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masterwords · 3 years ago

Text

Rise & Fall

Summary: Coda to 04x01 - Mayhem. Morgan takes the ambulance rigged to blow up the hospital and blows it up where it won't hurt anyone. The only thing he wants to do after playing the hero is get back to Hotch.

Warnings: none

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 4k

Notes: A gift for the AO3 Bulletproof exchange using the freeform tags: Touch Starved - Lots of Gentle Touch and/or Cuddling/Snuggling and The Intimacy of Brushing/Braiding/Washing Another Person's Hair

Read on AO3:

“Get off of me,” Morgan groaned, throwing his elbow out to the side like a child amid a tantrum. He was filled with immediate regret at the pull of his shoulder muscles and JJ pressed her hand there to calm him.

“Let them do their job,” she whispered, leaning close to his ear. “The sooner they finish, the sooner we can get out of here.” It was true, they were sitting in the middle of a swirling scene surrounded by police officers, bomb techs and camera people hoping for a story to put on the evening news. They could both think of a million places they'd rather be.

“I don't need all the fuss.”

“Morgan, you jumped out of an ambulance as it exploded. Humor me. Unless...” she drug the word out a little longer than necessary in that dramatic way she had about her. “...you want to hear what Hotch has to say about it in the morning?”

She had a point. Not one he wanted to hear, but a point nonetheless. He coughed hard, lungs tight and painful and she waved her hand, had the EMT put the oxygen mask over his face again. The glare he shot her made her smile and shrug a little, but he let her hold it there while they looked him over...it made her feel better and would keep his antics off of Hotch's radar. It was a small price to pay.

He was still coughing, even an hour later. The EMTs had ceased following him around after he was more than a little short with one about the idea of getting into the ambulance and riding to the hospital. “Fuck that,” he'd muttered, shaking his head incredulously. They were standing a safe distance away from the wreckage of the last ambulance, the one he'd blown up; shrapnel littered the ground they walked on. His vest was ripped to shreds but his skin was not, a small miracle. He thought of Hotch, the only thing between he and the SUV that blew up in his face being a few layers of expensive suit and suddenly all he wanted was to see him, to look him over again. The longer they were apart, the worse Hotch seemed in his mind...he'd been upright, he'd discharged himself from the hospital, but it wasn't so simple. His sense of duty far outweighed his sense of self-preservation.

“Morgan,” JJ said, touching his elbow to get his attention. He was lost in a daze, miles away while he stood there. “SSA Joyner died. I just got a call from Rossi, he said she never made it out of surgery. He's taking Hotch back to the hotel...” she let the last word hang between them for a second, dripping with implications he didn't want to consider. The grief of his partner, the job offer that was now a lot firmer than it had been hours before, the night they'd had...hell, the week they'd had. Nothing about this case had been easy on them, it was driving them to their breaking points. She patted his arm and let him to go deal with a few more camera crews that had shown up, promising they'd be leaving soon. He milled around, watching the bomb squad pick apart the wreckage for scraps, anything that could help them recreate the explosive to study. He thought about helping but he was beat, didn't want to admit to JJ how badly he just wanted a shower and a bed. Nothing about the day had been good and the night had been worse, he was nearing his limit for total body exhaustion.

“The jet leaves at 10am,” she said, as if reading his thoughts once they were out on the road and he groaned. That wasn't far enough away, not for his taste. He had no idea what time it was but it felt late, too late to consider 10am a viable option. “But...” and she paused, like she was edging a little too close to a line she hadn't crossed before. Everyone knew about Morgan and Hotch, but they didn't talk freely about it, not at work. Still, she couldn't avoid this one. “Agent Davis from the New York Field Office is scheduled to drive Hotch back to Quantico, he can't fly with his ear injury. You could always...”

“Don't you dare,” he muttered, resting his head against the cool window and closing his eyes. The swirl of the streetlights as they blinked blood red was making him sick, the cityscape looking like his own version of hell. The worst of it was that all he could smell was smoke; acrid, gasoline and grass, molten plastic and metal. His skin was coated in it.

