped at the sudden outbreak, her eyes stretching to their maximum diameter. All the inklings of doubt that had seeded themselves in her break uprooted and flew in the wind; gone. Real. It was all real.

And she was doing it. She was helping herself. Providing to her soul what she couldn’t for years: happiness. The mere appearance of these spheres entities sent a buzz of ecstasy to the center of her core because they were real and she was really doing this.

I can

Three chants of ‘I can’ tinkled, one after the other, appearing with every she took towards the spirit. Her knees shook slightly, goosebumps prickling on her knees with every movement. Eerily, branches crack underneath the soles of her shoes, and she can feel the dispersion of energy against her feet when the wood cracks. With the lack of sun, and how she’s so hypnotized by the will o’ wisps, she doesn’t see the thick hump of tree root sticking out from the ground, the tip of her shoe catching on it and causing her to fall fly forward and dig her nose in the dirt. The basket gets crushed between the dirt and her hip, the abrupt and uncontrolled pressure eliciting a pained yelp from her. Her hand comes out stiffly from underneath the blanket, rushing to push herself back up and relieve the intrusion. As she’s hissing, the dreamy, other-worldly whispers say,

Oh no

Are you okay?

Are you still able,

To come and play?

Smaller, quieter, different toned whispers echo each murmuring, creating a dizzying, mind-spinning effect. To a certain extent, it disoriented her. But the tender, cooing voices smoothed over her unease and comforter her. Encouraged her, even.

Huffing, y/n dragged her dungaree covered knees underneath her, and sat kneeled for a moment.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She panted, the experience amazing her. “Who are you?”

She stood again, feeling her dented basket with her other hand while she waited for a response.

We are messengers of Destiny

We will take you

To what your heart wants most

Be quick, Your Majesty

They won’t way forever

Your Majesty? Now why on earth would they call her that? Befounded, she walked with cautious steps towards the first spirit, and tried to caress it with her fingertips. She wanted to feel it, hold it. But alas, as soon as her hand got close, it disappeared as quickly as it came, and reappeared behind the other two that were in line. The trio produced a bio-luminescent radiance that would surely stump any scientist who tried to explain the logic behind it. There simply was no other reasoning to the phenomenon, other than it was magic.

She knew that. Could feel the altered tensions in the proximity of the will ‘o wisps, calmer and still where they were. Beats of her heart pounded where her tongue lay, dry, in her mouth. She wasn’t royalty.

“Why are you calling me that? Why… why are you calling me your majesty?” Y/n stared intently to the very core of the wisps, noticing the change of color at the center. White flickers of tiny bodily shapes, like the spirits were dancing idly in their own capsule of light.

Destiny calls you so

Destiny yearns for you

You’re almost there

Be quick, Your Majesty

She didn’t understand. Your Majesty, was a title reserved for royals wasn’t it? She was not one. In the midst of her confused and amazed state, a lineage of wisps appeared behind the third one, creating a long path that went straight and then made an abrupt turn left. Enchanted, she followed in a zombie-like state. This was real and it was happening. It was real because her nose was bitten-raw from the cold and her nails pinched into the skin of her palm. Pain didn’t exist in dreams, and her hip still ached where the basket has pressed against it.

This wasn’t a dream.

Will ‘o the wisps flickered in their formation, bursting away when she came into proximity. The exhilarating thrill of attempting to catch; chasing, is what caused her to let out a squeaky giggle that eventually grew into harmonious laughter. Light, gleeful chortles bounced between the trees, and if anyone were to hear here from a distance they’d surely think the woods were haunted.

Eventually, she reached the turn, and was set onto a winding, twisting road of curving blue light. Y/n was light on her feet, raising them high and setting firmly on the ground. She began to run.

She ran and ran until her throat went dry, her lungs burned, and her thighs ached; body begging for a break, heart high on the drug of hope. Every slight twist in the wood only motivated her further, coaxing her towards her end target of… wherever the wisps were taking her. She was so submerged in the task of following that she was quite surprised when she arrived at a clearing; a circular space where the trees curved around, almost respectfully. The wisps made a beeline towards the middle, where they made the same pattern the trees did, forming a circle around a ring of mushrooms.

It was almost comical, the way the red-topped, white-dotted mushroom were arranged in a circle big enough to lay, sprawled, in the middle.

You’ve made it

You’re here

Destiny wishes you luck

Stay strong, Your Majesty

And then, they dissipated; flip of a switch and the lights were off.

For two days, she waited. The first night, she layed her homemade thumbprint cookies and honey in the center of the ring, leaving a sweet kiss on the wooden plate, and walked aimlessly until the balls of her feet ached. It wasn’t that far, because she had already done so much walking, and the girl was drained from the events she’d witnessed. Y/n settled in an alcove of tree roots, wrapping herself snug with her quilt but shivering despite her efforts. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she waited until the morning, wanting to make the food she brought last as long as possible.

She woke with the faint images of golden petals floating around her, faeries dusting shimmering substances on the top of her head, and a demanding grumble in her stomach. The dirt underneath her hand was soft, dipping in where her the pad of her fingers dug in to push herself up. Instantly, she was met with the feeling of something wet striping up her cheek, a sniffing like noise filtering through her ears.

Blinking, y/n groggily turns her hear, and comes face to face with... a pig. It snorts when it see her move, sitting back on it’s haunches and looking up at her with bunched cheeks so it looked like it was smiling. Y/n’s jaw dropped in shock. Where had this pig come from?

It’s pink skin was a cool contrast in the light of the late-morning sun (y/n was never much of an early riser), and upon closer inspection, she saw the pig was a he. His nose was twitching with interest at the stranger he’s encountered. Ears floppy, bent and jiggling with every call squeal he exhibited, hooves half dug into the dirt. He watched patiently, inspecting and almost waiting for orders.

“Where’d you come from?” She asked, intrigued at his presence. They both shared a small moment of staring at each other in wonder until her stomach emitted a stale gurgle, pleading for food. The piglet (which he was, given his small stature and clean snout), squealed again, standing up with a jump and walking around in a circle three times, chasing after it’s curly tail before stilling, with his rump facing y/n. He began to walk backwards, continuing until his back legs came up on her lap, and he plopped himself down, tilting his head up with a pleasant smile, while y/n stared at the small creature, astounded.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” She said with a light giggle, reaching with one hand for her basket, and the other to pet the small thing’s head. She might as well embrace him, so she had company.

The basket was right by her shoulders while she lay, meaning it was now behind her because she had sat up. Clutching the pig so he wouldn’t fall out of her lap while she moved, she twisted her upper body to grab the basket, and the pig adjusted himself, pressing his two front feet onto her lep repeatedly. Making shushing noises, she flipped open the wicker flap, and reached in to grab whatever she found.

A sleeve of ritz crackers, that she ripped open eagerly, popping the first cookie into her mouth. Chewing, she looked around for the first time that day.

She was surrounded by much, much bigger trees than the ones she was venturing in the day before. Tall, brooding giants; rows and rows of trunks thicker than her wingspan and arching branches casting shadows on those who walked underneath. Might and wise, but silent and still. And intimidating network of roots on the ground mirrored the intertwining leaves above her, so high up she had to throw her head all the way back to see the expanse.

Breathtaking, is what it was. Y/n hadn’t been this connected with nature since that field trip she took with her third grade class to the blooming tulip meadows. She appreciated their presence, basked in the beams of light that shone through and grazed over the grass and moss on the trees. She even stopped eating, transfixed by the image before her, and she would have continued pondering in the glorious, godly image of greens and brown had the pig in her lap not shifted to sniff at her hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing down at his curious tilted head. “Want some crackers, too?” Y/n wriggles her fingers into the brown packaging and took out two cookies, setting one on her tongue and extending the other towards the pig. He sniffs at it, his snout twitching, before cocking his head and picking it up with the side of his mouth. The pig gets close to her, placing the flat underside of his chin in the groove of her neck, snorting appreciatively.

“You’re a cute one,” she hums more to herself, tracing the pads of her fingers on the piggy’s back.

They fall asleep like that again, after y/n had finished the sleeve of crackers. The girl so calmed by the image presented in front of her, she slipped into a light slumber, the breeze and waving sheets of leaves lulling her eyes closed.

She spent the day like that, rationing her food, and sleeping, the pig switching positions from her lap, to her side, and eventually by her feet. The thick quilt she had brought stayed on her shoulders at all times, keeping her warm in the crispy forest air.

Nearing the sunset again, a butterfly landed on the tip of her nose, stretching its wings and tickling her awake. Her eyes fluttered opened when everything around her was lit a golden haze; the tell-tale sign that the sunset was near, and so was the night. The blue butterfly flew away when she took the first breath, and she watched it fly away with hazy eyes, not fully awake and aware yet.

Y/n jumped when the piglet let out a squeal, and upon looking down, she saw that he had remained settled into her side while she slept.

With a smile on her lips as she placed her hands on her back to stretch, she said, “Well, hello there!” She patted his head, and he leaned into her touch. “You stayed!”

The pig smiled, which sounds ridiculous but his lips really turned upwards, filling his eyes with a glint, and squealed his response. Y/n’s heart warmed at the sweet animal, happy that she had company and wasn’t alone. Her friends, she realized, had always been furry. Animals were the only beings that were ever welcoming of her, treasured her presence, and reciprocated the love she had to offer.

“Will you stay through the night as well?” The girl remarked, scratching behind the piglet’s ears. “I sure hope so.” A sad look took over her face, the corners of her lips pinching downwards as a sudden wave of forlorn thoughts washed over her.

She was sitting in the forest, all by herself, following after a drunk woman’s rants because that it what her dissatisfaction led her to. That’s how much she lacked. That’s how much she yearned for. It goes to show the large chunk that was missing, because she had no second thoughts about doing so. It hurt, knowing no one would worry about her, and that she had nothing to regret leaving.

As if sensing her unease, the pig started bucking up into her hand, his snout blowing onto her palm and tickling her skin. The action made her laugh, her first genuine, comfortable laugh at an act of humor. A deep, belly chuckle that made her cheeks hurt.

She had learned to laugh again.

Y/n got up from her spot on the forest floor, and stretched with her arms reaching towards the canopy, fingers splaying and tightening the skin between them. Taking a deep breath, the corner of her lip quirked up in her smile.

Night two was underway and she was ready.

With her furry companion, the girl picked her basket up and began her walk in the general direction of her arrival. It was hard to tell, because it was pitch black when she made it to her spot, but either way she walked far enough that she would need guidance from the wisps to get back on the correct track.

The sun repeated the same routine it had the day before, splashing an assortment of colors on tree bark and leaves, streaking the sky wild orange taints and soft blues to contrast. It was ethereal image, the one she was witnessing. Like something out of a documentary, except she was there, seeing it with her own eyes.

Her neck was starting to hurt with how much she craned it to see the mesh of vibrancy in the sky, and the piglet alongside her had often bumped it’s small snout on her ankle when she stopped moving to gaze. When night finally came, the moon was a partly eaten up by shadow, her color less vibrant that the day before. But it was fine, because according to research, what mattered most was the first offering on the full moon.

Repeating the same steps from last night, y/n took another drink from her glass, and blinked three times exactly, waiting for the wisps to formulate in front of her.

And they did.

But there was something different about it this time. They were quiet, a change from their past fizz of whisper. Confused, y/n tilted her head and tried to speak to the.

“Hello?”

Silence. Not even the whistling sound of their breaths. The wind had stopped, and as the line of blue orbs created a twisting route between the trees, the hairs on y/n’s spine stood on end. The air was charged with... a certain potential that was impossible to miss. A certain static of promise.

Tonight was the night.

As she walked towards the wisps, her footsteps were accompanied by the soft pitters of her tiny friend, stuck by her feet still, despite everything happening around them. Could he see them too? Was her cold? He probably was. If y/n was cold, then he was too. Deciding to not only warm herself up, she took out her blanket and bent down to pick him up, cradling him against her chest and wrapping the blanket around him as well, to which he responded with a cuddle into her neck.

With purpose in her step, the hopeful girl began her journey, following the marked up path left by the wisps. It was, as expected, longer than the first. She had ensured that she was far enough away before settling down for the night.

Nevertheless, she made it to the blue luminescent ring of red-topped mushroom (like the ones from Mario), and stared.

It was apparent, that she had no clue what to do next.

“Now what? Tell me what to do?”

The last wisp, placed in the center of the ring, spoke for all the spirits the first time since they appeared that night.

Destiny had spoken once, She will not speak again.

The knowledge you need to open the realm,

is one you already know.

Furrowing her eyebrows, y/n took a moment to digest the message.

She knew? She knew how to open the gate? The extent of her research only described protocol on fairy manners, what they were like, and what to do in the case of an encounter. Never explicitly the steps to open the realm to meet them. Yet, the wisps said otherwise. They claimed she knew the ways to open the realm.

How could that be true…

OH. The Scottish woman! The Scottish woman had told her exactly what to do. Walk counter-clockwise around the circle of mushrooms.

And that was it.

All she had to do.

Y/n was in the middle of contemplating if she should do it or not, given she had only presented one offering, when she saw the note.

In the middle of the ring, lay a fist sized scroll that was only visible because the last wisp hovered above it. The pig next to her glanced from her to the script, and skipped over to clutch the script with his mouth, and trotted over to give it to her.

The wisps didn’t disappear when the pig approached it, but it raised higher above the ground, above her head and just past that; blue light glowing just a bit brighter.

The girl bent to get the note from the piglet, and gave it a small pat on the head before unrolling the thick paper. It had a very quality feel to it, grooves tickling her finger-pads. The slip, not much better than her hand, read,

the pie was delicious. we are most appreciative of it. proceed.

The black inked scripture widened her eyes, sending a shiver up her spine.

Well, that settled her question. She could, proceed.

And she did. Y/n placed the note in her basket, and picked up her small friend, needing the emotional support. Her lungs expanded in a burning breath, bracing herself for what was to come. No turning back now.

She angled herself so her feet were parallel to the mushroom she was near, and began to walk. Please let me in, please please please let me in. I need this, please. She begged mentally. The girl wasn’t sure what would happen if this went wrong. Her hopes were high, and the crash would be devastating.She begged to whoever would listen; whoever was in charge. Please let me in.

Nothing happened, until she passed her third mushroom.

The remaining will o’ wisp began to expand, it’s light turning a lighter blue color, bubbling out and expanding into a concrete oval, growing in size as she made her way around the ring. The pig in her arms was quiet, not affected by what was going on like he saw it happen everyday, but y/n, on the other hand, was having her mind blown. Her lips were parted as soft breaths came out of them, scared to breathe to her full capacity, watching as the color of light went from blue to yellow. The two colors merging in a gradient shift, the orb growing bigger and larger as water expands when spilled on a flat surface.

Fleeting shadows danced through the portal, like the reflection of birds flying over a lake’s surface.

Y/n picked up the pace on her last round, and a breeze began to blow out her hair. the light from the now door-sized hole turned a golden color; a glittering, metallic shade of yellow that swirled in a spiral at the speed of her steps, dizzying her. The far-away sounds of a child’s giggled resonated through the forest, coming from the golden circle in the ring.

When she stopped at her starting mark at the end of the third rotation, the portal rose higher, higher, higher, and then floated down like a swaying feather in the air, the golden beams of light now shooting skyward.

It came to lay on the grass covered floor, flattening in the area inside the circle of the mushrooms, the gold-lined edge nearly touching the tip of her show.

The front of her face was covered in the golden light, her eyes gleaming in the colored glow. Laughter sounded from it, the sound of music teasingly escaping, low enough that she could hear it over the lapping water noises from the portal.

The pig, still in her arms, began to thrash and squirm, squealing wildly until y/n finally let him go, and he didn’t hesitate to jump in the pool of gold.

“Wait, wait no, n-,” y/n protested, but his curly tail was gone before her hand even attempted to catch him.

After his leap, the portal rippled, and cleared into a calm mustard yellow splashed with... clouds? It was a piece of sky that fell to the ground, just like to woman had said. Without thinking twice about it, she jumped through, just like her friend had done.

Her body was instantly met with a chilling wind, as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes. It was a disorienting feeling of shooting up, and coming back down like she was falling, landing in the same spot where the portal had been, except now it was closed. Her butt ached where is received most of the impact, and y/n groaned as she pushed herself back up, the budging feeling of her basket restricting her arm movement present, but… the weight of her clothing was gone.

And, when she glanced down at her body, it was confirmed that she was bare.

As in, no clothes, no underwear, no bra or panties.

Y/n shrieked.

Who, when, and how had her clothes come off if she hadn’t taken them off herself? She ignored the fact that she was in the fairy realm to cover herself with her hands, glancing up to see who may have seen her, only to view a landscape unlike any other.

Rolling hills, seemingly endless with giant trees on top of each one, bigger than the ones she had slept alongside, with flower-filled valleys and and a crystalline river that cut a path through a hill and disappeared into an arch of trees. Children with elvish features stared up at her from the nearest valley, blue flowers littered in their hair to match the pink color tinted in their cherub cheeks. Brown ad white rabbits alike roamed around her, does grazed in the meadows. The sun was nestled in the horizon, just barely peeking in the dip of two hills, sky the same glittering golden color the portal had been. Everything was untouched by technology. No building or antenna towers, but homes in tree trunks or underneath giant mushrooms.

The faeries were staring at her. All with features a human would posses, but a certain other-worldy-ness regular people didn’t posses.

They were all beautiful, with full lips and striking eye colors to match their leafy outfits pertaining to their niche. Two of them ran up the hill on which she sat, edgy grins on their lips as they approached her with their hands behind their backs. One was dressed in the fluffy feathers of a peacock, black hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, curving up at the nape of his neck. The feathers draped over his shoulders and fanned around his arms, ending just at the end of his wrists so the his hands showed; talons in the place of nails. His lips were beak like, the cupids bow dragging over his bottom lip to imitate a bid’s curved mouth. The other man standing next to his was dressed just the same, except that he had no hair and his ears curved like a ram’s above his head.

Suddenly, her pig friend jumped onto her lap, and began the same squealing as before. Urgent and forbidding, pressing his rump back into her, but leaning forwards as if to ward them off.

“You again, Angus?” The one with the ram horns said, quirking his eyebrow into a perfect arch at the same time his tilted in that direction, giving him a graceful yet mechanical look. Intimidating and cold. His voice was equal to the ear-splitting sound of a fork against plate.

The other one spoke. “How’d you get away from Harry this time, you littl-”

“Pias and Rye? You best stop right there!” Another voice spoke, making y/n twist her heard towards where a crowd had formed in the nearest valley. Mostly creatures with childish features, holding fruits of bunches of petals to their bare chests.

There was a woman, with curly red hair and striking blue eyes. Droplets of water seeped from her skin, collecting at the dress she was wearing, which looked like rippling bodies of water floating above her skin, the placed surrounding her most intimate areas a darker color of water, whereas everything else was translucent. A blob of liquid floated near her head; a crystalline globe of water that contained a golden koi fish that moved on its own around it’s companion, swirling around her unruly red coils of hair.

“Well if it isn’t-”

“I’d shut it, if I were you. Just wait until he hears that you weren’t going to follow protocol. Now, leave.” At her emphasis, her grey eyes flashed bright white momentarily, scaring even y/n, but fulfilling their purposes in warding off the other two fairies. They turned around and left with their prides damaged, turning back to look every other step.

The woman turned to look at y/n, her face transformed into a welcoming smile.

“Hello, my name is Marianne, Welcome to the Fae realm.”

* * *

* **

Marianne took y/n to the river, opposite the way the two other faeries left, and clapped her hands to snap everyone's’ gazes away, while y/n listened to every command with no hesitation.

One their way to the river, y/n was covered in monarch butterflies that flew from a nearby bush, arranging themselves like a skirt on her hips, their wings twitching and fluttering with every step she took. Her top half was taken care of by her pig friend, whom she learned was called Angus, which she clutched to her chest like when they walked around the mushrooms.

Marianne apologized for the other faeries’ behavior, and led her into a giant water lily, holding her hand as she stepped in. The large green leaf coasted down the river, giving y/n a proper sight-seeing experience. They passed by tree roots that elevated above the water’s surface, and passed through the center of a hill like a tunnel. The golden skies seemed to place a filter on everything it touched, making it look like the water held diamonds, and the dew on other floating lilies were pearls. Leafy branched from willow trees on the river bank reached out to touch the newcomer, caressing y/n’s bare shoulder’s as she passed. She watched it all happen with parted lips, intoxicated by the luxurious feeling of magic pouring over her; skin coated in remnants of glittering water from the tips of the tree leaves that dipped in water.

So fixed on the trees and their giant glory, y/n didn’t see the stone castle coming into view from behind the passing green hill; the river turning into the castle’s moat, floating alongside the uneven stone walls patterned different colors from time, sun, and water, but magnificent in it’s ancient glory.