“I just thought it might get you a little more sleep...and maybe you guys could talk...”

“Dammit JJ.”

She smiled to herself, knowing it had worked, even if he hadn't admitted it yet. “You know I could just tell Strauss that you're driving him...”

“Fine. FINE.”

“Okay, good, because I kind of already did...we both know he'd bully Agent Davis into letting him drive. He's...Rossi said it's pretty bad. He really shouldn't drive, so when she asked me if I had any other suggestions...well, we both agreed that he can't bully you. Somehow, you're immune to it.”

“JJ, I don't appreciate your meddling.” He was smiling, though. It made her laugh.

“Just practicing for motherhood.”

They walked side by side through the hotel in silence. Most of the team was on one floor, the only stragglers had been Hotch and Rossi who got rooms one floor beneath everyone else. Inside the elevator, he settled his hips against the rail and waited for her to punch in their floor number, she'd scurried in front of him, and he wasn't going to turn down her offers of help. With a frown, he watched as she punched in another floor too, and a moment later the elevator was stopping on Hotch's floor, her smile knowing and more than a little evil. He groaned as he stepped out, shaking his head. She was on his list.

“Be nice,” she called after him and he raised his hand in the air, flipping her off with his back turned.

He stopped by the vending machine first for some bottles of water and pretzels, easy snacks to hopefully placate Hotch with. He fully intended to order room service for himself, he was starving, and pretzels were definitely not going to cut it but he knew Hotch would put up a fight like usual. Still, he had pain killers to take and those needed food, they said so right on the bottles and he damn well knew it...Morgan was sure that meant he could easily swerve his way into having the upper hand. Hotch may have been the undisputed (or, rarely disputed) leader in the field but here, in their bedroom, things ran a little different.

The first surprise came when Hotch actually answered the door. He'd expected to have to go up to his room, rifle through his pile of clothes from the day before until he found the other room key and hope that Hotch hadn't latched the bar when Rossi dropped him off. Hotch did open the door, one hand pressed to his forehead, the other gripping the handle a little too tight, like he was using it to hold himself upright. Morgan instinctively reached out, grabbing his arm as he wavered where he stood, and from somewhere behind the door he heard a noise and suddenly Rossi was there with his hands against Hotch's back. The two of them guided him toward the bed where he settled slow and stiff, his back ramrod straight and the movement looked like it had knocked the wind out of him. Rossi shot Morgan a confused look, a helplessness in his eyes that sent a shiver up Morgan's spine.

“I suppose you can take it from here?” Rossi asked, almost sarcastically and Morgan sighed. He hadn't thought he'd be intruding on anything, really just figured he'd find Hotch hunched over a stack of files or a laptop, unable to turn his mind off in the face of pain and grief. Not sure why he didn't think Rossi would have stuck around, wouldn't have let Hotch out of his sight...an err in his own judgment, he supposed.

“You can stay,” Morgan replied, unable to tear his eyes from Hotch who sat on the bed with his hands on his thighs, knuckles white, a pinched look on his face. “I'll go back up to my room.”

In one quick, fluid motion Rossi grabbed his jacked from the back of a chair and pulled Morgan aside, out of earshot though both of them knew it didn't make much difference...Hotch couldn't hear them anyway, they could tell. Even if he could hear them, he wasn't in any shape to be listening, he was working through something on his own. “If you're going to get him all riled up, it would be better if you left...cooled off...” Rossi's face was too serious. “The two of you have been at each other's throats the last few days, and I'm not passing judgment Derek...I am simply saying that now is not the time to hash things out.”

“I'm not gonna start a fight, man,” Morgan replied, more than a little offended at Rossi's snap judgment. “Nothing to hash out, we're good...” It wasn't really a lie, there had been a silent understanding between them. It wasn't pretty or comfortable, but it would smooth itself out in time, no amount of talking would help it get there any faster.