The girl noticed Marianne staring at her, and in her embarrassment, she turned around to attempt to compose herself, but her efforts were thrown away when her eyes found the castle. Romantic, rustic walls covered in curtains of ivy that grew all around. Blinking, y/n gasped as the lily pad came to a stop right before the entrance of the tunnel underneath the bridge, and rose to meet it. She glanced down to see they were off the river’s surface, level with the top of the stone arch. Marianne stepped off, her bare feet stable on the path and she extended a hand for y/n to grab onto.

Stunned, she took hold of the woman’s wet grip, and followed after her, throwing her head back to view the entirety of the castle. Windows with no glass carved rows into the walls, allowing sun to stream in to the rooms and halls. The drawbridge lowered for the two guests, dropping with a loud rustling of chain.

Walking across is at, goosebumps possessed her skin, and she felt the shameful, poking sensation of being exposed settle in her breastbone. Castles meant kings and queens; she was being brought to the king and she was practically naked.

Her chest rose, and her stomach filled filled nervous breaths. Her pals became moist against Angus’s furry one, who seemed calm and sated with the whole ordeal.

Once across the drawbridge, they were met with an open courtyard framed by the castle walls, a cobblestone path leading to an arched entrance, where Marianne followed The courtyard was full of wild grass up to her ankles, stone arches in the middle of the scene, with rope swings and flowers hanging down, ominously still. A bench centered in an arrangement of statues of men in heroic poses holding harps and arrows, a floating body of water in the place of a fountain. Much, much more attracted the girls curious eyes, but Marianne pushed past a curtain of foxgloves, and led her into the castle hall and her view was cut off, dragged into... the throne room.

The throne room clearly because in the center of the sun-lit room, there was a throne covered with wild flowers where the king sat, legs spread and back against the seat as he listened a subject speak.

He wore a red ensemble, by-far the most magnificent of anyone in the room. Transparent garments the color of cranberries draped on the broad expanse of his olive-skinned shoulders, waves of the material hanging loosely on his hard biceps, a tassel tied around his waist to taper an accentuate the strong muscles seen through the garment. The cloth bunched at his groin, and fell in folds around his muscular thighs and down his calves, stopping at his ankles and exposing his bare feet.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of his throne, each finger falling after the other, adding to the powerful aura of his character. Plump lips colored that matched the tone of the nipples that poked through the thin fabric on his chest, mouth arranged into a hard, concentrated line as he listened. Eyebrows dipped just slightly, drawing attention to the vibrant emerald eyes that gleamed in the sun that illuminated his castle. Structured jaw that twitched with the movement of his lips, leading down to the delicate skin of his neck, equally delectable as the rest of him.

Y/n knew he was the king by the tell tale crown that rested on his head. A golden wrap of laurel leaves that nestled on the caramel curls that were pushed back and away from his face.

She wasn’t aware that she was holding her breath, until he glanced up and locked eyes with her. His eyes brought instant relief to her, her body uncoiling, lungs releasing the air their were holding. His lips pulled up into a pleasant smile that made her heart leap and causing one to appear on her face, too. Oddly, she felt safe the instant her eyes landed his, the green sating all of her doubts.

“Marianne? And Angus? Angus is that you?”

Angus jumped from y/n’s arms, landing on the stone floor with a snort and running over to meet the king, jumping into his arms and nuzzling his snout into the king’s face.

The absence of the pig in her arms, left her breasts bare for all to see, and given y/n was transfixed by the king’s voice, smooth like honey with a beautiful scratch that was pleasing to listen to, she didn’t rush to cover herself.

Meaning the king, and the subject he was speaking to, had the time to look at the curves of her chest.

An unreadable look took over the king’s face, and he frowned down at the floor before saying, “You may leave now, Rives.”

The subject cleared his throat, and rushed out at his king’s command. He snapped his fingers, and two of the butterflies on her legs flew up and covered her nipples with their wingspan.

“Your Majesty,” Marianne bowed, and y/n looked over at her before doing the same thing, awkwardly curtsying and the king’s lips quirked at her attempt. “I found her with Pias and Rye. They planned to trick her, Your Highness.”

“Very well, Marianne. You may leave now.” He said. The woman bowed and left without turning back, leaving y/n alone with the king.

A moment passed, ensuring the water fairy had left before he began to speak again, leaning forward on his throne and smiling fully at the human. Y/n instantly took note of the dimple on his cheek, and she blushed at the simple fact that he was looking at her while she was so exposed.

“Oh! My apologies, surely you’d like some clothes wouldn’t you?” He asked rhetorically.

Y/n nodded sheepishly, and crossed her arms over her torso.

“Right, well let’s see.” He stood, letting Angus on the floor with a small pat to his head, and walked off into another archway on the left side of his throne, mumbling “come, come” to get y/n to follow him. She walked behind him, shamelessly grazing her eyes over his back, adoring the way his muscles dimpled his shoulder blades, and hating the way she can’t see the cleft of his buttocks of the strategic bunching of the fabric, the color darkening and making it hard to see through it.

The archway led to a short hall of portraits and moss-covered head statues, before opening to a steep staircase, which the king stepped on, going all the way up and choosing the right branching of stairs from the landing. By the time they reached the top, y/n was huffing and her thighs ached from the walks in the forest.

The stairs opened to a hallway of rooms, and the king entered the third on the right, revealing a sun-lit room. The corner closest to the window was covered in tree tranches, twigs extending and branching along the pink colored wall, small leaves and flowers twisting up to the roof, splaying over the bed to create a net of petals around the fame of it.

He led her to the center of the room, and sat one of the chests. She stood nervously, unsure of where to take her place because she didn’t want to offend him. It was easy to do that with faeries.

“Stand right there,” he pointed to an elevated tree stump opposite of him.

Y/n felt the butterflies flutter wildly at the drastic movement of her knee hiking up, and her ears burned red when she felt cool air blow on her intimate area.

“Now turn to face me.” She turned, and came face to face with the king, who sat with his ankles crossed, and hands clamped between his thighs, back straight.

He removed a hand, and snapped once.

Instantly, the butterflies flew off of her body, and out the window.

Y/n yelped, and rushed to cover herself, forearm over her breasts, palm at her mound.

“M’lady I need you straight so I can adorn you with clothing. I’d have someone else do it, but it’s just me here.” The king said, voice a whisper. His eyes drooped, eyebrows slanting and softening his whole demeanor.

Y/n would have responded, said something to protect her modesty, but she was just too out of it. Her brain running on autopilot by the events that had occurred, that she went pliant under his orders and obeyed. She wasn’t even ashamed anymore.

The king’s fingers moved along her figure from a distance, twiddling across her body, and as he did so, a milky glitter grew upwards from the tree stump, wrapping around her calves and up her thighs, tightening just lightly at her hips, and resting snugly up her torso. Setting on her shoulders, she blinked slowly at the finished product, her tongue too tied to attempt a dreamy woah.

He had dressed her in a silk toga, the material so light it felt like she was wearing nothing.

“There we go!” He cheers, another small smile gracing his lips, melting y/n.

“I am most appreciative, Your majesty.” She bowed her head respectfully, her hands coming to fold at her navel.

“It is alright to say thank you. M’trying my absolute best to dilute a lot of the negative stigma around my people, but with fools like Pias and Rye it’s nearly impossible.” He stops, shaking his head to himself before looking back up and saying, “And you can call me, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry, my name is y/-” before she could finish her sentence, the Fairy King interrupted her with a green flare of his eyes, heat radiating off his translucent cranberry ensemble, licking her skin with warnings of heat.

“I don’t want to know your name.” He said, his voice changing from jovial to demonic. His eyes pinch closed, and his shoulders tense, momentarily reeling himself back in, and the licks of heat turn a soothing cool. “Please, not yet.”

Harry sounds nearly broken, pained by the restriction.

“I-” y/n started. She collected herself, taking a deep breath before saying, “I understand.”

His eyes opened again, and uncertain fire blazing in the green of his irises. “Do you? Do you really?” Harry’s tone is mocking, angry. He’s mad, but not at her and she knows that. Deep down inside her, she knows this is him baring himself, this is him slipping her a piece of information, and she’s grateful they get to start off an a truth slate, but not at the way he’s presented himself.

He’s got no right to talk to her that way, she feels.

“Yes! I do understand! It’s the reason why I’m here!” She fires back at him, her nostrils flaring, and eyes wide. By the time she’d finished with her aggravated statement, her chest is heaving.

Both go quiet, the revelation heavy between them. Harry realizes that one, he’s been extremely rude, and two, he and this girl may be more alike that he thinks.

“Why are you here?” He asks, his face doing the thing again, there his eyes droop downwards like a puppy’s when it’s begging. Soft. tender.

Y/n takes a deep breath, and begins. “I need to escape. If.. if I stayed even a moment longer I wholeheartedly believe I would have died. Everyday was a mindless drone, and it was eating at me. I came to ask for permanent residence in your realm.”

When Harry doesn’t respond, y/n crosses her arms over her chest, and picks at the skin of her elbow nervously. Her throat closes up and eyes well up with tears. But, she’s not sad. She’s overwhelmed with emotion because for the first time, she’s admitted it out loud; formulated into a coherent thought instead of a general feeling.

The king, touched by her vulnerability, gets close enough to her that so he can uncross her arms to stop the girl from harming herself. This stranger, so unexpectedly placed into his world, understood him. She knew what it was like to go unnoticed; to not get what she wanted out of life. But to risk forever? Is that really what she wanted?

“I do not know if this much of a wise decision. The rules of my realm are diff-”

Y/n grips at his arms, her eyes pleading and her tone desperate. “Please,” tears slip from her eyes, and neck veins protrude in stress, “You don’t understand. The past day has given me more than I’ve ever received from my life. Do you know much happiness Angus has given me? Or standing on a lily pad while trees touch my shoulders? Let me stay.”

She’s shaking him, grip so tight her nails make crescent marks in his skin.

“Do not cry, my lady,” he begs, voice just barely audible. “You must understand the severity of your words. This lifestyle is not a situation in which you can change your mind when your heart so pleases. The fairy life is forever.”

“I don’t care. I will die, if I go back.”

“Your species will perish either way. Humans are destined to die.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone. At this, y/n drops in a heap of desolation, and places her face in her hands, shoulders shaking her sobs.

Her begging, her uprooting, was all for nothing. Her hopes were crashing, she wouldn’t survive this fall.

The strings of Harry’s heart pull ferociously at him, his instinct telling him he has to help her. He has to. Even if it goes against everything faeries stand for. He was king, he could do whatever he wished

He bent down, his feet bending at the toes in a crouch, and he placed a hand on the girls wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could see her when he uttered the words, “But, I will give you three days.”

At that moment, y/n thinks he looks magnificent. A curl has slipped from the crown’s grip, falling to rest over his left eye, and his eyes sparkle with golden specks of the sun that slip past y/n’s shoulders and his face. Shadows ghost over the left side of his face, accentuating the right side, and y/n sees for the first time, the small moles on his chin, and the bags underneath his eyes. Bags that come from nights of no sleep.

She knows because she had them too.

“Three days?” It comes out wet, her voice thick with the saliva that had collected in her mouth, and the mucus at the back of her nose.

“A period of time for you to be sure of this choice. A human can go three days without food or water, and I wish for you to have the most time possible. You cannot eat or drink, because by fairy law you are bound to stay the moment it passes your throat. I will not allow a forced decision. This is a choice you must make on your own.” When y/n’s eyes began to fall, the king placed a warm hand on her cheek, drawing her eyes back to him. He needed to know she was sure, and her eyes would let him know everything.

She was sure. She was very sure, and he could see that. More than that, she was even irritated he’d make her wait that long.

“Three days?” She asked

“Three days.”

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solletichi · 4 years

Text

Tickly Phantom Thief AU- Part 1

Shuichi was in quite the precarious position.

Dangling from the ceiling with his arms tied above his head, Shuichi could do little but wait there with his limbs pulled taut, trying not to panic.

He attempted to soothe his nerves by calmly recollecting the events that led him to his current position.

After a long while of researching and investigating, Shuichi had finally deduced the whereabouts of the infamous phantom thief’s lair. Noticing a strange pattern of graffiti on an abandoned building that was linked to D.I.C.E, Shuichi’s suspicions were immediately rasied. Unbeknownst to the rest of his detective agency, Shuichi made his way to the hideout to investigate.

While there, he found various papers strewn about the room, appearing to be some sort of blueprints and plans. Investigating the room further led Shuichi to discover a discolored patch of the wall, which was actually a hidden door.

Carefully pressing his palms against the wall, Shuichi fell forward and into darkness. Everything after that was a blur.

Shuichi sighed, trying to maneuver himself out of his bonds. A few hard tugs proved that any struggle was useless, and kicking his legs did nothing. The only other option was to wait patiently for his captor to arrive.

And wait he did.

That was, until he heard a door open behind him, along with the sound of footsteps coming towards him.

“Well, well, well...” An unfamiliar voice began, “What do we have here?”

Shuichi tensed at the sudden appearance of another occupant in the room. He tried to speak, but his voice remained trapped in his throat.

Shuichi remained silent as his captor walked in front of him, finally revealing himself.

There were a few observations Shuichi made right off the bat: His captor was a petite young man, about the same age as he was, and he had plum colored hair that stood out in all different directions at the tips. His overwhelmingly malicious presence more than made up for his small stature, pure evil radiating off of his body. Shuichi shuddered at the sight.

“C’mon, not even a ‘Who are you?’ or ‘Where am I?’, huh? How boring...” The small man picked at his nails, seemingly finding them more interesting than interrogating his captive.

Shuichi swallowed and steeled himself, preparing to speak:

“...You’re part of D.I.C.E., aren’t you?”

The man froze in place and looked up at Shuichi, appearing to be taken off guard. This expression was only momentary, however, as his features then morphed into those of pure joy.

“Ooh, looks like Mister Detective here did his research! Aaand...” he brought a finger up to his lips, smirking deviously. “Why the hell should I tell you?” He gave Shuichi a once-over before returning his gaze to his eyes. “You’re not exactly in a position to be making demands.”

Shuichi grit his teeth, repressing the many emotions he was feeling. Anger, confusion and embarrassment were included in the mix, but the most prominent one was fear. He had no idea what his captor had in store for him, and he didn’t want to find out.

“Let’s get started, shall we? I’m sure you’re dying to know what I’ve got planned for you!” the mysterious man said gleefully.

“...What do you want from me?” Shuichi asked cautiously.

“What do I want?” The man placed a hand on his chest, tilting his head innocently. “I want to have some fun with you, that’s all!”

Shuichi stared blankly, not satisfied with the information he had been given.

The man continued, “And I have the perfect game for us to play!”

He walked up to Shuichi, placing a hand on either side of his waist.

“Don’t laugh.”

Small fingers dexterously pinched at the detective’s waist, moving like frightened spiders. Shuichi had to bite his lip to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Gh! Nnn! Stop it!!”

“Now, now, you heard the rules! Don’t laugh, Shuichi.” He picked up the pace, quickly drumming his fingers along the detecitve’s sides, all while wearing a shit-eating grin.

Shuichi thrashed back and forth, though his struggles were rendered futile due to his strict bondage. He kicked his legs, but that offered him no reprieve from the tingly sensations.

The supposed phantom thief pulled back momentarily, allowing Shuichi to breathe.

“...How... do you know my name?” Shuichi spoke through labored breaths.

“Oh, I forgot to finish explaining the rules of the game!” The thief clapped his hands together, completely ignoring the detective’s question. His sinister grin had returned, causing Shuichi to reflexively tug at his restraints.

“You can guess what happens if you laugh, riiiight?” He leaned forward, hands behind his back.

When Shuichi hesitated to reply, the thief took this as his cue to keep going:

“I’ll tickle the hell out of you!”

Shuichi’s eyes widened, the gravity of the situation finally dawning on him. He was stuck here indefinitely, completely at the mercy of a wicked phantom thief with incredibly unconventional torture methods.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phantom thief inviting himself closer, rolling up the detective’s shirt.

“So tell me, my dear detective...” the thief smirked, looking up at him, “Who do you work for?” He revved up once more, pinching and squeezing at the detective’s hips with no mercy.

“Hnn! I-I work for the Kirigiri detecti- GAH!” Shuichi yelped as the thief’s hands moved lower, tracing the area where his hips met his thighs. The smaller boy’s eyes lit up mischievously.

“Ooh, what was that?” he smirked, teasing the newly found sensitive area, “Did I find a weak spot?”

“D-Don’t!!”

“Don’t what? Don’t tickle you?” The thief’s grin grew wider as Shuichi writhed in place and grit his teeth, struggling to keep his composure. “Poor little you... My darling detective is oh so sensitive~”

“Mmf! S-Shihihit!” Shuichi giggled.

“Uh oh, was that a laugh I heard? Not good, Shuichi! You know what that means! Iiiiit’s punishment time!”

“Wha-?! B-But I- EEYAHAHA NOHOHOHO!” Shuichi’s struggles returned with renewed vigor as the thief started circling his navel with the lightest of touches with one finger, and clawed at his side with the other hand.

“Tsk, tsk... And here I was, thinking you were all cool and tough! Guess I was wrong!” he chuckled, “Not that I mind though! Cuz this is definitely not boring, that’s for sure!”

“M-MAKE IT STAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEAZE!” the detective thrashed and quivered violently, but it did nothing to diminish the awful tickling feeling coursing throughout his body.

“Next question!” the thief chirped, now lightly scratching at Shuichi’s ribs. “How did you find my super secret hideout?

“I-I JUHUST- FAHAHACKING HEHEHELL!” the detective’s smile spread from ear to ear, and his face was flooded with color as the thief poked and prodded at his torso with an unnerving determination. “THE GRAFIHIHITIHI!”

“Oh, so you picked up on that after all?” the thief responded, “Y’know, maybe I left those clues because I wanted you to find me! Just so that I could lure you here and have soooo much fun with you!”

The thief let up for a second, watching Shuichi pant with tears of mirth in his eyes.

“Last question! I saved the best for last, too!” he giggled childishly, placing his hands on Shuichi’s stomach. The detective shivered at the touch.

“What is my name?”

“What?! There’s no waHAHAHAY AHAHAHA NOHOHOHO!” Shuichi cried, trembling violently in his restraints. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes at this point, threatening to stream down his face.

The thief’s hands roamed all over the detective’s torso, free to do as they pleased what with the detective all tied up like this. His hands froze when he heard Shuichi squeal as he dipped a finger into his navel.

“Ohoho~ Someone’s got a verrry ticklish belly button~ It would be a shame if someone...” the thief moved his face over Shuichi’s navel, “exploited that.”

Shuichi screeched as he felt gentle lips blowing over his stomach, struggling even more as he felt the thief add his hands back into the mix, scratching and squeezing at his hips.

“GAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHA ENOUHOHOUGH PLEHEHEAZE!” The detective had tears streaming down his face, and his struggles ultimately became weaker as a result of the prolonged tickling.

The thief pulled back, his lips hovering inches above Shuichi’s stomach.

“Psh! Phantom thieves don’t respond to cries for mercy! Now out with it, detective! What’s my name?” He continued teasing the detective’s stomach with the lightest of touches, never failing to make him squirm.

“IHI DOHOHON’T KNOHOHOW! P-PLEHEHEAZE!” Shuichi pleaded, voice growing raspy.

“Fine...” the thief sighed, stepping back from his captive. He watched with amusement as the detective struggled to catch his breath, still giggling a bit even though the tickling had already stopped.

“...So... What is your name?” Shuichi lifted his head to look at the thief, completely spent from all of the tickling.

For once, the thief had no expression. No childlike glee, no malicious smirk- nothing.

“Kokichi...” the thief stated. “Kokichi Ouma.”

Shuichi didn’t respond, still recovering from the torture he had endured.

The thief sighed and turned away.

“Wellll, I guess that’s enough fun for one day. Wouldn’t wanna torture my beloved Shuichi too much!” The thief began to walk away, only to be stopped by the detective’s sudden cry.

“Wait!” Shuichi yelled, “...You never answered my question. How do you know my name?”

The thief’s malicious grin had returned as he quickly spun on his heel to reply. He put a finger up to his lips and responded:

“I’ll tell you, my beloved detective... When we meet again.”

And with that, the thief- Kokichi- exited the room, leaving Shuichi a flushed mess all by himself.

When we meet again...

Shuichi’s mind felt hazy as he tried reviewing the information he had just obtained. No matter how hard he tried, his eyelids seemed to be closing on their own, and before he knew it...

Everything went black.

#AHAHHAHSGAHAHS RIP SHUICHI #but what if #shuichi got revenge...?#haha jk... unless?#tickling #tickle fic #my writing #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #oumasai #saiouma

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years

Text

Heart ii

Dean x reader x Cas

Notes; The whole white witch plot is borrowed from Hansel & Gretel Witch Hunters.

Part 2 of 3

After Sam had forced Dean to admit the three of you were soulmates, Dean and Cas had sent Sam back to the motel so they could explain it all to you.

As Cas had said, you were a white witch. This was further proven to you by the fact that in your shock of the whole conversation you’d dropped a coffee mug only for it to begin levitating before it hit the ground.

Dean had taken over explaining exactly why this coven wanted your heart. Once every thousand years the planets aligned and the term blue moon was not just an expression. Apparently if these witches, or demon whores as Dean so eloquently called them, could cut out your heart it would become an ingredient to a spell that would render witch killing bullets useless.

And then had come the conversation that you were most dreading. You needed an explanation on the soul mate thing. The two took turns explaining the whole situation, explaining it from both the points of view.

Dean recalled a conversation the two of you had had after a few drinks the night before.

“I said Cas was my soul mate but we had another and we were waiting for them. That’s the story.” He explained, leaning back.

Yeah, his explanation left little to be desired, but Cas was able to really explain it all to you.

Every angel was given a single soul mate when they were created. In the earlier years it was much more common to find them until rules against angel/human were introduced. After that angels rarely left heaven and already existing pairings were killed off.

“Cas here is a bit of rebel and a freak, that’s why he found me and there’s two of us.” Dean chuckled.

“That is not the reason.” Cas sighed.

With that the two of them explained how they met, and then gave an additional explanation as to how Dean died, and how you fit into their dynamic.

“You do have a choice here.” Dean told you. “You don’t have to accept us; you don’t have to think you’re stuck with us. You have a choice.”

When he said this, you sat there and mulled it over for a minute before you nodded.

“This is not me rejecting you. I accept that we’re bound together but I’ve been fucked over by people so many times that I have major trust issues. I don’t do relationships very well so can we please just take this slow?” You asked the two. Cas’s eyes lit up and Dean let out a chuckle.

“Sweetheart, you are definitely ours.”

After a couple more hours, Dean and Cas left to go pack up the motel and pick up Sam. It made more sense to have the three staying in your spare rooms while looking for the coven and so you could bond with your soul mates.

When the boys left you made a beeline to the kitchen but let out a sigh when you realized there was nothing to drink.

“I should’ve told them to pick up a six pack.” You sighed and made your way back to the bedroom.

It had been two weeks since the boys had sat you down and talked to you. The boys weren’t terrible houseguests and you did enjoy their company but there was a part of you that was incredibly annoyed they were there.

You didn’t believe in this shit. At least you didn’t use to. Honestly, before Cas’s eyes glowed that bright blue, you were just going to pretend to believe them. Sure, this as half out of not believing and half because of your own issues.

Dean was currently out getting groceries, the three didn’t particularly like you leaving the house alone, Cas was taking care of some angel business and Sam was typing away on his laptop at your kitchen table as you made some lunch for you and Sam.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try and find your birth mother? It could be my apology for wanting to kill you?” Sam asked, watching you move around the kitchen.

“Sam, we’ve been over this, I don’t blame you.” You said, shutting the oven door. “If I had been in your position and seen the evidence you had, I would assume it was me too. And no, I don’t want you to find her.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I already met my mother. And she was a wonderful, intelligent, woman, despite her choice of husband, and unfortunately, she passed recently. I won’t disrespect her memory by pretending she’s not my mother.” You smiled, stirring the pasta on the stove.

“I can respect that.” Sam said, continuing to type.

“Sam, can I ask you a favour?” You asked, not looking up from the cooking.

“Yeah, sure. What do you need?”

“Can you tell me a bit more about Dean and Cas? I want to get to know them from someone else’s point of view. You know, the stories they won’t tell me themselves.” You said, looking up from the meal shyly.

“So, you want the embarrassing stuff?” Sam clarified. You gave him a nod causing him to laugh. “Where to start?”

“We’re back.” Dean announced an hour later. He and Castiel entered the kitchen with a bag each to see you and Sam sitting at the table, eating your lunch.

“You two look happy.” Cas commented., setting his bag on the counter.

“Suspiciously happy.” Dean added, looking between the pair of you. “What lies has Sam been telling you, sweetheart?”

"I don't think he's told me anything untrue."

"Everything that comes out of that man's mouth is a lie."

“So you didn’t pull your pants down and yell, ‘Pudding’?” You smirked, standing and bringing your plate to the sink.

“It was for a case.” He defended himself.

“Of course, it was. Go, take a seat. Have some lunch and I’ll finish up.” You said, pushing him toward the table. “You too Cas, I know you don’t eat but you’re going to sit too.” You added, pointing to the table.

“You know we can put away a few groceries, right?” Dean asked as you handed him a plate.

“Yeah but you always put things in the wrong place.” You said, beginning to put your groceries in the correct spots.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Milk doesn’t go in the cupboard.”

“She’s right.”

“You do the same thing back at the bunker.”

“You guys all suck.”

It was week three of living with the boys. In the past week they had come no closer to finding the coven but Cas had been attempting to teach you how to use your powers. You weren’t taking to his teaching very well and the best you had done was use it accidentally.

Sam had decided to go out for the day, leaving you and your soulmates alone in the house. The three of you were slowly growing closer and you found yourself very much liking being around them.

Sam had been gone for two hours. You were in your room reading when you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey.” Dean started, knocking on your doorframe. “Are you doing anything right now?”

“Nothing I can’t do another time.” You said, putting your book down. “What’s up?” You questioned him.

“Me and Cas were going to watch a movie, you want to join?” He quizzed you, leaning against the doorframe with a smile.

“You sure you don’t want some alone time?”

“Some alone time with our girl? Yes.” He smirked, making you chuckle.

“Then sure you cheese ball. I’ll join you.” You said, climbing off the bed. Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders as he led you into the living room.

“Look who I found.” Dean announced to Cas who had taken his trench coat off and was sitting on the couch.

“I did say she would gladly join.” Cas said as you sat next to him.

“Yes, I know you’re always right angel.” Dean rolled his eyes sitting on your other side. “What did you pick?”

“Something called Ouija.” Cas answered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?”

“It’s fine, Cas.” You smiled as Dean took your hand in his and intertwined them. About half way into the movie you had to ask. “Please tell me this shit doesn’t actually happen.”

“Well the board itself works but that’s not how possession works.” Dean explained, making you sigh in relief. “You ever used one?”

“Oh God no.” You chuckled. “I never used to think that kind of stuff was real.”

“I guess we kind of destroyed your world view.” Castiel commented. “If not for us you would’ve continued on as normal.”

“If not for you I could be dead right now.” You shook your head. “It was happening all around me and I never even knew it.”

“That’s the point of what we do.” Dean said, squeezing your hand. “We don’t let the public know and keep them safe.”

“Except in this case you did tell me.” You teased.

“Yeah, well, special exception. You’re our soulmate and part of it, little miss White Witch.” He smiled, throwing his arm around the back of the couch. “That’s not how possession works!” Dean yelled at the scream twenty minutes later.

“It’s a movie, Dean. It’s not real.” Cas said, leaning his head back on the couch.

“It’s not even a good movie.” Dean grumbled. “I mean who writes these?”

“Wait to we get to the credits, then you can yell at them by name.” You smirked as Cas groaned.

“Don’t encourage him, please, Y/N.”

“Lighten up, Cas.” You said shifting so you faced him. “This is the best part of watching a bad movie. Mocking it.”

“See? She gets it.” Dean said, moving closer so you were sandwiched between them. “We won the soul mate lottery.”

“That is a statement I can agree with.” Cas agreed, shifting closer to you. “We are very lucky to have you.”

“You’re not going to say that when you really get to know me.” You chuckled bitterly.

“We could say the same about us sweetheart.” Dean informed you.

“There are many things about us that we are not proud of. There is many we have done that we regret. It doesn’t matter what any of us have done or the parts of us that are broken what matters is how we move forward and live our lives.” Cas told you.

“And that there is the angel, been alive for eons and knows better than all, talk.” Dean chuckled, reaching over and taking the man’s hand.

“We’re all broken, I think that’s why we were bound.”

“So, we’re a mess that the universe is rooting for?” You smiled, relaxing into the men’s embrace.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Dean said, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Is it too fast for me to ask to kiss you?” Cas suddenly asked. “You don’t have to say yes if it’s too fast.”

“It’s not too fast at all.” You breathed as he now leaned in incredibly close. You could almost feel his lips when he suddenly vanished without a word. “What the?”

“Cas?” Dean yelled, standing from the couch. Dean rushed towards the front windows before letting out a curse. “Y/N, come on!” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the kitchen. “Take this and call Sam. Tell him they’re here. Go out the back.” He told you, shoving his phone into your hand and grabbing a knife from the counter.

“What about you?” You asked, moving towards the back door.

“Never mind about me just get out of here.” He said as the front door ripped open. “Go!” Following his directions, you shoved phone into your pants pocket, turned and rushed towards the back door. You hadn’t even made it to the door when it was shoved open and a woman stood in front of you.

“Ah ah ah.” She tutted, outstretching her hand towards you. With a sudden pressure on your neck you were raised from the ground and shoved into the wall behind you. “Where you going? The party’s just starting.” She smirked before smashing your head into the wall and the world turned black.

When you awoke it was to the moon light shining onto your face. You let out a quiet groan before jolting upright as you remembered the previous events. You glanced quickly around the small room, recognizing the room instantly before jumping up.

“Dean!” You exclaimed, noticing yournd across from you. You went to rush to his side only to be pulled back by chains wrapped around your wrists. “Dean, wake up. Come on Dean.” You begged, pulling on the chain.

A low groan escaped the man after you called his name several more times.

“Sweetheart?” He groaned, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “Where are we?”

“Old jail on the edgxplore it on our weekends.” You smiled as he began to remember what happened.

“And we’re chained up.” He sighed, tugging on the chain attached to his ankle.

“Will Cas be able to find us?” You asked him, leaning against the wall.

“Unfortunately, probably not. Soul mates or not, they’ll have some serious cloaking going on.” Dean sighed.

“Oh, shit wait.” You said suddenly, reaching for Dean’s phone. “This place used to have reception; it should still have.” You finally managed to pull out the phone and tossed it to Dean who caught it easily.

“Ha ha. We have signal.” He smirked, rapidly typing out a text. “With any luck Sammy and Cas will get here before they cut your heart out.”

“Jesus do you have to say it like that?” You laughed nervously.

“Sorry sweetheart but you know we’re not going to let that happen, right? I’m not going to let that happen.”

“Dean, we’re both chained up in a cell. Neither of us can get out and I can’t grasp how to use my magic. I think we’re pretty fucked.” You sighed, sliding down onto the floor.

“When we get out of this, we’re going to work on your positivity. Cas’ll show you his beehives, that’ll cheer you up.” Dean said, making you laugh. “Seriously, Y/N, we’re going to be fine.”

“Promise?” You asked him meekly, wincing at your own tone.

“Swear on my life.” He smiled. “And when we get out of here, you want to maybe go on a date with us?”

“I can’t believe you’re making a move now.” You shook your head, grinning.

“I never waste an opportunity, sweetheart.” Dean smirked. “So, what do you say?”

“If we make it out of this alive, I’ll gladly go out with the pair of you.”

Before either of you could say another word, you could hear the loud click of high heels echo throughout the room. The two of you stood and watched as an older woman approached the cell.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting.” She grinned nastily. “It turns out there’s a lot of setting up to do for this party.” She said, opening the door and walking in your direction.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean yelled, surging forward.

“Oh, calm down, Romeo.” She sighed, simply raising a hand and flicking it so Dean was shoved into the wall.

“Dean!” You cried out watching with wide eyes as he struggled against her invisible hold.

“You little miss have caused a lot of trouble.” The woman said standing right in front of you. “Do you know how long it took to find you and how much energy we had to use killing off your parents and little friend?”

“You bitch.” You snarled, going to lunge only to be held back by the chains. The woman only laughed before snapping her fingers loudly. You and Dean shared a look before two more women entered the room with emotionless faces.

The two didn’t say a word, or a make a noise, as they approached you and in silence grabbed the length of chain and dragged you towards them.

“Get off me!”

“You fucking touch her and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“We’ll be back for you later boy.” The first woman pointed at Dean as she stood behind your struggling form.

“Dean!” You yelled as you were yanked forward.

“Y/N!” He choked out before you were pulled away and the cell door shut behind you.

No matter how much you struggled, how much you fought back, the two women continued to drag you down the hall as if you were merely a rag doll.

“Fucking demon whores.” You snarled, trying to throw the women off you.

“Now that is just rude. There’s no need for a superiority complex. The only part of you that’s even valuable is right here.” She said, moving in front of you and tapping your heart. “You’re making a generous contribution to our masters.”

“Fuck you bitch.” You growled, spitting on her face. The woman simply narrowed her eyes before smacking you across the face.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” She smirked, leading the three of you into an adjacent room. The room screamed culty. Candles of every colour and size littered the room, the bright glow of the moon was the only other source of lighting and in the middle of the room was a slab from the morgue.

“No! No get off me!” You shrieked as you were dragged to the table, slab, and chained down.

“It’s no use. The sacrifice is happening whether you like it or not.” The witch said, moving towards an altar.

“Fuck you!” You snapped, attempting to lunge off the table. As you continued to struggle, the three women all gathered at the altar and began reading from a large book. As your struggles intensified you felt a burning from deep within.

The women were now gathered around you and as their chants grew louder the burning became unbearable. You let out a short scream as the fire burst and the three women had to shield themselves from it.

One woman was too slow to dodge and you watched as she caught fire. The woman screamed and flailed as she was brunt to a crisp. The other two women didn't even attempt to save her as they stood

“The ritual continues!” The first woman screamed. “We will be immune to fire! To the hunters! It continues!” She said , raising a knife and stabbing it into your stomach. "Weak little witch can't even control her powers." She mocked over your scream of pain.

"At least I'm not a whore who sold herself for hers." You snapped, groaning as the second woman twisted the dagger.

"Continue!" She snapped, raising the knife. She and the second woman began chanting again. You could barely find the energy to struggle any more, you were bleeding out and weak from the blast of magick you sent out.

A single tear streaked down your cheek before a loud gunshot echoed throughout the room. Your head snapped to the side and you saw Dean, Cas and Sam marching towards you.

Dean raised his gun again and shot the woman with the dagger once in the head. He and Cas appeared next to you as Sam quickly took care of the last woman.

"You're okay, what did I tell you? We weren't letting them cut your heart out." Dean smiled, unlocking the chains as Cas pressed two fingers to your forehead. A bright glow emitted from the room as you felt yourself healing.

"And I thought I told you not to say it like that." You groaned as Cas helped you sit up.

"Are you okay? Do you need a hospital? Is there anywhere else that hurts?" Cas asked, holding your face in his hands. You gave him a tired smile before leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

"I'm okay." You told him. "I'm fine." Cas gave you a smile before stepping aside so Dean could stand in front of you. "Are you okay?" You asked him.

"I'm fantastic" He said, leaning forward and kissing you.

"Guys, not to interrupt the soul mate moment but we gotta get out of here. The place is on fire." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah sorry about that." You said as Dean helped you off the table.

"You did this?" Dean questioned, catching you as your knees gave out.

"Uh huh. Got the bitch in the corner." You told him.

"We're going to continue training once you get some rest." Castiel nodded. With Dean holding you up the four of you made your way to the exit. Dean helped you into the back of his car with Cas sitting next to you, with the burning building behind you, Dean started up the car and drove the four of you away.

You were leaning your head against Cas's shoulder when you suddenly had a thought.

"Hey Cas, do you really have beehives?"

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Dean x reader x Cas

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Natasha x reader x Wanda

Tony x reader x Steve

Meg x reader x Cas

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Text

Of Vessels And Sharing

Rating: General Audiences

Parings: Dean Winchester & Castiel

Notes: Here’s a piece of canon-divergent post-season-15 Destiel, enjoy ~ OR ~ The One in which Dean Winchester wants Castiel to possess him. Eventual Happy. Enjoy the read, and maybe leave a comment, for the ficter.

***

Jimmy Novak, a devout, strong and unfairly good-looking man though he were, hadn’t been created to be a vessel. It was almost miraculous that he’d held Castiel for this long. (Hell, it probably was one.) But aging as he did - the man’s daughter could buy herself beer, he’s not young anymore - in spite of his soul not occupying his body; it wasn’t too long after the battle with the Empty, that it was rendered near incapable of housing Castiel anymore.

Cas hated to admit it, but he had not wanted to keep it a secret either. Not anymore. So one night, after dinner, he’d confessed to the Winchesters. Dean was drying the dishes, as Sam cleaned up - thankfully neither was looking at him, as Cas tried to get the words out - he wouldn’t have gotten far, if they had been.

“…and so,” His eyes flitted between the brothers. “I do not know how much longer I’ll be able to be with you.” He ended, trying to sound less frantic than he felt.

“Cas,” Sam had been the first to speak up, while Dean just stared at him. Almost too blank. Perhaps, processing. “We’ll find a way. We could ask Rowena for help - and read all the books there were ever written about vessels - and we’ll do everything we need to, to make this right! You won’t have to…leave the Earth.” He promised, earnest.

Dean, who Castiel’s eyes had been upon, nodded to the things his brother said - and was too choked up to sound like his regular self when he spoke again, in trembling syllables and a breathy voice, “Y-yeah. You’re not going anywhere, Cas.” He sounded uncertain, maybe scared, but when he took a step ahead, and got his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, that felt sure. “We cannot lose you to this.” We can’t lose you to anything.

And then he went on to try to ease the tension, by thanking Cas for actually telling them about something, that sounded like one of those huge things they didn’t always share. "Kudos on communication.” And Sam snorted, while Castiel replied - a blank smile on his face, “I didn’t want to go away for good, one day, and leave you angry for not being told.”

And it was the simple ‘for good’, which caused a chill in their bones. The next day itself, they began to read. All the books ever written on vessels, as Sam put it, would take time to get through; even if you’re two dedicated hunters, who’ve been doing this all your life, dedicated and adamant now - to not lose your best friend.

It probably wasn’t that nothing would work. Maybe some more books, some more occult, and some more contacts would have helped. But it was, rather, that they didn’t seem to have the time.

The deterioration seemed to speed up when they dreaded it the most. As is the matter with most things in life. Castiel developed those awful burn-marks on his face, which resembled Nick’s, from when Lucifer had possessed him. He found them more horrible than anyone else did; but if his family ever involuntarily cowered back from him in the dark, he had to learn to be okay with it. He became infinitely weaker, somehow even slower, and would often break down in the Impala after a hunt, gasping himself breathless in pain - after using his grace in a fight.

The fight with the Empty had clearly added to it, for the worse. Never had the Winchesters seen Cas this weak, and they’d seen him graceless. It wasn’t just that Jimmy’s body was growing old. It had also been damaged beyond repair. And the ruins were finally, finally visible - after years of quick recovery, and reparable decay. His breathless voice, assuring them he didn’t ache, reeked of the affection, which was heartbreakingly everywhere.

He even needed sleep now, and would spend long nights in uncomfortable slumber - and whenever he’d take too long to wake up, everything would begin to seem like bad omens, until Cas reopened his eyes; a groggy greeting and forced reassurance, to try to make them worry less.

Honestly, they’d often forget how it was now - how their angel tired and slept, and coming suddenly upon a limp Castiel, passed out in the backseat, Dean had often gasped, worried if he’d even wake up this time.

“What can we do?” Sam asked Dean, hopeless, as they drove back home. It was becoming routine; hunts were followed by near-comatose sleep. “It’s getting worse. What, now?“

"We keep trying, Sammy.” Dean clenched his jaw, not even a bone tickled of uncertainty.

Sam’s ashen face tried to lift itself into a hopeful look. “It’s Sam. And yes, I know we do, of course we do. But -”

“It’s Cas, man. It’s Cas. We’ll have to do something. We’ll have to figure this out. We have to save him.” Dean had no further words to offer, but he knew Sam wouldn’t prod him for more either. His brother knew too, that they must save Castiel somehow.

Dean knew that they needed to.

The first time Dean suggests that maybe Cas should move to another vessel, is a mild evening, and he has three beers in his system already - there’s soft glances, and whispered words, heaven knows what they’d been talking about - but suddenly, Dean starts, looking at Cas through his eyelashes, and he just has to get this out. But he’s not even got past one sentence, and the dying angel looks at him angrily.