“Then I'll leave you two alone. There's a bottle of scotch with my name on it down the hall and I intend to salvage what I can of this night. I hope you two can do the same.”

“I'm sorry about Kate,” Morgan whispered, crouching beside Hotch once Rossi had departed. He looked up, tried to catch Hotch's attention but he was lost somewhere else, he had the same faraway quality in his eyes that Morgan had had just a few hours earlier. Dazed, floating in the ether. There was a bottle of painkillers on the nightstand still taped shut, still frustratingly full and he groaned easing himself upright again. His back cried out in agony, and he froze, muscles tight, he was barely in better shape, but he had to try. The bottle was easy enough to open, pull out the recommended dosage. Two ghostly white pills, small things that would momentarily cause big waves as he imagined himself forcing Hotch down on the bed and poking them down his throat. Muscle memory, he'd been here before. In a show of good faith, he extended the pills to Hotch in his open palm aside a bottle of water. “Did you hear me?”

“You're going to have to speak up,” Hotch mumbled, dumping the pills onto his tongue and pouring water in on top. It was the sort of movement someone who takes a lot of pills does, efficient, nothing to it. A magic trick, now you see it, now you don't. He handed Hotch the pretzels expectantly, a bold move but he intended to capitalize on this brief period of compliance.

“You're supposed to eat with those.” Morgan's voice was quiet, almost fatherly in quality and gave Hotch very little to argue against. Under normal circumstances he may have bristled but there was something here that gave him pause, made him consider Morgan's motive and eventually cave. Slowly, he tore at the bag with shaking hands, making a show of being capable instead of admitting he could barely manage it. The bag ripped at an odd angle, and he frowned in dismay before tugging at it, opening the top wide as if he'd intended it that way all along. He offered the bag to Morgan first, a sign of gratitude and another moment to try and settle his rumbling stomach that screamed its unwillingness to accept food without trouble. He wouldn't have a choice soon.

“You first,” Morgan said softly. “I bought them for you.” He settled in close enough that he could smell the antiseptic beneath the bandages, smell the metallic tang of blood still in his hair, on his skin, dried and cracking at his jawline in places nurses had tried to wipe clean. There was a small wad of cotton stuffed into one ear, dried blood just barely peeking around the edges, and it turned his stomach to think of Hotch being in pain, something out of their control. Hotch reached his fingers in, pulled out one pretzel and popped it into his mouth, tried to pretend it was a natural motion. The moment it was near, he felt his mouth warm with saliva, a warning sign but he pressed forward...he really did need to eat something, or those pills would make him sick, he knew it, but he didn't want it. There was an internal struggle taking place just below the surface while he focused intently on once again offering the bag to Morgan. This time, he accepted, pulling out a few with a smile, and they proceeded to empty the bag. In the end. Morgan ate twice as many as Hotch, but he spread it out in a way that maybe, he hoped, Morgan wouldn't notice.

The steam from the shower was shocking, and Hotch realized he'd been sitting and chewing the same pretzel for too long now. He'd been lost in a trance, broken free by the sudden humidity that made his lungs feel tight and swollen in his chest. “Derek?”

“Bathroom...” he said, wiping at his wrist. He'd checked the water's heat, made sure it was a decent temperature, gotten his shirt wet in the process. “Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry,” Hotch muttered. “You're going to take a shower?”

“We're going to take a shower,” Morgan corrected, extending his hand to Hotch, palm up and expectant. “You smell like blood and hospitals, and I smell like smoke...”

Hotch frowned for a moment, his mind worrying itself into knots over why Morgan would smell like anything other than Morgan. He knew what he'd done, he'd seen it on the news, heard it from Garcia, and the knowledge was settled in there neatly packaged in a place that he promised he'd be angry over later, but right now he had trouble accessing anything that remotely mattered. His ears were ringing, it was tinny and ricocheted through his skull like a pinball machine in an arcade. There wasn't room for anger. “Right,” he muttered, extending his hand and allowing Morgan to pull him to his feet. He was wholly unprepared for the pain that would cause, and he sucked in a deep breath, held it in expanded lungs a moment while his muscles wailed like banshees. Morgan slipped in close, held him upright, was tender when he was certain he didn't deserve that treatment. Not after the way he'd been behaving the last few days, certainly not from Morgan. He deserved to be alone, to sit without peace, without comfort and here Morgan was touching him so gently, so tenderly it made him ache. “I'm okay,” he whispered. “I'm okay.”