“Do you hear yourself, Dean? You’re asking me to abandon this man? James Novak gave everything up for me, Dean.” Castiel’s voice trembled, and all at once, Dean lost his plea to Castiel’s righteous indignation. His eyes helplessly stared. “No, I could not do this! I cannot just ask someone else to give up their sovereignty, their responsibilities and their entire life - I cannot demand such a sacrifice, for I know what it feels like, and I am not that cruel anymore - I cannot just, just dispose of this body, Dean - it is as me, as you are you - and I could never replace him like that - I cannot be that inhuman again, I’ve spent the last decade trying to be better and -” he ended up coughing, and Dean had to steady him with a hand on his chest.

Dean shook his head, and with Castiel’s fit wearing off - Dean’s sanity was coming back. “Breathe,” He calmed him. When Cas looked at him, there was a tinge of wetness, and solid sparks of blank anger. Dean shook his head again, as if to say, that he wouldn’t suggest such a thing again.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” He’d never thought so little of Cas, but now the angel thought that he did, and it was a terrible thing to be accused of. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“It’s okay.” Cas swallowed, and Dean knew it was not, because he was getting up, and leaving Dean and his mostly untouched drink, for an early night.

Dammit, that had been reckless. He really didn’t want Cas mad at him, he knew, so as he finished off Castiel’s beer - he also knew that that would mean a more decent apology, the next day.

But, shitty though the evening had ended, it’d given him the beginnings of an idea. for the time being, another thought grasped his senses. Perhaps the inebriation had sparked it, or maybe it was the simplest of revelations.

He had an idea. Though it was just coming to him, and he was awfully uncertain, about all of it. But after days of mechanically reading about vessel life-spans and longevity, and grovelling to powerful beings, he finally had the slightest smidge of a really bizarre idea. And that was something.

Scratch that, he didn’t have an idea.

Dean Winchester, emotionally constipated, though he may proudly be called - knew himself.

He knew how easily he’d crumble, how all the nightmares and all of his past, would never let him go through with that. How he’d be a coward, and hurt more people than just himself. He wasn’t made for this, and he wouldn’t be able to do it.

So, what good was an idea if he couldn’t work through it?

Time passes stupidly fast, when you really, really don’t want it to. Believe it or not, the day came. They had all tried all the things they could. Not just Dean, and Sam, but their whole family.

On Castiel’s decided last day - get out of the game, before the game kicks you out, Claire had grudgingly quoted it - everyone had assembled.

The plan was that he would go to heaven. The angels had been persuaded to provide him entry, peacefully. As a reward for all his sacrifices, they’d grant him a safe homecoming. The plan was for Castiel to visit Jimmy’s heaven, and that’s where he’d bid him farewell, forever.

The technicalities were only privy to Castiel and the angels, but Castiel would not be able to return to Earth without a vessel. And everyone knew this, Cas wasn’t looking for another.

Weakened though he be, he’d resume his station in heaven. God knew they needed leaders of the like. And that would be it. As far as could be speculated from then and there, Castiel would spend the rest of his eternity serving Heaven - as he’d done before he’d ever walked on their planet, except this time, he’d have the vividly stirring memories of bright souls, smiling families, and Earth’s green.

Cas had an easy, little smile - as his eyes fell upon his founded family. Family through the Winchesters. And the Winchester’s themself.

Dean’s mind raced. He had a million things to come to terms with, and his idea thumped in his brain like his heart thumped behind his ribs - both demanding all of his attention. Cas was leaving - could this be? Was he so useless, so incompetent, that after all they’d done, in all of these years; they couldn’t save his - they couldn’t save Cas? And now that he had a slight plan to do so, he couldn’t even get over himself, and actually do it?

He miserably tried to focus his attention on the angel - just a few feet away, right now, at least - stop thinking what he was thinking, and listen. And look. He’d have all the time in the World to hate himself later, he probably should not let the least of himself wander away from the angel right now.

(His traitorous mind strayed again - would it be the last time he’d ever get to see him?)

When Castiel’s gaze came to rest on the younger Winchester, Sam couldn’t hold it in anymore. With tears in his eyes, he lunged ahead to pull him into a hug. Castiel’s arms wrapped around the taller man, as Sam whispered hotly. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I shall miss you, Sam Winchester.” Castiel said, in a small voice. He determinedly ignored Sam’s foolish apology - the Winchester’s had this annoying habit of monopolizing guilt that often didn’t even exist, and Sam reigned as the most notable possessor of this trait. “Take care of yourself, and your brother. It has been an honor knowing you in this lifetime, Sam.“

“We’ll get you back, Cas, don’t say things like that.” Sam promised, his voice quivering. “Trust us, we’re gonna keep trying.”

“We’ll meet in heaven, sooner or later.” Castiel whispered as if it was a shared secret. Nothing of what one said, was connected to the other. Strange, how it was as if they were having two different conversations.

“Not unless we pull some major shit while you aren’t here to watch over us,” Dean broke in, snatching his turn to hug Castiel as Sam moved back. “And some pissed off big-bad sends us to hell?”

Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, facing outwards, as Dean’s hands came to wait at the middle of his back. They lingered close, talking around each other; fitting just right.

“Not that it’s going to happen,” Castiel muttered. “But I don’t need a vessel to pull you, both of you, from perdition.”

Dean chuckled, and everyone there knew he didn’t mean a single speck of it. Being this close to Castiel finally has his mind stop racing - it was quiet, and content, to stay this way. They didn’t budge, still waiting for the other to break off - neither did, because it pained both.

Finally, Dean mustered up the courage to say, “So long, Jimmy.”

The latter’s breath hitched, and that’s when he pulled back. “It’s great to watch your priorities reflect.” With a hint of indignance, and a vague musing - of course, Cas was Dean’s best friend. One of the most important people in his life. A goodbye to somebody like that held a lot more magnitude, than to the middle-aged accountant he’s been wearing for a while, now. Honestly, Cas had every right to be charred.

“I’m going to see you soon, Cas,” He swore, and there was a twinkle in his eye that Cas didn’t quite catch, as they separated completely.

Dean had been the last one. So, he didn’t want to stop speaking. "Believe me.”

“I certainly hope so. But don’t die, Dean.“ Cas sounded sincere, in his request. "Just, please don’t.”

“Ah, nevermind, I wasn’t planning to move in with you until you were nice and ready for me, in any case.” Dean joked, and only his words were light. Both their hearts were heavy.

“Not even after I’ve 'settled in’.” Cas conditioned.

“Fine, I’ll wait to kill myself until you’ve sent me a postcard.” Dean tried to smile, and it was a brave attempt, but it somehow pushed a few tears from his eyes. The more jesting his words were, the more it hurt. The closer they got to the end of this conversation, and the sooner Cas would leave him.

“Okay.” Cas said, and that was that. They continued to stare into each other’s eyes for far too stretched a span, until the overwhelming need to look away, hit Dean - and Cas had an excuse for the tears pricking his eyes. Dean shuffled backwards, trying to swallow the metaphorical lump in his throat, and he reached where Sam had been waiting.

The time had fucking come. The goddamn moment was upon them. Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, not taking his eyes off of Cas for one whole moment - Cas’s gaze swept over the rest of everyone, once more. Sam, Claire, Bobby, Jody, Donna, Rowena, everyone.

And then, the angel - grey pantsuit, silver hair - who’d been designated to escort Castiel to heaven, stepped forward, mistaking those to be the last words.

As if the last words that Castiel would say to Dean, his best friend and charge, and quite truthfully the most important human in his life, could ever be that inconsequential.

So Dean thought.

As did everyone else in the room. They all were certain that that wasn’t how they would end. Dean and Cas wouldn’t separate with words so trivial. Where was the epic climax, the fascinating gravitas, and the terrific poetry - that’d dictated their whole story together?

And so, Dean waited - of course he did, though he did it with a breaking heart, because that couldn’t just be it.

Except Castiel was already closing his eyes, a slow smile spreading on his lips, which could only be called ethereal. Angelic. The other angel stepped closer and took Castiel’s hand in hers - she did it so emotionlessly, it was striking - if that could ever have been Dean, he’d lose it, in all the best ways possible - but her face remained stoic.

Still Dean anticipated more words, kept his hopeful eyes on Cas’s lidded ones. That couldn’t be it. There had to be more.

“Goodbye, Winchesters.” Said the angel who held Castiel’s hand, instead, as a bright light seemed to engulf them.

“Bye, Cas!” Yelled an teary-eyed Claire, waving to be seen. But Cas didn’t say another word, nor did he open his eyes. Sam almost stepped forward himself, as if to stop the entire deal - but then didn’t, because Dean hadn’t. Everyone collectively gaped at the bright light, blinding until it vanished - and Dean was, by far, the only one who shed a tear.

And in that very stance, leaving Dean desperate for more, and leaving Sam, and his family behind, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, left the Earth.

Dean Winchester had had an idea. But there’d been a million qualms in following through with it. And now, he didn’t even remember he’d ever had an idea anymore. It didn’t really matter right now, did it?

Cas was gone.

When Cas left, the first few minutes, had been unbearable. He felt like he would - like he’d break.

This wasn’t the first time he’d lost Cas. But it was the most painful, somehow. It could be that this time, Cas wasn’t dead, he was just gone. It could be, that they’d never been this kind of close, in all the times that Cas had…left him. It could be that he’d left, with things between them like that.

It could be any of those millions of things, but the thing was that Cas wasn’t here anymore, and it was -

Sam had been looking at him carefully, as if he had things to say, but wouldn’t. Dean hadn’t himself said a word yet - but when he turned to look at Sam, and his younger brother’s tear-stained cheeks, he lost it himself - he choked on a painful breath, and screwed his eyes shut completely - because Cas wasn’t with them anymore, and hadn’t even said anything to Dean at the very end, and he didn’t know when he’d be back if ever, and -

Perhaps how wild he felt, could be seen, because Sam rushed to him - holding him up, with both hands. As if Dean were about to fall. Which he might as well have been, his head felt like it was spinning.

“You should go,” Sam suggested. The meaning was clear. He knew that his brother wasn’t prone to being vulnerable in front of all these people, but knew that he couldn’t swallow his feelings this time. So he repeated, more firm. “Go to your room if you need to, Dean. Everyone gets it. You should…you need to take some time.”

Dean stared at Sam, not quite agreeing yet. Didn’t all these people here, need him to -

“You need this, Dean.” He leaned in closer. “I’ll come by - when things have been taken care of out here, okay? Just..do yourself a favor and…let it out.”

Dean stared at him for one more moment, and then gave in. He almost slumped into himself, as he dragged himself to his bedroom - but he saw Cas’s room before he came across his. A moment of silent indecision, and then Dean chose to go into the other room instead.

For once, Dean agreed to do what his heart begged him to.

Okay, so we’re back here, full circle. Dean had had an idea. And any issues he may have had, were gone. As ridiculous as that sounds, it should be added, that the issues were all very significant and very much present. But Dean didn’t spare them a moment’s thought, anymore. It had been simple enough, to come to that conclusion, once Cas was actually gone.

When Dean had walked into the kitchen, the following morning in the bunker, Cas hadn’t been there, with a cup of coffee, waiting to ask him how he’d slept. (When Dean missed Cas, he unsurprisingly missed the version of Cas that he most remembered, not the person who’d been around the past few weeks.)

Gone was the sleep-roughened voice, still so gentle when it addressed Dean with a greeting. Missing were the blue, blue eyes which followed Dean as he cluttered around the space to make them both breakfast. No longer, did Dean get to accidentally brush against the trenchcoat in his hustle. As had disappeared the talkative smile; so soft, enthralling and oh, so contagious.

And then had dawned the earth-shattering realization that Cas was not here anymore.

And suddenly, it was all that mattered. (Or perhaps, it was all that had ever really mattered, and all that would ever truly matter. Dean couldn’t tell.)

With lonely wisps of coffee, it was irrefutably known, what he had to do. And there was no hesitation. He needed Cas, and if his soul was given allowance to tell it’s ugly truths, Dean probably needed Castiel more than he’s ever needed many of the crutches his heart had relied on: booze, women, or violence. Perhaps as much as he needs his codependency, featuring Sammy. Maybe even more than he needed to be completely himself.

And that sudden thought hurried him along the preparation, because he was clearly invested more than he’d guessed. It had to work.

It wasn’t as though Dean didn’t want Sam to know. Because this time, it wasn’t a stupid deal, or a deceptive all-powerful entity Dean joined forces with. It was Cas. There could be no harm.

It was more a matter of Dean wanting to surprise him.

(He hadn’t exactly given it too much thought yet, but he expected something like the typical show of wings, and Cas’s voice mingling with Dean to say -

Let’s just say he hasn’t thought of it too much. Just as he’s not thought of the technicalities of sharing a body with Cas. The problems, the intimacies, all of it. The Michael feels, if or not Castiel is comfortable using him as a vessel - none of it. Dean had just thought of one thing. That he’d offer himself up to Castiel, and persuade him to agree. And that way, they’d get him back.)

(After all, that’s what mattered in the end, right?)

So instead of Sam, Dean had to look at Crowley for help. The demon had been brought back after Chuck’s freakout snap, the day they lost Jack, and they hadn’t really been working with him, this time up - but the moment Dean suggested so, the ex-and-also-new King of Hell was all in.

“For old times’ sake,” He teased. “I always enjoyed scheming with you for the greater good, squirrel.”

And Dean would shut him up by saying that it wasn’t a scheme. It was bringing Cas back.

Together, they enabled Dean to be enchanted with a spell so efficient, and performed by witches so strong, that he could hold an angel of a seraph’s might, indefinitely. It was nothing grand, and Crowley called it somethinglike Rowena hosting a kitty party for her coven, and them having a good time making all of Dean angel-acne-proof.

True, he’d been Michael’s sword, but that was back when he was on the funner side of forty. Dean really didn’t want to pull another Jimmy.

That would be a fine irony.

And then, they made preparations to summon Castiel. When they needed to look for pieces of him, which would serve as hooks to which the forces would pull Cas to - Crowley exhausted his contacts, looking for a vial of grace which reeked of Castiel; until Dean told him, that they’d been sharing a house for like five years now, so he had enough stuff to use.

They ended up using one of his trenchcoats. It wasn’t the original trench coat, or the newest one - but it was one Cas had worn often. (The one Dean had preserved, through 'the rise of Dick’. Probably why Dean was partial to it, when he went into Cas’s room, looking for stuff.)

Crowley also threw in his toothbrush discreetly, in case the trench coat only served the aesthetic and poetic purposes, and didn’t actually do any true summoning.

It was time.

Once again, the day had come, but it was a much, much happier day.

And to preserve the bunker - in case Cas spoke with him in his true voice and the abandoned shack scene from 15 years back was repeated - Crowley had bought an entire motel, albeit a tiny, remote one, enough away from civilization, on Dean’s insistence.

It was just the two of them. Crowley was doing the final preparations, ever meticulous, the ideal perfectionist - and Dean stood by the side, nervous. But excited. Numerous thoughts ran through his head at once, fighting for dominance, but only one was victorious. Castiel being with him again. With them again.

When Dean absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, Crowley had to input, smirking like he felt very proud. “Don’t fret the hair, Winchester. You’re an upgrade from bed-hair, believe it or not.”

“Jimmy.” Dean corrected, dismissively.

“Yeah, him.” Crowley scoffed. “As if I care. The thing is, Castiel is getting an upgrade, moving into you.” He repeated, making his eyebrows dance on purpose.

“Just…do your crap, okay?” Dean rolled his eyes, avoiding the sensation of heat creeping up his neck. “No one asked you to compare Novak and me.” If Dean had been doing it a little bit in his head too, and was kinda wearing his beige-est jacket, no one needed to know.

“It has already been done,” Crowley declared. “Now, do you wanna drop the match in it, or should I - 'cause the flames may mess up your hair, for your to-be angel?”

Of fucking course, Dean was going to do it.

“I’m gonna kick your ass when we’re through with this,” Dean informed him, not unkindly. And he marched up and snatched the lighter from Crowley, before lighting it, in the very first attempt - he involuntarily closed his eyes, as he dropped it in the bowl.

Crowley was staring at him, with an amused curiosity, when he reopened his eyes, so Dean swatted at him, trying not to look embarrassed.

A minute passed, and the two of them stared at the spot between them.

“Now?” Crowley asked, slightly subdued, as the flames rose from the ritual with tons of sparks, and they both stepped back further. “Where’s Castiel? Do you see him, because I don’t.”

“He can’t show himself to us,” Dean blinked, remembering. “Or our eyes burn out. And if he speaks to us, our ears bleed.”

“I know he isn’t here right now, but I don’t think you’re supposed to call your angel ugly and noisy, squirrel.” Crowley hesitated, but grinned, nonetheless.

Dean ignored him. “He must’ve realized he’s been summoned. All that’s to be done is to pray that he knows it’s us.” Crowley blinked at him, pointedly, and Dean did a double-take. “Oh, right. We could pray to him!” He stammered, suddenly even more hopeful. “Like, ‘pray’ pray. Whoa.” He looked at the demon. “You’re not praying, ‘kay?”

“You cannot monopolize praying rights,” Crowley joked. “I’m allowed to choose my faith.”

“He won’t come to demons, smartass,” Dean rolled his eyes. And closed his eyes again, swallowing hard.

Castiel? Can you hear me?

Nothing. Dean’s heart skipped a beat. What was wrong?

Cas, it’s me, Dean. Cas! You there? CAS?

Still nothing.

Dean opened his eyes and looked at Crowley, and perhaps he looked desolate enough for Crowley to postpone any more 'possession’ jokes he’d thought up. “He’s not there.” He choked out. “Isn’t listening to me.” Suddenly, it all seemed to be a complete waste. Why wasn’t it working? Where was Cas?

“Why didn’t it work?” Crowley began to prance around the dying flames. He looked as agitated as Dean felt. “The spell was perfectly performed. What went wrong?”

CAS! Dean was back to praying; desperate, and louder. Come on, man. Get here, Cas, if you can hear me. Listen to me, you can hear my prayer, can’t you? CASTIEL!

Absolutely nothing.

Dean kicked his own heel. He advanced towards Crowley, glaring; and projecting. “If there was a fault in the spell, I’m going to -”

He stopped speaking, as there was a complete change in their surroundings. Before he could comment on the change of wind, and the darkening sky, he was swept off his feet.

All of a sudden, he fell to his knees - and clasped his hands over his ears instinctively. A strong gale-wind made the windows swing open, and shatter as they closed. Crowley was on the ground too, dragging himself into a corner, and yelling at Dean to do the same.

A loud ringing noise - the familiar ringing noise, perhaps - spoke to them. In a language that was only vibrations, or really mighty screeches. Dean yelled out in pain, and covered his ears more firmly. “Ahh! Cas, is this you?”

“Cas!” He yelled, louder. “IT’S ME!”

The windows closed with another thud, and the remaining panes of glass shattered like pieces of a puzzle. The door swung wildly. Clearly, the angel couldn’t hear him.

But the summoning had worked, and Castiel was here. In all his might and glory, and as his grace - demanding to know why he’d been summoned. In spite of the destruction around, Dean was filled with hope.

“I’m saying yes!” Dean yelled, not knowing himself what he hoped would happen. “YES, Cas! Listen to me, it’s Dean Winchester, and I want you to possess me!”

It still doesn’t make a difference.

Instead a flying piece of furniture hit Dean on the head, and for a second, he lost his balance - but too spurned by the adrenaline, Dean got to his feet.

“Get back down, you idiot!” Crowley barked at him. “Remember the blinding and the bleeding!”

“I,” Dean groaned, struggling to stand straight against the invisible wall of force. “I need to make him hear me! He’ll stop this!”

“Get down, Winchester!” Crowley warned, following behind him with much effort. “You’ll get smacked by a bed in your face! Not in the good way!” The fact that Crowley could still not communicate without the use of innuendo in situations like this, is perhaps one of his least appreciated qualities. And the fact that Dean didn’t understand the double entendre, would bother him for weeks afterwards.

But Dean struggled ahead, shouting, 'YES!’ With every breath, not even bothering how his voice cracked after the first dozen times.

It was when Dean reached the doorway, where the door had been ripped off its hinges, and flown to god knows where - that he shouted, with all his might. “CAS! It’s ME, and I NEED you to listen, I need you to possess me, I need you to STOP this!” That the whirlwind-like force dimmed.

It was working. Dean could feel his adrenaline leaving him, already drained of all his strength, but he kept going. He pushed himself up against the door, and stood straight, to repeat it. Gathered all of his wind, and shouted himself breathless, his eyes screwed shut, and a single tear escaping one.

“I am Dean Winchester. And Castiel, I’m saying YES!”

What Crowley claims happened, was that out of the chaos he’d wrecked, Castiel emerged - merely a stream of blinding, gushing grace, and entered Dean, having received his consent wholeheartedly.

And then, Dean collapsed on the floor, in a heap - which was vastly anticlimatic to witness, and slightly frightening, for he didn’t move for another whole minute. Crowley was half-prepared to ring Sam, and he says, inform him about the accident and flee.

But what Dean remembers happening, is way different.

In Dean’s version, after he’s yelled for the last time, he absolutely loses every last bit of his will to stay up. But just as he feels his knees buckling under him, he feels himself being overpowered by something so infinitely strong that it’s beyond his power to even grasp it.

His head’s thrown back, and his eyes roll back in his head, as he falls to his knees once again, letting Cas take him. Letting his grace make his veins it’s own.

And then, there’s a warmth coursing through him, and sitting, throbbing, in his chest. There’s a limpness which compels him to fall, and he loses consciousness and retreats into his head - which is where he meets Cas again.

It isn’t his first time being possessed, but this time, there’s no drowning. There’s neither the claustrophobia and fear of being trapped in a shell, nor the fake thrills of being wrapped in a fantasy. It is the most himself he’s ever been, and it’s parallel to Cas.

Dean can feel him around - he always could, couldn’t he? - and he’s never coexisted so easily with the voices in his head.

It is as if Cas and he stand side-by-side in the being that is Dean. Nobody has their hands on the wheel, not yet. (It is almost as if they’re holding hands.)

It could have been half a millisecond, or forty dragged hours, when Cas’s voice finally echoes in Dean’s head. It’s not as if Dean wasn’t expecting it, but he’s taken aback.

Because this isn’t Novak’s voice.

It’s the voice which answers his prayers.

The first words, after that abrupt farewell before, touch Dean somewhere in the heart. Cas may sound breathless, and excited, and powerful, and confused - but he sounds exactly like Dean knows he would.

You gave yourself up for me!

I gave myself to you. Dean almost says, and then doesn’t - but oh, he’s already said it, hasn’t he? Isn’t that how it works now?

You feel -

Cas’s voice begins, but Dean finishes for him, and it is the sensation of a thought brushing past another - rather than that of an interruption. Cas’s words weren’t cut off, they were there, and not relayed; merely there, just as Dean and Cas were, in the vast expanse of his within.

You could say I come with a warranty, now. do you feel the spell? Does it work?

It’s effective. Cas tells him, and he sounds so reverent. His voice is soft, as if he still hasn’t accepted the weight of it all, yet. But then, you always were -

Built to roleplay as a vessel?

- strong. Dean can’t see Cas (and of course he cannot). But he can sense him smiling. Almost happy, almost proud.

Dean, thank you. For this.

He sounded somehow like Dean was going to ask him to leave his body, after a small trip. Like Dean was doing him a favor by letting him get in him, for a bit. I cannot believe you did this.

And so happy were you on knowing that I did, that you had to bring the band and the fireworks?

I didn’t know it was you. Cas sounded sheepish, having caught his clue.

Who else were you expecting, to summon you into them? Dean lets out, thoughtlessly.

He receives no reply.

Instead, in time, he hears something else. You did tell me the last time, to lower the volume. The angel’s voice reverberated. There was jest, but in the most Cas-like manner. A crinkly smile shone in Dean’s head, and perhaps in Cas’s too.

And you didn’t listen.

I’m listening right now. Cas promised him, sounding exquisite, at that kind of proximity. We’re whispering. No one can hear us, anymore.

Dean relaxed infinitely at that mere idea, though he has no idea why - but a sudden thought followed up. Crowley must be drafting newsletters, about me having kicked the bucket by now!

But you’re with me. Cas’s voice faded off. As if, nothing could possible happen, as long as that stood true. Dean heard it, nonetheless. But knew, that shared, secret talks would prevail long past that moment.

But essential, was to return to the living, before Crowley phoned his brother, and snitched.

Alright, Dean. Let’s open our eyes.

Do I… Dean was curious. Almost a little afraid. Is this where I back off? Let you step into your light? Maybe do the wing shadow thing?

You didn’t quite hear me. Cas repeated. Thank you for giving me this, Dean. Now, let’s open our eyes.

And then, they did.

The light that entered couldn’t possibly have been brighter than the grace Dean now carried within, but he felt himself squinting, and rapidly blinking.

What astounded him, was that it was he who blinked. Cas didn’t.

Cas was simply there, perfectly fitted in the other half of Dean’s now-awake silhouette, and it was as if he had as much control of being, as Dean did. No less, no more. The latter part struck Dean.

“Dean!” There were hands helping him up to his feet. Crowley, looking more panicked than he probably wished to show, was staring at him.

Dean didn’t quite speak out, loud. Neither did Cas.

“Wait. Angel, is that you?” His tone slipped into a bit of lightness.

And then, Cas spoke, upon being addressed. And Dean heard Cas’s words, in his own voice, and involuntarily felt like his head spun. “It is, Crowley.”

“You didn’t even wave to me, the last time you ditched this planet.” Crowley threw back, with a hand on Cas’s shoulder, almost affectionate. Dean’s shoulder. No, Cas’s. Ah, it didn’t matter. “Would’ve hated to have seen the last of you, in all eternity, without a proper hug goodbye.”

“Is that why you’re here right now?” Cas asked, and Dean merely listened, transient almost - and proceeded to merely let it happen, when Cas was pulled into a hug, by his old acquaintance.

“I’m here because of the Winchester whose face you have on. He couldn’t bear your absence, called for help and mentorship, and I guess, I’ve always been a sucker for pining tropes.” Crowley smirked, and that’s when Dean first spoke up.

“Can it, jackass.” It came out the same as Cas speaking, but the way Crowley’s eyebrows rose - it was perhaps vivid that this was a different person.

“So, you’re still around, squirrel?” Crowley grinned. “Ah, well, sharing is caring. Though I was looking forward to regaling Cassie with all the anecdotes of your impatience to get him inside you.”

Dean focussed his mind elsewhere, so as to push down the heat creeping up his face.

Cas was the one who spoke this time, perhaps substituting for him. “If I’d known, I’d have been anxious for the same.” And with that, Cas lifted his hands, and with Dean’s eyes, he looked at them. And flexed - and then, inhaling fully, let out a sigh.

Dean merely waited.

As if on cue, Cas repeated the hand movement, as if testing it’s grip. Then he suddenly began to feel himself, patting Dean down his torso.

Dean responded with a sharp inhale, as Cas’s hands - Dean’s hands - brushed slightly past areas where he’d never known the angel’s touch. His hand didn’t linger, but a single, shattering - though not entirely inconveniencing - realization came upon him.

He now shared his entire self with Cas. Of course, he trusted him - Cas wouldn’t get him killed, wouldn’t harm him - that was a whole another thing.

It was suddenly about the little things.

The sharing of thoughts suddenly seemed like the easiest thing in the Universe.

Because they’d also share everything else. Already did share a voice. They’d share not just food, but a gut. They’d share hands - weapon-holding hands, and driving hands; burger-making hands, and even a jerk-off hand. They’d share every aspect of both their lives - and while it would’ve maybe, appealed in foresight, now, it seemed like a terrific shock.

Though, not a mistake. (Never a mistake.)

Because, there’s things you do, which aren’t mistakes. They’re the damned right things to do, and the best moves to make, but you’re still screwed, because of ~ fucking ~ course you are.

And at this point, Dean Winchester realized, that he’d been thinking all of these things. Not too clear, not very pronounced, but they’d been thought.

But it hadn’t extracted a single response from Cas.

For a beat, he balked - feeling certain that he’d offended the angel too deep, and there’d be communication errors like this, and hurt both ways - before he realized, that in these thoughts, he’d felt alone.

And in the very next second, he came to realize, that he indeed was solitary, in this section of his mind. Which could mean just one thing.

Cas had given him that kind of space.

The first thing Cas has done, before even trying to hold a blade in his right hand, had been to establish boundaries, for Dean’s benefit.

They weren’t impenetrable walls, and Cas was just a loud thought away - but Dean did still have an area, closely spanned, to be vulnerable with himself.

This was even farther from his previous experiences of possession. Those sons of bitches had been grappling to get their hands on all of his everything; sweet, blackmail material, handed to them on a plate - in the form of Dean’s darkest memories.

The thought provoked a shudder, which brought Dean back to complete consciousness - and another stunning realization.

While he’d been in his head, processing - Dean Winchester hadn’t zoned out. Cas was there, in control - holding onto all the bolts and nooks, that he’d allowed Dean to do. He felt safe, returning to the front, seeing Castiel engaged in conversation with Crowley.

That meant, he could take a break. It meant that he could give over all the handles to Cas, and stretch in the back for a bit - and Cas could do the same at times, such as when Dean was driving Baby, or - you know, at other times.

They’d not be truly apart, never more than a sensation away - but they didn’t have to be all wrapped up in each other’s space, either. Dean could do this thing, and Cas could camp in the back and merely talk to him - and they could take turns, and they could -

Hearing his name in the conversation, Dean’s attention was piqued.

“So, from one vessel-occupier to another, how do you feel?” Crowley was smirking.

Dean hoped he’d say, 'fine’. Maybe 'really healthy, junk-eating is the secret to vessel-building’. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t say that. Maybe he’d say, 'Comfortable’, and that would be enough for Dean to internally scream loud enough to be heard - by Cas, at the very least.

But Cas surprised him, as he answered. “He feels…” His voice took a turn for slow, decisive, maybe even sultry - if he didn’t know any better. “He feels good.”

Fuck.

What, Dean? Cas’s voice, this time, and not Dean’s - resonated across his head.

Holy fucking shit, Dean was not going to survive this. Forget the rest of it. He was not going to survive Cas patting himself down, and saying Dean felt good, and he wasn’t going to survive the number of bottoming puns Crowley was already listing off, and he wasn’t going to survive his slightly-off-from-heterosexuality thoughts when Cas was right there, and so close, and all of the times they’d be alone with each other, or showering with him, or being on a bed, knowing he wasn’t alone - and he was not going to survive the -

“Dean. I think you should calm down.” Cas spoke, out loud, as if that would be more effective, and Dean turned a deep red - though he had no idea how that worked, because he was only a certain part of himself, but surely only the left side of his face didn’t flush, and - He really needed to stop thinking so much.

Shut your mouth, this is my head, and this is normal. He told Cas, not completely joking.

Cas smiled, and this time, Dean could tell, because he could feel it even more vividly. It’s like he did, too. Ignoring Crowley, he spoke aloud, again. “We have a lot to talk about.” He summed up, intelligently.

A ton to figure out. Dean agreed.

“But, I’m afraid I’d rather like to meet your brother now.” He repeated. “I missed Sam, too.”

Yeah, alright. Let’s do that. He doesn’t know of this, uh, body sharing thing, so maybe you can break it to him slow.

“I’ll…try.” Another smile. “But, I do understand, we have much to discuss. I haven’t even been properly thankful yet, and it means a lot, and I wish I had words to -”

Let it be, Cas. Dean broke in. We’ll talk about it later tonight.

And with that rather suggestive thought (bringing forth innuendos in Dean’s brain, as Cas’s could not have conjured) and Crowley shushing them (whilst telling them to have their intra-brain conversations inside, instead of out loud, because people would think they were crazy), the angel and the demon, and the kinda-there Winchester flew off to the bunker to break the news to the rest of their family.

***

Hey, blogfolk! So, I cannot remember where, but I actually read a shitpost about Castiel possessing Dean, and went, you know WHAT, I wanna read that. And then I went, well, I should probably write it myself. Funnily enough, my fic only manages to lead up to that ~ in like 8k words, which is saying something. Maybe I’ll make a sequel to this, with the actual possession, if you want there to be one! If you enjoyed this, please share, and send words ~

Taglist alert: @ctrl-alt-destiel @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby (to maybe take your mind off of things, Lucy, crouton-fam @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @moderatelypanickedbiromantic @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim (who is literally one of my favorite readers, and I’m really looking forward to her reading this bit) @naitia @ladywaywarddsc @thekidswillbealright @zoerayne2426 @hellfire37 @3dg310rdsupreme and @impulsivedandelion (WHO *grins* IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AND - wait, this post is already huge, I’m just gonna make a separate post about how awesome she is, and how I’ve totally adopted her, mwuahahahaha)

Have a good day! Keep it sailing!

Sheya.

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hoodie-lover · 4 years

Text

My Multiverse

Error was wandering through a large empty AU, something that was very uncommon. It put him on edge, why would Ink make an empty AU? It was quiet as the anti-void, but it was just a large desolate valley, the colors were bland and pale, and the sun, though it shined, was bleak and dim. Error was attracted to the AU because Nightmare said he felt a strange aura coming from it and he couldn’t enter it, so Error was sent out to investigate.

Error was passing over a surprisingly tall hill, surprising in height and the fact it even exists in such a wasteland, he saw a small cottage. It was quaint and cute, small yellow bricks, a wooden door, strong roof, and a large chimney puffing out smoke. Curious as to who could be living there, he teleported to the house and knocked on the door.

It opened slowly, creaking and squeaking every second the rusty hinges moved. Thoroughly creeped out, Error was torn on whether he should enter the house, but heard a large crash and decided to investigate. The house was dark, almost no light except from a few windows tucked up into the corners of the kitchen and living room. It was very rustically decorated, old and rusty metal dishes and silverware were sloppily set out on a wobbly table.

Another loud crash came from upstairs, and Error bolted up. That was when he saw a large ornate fireplace, velvet chairs, animal skin rugs, and paintings of a large array of Sanses, almost two to every wall. Error saw two china vases on the floor, shattered to pieces. Ink was standing there, heaving and shaking. He began to scream and tear the paintings and other expensive vases to shreds. Error had no idea what was going on, but he was scared, he had only seen Ink this mad when the fought, and even then, it was rarely this bad.

Error decided to slowly leave Ink to his own devices, assuming the AU was made so Ink would have a nice place to vent his anger. Error was slowly backing up, not taking his eyes off of Ink for one moment, until he bumped into something, or rather, someone. Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw Dream, Ink’s number two. Well crap.

Dream grabbed Error by his shoulders and dragged him towards Ink, posture perfect and grip horrifyingly tight. Ink looked at Dream, and then his eye drifted onto Error, and a wicked smile spread across his face. His eyes were a bright red, the color of rage, and blood.

He was thrown onto one of the chairs, and cuffs locked him onto the chair, hands far away from his eyes, rendering his strings, his main and only weapon, useless. Twas only now that he saw Dream’s eyelights, were gone. He recoiled and snuck a glance at Ink, he was slouching in the chair, resting his head on his fist.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” Ink had asked, eyeing him carefully. Error was shaking from the fear.

“I-I-I was c-curious...” Error stuttered, looking for a way to get out of this situation.

“I see, I see. Well, why don’t you stay for a while, I’ve been plenty bored recently?” Ink asked, his eyes locking with Error’s expectantly.

“I’d really love to, but I have to get back to my...puppets! I need to finish some of them.” Error lied, praying to whoever could hear him to save him from Ink, but as he expected no one came.

“You won’t be. I’m keeping you here until you’re boring.” Ink stated, getting up from his chair and walking over to Error.

“What’re you going to do?” Error asked, and Ink snapped his fingers, but nothing happened.

Ink donned a puzzled look, and snapped his fingers several more times. Nothing happened. Ink snapped his fingers one more time and Dream collapsed. Error was startled by this, but Ink just seemed more confused. Dream got up, dizzy and clearly disoriented.

“What happened?” He asked, unaware of what’s been going on. “Where are we Ink, why is Error tied up like this. Why are your eyes red?!” Dream cried out, shaking as he backed away.

Ink snapped his fingers once again and Dream’s arms were pinned to his side by invisible bonds, or that was the closest analogy to the scene beside Error.

“What are you doing?!” Dream screamed, trying to break free, even shedding a few tears. “Answer me!” He screamed again, before Ink snapped his fingers again. Dream’s mouth snapped close, causing him to thrash and squirm more so than he normally did.

“You were always so loud and squirmy, no wonder I keep you as a huck most of the time.” Ink reflected, causing Error to shriek.

“You WHAT?!” Error exclaimed, almost rebooting from the mix of rage, disgust, horror, and confusion.

“Oh, I see. You don’t know~.” Ink chimed. “I can control and puppet people around, just like you can. But I don’t need any silly strings, I can do it with a snap of my fingers,” Ink snapped his fingers for emphasis and Dream was allowed to speak and screamed in pain. “But I can do it with a simple thought.” Ink continued, and Dream stopped screaming, now sweating profusely.

“But it seems that you glitches and alternate classic timelines, have a resistance, or just an immunity. The worst thing I can give you is a migraine.” Ink elaborated, and Error was shocked. All those times that they had splitting headaches and migraines, that was Ink trying to control them? What about Nightmare, Cross and Fresh? Was this a setup done by Ink? Did Nightmare actually care about them? Or was Ink just stringing them along only to break their hearts?

“It’s fun to watch you question everything you know.” Ink giggled as he snapped his fingers once again, and Dream’s eyelights went out once again. He pointed towards the downstairs area and without a second of hesitation, Dream walked off, completely rigid and frozen. Ink laughed at the scene before him and then looked back at Error.

“But it seems my blabbermouth has let you know far too much Glitchy~. It seems that I need to use, alternate methods other than memory erasure.” Ink stated, and opened up a viewing portal, showing Cross, Fresh, and Nightmare all standing stiff, rigid, and eyes blank.

“Spill anything, and I’ll dust them. And if you let me mess with your code, I won’t kidnap them and torture them.” Ink told him, smiling a creep smile.

Error thought about it long and hard for a few moments, he

“F-fine. Just don’t hurt them, don’t make me hurt them.” Error begged, his knees shaking.

“There’s something called a reputation. No one currently knows I can manipulate code as well as I can. If you start killing your housemates people’ll be suspicious as to why I lied.” Ink said matter-of-factly, and Error breathed a sigh of relief.

It was at that moment dream walked up with a small cup in hand, he handed it to Ink and with a dismissive wave of his hand, Dream walked off.

“Our deal goes into effect now, drink this to knock yourself out so the transitions will be easier and I won’t have to hear you scream as I mess with your soul.” Ink told Error, holding out the drink to him.

Error took the cup and downed the whole thing in one gulp. It tasted like chocolate and caramel, but it was very bitter as well as sweet. A wave of dizziness hit him and be passed out soon after, Ink’s sadistic laugh sending him off to dreamland, and he didn’t know when he would wake up.

Characters belong to their respective owners

#undertale #dream sans #nightmare sans #error sans #ink sans #cross sans #fresh sans #fanfic #my multiverse

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mrdanielbond · 5 years

Text

Bond’s New Flatmate (Chpt. 11)

“Don’t move...”

Summary: After recently coming face to face with James and facing the ultimate backlash, you now find yourself in a position of discomfort, anger and a good old broken leg at the hands of the skiing accident. Jonathan tries to comfort you - is this finally the type of comfort you’ve been looking for?

A/N: Again, Jonathan is the man of your choosing! We’re starting to hear more of James and the dear husband, Q! This story does get better, I promise it will!

You woke up hearing muffled voices around you and woke up to seeing a blurry figure beside you. A quick and sharp pain jolted within your leg, which you felt had been hoisted above where it needed to be. Then you turned to your left arm and found it trapped in a cast. ”Ah!” You groaned, catching the two figures by surprise. Soon you could see that one of them was Jonathan.

“Oh my god! Y/N, are you alright?” He was mortified by the sight of the bruises that stained your face and how pale your lips are from how long you must’ve been in the frost. He quickly moved to your side and brought your hand to his lips. Something you didn’t bother to acknowledge as all you could feel had been numbness seeping through you.

“Why the fuck is it so bright? God, can you turn that off?” Your voice was croaky and you were rendered weak, although your words still somehow managed to show that you were tough as nails. Jonathan couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“You took quite a hard fall out there, love. I didn’t think you were going to wake up so soon.” Jonathan said with a small sigh as he turned to the doctor, who spent time checking you.

“Hello Miss, Y/L/N, I’m Dr Hans Bjornsson. Your partner brought you here after a skiing accident. Do you remember anything about it?”

Partner. You hadn’t paid attention to the term but gave a small nod. “I remember being damn good at skiing until that point.” You said with a smirk, causing your friend to helplessly chortle.

“And how do you feel?” The doctor asked.

“I wish I could answer that question, doc but I’m going to be honest with you, I can’t feel a thing in my body. Except as though someone is crushing my head with a rock.”

“We’ll get some anaesthetics for that headache. Also I wanted to let you know that you’ve have fractured your ankle after taking the hard fall and from the temperatures you were in outside, it increased the swelling and has been difficult to get down. Also a couple of your ligaments from your calf have also been fractured on your right leg, hence why it is hanging up. Your arm took some severe damage too as you fractured your wrist but other than that, you’re lucky you didn’t take any worse injuries. It’s not usual that people would wake up so soon from a fall taken such as you’ve taken. I’ll leave you two for a moment and make sure a nurse comes back with the anaesthetics.”

He left you and Jonathan alone in the room together. There was a silence lingering and you could tell that even though Jonathan wanted to make sure you had the rest you needed, he still had questions he needed to ask. He held your hand tighter and interlocked his fingers with yours eventually. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t woken up.”

“How long have I been out for?”

“A little over a day. Again, your fall could’ve put you in a coma. The doctor was right, you were lucky. Really lucky.” He sighed.

“Well I’m sorry I put a whole damper on the holiday for getting too cocky.” You laughed weakly.

“Oh no, this is entirely my fault. I should’ve been watching you from the beginning. This was on me, I promised I’d be there and I wasn’t. That was a really shit thing for me to do.” He frowned, scratching his head. “I can’t believe I made false promises.”

“Jon, I’m going to be fine. It was one little accident. You’re not to blame for any of this. ” You said and before you could continue, you entered a raging coughing fit. Jonathan quickly leaped up to your bedside and stroked your back as you coughed. He then turned around and before you knew it, he had a cup of water in his hand and was helping you drink from it. Simple acts like these, you hadn’t expected him to take on but the more he did, the more you warmed up to him. It was difficult for you to do so, but somehow this man made it easy for you to do so.

“It’s alright. I’m here.” He said with a sigh as he rubbed circles on your arm. Eventually, you gave in and leaned against his shoulder, taking in his scent as you did so. Besides being next to each other on the plane, and the incident at his home where he proposed the idea of going to Geneva, you hadn’t been within such close proximity of him. This was completely different, you weren’t nervous. Just at ease. Soon enough, your eyes started to drift off to the sound of his voice.

“And remember, you cannot take part in any physical activity that could potentially stop the healing process. Your injuries may be severely damaged afterwards if you do so.” The doctor said as he signed the rest of the papers.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen, doc.” Jonathan stated, which earned him a glare from you. “I’ll be watching her like a hawk this time.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Got it. Don’t move around too much. Jesus, I’m literally going to be trapped inside that room with nothing to do!”

“It’s what’s best for you, Y/N.”

“Mhm. Yep.” You snapped quickly as you picked up your crutches, while Jonathan remained a close distance behind you.

“Jesus christ! Why does it hurt so much?” You groaned as you leaned back into the soft couch. The pain hadn’t subdued at all since you last took painkillers but in fact had gotten progressively worse. You tried to reach for the remote on the coffee table, but even that was a sport.

“Y/N! You’re not supposed to be moving that’s why it hurts. Let me help you.” He quickly said, moving your shoulders back so he could pick up the remote for you.

“You do realise I still have a right hand. Right?”

“Which is useless when you also have a broken leg.” He noted and stepped forward. You saw him drop beside you in a pair of shorts and a t shirt. God - your not so innocent thoughts came creeping in.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be working?

“Your wellbeing matters more to me, Y/N. I don’t want to be a complete twat and leave you here on your own. You deserve to be looked after.” He said with a genuinely serious tone.

“Look I really think you should go out there. I heard you on the phone in the taxi and I can tell you want to get this mission done. I don’t want to stop you.”

“But Y/N, I’d very much rather be here with you, watching crappy television and drinking beer. I’ll even order us a pizza.” He groaned, scratching his head.

“Jon! Go out and do your job otherwise I’ll be the reason you’re sacked!” You reprimanded him, earning a playful whine from his lips. This was your chance to have fun while you were in a miserable position, so you playfully tapped near his ass, urging him to move. “Off you go. Do your job!”

“Alright, alright! But you know we’re not finished here.” He said, pulling you gently to him with a devious smirk. “You’re definitely going to regret sending me away.”

“Good thing I’m literally stuck here while you go out so you don’t have to anticipate me disappearing by the time you get back.” You retorted and leaned away from him. “Now Jon, get up, it’s time for you to go.”

Jonathan returned ten minutes later in black dress trousers, a navy blue sweatshirt and a black leather jacket. His usually untamed hair was styled so it was kept maintained and again, the not so innocent thoughts came creeping in. “I won’t be long.” He said and approached you slowly, then planted a kiss on your head. Something again, you hadn’t expected from him.

“Give me a ring if there’s anything you need and I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

“I won’t need anything because I can do things myself, you know.”

“Don’t you fucking dare move from that couch unless you need the toilet or room service.” His voice had a hint of dominance to it, which made you blush slightly. You hadn’t been used to this side of him, but it was surely something you were going to enjoy testing.

With that, Jonathan was gone and you were left watching a television show in front of you.

Your phone buzzed beside you, causing you to huff deeply at the caller. “Y/N! Thank goodness you’re alive!” The concern from your husband’s voice was clear. “I heard you were involved in an accident.”

“The dead isn’t coming for me yet, I’m fine.” You chuckled.

“No, I know you’re not alright. What are the injuries? Are you alright?”

“Broken right leg, and I’ve fractured my left wrist so it’s in this stupid cast, in this stupid sling.” You groaned.

“Do you want me to come there?”

“Oh no! Don’t - no. I’m fine, everything is completely under control. Please don’t come here.”

Q gave a long sigh, “I wish I could’ve been there to make things less painful for you. I just wish you weren’t so stubborn. When I heard James telling me this-“

“Right.” You chuckled sarcastically.

“What?”

“Nothing. Carry on.” You shrugged, gritting your teeth to the sound of his name.

“Y/N, did he gave anything to do with the accident? I know James and when he wants something, he goes in full force for it without considering the consequences.”

“Nah, I didn’t even know he was there and to be honest, I don’t really care.”

There was a pause and you can tell Q was contemplating something. “Y/N, I feel badly about how I left you in a time of need.”

“It’s not your fault. Alright? At least I had money to fall back on.”

“I know but now all this has happened. You’re injured and - Bond’s gone rogue. He’s not answering his calls and pulled off his tracker, he was supposed to attend a meeting between Nikolaj Altherr and get a feel of potential terror threats around the room but when he told me he saw you cycling with a friend - he simply cut off all ties with us.”

“Huh. That’s funny. Again, I don’t really care about him.”

“Are you and this friend - are you two-?”

“Going out? No.” You could almost hear the worry in his voice on the other end of the line. “Unlike James, I actually know how to keep friends of the opposite gender without any sexual experiences with them. I’m not even thinking about jumping into anything right now.” Although you felt slightly bad for saying such as Jonathan made you feel differently.

“Right.” You could’ve sworn you heard a sigh of relief. “When this holiday of yours is over, I was thinking- maybe we can go for a drink. Catch up properly, somewhere nice and no James Bond to ruin it.”

It was a friendly offer and after all Q had been there to check up on you when Jonathan hadn’t been. “Alright. Although it’ll have to be a little while after I return. I plan on working relentlessly to get something in my bank account that isn’t just a drain sucking all the money out.”

Q chuckled and with that you had a small smile on your face. “Please, take care of yourself Y/N. I only want what’s best so lay off the heavy work. Take care of yourself. Alright? Are you at home?”

“No, I’m still in Geneva but I’m stuck inside the hotel.”

“Good. I want you to make sure you take care of yourself.” He said, seriously.

“I’ll try to.” You laughed nervously and ended the call.

You spent a few minutes trying to put two and two together with your conversation. Q had never asked you out in an intimate setting since you last saw each other in Oxford...you silently prayed he didn’t have those feelings return once again. And James going rogue over you? What the hell was that about? But he was in Geneva...and Jonathan mentioned needing to detain a rogue agent in Geneva. Uh oh.

Hours past by and as much as you were enjoying the cosy room, with a fireplace before you and beautiful view of the city and mountains behind, you were getting bored. Your room was large enough to have a kitchen on the other end, and you were sure there was nothing in it. So you pulled yourself up after five minutes and dragged yourself to the door. Gosh it was a challenge, even trying to open the door with one hand.

Just as you did, you grinned to your satisfaction when you bumped into something hard. Then the smell of pizza drifted towards you along with Jonathan’s scent.

“Fucking kidding me?” You whispered.

“Kidding? I don’t think so. Where do you think you’re going Miss Y/L/N?” Jonathan’s accent got to you quickly and guilt seeped it’s way into you. You could even hear him smirking as he said so.

“There’s a bar downstairs right?” You said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Yes but you’re not going there.”

“But I’m bored! I’ve been stuck in there and if I watch another episode of countdown I am going to lose my shit! Can’t I just see something?”

“Not now. You only just got discharged today!” He said with a frown and moved to your ear, “Now what did I tell you about moving from that couch? You’re going to go back inside or else this pizza is not going anywhere near you.”

Even when he spoke about food, butterflies swarmed your stomach. His voice was incredibly low and it was incredibly hot. But he also knew that you would have been super hungry by now, which you admired him for being able to detect.

Soon, you gave up and hobbled back inside, while Jonathan places his arm on the small of your back, directing you inside. “I hate you...” you mumbled.

“Darling, you like the idea of hating me.” He smirked and dropped the boxes of pizza on the counter. “I’m going to change and I mean it this time, don’t move or I’ll handcuff you to the chair myself.”

Your eyes quickly widened to the sound of that, “Wait a minute - you carry handcuffs with you?”

“I’m practically a police officer for agents, of course I carry handcuffs with me.”

“I’m not too sure that’s the only reason you carry them with you…” It was bold enough for you to say, but you only managed to get a chuckle from him and no other answer. For a moment you smirked to the sound of that but then blushed when you realised...he hadn’t given you a definitive answer.

Jonathan returned in his shorts and white t shirt, which you could die for, “How do you feel now?” He asked as he entered the front room. He saw you sat back on the couch with your leg up and you appeared miserable. He poured you both a glass of Ben Nevis and handed you your pizza as it was going to be a struggle to reach.

“Shit is an understatement.” You groaned as you started eating your pizza.

“I’m really sorry.” He said frowning. “I should’ve been there and I promised you I would be.”

“Nah. It’s not your fault, again I was reckless...I got carried away.”

“Do you want anything else?” He said, casually rubbing your uninjured knee from time to time.

“Can you fix my leg?”

“That I cannot do, if I had the power to I’d have done that the moment I found you. I don’t think this was all down to recklessness. You’re a lot smarter than that.” He stated, “Do you remember what happened?”

“I don’t know. I finished my break, then...” Your breath hitched. Jonathan snapped his head to you, noticing you stop.

“What else happened?”

“I got really into it and just happened to go too fast. That’s all. Then everything went black only when I realised I was going too fast.”

“Mhm.” He places his fingers beneath your chin and turned you to him. His eyes bore into yours and you felt as though you couldn’t move under his gaze. “You know when I was out I thought you were going to do something like this. Leave the suite to go to the bar.”

“You know me too well.” You smirked. Soon he moved his hand back onto the pizza. “So uh, did you manage to catch him?”

“No. Unfortunately not. Weirdly, his last sighting was at the same ski resort as us on the day of your accident. Y/N...” he knew already the sigh of defeat. “The rogue agent I need to detain is one Agent 007. And I’m only telling you this because. I recently found out his name is...”

“James Bond. He was my flatmate. I know. I put two and two together this afternoon.”

You placed your pizza on the table and leant back letting out another long sigh. Jonathan instinctively placed his arm around yours and pulled you to his chest, where he kissed the top of your head. “You don’t have to tell me what happened now, I can wait but in due time I hope we can trust each other enough to tell each other things.”

“Mhm.” You absentmindedly said. After a few minutes of silence, Jonathan was the first to speak. “Two brothers.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve got two brothers and I’m the middle child. Apparently I was the most dramatic of us three but I’d say my youngest brother was the biggest drama queen.”

You smiled slightly, finally there were things he wanted to say. “I can’t imagine anyone else being more dramatic than you.”

“Well, my family is like walking into a full on pantomime sometimes.” He laughed, “I haven’t seen much of them since I returned from Afghanistan as that was when I was recruited by a branch of the MI6 to help control field operatives that potentially may harm the preservation of life or the mission itself.”

You snuggled closer to him as he spoke. “Well I went to Oxford, studied medical forensics and did my PhD there so there’s nothing as fascinating as yours.”

“Wait so you’re a doctor?”

“Yeah I don’t know how I managed to get there. To be fair, I went to awful schools all my life until Oxford. Lived on a council estate with my family it wasn’t fun but there was always something to hold onto for the future. You know?”

“I understand. You know, I had an inkling that you would be a remarkable woman. That there’s so much more to you than what meets the eye.”

“I know how to make some quality homemade dishes and a mean homemade burger if you’re looking to wife me as well. Over six years in university does wonders.” You winked, looking up at the stubble that started to grow into something more, which tickled.

“What? Can I wife you now? I’ve been meaning to have someone to share a cookbook with for ages!” The two of you laughed for a while when suddenly Jonathan’s phone rang.

Jonathan picked up his phone, “Hello?” A young woman’s voice was on the other and he quickly moved forward. He turned to you, “Excuse me for one second.”

He rose from his seat and made his way to his room to continue the call. Though you were knackered, you really saw it as time to go to bed, so you hoisted yourself up and hobbled into your room. That bold character seeping in once again. Jonathan returned to find you gone.

“Y/N?” He quickly dashed around the place when he found you in your room, sat on the edge, letting out a long sigh. “Y/N if you need help, that’s what I’m here for! You need to stop moving around like that.”

“I’m fine though. I don’t need help.” You tried to pull off your shirt but struggled in doing so, causing Jonathan to laugh. “Do you need help?”

“Fuck sake.” You huffed, “Fine, help me out then.” You groaned as he grinned making his way towards you. “Don’t worry I won’t look afterwards. If you don’t mind.” He said, pointing to your shirt and at this point you weren’t bothered. Jonathan raised your shirt over, carefully and turned around as you managed to undo your bra. “Can you hand me my night shirt, in the drawer.” He looked into the drawer and pulled out a blue striped night tee, then handed it to you. For a moment you struggled to get your arm through but Jonathan was more than happy to help and even with your jeans, which he managed to undo. He buttoned the shirt, keeping his eyes on yours as he did so, then when he reached the final buttons, he looked down and left two open so your arm had space to move. Simple things like this got to you especially. He helped you turn around and kissed your head before making his way to the door.

“Goodnight.” He said with a small smile. “If you need anything, just call me.”

“Wait. Could you - I figured it would be hard to get you if you’re so far when I need you for something. Uh - would you mind staying here? Or you could go back to your room. It’s cool.” You hid under the covers not bothering to wait for his answer as you knew he was going to say no. The man had to be in a relationship which made this uncomfortable. Suddenly you feel the bed dip and covers raise. “I could never say no to you, Y/N.” You Quickly clenched your fist in the sheet at a sudden pain in your body. Then an arm snaked around your waist reluctantly, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank you - by the way. For the pizza - and telling me about some of your family. I probably didn’t tell you as much as you probably would’ve hoped.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to. I’ll give you the time and space you need.” He said as he pulled you closer to him. “When you’re ready, you know I’m here.”

You felt a kiss being planted on your cheek and soon your eyes were heavy and you dozed off.

#007 #british #fanfic #daniel craig #james bond #james bond 007 #literature #mi6 #casino royale #fanfiction #tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #michael fassbender #michael fassbender x reader #james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy

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masked-mallards · 4 years

Text

Masked Mallards, The Multiverse, and Everything else

Chapter 3. Truce

The Liquidator launch himself like a scalding tidal wave at the Darkwing clone, forcing them both to go crashing through walls, and into the kitchen. He grabbed his arms and held him to a counter, causing the murderous mallard to drop his blade in the process if the duck had not been not wearing his armor the burns alone would have killed him. Megavolt and Negaduck followed pair to the kitchen, prepared if the dog’s prey had another trick up his sleeve. “You should have left town while you had the chance.” He growled; water took the form fangs in his mouth. Darkwing prime took cover behind a wall outside the kitchen and loaded his gun with and with a white sponge, given to him S.H.U.S.H.

“What’s the matter boy,” the 1st voice said as if he were talking to a pet.” Did we not giving you a good enough treat last time?” hinting at the foul tablets he had tossed at him the night previous. This enraged the hound, even more, he moved his hands up to the bold duck's unprotected wrist, burning them. The rude duck yelped in pain but continued to speak. “Don’t worry, we got something else instead, here let us show you.” the 2nd voice said, without warning, he threw his legs up in the air in a back summersault, forcing his way through his captor’s burning liquid body, and grabbed a bag on the shelf above their heads with his heels .” Here,” the 2nd voice said with a smirk. “Look at the flour.” The 1st voice joined in, then slammed the bag on his head.

The dog immediately let go of his prey and stepped back surprise. The bag dissolved upon contact with his head due to the heated water and its contents poured out. He tossed the bag aside before it could do any more damage, but it was already too late. The water around his ears, eyes, and nose had been turned in to a heavy mush, rendering his senses useless. Liquidator looked around for the dangerously clever bird, waving his arms around in search, but the duck was no longer in his vicinity, he was already charging at Megavolt, his intended target from the beginning.

Megavolt shot high volumes of voltage at the murderous Darkwing. The duck dodged the voltage with incredible speed and had made it to the front of the rat. He rammed into him, causing Megavolt’s electricity to temporarily stop flowing, then he latched onto his arm and sent Megavolt flying into his blinded companion. The electrical water hazard short-circuited Megavolt and electrocuted the Liquidator, putting them both out of commission.

"You useless Nobs." Negaduck yelled as he fired his pistol at his doppelgänger in the kitchen. The clone took cover behind the kitchen island as the bloodthirsty bird fired two shots at him. “You know,” the 2nd voice said miffed as he loaded his rifle. “That issue of peashooter you have there is only meant to fire 5 shot before you have to reload, you have already used 4 and missed.” He vaulted over the island with his loaded rifle in his free hand and fired it at Negaduck. Negaduck dove behind the wall between the kitchen living area.

He was now facing Drake who was against the wall to his left. He glared at his purer half, and fired his last shot him, missing again. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?!' Drake said as not flinching a muscle. "We have the same enemy, you wasted your last bullet, and you're a terrible marksman." Negaduck shrugged and ditched the gun in favor of his chainsaw. "Sorry," he said with no merit of shame at all. "Old habits die hard."

The hostile duck turned his attention back to Megavolt, pointing his firearm at him, and aimed with fire in his gaze. "Finally, we have been trying to kill you for the last 15 hours.’ His first 1st voice said menacingly. Megavolt was paralyzed by the electricity, preventing him from moving. He couldn't help but notice the voice sounded familiar, but his poor memory couldn't place it. Before his would-be killer could fire his gun, Drake came to his rescue.

He grabbed the mallard’s armor from behind with one hand, the rifle in the other. Then he expertly yanked it out of his arms and hit him, using the intruder’s weapon against him, knocking him to the ground. Megavolt remembered how his friend told him once, that he was in the military before he had adopted Gosalyn, just did think it was true.

“Don’t get up.’ Said Darkwing aiming the rifle at his older clone. “Or what?” the cocky duck asked with sarcasm in his voice. He kicked the original Darkwing in shin below the knee, resulting in Darkwing falling forward and dropping gun which slid under the oven. The older of the two picked himself up of the ground only to be met by Negaduck's chainsaw. He instinctively ducked out of the way as Negaduck swung his motorized blade horizontally, Darkwing was up of the ground and ready to fight. The Yin and the Yang focused their attention on their older clone, who stared back and smirked.

“Didn’t expect for the two of you to team up,’ the dual personality clone as the first voice said aloud, retrieving his chainsaw from its hoister." Well not this “early” anyways, or by choice.” They ignored him and mounted a counter-attack. Negaduck duck swung his saw again, forcing his opponent to back off. He continued his assault, swiping his blade in an attempt to sever a limb, this was always followed by Darkwing on the attack using hand to hand to hand combat. The unknown clone dodged every attack effortlessly until he realized he had been backed into the opposite wall and was now trapped. Negaduck reared his blade up for another attack and brought down his head. The clone pulled up his blade to block the fatal blow. The identical chainsaws locked teeth as their owners struggled to end each other.

Launchpad and Bushroot watch as the scene unfolded from the living area. Their leaders had teamed up against a common enemy, and their partnership was working. Bushroot turned to the large bird next to him, he had allied with them before, usually for a just cause. He stuck out his hand to Launchpad, who snatched and shook it with the same idea. "Truce.' They said turning their attention back to the kitchen. "Let's show that psycho, what happens went you mess with St. Canardians," Launchpad said with determination.

Gosalyn had made her way down the stairs and to the backside of what was left of the wall that the Liquidator and the old duck went crashing through. She not been able to get a clear shot at house crasher without hitting her dad or Elmo, now this truce made it more difficult. The young girl made her way to the outside of the living room not wanting to get caught by Launchpad, who thought he had locked her in her room once the fighting started for her safety. Gosalyn loaded her bow with an arrow dowsed in a sudation agent, she only had two doses at her disposal. She had to make them count.

Drake helped Megavolt to his feet, then took out his gas gun and shot the previously loaded sponge at the ground near the Liquidator who was starting to regain his senses. The sponge immediately soaked up the hound as if it was a pump. Megavolt stopped in his tracks as his friend put the all too familiar gas gun away, picked up the sponge and tossed in the freezer.” Sorry,” he said as he locked it with a padlock.

“He needs to cool off for a bit, can’t risk him killing the shooter before we question him.” Darkwing turned to face an infuriated Megavolt. “In all the time I’ve known you,’ he growled.” You were Darkwing Duck? Were you even my friend, or was it all a coverup!?" he demanded. Darkwing stares at his hurting friend. "Look," he said as he reloaded his gun with a new canister. "I'm sorry if I deceive you, but now is not the time to talk about it." He gestured to the quarrying pair of clones. He raised his gas gun and targeted the clone pinned to the wall.

Negaduck glared at the Darkwing under his nose, his eyes burning with hate and disgust for it. The clone stared back, clearly enjoying Negaduck’s anger. Drake spoke up. 'Negaduck,' he said warningly. "back off, I'll knock him out with gas then we'll question him properly.' Negaduck snarled at him not tearing away his gaze from his enemy, he had every intention to kill him. "Negaduck!" he barked. Negaduck rolled his eyes. ‘No…” he answered.” We can question him right here and now.” The fact that the clone didn’t stop smiling made his blood boil. “Why do look the way you do?” He demanded. “How come you have a chainsaw as a primary weapon of choice?”

He had increased the pressure he was already exerting on his older variant, forcing him to kneel. “Why are you like me?’ he finished as he towed over him. The clone's smile turned into laughter. "Come on now Jim, we think you already know the answer to that.’ The 2nd voice said baiting the younger clone, and Negaduck fell for it. The force increased again from Negaduck's chainsaw causing him to lose his balance and a temporary opening for the older mallard to exploit. He stood his feet with a start, knocking Negaduck to the ground. The old clone kicked his blade away and turned his attention back to Megavolt, pulling out his shotgun.

Drake instinctively shoved Elmo behind the fridge and dove behind the island, not that he didn't think Megavolt could defend himself, but because he was still a civilian. The shotgun went off, blowing off a piece of the island. Darkwing responded by taking out a canister of his trademark purple smoke screen and setting it off in the small kitchen. The trigger-happy duck stubbled around blindly, not knowing where to shoot.

Darkwing leaped from the smoke and tackled his doppelgänger, both fell to the ground in a scuffle. The two fought on the ground, trying to overpower the other. During the fight Drake pulled off the older duck's trench coat and tossed it to the side, a small trinket fell out the pocket. It was a small green pendant, lined with a dark grey metal. The mallard snatched it up and rolled away, landing on a knee. He drew a knife from a hidden compartment on his gear

Negaduck was off the ground, he walked up to the table, fetched a pepper shaker, unscrewed the lid and walked to the armed duck in a huff. The clone only had enough time to look up before Negaduck poured the shaker into his red eye. The peppered clone fell in surprise and pain, closing his hand around his eye. Then Negaduck kicked him clear across the floor and into cabinets, knocking the wind out of him.

Negaduck walked over to Darkwing, they both glared at each other. Negaduck scoffed with a smile and offered his hand to him. Darkwing took it and Negaduck pulled him up. "This is gross," he said as Drake got dusted himself off. "I don't believe it either," Darkwing responded as he turns to his unlikely ally. The ear-splitting sound a chainsaw snapped their attention. The third clone had grabbed a chainsaw, jumped on the island then leaped off it with a wild look in his remaining good eye. He had the intention to bring down his blade on their heads. Before he could, vines came from the living area, wrapped around his arms and torso tightly, and yanked him in its direction.

Bushroot pulled him on top of the coffee table, where Launchpad was waiting. He put his fist together, ready to bring it down on the mallard's head. "Sorry." He said as he brought it down. The pinned duck rolled out of the way, off the table and on his feet. He turned his attention to Bushroot, who still had his vines around him, but he had still managed to hold on to the chainsaw. He charged the plant duck only to be grabbed by the larger duck from behind.

The clone struggled to get free from the stronger bird, who had his arms tucked under his own and had lifted him off the ground. Bushroot released his grip, thinking the duck was subdued. With his shoulders now free from the vines, the dangerous clone jabbed Launchpad in the face with his shoulder, forcing him to drop his captive. The dangerous clone used his saw and hacked Bushroot into pieces. The Plant screamed in agony, this wouldn't kill him, he'd grow back, but man, did it hurt.

The bloodthirsty clone turned his attention to Launchpad, as Bushroot's body fell to a pile. Launchpad thought he was going to be next, but to his astonishment, the duck dropped his blade. The clone’s body shook as if was having a seizure, but it stopped as it started. The small duck rushed the larger one, in a flurry of movements, had him pinned against the couch with his arms behind his head.

The older clone was on top of him, his right eye was watering due to the pepper. He looked like he was incredibly happy to see him. “As much as I like to play with you, babe,” the 1st voice purred. He pulled up him of the couch and threw into a nearby broom closet and barracked it with a large chair. “I have other matters to attend to” the 2nd one finished as Launchpad tried to break the door down.

Bang! Negaduck had picked up the clone’s shotgun and had fired it at him, but was still a terrible shot. None the less, the duck dived behind the couch and had his knife at the ready. Negaduck enter the living, ready to fire on anything that moved. Megavolt and Darkwing darted over to broom closet to release Launchpad. Mcquack exited the closet with one of Gosalyn’s baseball bats in his hands.

Negaduck approached the couch slowly, daring his clone to jump out from there. “Oh Negs, when will you learn?” the mallard behind the couch said. He charged Negaduck, who fired the gun and missed. The Darkwing clone grabbed the shotgun and forced Negaduck to the ground, much the same way Darkwing prime did early to the older clone. “You can’t shoot worth shit”. He aimed shotgun directly at Negaduck's head. “Any last words?” the 1st voice asked. Negaduck was silent for a moment then he shouted: "bash his fucking head in, do not wuss out again!".

A large shadow nabbed the attention of the clone, who turned to see Launchpad about to swing a bat at older duck’s skull. He instinctively used the shotgun to block the incoming attack. The shotgun absorbed most of the blow before it broke in two, causing both ducks to fall backward. The two disoriented mallards tried to regain their balance. Negaduck got up and grabbed one of the shotgun halves with a metal jagged edge.

Launchpad tried to punch the enemy clone, but it wasn't able to connect. The older mallard to the opportunity a shoved him hard enough to send him flying into Darkwing. The pilot landed on top Drake and banged his head against a drawer, knocking him out. Darkwing was pinned under his unconscious sidekick. Negaduck approach his disoriented clone and attacked with the jagged end. The clone couldn’t block in time.

Blood and feathers hit the floor, the old duck fell backward holding his bleeding shoulder, but stood his ground, glaring at Negaduck. Negaduck struck him again, stabbing him in the leg with it, this time the old duck collapse from his wounds. He had burns on his arms and face, his eye was teary and swollen shut, he was covered in bruises and his blood, some fractured bones, and his body couldn't take it. Negaduck looked down upon the battered clone. He raised his weapon again, the clone braced for what was about to come.

“Don’t you dare, we need him alive!” Darkwing had managed to get his arm free from underneath Launchpad, Megavolt was struggling to lift the large bird enough for him to squeeze through. “Trust me,” Negaduck said. “You’re not going to want this one to get again, it is best if you just put it down.” With that, he brought down the broken shotgun onto to his helpless victim and began to beat him repeatedly.

Darkwing, now freed, bolted toward Negaduck and grabbed his bloodied weapon mid-swing. The mallard on the ground was wheezing and coughing up blood. He crawled away as the two younger clones fought for control over his fate. Megavolt has had enough at this point, he gave Launchpad’s heart a jumpstart with a volt of energy, not even considering that might of killed him. Mcquack came to with a shock, he glared a Megavolt, not knowing whether to thank him or scold him for his actions. Both of them ran to their respective leaders a pried them apart.

Launchpad released his squirming partner, who hit the floor with a thud. Megavolt finally let go of Negaduck, once he was sure the hostile duck wouldn't maul him afterward. Negaduck turned to the electrical rat. "That's strike two Sparky," Negaduck said angrily. “Go against me again and l ll kill you.”. Megavolt peered at the evil duck. "Look," he responded. "Believe me, I want to kill him with my bare hands after what he did to Quackerjack, but I want to know it had to happen in the first place. Once I have my answer you can do as you please with him.".

A cry of agony snapped their attention, the clone had crawled his way to a nearby table, where Darkwing had tossed his trench coat aside and had pulled himself using the table as a crutch. He pulled out the green metal device and dropped it on the table. Then he reached grabbed his coat, his hand disappeared in it. "No more tricks," said a stern Darkwing. "You are injured, surrounded and out of options, surrender.". The older clone wheeled around to face the 4 battle-worn people who were still in better shape than he was. “No,” the stubborn old duck in both voices wheezed in anger as began to reach for the unknown device. “We will be back to finish the job. If you value your lives and the world you live in, it is in your best interest to off that Electric Menace."

An arrow went whizzing by his ear and destroyed the device before he could grab it. “He said, no more tricks," Gosalyn said already to fire another arrow. Darkwing and the others whirled around to see the little girl standing on top of the couch with her bow pointed directly at the enemy. The old clone went silent. Before Drake could reprimand his daughter of the danger, she had just herself in, the third clone flew into a rage. “You…,” The 1st said as his temper began to rise. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT YOU JUST DONE!?” he roared as he pulled out a pistol and turned around to shoot her. The remaining adults rushed the insane duck, even Negaduck much to Darkwing’s and Launchpad’s surprise. However, they were too far away to reach the old warrior before he could pull the trigger. Then, more to their astonishment, he stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his gun.

He looked pale and horrified. “G-Gos…. Gosalyn you're alive?’ his 2nd voice croaked in horror. “She is not your Gosalyn,” the 1st voice said in a panic. “Focus.”. He began to tremble violently like when he was confronted by Launchpad. The multi-personality duck was fell to the bloodied carpeted floor, and was no longer speaking in an illeism.” I... I-I almost…no..th-that was too close…” the 1st voice stuttered on clearly having an episode of sorts. “But you didn’t,” the said 2nd voice trying to reign himself back in. “Pull yourself together, you sentimental idiot, or we’re going to- “. The old duck collapse on the floor, he seemed to be paralyzed from the neck down.” Shit.” The 2nd voice said defeat. Darkwing approach him before he or any others could register what just happened. His eyes bored into the old clone." Do not," he began trying to control his rage. "Do not ever point a gun at my daughter again! " he growled. With that he kicked him in the head, knocking him unconscious.

He was breathing heavily and looked around. His house was destroyed, walls had been torn down, broken furniture was everywhere, blood and, very much alive, Bushroot was all over the carpet. He couldn’t comparand how any of them survived, but counted it as pure dumb luck. “Now,” he said, looking the monster on the floor. “What are we going to do with you?”.

45 minutes later….

"No deal," Negaduck said sternly. "Once you get your answers, I will kill him.". He and Drake had been bickering for the last 45 mins over the rules of the truce. Launchpad had gathered what was left of Bushroot into a flowerpot. He was nothing but a sprout with a head and arms. Liquidator scooped him up in his arms and acted as legs. Megavolt had let the hound out of the freezer and had brought him up to speed. So, Drake had been Darkwing the whole time, he had aided in the capture of the rogue clone, and there is now a truce between The Fearsome 4 and the Masked Mallard until this case is resolved.

This worsens Liquidator's paranoia even more. Part of the truce was that they could not harm the Darkwing clone until they have a better picture of what they were dealing with. He and Negaduck agreed that the war raising clone was a ticking time bomb, and should be put down. However, Negaduck conceded to allow the duck to live, due to his own curiosity. He looked to the old clone. They had stripped him of his armor, leaving him in his loose grey T-shirt and black pant he had under it. Launchpad had carried him on the couch and handcuffed him to one of the legs. He was bleeding mess covered in bandages, unresponsive, but alive. The Liquidator had made up his mind. If the clone escapes again he will kill him, truce or no truce.

“Look,” Darkwing said. “We are wasting precious time fighting,” He gestured to mallard on the couch. They had used the entire first aid kit, but he was still needed medical attention. “We need to move him to a more secure place and get him treated.” He continued in a matter of fact manner. “I offer my tower.”. Negaduck peered at his counterpart. He hated the idea of handing over the prisoner, so Darkwing could take over the case and do it his way. His eyes turned to Bushroot.

“Bushweed," he barked. "You're the only one here with medical expertise, take the prisoner to this "tower" and see what you can salvage.". "Launchpad will escort them there," Darkwing interjected. Negaduck peered at the good Darkwing again. He hated the fact that he some control over his men. Darkwing ignored him and directed his attention to his pilot. "Once both of you are at HQ, Launchpad go to the east wing of the library. Look through the case files from the Darkwing incident and see if anything turns up that can enlighten us about the trigger-happy Darkwing.".

"He's not going to be in there," Negaduck said in contradiction. "He wasn't on the train. I kept a ledger," he tossed a leather-bound book in Darkwing's direction. Darkwing caught it midair and proceed to flip through it. As for most things in Negaduck's care, it was beaten and poor condition. It was filled with handwritten charts, each about a Darkwing he had apprehended. They contained dates of capture, a description, abilities and/or weapons, made up names for the worlds he visited, and names he had made up for the Darkwings, most of which were inappropriate.

Darkwing blushed as he scanned the book, but it didn't have anything on the new clone. He placed the book on the table next to the trench coat and the pieces of a green device that belonged to their sleeping house guess. What Negaduck said next gave him pause. "However, he had said he was following the train for a time, none of the cameras onboard or Magica's detection spells picked up on him.". "So, how did he do it then?" Drake asked. Negaduck shrugged, he hadn't a clue.

"Maybe he just said that to get under your skin, he's done it before.". Darkwing said. Bushroot had filled him in Negaduck's "questioning" of their senior clone. "None the less," He continued, turning his attention back to Launchpad. "Look over the old files, we don't want to miss anything.". Launchpad picked up the John duck and carried him bridal style, and took Bushroot from a reluctant Liquidator, tied a blindfold around the plant's eyes, then ran to a pair of chairs to the other side of the room. He sat down in one of the chairs and pressed down on the head of a mouse-like statue. The chair whirled and buzzed as it spun around with them inside, then they disappeared through the floor.

“In the meantime, I’ll go down to S.H.U.S.H. and see if I can't get them to convince the authorities to call off the manhunt.". Darkwing said referring to Negaduck and his crew." You are innocent of any wrongdoing in this case after all." Negaduck didn't disagree this time, there was an advantage to having one of S.H.U.S.H.'s own agents as an ally, even though it was temporary. "So that leaves me, the mutt, and Sparky here." Negaduck said. Megavolt grunted at the sound of his nickname. "What about me, what do I get to do?" a young and eager voice chipped in. The adults turned to find Gosalyn in the entrance to the living room, she was dawning her Quiverquack uniform.

Negaduck’s eyes locked on the young trouble maker, and grabbed the inside of coat again, like a nervous tick. “Gosalyn Mallard!” Drake said surprise and anger. “I thought I told you to go to school with Honker and the Muddlefoots today, this is no place for a child!” he barked. Gosalyn crossed her arms in a huff, she had always hated it when her father treated her this way.

“This place is our home, and it was attacked this morning," She responded coolly. If you think I going to miss out on bringing this creep to justice, you are sorely mistaken.". Gosalyn looked to the figure on the couch then around her home. It was in a worse condition than her room. The incapacitated duck had done a number on the place and was ready to kill her. However, at the last possible moment, he hesitated, costing him his freedom and the battle.

If he was as bad as they said he was, how come he spared me? She thought to herself. The adults had said that he was a violent clone, much like Negaduck and Dark Warrior Duck. Then it occurred to her that, like the other clones, he must have had a Gosalyn of his own, and if he is here, where was she? Gosalyn shook her head, not wanting to think about it, then returned her attention to her now enraged father.

“No,” Darkwing began. “You could have been hurt this morning, or worse. You are going to school today, and that is that.” He said putting his foot down. “but- “Gosalyn began to argue, but Darkwing yelled, cutting her off. “No buts young lady, now go get ready to go!”. Gosalyn ran up the stairs, tears burning her eyes. Drake sighed, he hated having yell at her, but sometimes it was the only way to get to her.

The Liquidator spoke up "Don't see why she can't help," he said in an inquisitive tone. "She's clearly is good with a bow, and she has saved your asses from whatever trick that menace was trying to pull." Darkwing stomped his way over to the Liquidator angrily. The hound stood his ground and glowered at the shorter bird. "She will do as I say and that's final!" He growled at the dog who questioned his parenting.

"You can stay put," He continued. Knowing full well that the Liquidator had no desire to stay in the urban home. We need someone here is if Launchpad and Bushroot comeback, or a guard dog if the clone escapes and tries to come back.". Darkwing continued his menace at the hound still angry. While you're at it, you can repair the damage you did to my wall." He gestured to the gaping hole where the Liquidator had plowed the older clone through during the attack that morning. Negaduck's hound looked to him for some sort of protest, but there was none. The bloodthirsty clone had his eyes on the stairs. As if he felt pity for the child if he was capable of such a thing. 'Fine." the old hound said in a growl of defeat, and his way to the wall to start working on it.

“I’ll stay with him,” Negaduck finally spoke. ‘I want to investigate the evidence.” He was referring to the coat and pieces of broken metal on the table. “That old geezer tried to grab these, before we apprehended him, and flipped out when the green device was destroyed." He surmised. "Must have been really important to warrant that kind of reaction.". Drake remembered how the clone had pulled a gun on Gosalyn the moment she destroyed his device with an arrow. "All right, see what you can find out," Darkwing said without objection. He grabbed a beige duffel bag, containing his Darkwing uniform, headed for the door." I have to drop Gosalyn at school, then I'll make my way to S.H.U.S.H. headquarters after that and clear your names.”

“You go on ahead to S.H.U.S.H,” Megavolt said before Drake could call down Gosalyn. “I can drive her and allow you to get started on that mound of paperwork that the organization is sure to through your way. They are looking for Megavolt, not Elmo Sputterspark. Besides, I want to visit the crime scene at the warehouse, see if the police found any of my equipment.”. Elmo had a point, for once, and he was the only one here that he trusted with Gosalyn. He nodded then exited out the door.

Negaduck turned to his electrical underling. It was obvious to him, that Megavolt had lied about his reason for wanting to go back to the warehouse. "Quackerjack," he thought. The unidentified feeling came back, he had repressed it since the warehouse. He hated it, yet he found himself following along with it. “I'll go with you; I want to check on the investigation and see what the police have found out." He lied. Megacolt nodded and went to fetch Gosalyn. Once she was ready, the trio made their exit, leaving the Liquidator behind as he tried to mend the wall.

S.H.U.S.H Head Quarters

Drake had large bags under his eyes and was mentally exhausted. He was dawning his iconic uniform of Darkwing duck. The Masked Mallard had hoped to speak with J. Gander Hooter about using S.H.U.S.H.'s resources to call of the duck hunt for the Fearsome 4 since they were innocent for once. S.H.U.S.H was the last place Darkwing wanted to be, he hadn’t been here on his own discretion in 3 years However, he had been waiting for him.

Vladimir Gryzlikoff was by no means a fan of the freelance purple agent. He had always been Hooter's right hand and eventual successor. However, much to the grizzly bear's annoyance Darkwing was considered his left hand. The bear insisted that Darkwing fill out the proper paperwork since the S.H.U.S.H. commander and chief was in a board meeting at present, Darkwing had all the time in the world. “No excuses.” Was the last thing Gryzlikoff said to him before dropping a pound of paperwork on the table in front of him.

After a few tiresome hours, he was finished. Truth be told he didn't remember half of what he had written in those papers. Gryzlikoff thumbed through the paperwork. "Everything is in order," he said in a professional tone." As luck would have it, Commander Hooter's meeting was rescheduled for tomorrow. I will personally escort you to him. We have had Headquarters renovated to accommodate for the F.O.U.L. agents we captured after the Duckthulhu incident, thanks to you.”He put down the wad of papers and motions Darkwing to follow. Darkwing followed in a silent rage. "I hate spies." Darkwing thought. His experience with the deceitful bunch has left him rather bitter. Even more so since he had lost her because he was foolish enough to trust one. The large bear noted Darkwing’s rising rage and regret. “If it makes you feel any better, the rooster was among the agents we arrested.” He said not looking at Darkwing, but toward the two-steel door with the words “prison block.”

Steelbeak paced around his cell, his talons clacked against floor as did so. He, along with other F.O.W.L. agents present during their leader's failed attempt to raise Duckthulhu, have been brought here for questioning. The rooster had been relieved of his fancy duds and was given a pale blue prison uniform. His cell much like his fellow inmates had no windows, contained a single bed attacked to a wall. The only thing that separated him and the hallway was thick glass, see-through door. The suave rooster had spent most of his time planning a careful escape. Steelbeak knew all too well that he was on his own, F.O.W.L wouldn't spare the resources or manpower to help one of their own, not even him. He laid down in his bed facing the glass door. Steelbeak made himself comfortable as if he were in his own house, with his arms tucked behind his head and had his legs elevated. He was not about to let S.H.U.S.H break him or his spirit to get any information out of him.

However, between long questioning sessions and trying to escape, he was rather bored. He missed the life of danger and fancy that he had become accustomed to. Steelbeak was also a very social bird, who hadn't had a decent conversation with anyone, other than his integrator which was usually one-sided. The steel doors slide open grabbing the attention of the prisoners, except for Steelbeak, who acted uninterested. He changed his tune though when he heard the inmates shouting angerly, and spitting out of death threats to a Darkwing Duck. He leaped out of his bed and darted to the glass. The Masked Mallard himself was here after 3 years. "Well looky at what we's has here," he said in his gangster-like slang. "The Great Darkwing Duck graces with 'is presents." Steelbeak pressed against the glass of his prison. Darkwing ignored him and pressed on to the end of the hall. "I love it when you play hard to get partner, but sooner or later yous gonna have ta acknowledge me!' He yelled over his cellmates. "I'll be waiting here when ya' do!"

J. Gander Hooter’s office had changed much since he took over, the walls were lined with books and notes he had written himself. He was old fashioned and didn’t trust the S.H.U.S. H’s defensives against hackers despite it being the best on the planet. The ancient bird looked up from a chess game he had been playing himself. “Darkwing my boy,” he said getting up to greet him. “It is always good to have my left hand here at headquarters. Now, what can this old bird do for you? “. Darkwing looked at with no expression.” I need you to have the police call off the manhunt for the 4.”. Hooter gave him a look of slight confusion. The attack on the warehouse has been all over the news, it was considered gang violence and The Fearsome 5 were involved, the police had already collected Quackerjack’s body as evidence against them. “On what grounds?” he asked Darkwing was silent for a moment he trusted Gander with his life, but he was a practical duck and would want to uphold the law.

As a freelanced agent he didn't have to tell him the whole truth, and he could operate on his own rules. Gryzlikoff had glowered him from the moment he uttered his request. Darkwing averted his gaze from the bear. "I conducted my investigation that night, cutting around the police." Darkwing began. "The five were involved, but they were not the instigator, nor was it a hitman from another gang." He paused. "The shooter at the warehouse was a weapons specialist, with plenty of insight as to how the Fearsome 5 had operated. He is one of my clones.".

Silence filled the room. Though Gryzlikoff didn't show it in front of his boss, he infuriated. After the Darkwing Crisis. S.H.U.S.H. began investing in security from external dimensional forces, part of which was registering the clone Darkwings in the event they made contact again. Commander hooter had, of course, had put the freelancer in charge of the operation. He had no say in how it was done. Didn't prevent him from asking questions though. "Was it Darkwarrior?" the large bear asked. "No, he's older than he is and doesn't match any of the known clones.". Darkwing replied. "How do you know?" J. Gander asked. Darkwing paused again. "I took the clone into custody this morning after he broke into my house looking for trouble." He answered. "I intend to get question him about his attack on the warehouse, and how he got here. As we agreed I do." The old commander walked to his desk and sat.

"Be that as it may," Gander started. "Why should we call it off? The Fearsome 5 um…4 still are wanted criminals.". Darkwing sighed. "The fearsome 4 are if reluctantly, aiding me in this case. They want to avenge their fallen comrade." Darkwing walked to the window. Gryzlikoff chimed in. "Oh, really," he said not convinced. "What about that infamous doppelgänger of yours? I doubt he is all friendship all of a sudden.". Darkwing turned to match the bear's gaze.

"No," he growled, he lied. Negaduck is not even involved. He wanted to kill the clone on sight, so we fought him off and moved the clone to the tower. Make no mistake though, I am looking for him.". The bear and the duck glared at each other, not trusting the other. "Alright, then," Commander Hooter said. "I'll get the police to call off the search for the Fearsome 5, but on the condition that you bring both the clone and Negaduck here after you have filed your report." Darkwing thought for a moment. "deal."

The rooster's eyes followed Darkwing and Gryzlikoff as they pasted his cell. The senior agent was red in the face, must have gone Darkwing's way again. Darkwing looked tired. However, what grabbed his attention the most was the duck's expression. Steelbeak had seen it once before 3 years prior. The night he had tricked him into aiding in the summoning of Duckthulhu and keep it a secret from S.H.U.S.H and his allies. "Oh Darkwing," he thought amused. "What tangled web did you weave?".

The suave agent leaned on the glass of his prison. He was still wanting to mess with the Duck Knight. "Hey, Dark," he yelled." What happened in Mr. Big Shots' office?" he asked. No response. "Oh, come on buddy, even though it was just for a night, we worked well as partners. Hell, if ye think about it, ya have a talent fir my kinds of work and it would be better under the guiding hands of F.O.W.L." Darkwing stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat.

The larger agent at his side stopped two paces ahead of them. “Hell, Negaduck is already proof of 'dat ain't he, and he ain't even a member." Drake's blood began to boil at the sound Steelbeak's voice. He turned to him "I am nothing like that and I never will be." The foul rooster smirked and dropped his gangster-like demeanor. Darkwing was in front of his cell now. "Oh, are you sure about that?" Steelbeak retorted. "Your ego alone was enough to summon Duckthulhu, you betrayed S.H.U.S.H. that night to further your own ends, and you manipulated that witch into sacrificing herself to cover your ass. What was her name? Morgana Mac-. "

Crack. Steelbeak fell backward in surprise and hit the ground. There was a large crack in the top left corner of the outside part of the glass door. Blood was trickling from Darkwing's fist, his menace wielded daggers. The tall rooster stood up and lowered himself to Darkwing's eye level. "Tsk, Tsk," said he said still sporting a smirk. "Your Negaduck is showing, If I didn't know any better, I'd say you want to kill me. Maybe Macawber made mistake in saving you, thinking of as a hero, rather than the ticking time bomb you are." That was the last straw. Darkwing pulled out his gas gun, took out a full canister of tear gas and tossed it under the food door of Steelbeak's glass door. The gas spewed and spudded at was released. The trapped rooster ran to the back of the room and tried to protect his face from the gas.

Gryzlikoff put the squirming, enraged mallard in a headlock, lifting him off the ground. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY TALK ABOUT HER AS IF YOU KNEW HER!!" he roared trying to get free from Gryzlikoff. The bear dragged Darkwing back to the entrance, as two nearby agents rushed to help a whimpering Steelbeak. Once they were out of the holding cells and in an empty office, he released his hold on the duck. Darkwing whirled around, looking like a rabid dog ready to attack and glowered at his senior, who blocked his way out.

"Are you done proving his point?" he asked with his voice thick with sarcasm. Darkwing was breathing heavily as he came down. He looked at himself. Drake's hand was a bleeding mess of flesh and glass, his uniform had loosed in his struggle against Gryzlikoff, and his gas gun smelled of smoke. The adrenalin left his body as soon as it came and collapsed in a chair. He waited for a strongly worded lecture from Gryzlikoff about his unprofessional behavior, and frankly, he deserved it.

"I should have you suspended and your gas gun confiscated," Said Gryzlikoff in a suppressed anger. "However, and I can't believe I am saying this, that be too much paperwork." The bear looked at Darkwing as the duck sat up in the chair and bowed his head. The mallard had not been here on his own initiative in three years." Look, we have a lot riding you as head of the clone investigation if you can't hand it- “Darkwing interrupted. "No, I have it under control." He said with a start. "Good," Gryzlikoff replied. Darkwing left the office and headed to for the exit. It was going to be a long case he could feel it.

Chapter 4

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/612626971235631104/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter 2

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190635473064/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter1

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190578269234/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

#fanfic #darkwing duck #negaduck #fearsome five #steelbeak #s.h.u.s.h #oc #launchpad mcquack

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myheroacademia-headcanons · 5 years

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Young Toshinori X Reader! They’re both classmates of 1-A, they’re awkward dorks around each other, and it’s the day of the Sports festival. Midnight and Mic want to help/mess with them. So they trick the reader into wearing the UA cheerleading uniform, hiding her PE clothes, and leaving her with Toshinori for the whole lunch break and throughout all the side games. Awkward fluff will ensue, and confessions!

The year is 2331 and class 1A has finished the first half of their very first UA sports festival. (Y/N) has never been the top of her class, but she was still disappointed that she didn’t make it to the second round.

Round 1 had been fairly basic, and it should have been pretty easy for her. It was a four person relay race, beginning in the Sports Festival Arena, going into the surrounding woods, then returning to the stadium for the final leg. All this should have been well suited to her quirk. (Y/N) teamed up with her friends Nemuri Kayama, Shouta Aizawa, and Hizashi Yamada. Their strategy was pretty simple: disable or immobilize all of the competition in the first 3 legs, then having (Y/N) to anchor the race, since her quirk made her pretty fast.

Hizashi ran the first leg, screaming at the top of his amplified lungs to take out the competition. Nemuri ran the second, putting all of her opponents to sleep with her scent. The third leg was run by Shouta, and by then most of the competition was far behind. Those who had quirks allowing them to keep up thus far were now rendered useless as Shouta took the baton and ran his whole leg without blinking once. By the time (Y/N) saw shouta on the horizon, most of the competition was far behind, and Shouta’s eyes were bright red.

(Y/N) took the baton and bolted, her mutant quirk being well suited to a foot race. She was quick and agile, making short work of the twisting trail that lead back to the stadium, and was a long way ahead of the competition. She looked over her shoulder just to be sure, but when she did she was shocked to see someone gaining on her with immense speed.

Toshinori Yagi from her class came into her view for a few moments, golden hair streaming behind him, sweat glistening in the sunlight. The moment seemed to last forever for (Y/N,) fully captivating her attention. She didn’t even see the tree root as she tripped over it, tumbling down the hill into a muddy ditch.

That fall had cost her team a place in the next round. Her friends told her it wasn’t a big deal, but (Y/N) felt awful. Even now in the prep room she felt like she might cry. I can’t believe I screwed up like that, she thought to herself. She slipped out of her muddy gym clothes and climbed into the shower. I probably looked so stupid… and right in front of my crush.

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“So, did you get it?” Nemuri asked Hizashi.

“Yeah baby! One smokin’ UA cheer uniform!” Hizashi replied, giving a huge thumbs up as he showed it to her.

“Good. I’ll go swap them now.” Nemuri replied, taking the uniform and entering the prep room. She placed the uniform on a table where she was certain (Y/N) would see it. Then, she grabbed (Y/N)’s muddied gym clothes and stuffed them into a bag. Nemuri then rejoined Hizashi in the hall. They both snickered quietly as they imagined their little prank playing out.

“What’s so funny?” Asked Toshinori, snapping both Nemuri and Hizashi out of their thoughts with his sudden appearance.

“Nothing!” The two friends replied quickly, failing miserably at acting natural.

“I Seriously doubt that.” Toshinori replied, glancing suspiciously between the two. After a moment of scrutiny, he resumed his course toward the prep room.

“Wait, why are you going in there?!?” Nemuri stammered nervously. She and Hizashi had thought it would be funny to dress (Y/N) as a cheerleader, but having her crush walk in on her changing was a bit far.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to clean up before half time.” Toshinori said, pushing his way past the two and through the door.

“What do we do now?” Nemuri asked, slight panic in her voice.

“Run.” Hizashi replied.

*****************************************************************************************************

(Y/N) was drying off with a small towel when the door to the room opened and shut. But she didn’t hear the sound, her ears being covered by the cloth. She reached for her discarded gym clothes, but despite all her feeling around she couldn’t seem to find them. ‘Did I leave them in the main room?’ She wandered, stepping out of the shower.

(Y/N) wrapped the towel around herself as best as she could before walking out into the main area. And that is when she saw him, sitting on a bench, shirtless, body glistening as he cleaned his skin with a moist towel.

(Y/N) squealed in shock, causing Toshinori’s head to turn abruptly and rest on (Y/N)’s face. “Don’t- Don’t look!” She stuttered, face turning bright red with embarrassment.

It took Toshinori a moment to realize what was happening, but as it hit him he began to blush almost as red as (Y/N) was. His jaw dropped and he fell off the bench, scrambling to cover his eyes. “I- I’m sorry…!” He stammered, eventually grabbing his shirt. “Use this to cover up.” He held out the garment to her.

(Y/N) took the shirt and wrapped it around her body over her towel. “Sorry about this.” SHe stammered, taking rapid half bows.

Toshinori held up his hand, and shook his head. “No need. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here…”

“It’s fine, but…” (Y/N) trailed off.

“What is it?” Toshi asked.

“Have-” (Y/N) paused, trying to get the words past the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Have you seen my clothes?”

Toshinori gaped at her for a moment, then glanced around the room until he laid eyes on some orange fabric folded on the table. “That them?” He asked, gesturing in the direction of the table.

(Y/N) picked up the clothing, growing even more embarrassed as she unfolded them. She slammed the cloth back on the table. ‘A cheer uniform!?!? Could this get any more embarrassing!?’ “No, absolutely not. I am not wearing a cheer uniform.” She said, half to herself.

“Those are the only clothes in here.” Toshinori commented, taking another glance around. “They’ve gotta be better than nothing, right?”

(Y/N) paused before replying. “…I suppose so…” She groaned, half to herself. She begrudgingly grabbed the uniform again, turning to Toshinori. “Can you please wait outside? I’ll give you your shirt back when I’ve changed.”

“Yeah, of course.” Toshinori replied, then left the room.

*****************************************************************************************************

Toshinori paced back and forth in the hall, trying to calm down. He felt pretty embarrassed pacing the hall shirtless, but was mostly still in shock from the events that had just transpired. He had just seen (Y/N) practically naked in the prep room, that was the last thing he expected to have to deal with today.

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his thoughts by the prep room door clicking open and shut behind him. He turned to see a very embarrassed (Y/N) dressed in an orange cheer uniform.

She was completely adorable. Long (h/c) locks falling around her flushed face and hands fidgeting awkwardly with his shirt. Toshinori was screwed.

“Here.” She said, arm jutting out abruptly. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Yeah, of course.” Toshinori replied, taking the shirt and awkwardly pulling it back over his torso.

“Well, I should probably go…”

“Wanna go grab lunch?”

They both spoke simultaneously. The air was near palpable with tension as (Y/N) processed what Toshinori had just said.

“I-if you don’t want to that’s-” Toshinori began.

“No, I do!” (Y/N) cut him off. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” He asked, concern overtaking his face.

“N- Nothing.” (Y/N) looked down at the ground, face flushed.

“Then let’s go.” Toshinori smiled as he grabbed her hand, and she let him lead her off towards the cafeteria.

*****************************************************************************************************

(Y/N) sat across from Toshinori, trying to avoid all of the stares directed at them as she ate. This whole day was starting to feel like a weird dream. The sports festival itself was crazy, let alone everything else. And now she was in a cheer uniform, on a lunch date with her crush. Can I call this a date? She wondered, but quickly dismissed the thought, reasoning she could call it whatever she saw fit as long as she kept it to herself.

Keeping her cool was pretty difficult for (Y/N) as Toshinori regaled her with the details of the second round. Apparently, they had made the arena into a maze to play some kind of high-risk hide-and-go seek brawler, last 8 standing advanced. Toshinori bragged a bit about being one of the first to advance to the next round (which didn’t make sense since all 8 advanced simultaneously, but (Y/N) decided not to correct him.)

(Y/N) giggled and nodded throughout Toshinori’s retelling, hoping she wasn’t making a fool of herself. Suddenly, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Oh no! Did I do something wrong?! She panicked, trying to remember the last thing that was said.

Toshinori stared at her a moment longer, then opened his mouth to speak. “Sorry if this is inconsiderate due to the circumstances, but… you look really… nice. Today.” he tugged awkwardly at his collar as he said it, blood rushing to his cheeks..

(Y/N) blushed intensely, turning away to hide her face. They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, taking turns glancing at each other and looking away if they thought they’d been caught. After what felt like ages, Toshinori broke the silence.

“Why don’t we go back to the stadium?” He suggested. “There’s a lot of games and halftime stuff we could do. Y’know. If you want to…”

“Yeah, that sounds great” (Y/N) replied a little too eagerly. Toshinori smiled at her, grabbing her tray along with his own to put in the wash. Once he returned, he offered his hand to her, blushing. (Y/N) flushed and graciously accepted.

*****************************************************************************************************

Toshinori lead the way, trying not to glance at the girl to his left. How could he have been so stupid? She was clearly very uncomfortable, and complimenting her like that out of the blue? She probably thought he was hitting on her or something, which wasn’t completely untrue, but that wasn’t the impression he wanted to make. He hoped that maybe if they had enough fun that afternoon it would help mitigate some of the awkwardness of lunch.

Toshinori and (Y/N) winced simultaneously as bright light shone on their faces. They entered the arena and looked around. Music was playing over the loudspeakers, and it looked like all of the students were participating in some kind of group dance while a new game was being set up.

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up. She tugged on Toshinori’s arm a few times to get his attention. When he looked back at her she was bouncing slightly and pointing at the other students.

“Lets go dance!” She said excitedly. She then took off towards the crowd, smiling back at Toshinori before joining the other students in the electric slide. She looked so happy, as if she’d totally forgotten the awkwardness of the day, and what she was wearing. He couldn’t help but think she looked adorable as she danced around, especially in that cheer uniform. Toshinori blushed, then rolled his eyes and joined her.

*****************************************************************************************************

The halftime festivities pushed on for another hour or so, but after they finished dancing, the stage was set for a massive game of musical chairs. (Y/N) was quick and stayed in for quite a while, but was eventually out-muscled by the other combatants. It was definitely one of the most violent games of musical chairs she had ever been a part of. Toshinori dropped out when she did, claiming that he needed to save his strength for the next round, though it was clear he was worried that (Y/N) had been hurt.

The next event was an arm wrestling tournament, single elimination. (Y/N) decided to sit this one out. Raw strength wasn’t really her thing. Instead, she watched as Toshinori easily took out one challenger after another until he swept the whole competition. He looked totally in his element, and quite handsome, though she would never admit to thinking that.

The actual UA Sports Festival was set to resume any minute now, and the teachers were clearing the arena. Toshinori sat by (Y/N) in the stands. (Y/N) asked why he wasn’t prepping, but he replied that his match wasn’t until later and he’d rather watch the matches with her. She flushed.

Toshinori subtly placed his hand onto hers, causing her to look in his direction. He smiled at her, holding tighter to her hand. “How can you be so cute?” He asked rhetorically.

(Y/N) looked away. “It’s just the cheer uniform.” She mumble back.

“No, it’s you.” He replied, using his free hand to turn her face back at him. “You are adorable. Not your clothes, you. Your face, your eyes, your smile, just… yo” He paused, as if looking for a new way to say it. “I’m not very good at, you know… talking to girls. Sorry I’m so awkward. But I’ve always kinda liked you…” This time he was the one who looked away.

“Are you serious? After this morning?” She replied incredulously.

“Yeah… why else would I be so competitive with you?” Toshinori replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

(Y/N) scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You really are clueless.” She sighed, snuggling up to him. “Next time just say so.”

Toshinori recoiled slightly, heart pounding in his chest. “What? Why would I-”

(Y/N) cut him off with a quick peck on the cheek. “Because I really like you.” She nestled into his shoulder, settling in comfortably.

“Hey love birds,” Shouta’s voice pulled them back to reality. He was dragging Hizashi and Nemuri behind him. “Sorry to interrupt, but I found your clothes.”

“Wait, you what?” (Y/N) asked, a bit shocked. Shouta dropped his prisoners and tossed Nemuri’s bag at (Y/N). She caught the bag and opened it, seeing a now clean set of gym clothes. “Really?!” She asked incredulously.

Nemuri attempted to hide her shame behind annoyance. “Well at least I washed them for you.” She retorted, though the annoyance was only half-baked.

“Thanks.” (Y/N) replied, sarcasm dripping from the word. She then turned to Toshinori. “I’m gonna go change. Good luck in your match later, I’ll be rooting for you!” She then turned to leave. Then pause, turning around. “Oh, and thanks for finding my clothes Shouta.” He nodded wordlessly at her, then she turned and left.

She smiled as she clung to her clothes, thinking about her afternoon with Toshinori. She would never admit it, but she was actually grateful to her crazy friends, and their silly prank. If they hadn’t done it, she would never have had her perfect afternoon with Toshinori. What a great day… and great friends.

#mod kendo #toshinori x reader #Toshinori Yagi #aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #kayama nemuri #boku no hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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