“Sure you are.” Morgan smirked, but he didn't argue. There wasn't any point, Hotch would dig in, and then they'd both lose. It was easier just to move on, to pull him toward the bathroom and begin carefully undressing him in a way that said I want to do this, not that I think you need me to do this (but you clearly do...), he was more or less an expert at this point. Not that he wanted to be, he hoped eventually Hotch would come around, be somewhat normal, accept his help without trickery, but so far, no luck.

“I can do it,” Hotch began, raising his arms that felt a little too heavy in an attempt to fumble at the buttons on his shirt. Morgan brushed his hands away and continued his efforts, freeing Hotch of his shirt and then his pants with far less effort than it would have taken Hotch to accomplish the same task. “Thank you.” The pills were kicking in, loosening up stiff muscles and aching joints, and his mind followed suit. He couldn't seem to focus on any one thing long enough to feel indignant, to put in any real effort, to form a complete sentence. Just before stepping into the shower, Morgan's phone buzzed on the counter and he sighed...of all times, now Garcia calls him back. He'd tried her no less than four times since the ambulance and she'd ignored every call, he wasn't sure how long he was not supposed to talk to her, how long she'd keep up this radio silence, but he desperately needed her voice. Now, though, was not the time.

“Hey mama,” he said, lifting the phone to his ear while Hotch stepped into the shower, his eyes wide and bright. He was in a daze, seemed solid enough, stable enough to manage a moment on his own but Morgan knew he needed to hurry before those pills really kicked in. Neither of them believed that small handful of pretzels would actually suffice and the last thing they needed was another trip to the hospital. “I'm a little busy right now.”

“You called me four times and now I'm ready to talk and you say you're busy? What could be more important than me?”

“I got something I gotta take care of, I promise I'll call you back when I'm done.”

“That something had better be someone, Derek Morgan. Do you hear me?” She knew. She had no question, and it was the one thing she was willing to allow him to blow her off for.

“Loud and clear.”

There was something about hotel room showers that Morgan could never get over. At home everything was in exactly the right spot, he could go in with his eyes closed and work his way through his routine effortlessly. He would try to arrange his items just right on the road, to try and emulate the ease in order to achieve relaxation but always came up short, frustrated, knocking shampoo bottles to the ground with a deafening thud. Hotch, though...he simply wanted the water. Morgan stood just beyond the glass door watching his opulent shadow, grateful for a shower that was just a spacious, glistening tile stall and not a bathtub. He stood directly beneath the oversized shower head as it dumped on him, washing away all traces of the day. Not at all concerned with washing, with any sort of to-do list, it was the water that he wanted and only that.

Morgan had other plans, as he usually did. Naked and bruised, they stood before one another, their bodies a brutal map of their day. Deep maroons and purples and blacks and blues, bright red and mottled browns, an artist's hand mixed palette. It wasn't unusual, not in their line of work, but there was a palpable feeling of fear, of restlessness, of anger charging the air around them. “We good?” Morgan asked, reaching one hand out and placing it on Hotch's hip, pulling him near. Hotch didn't respond immediately; he was slow to put together the words lost in the heat and the hiss of the shower. Morgan moved closer, until his mouth was nearly on Hotch's, and repeated the question. Their lips brushed, breath mingled, hearts skipped a beat. There was a response this time, a slight nod of Hotch's head and that was it, that was the talk.

“I can't hear.” Hotch's voice was ghostly, he sounded ashamed and sad, and while it wasn't completely true, he could hear some in small bursts, grainy audio cutting in and out on frayed wires...he was impaired enough he thought it best to just simplify things. Morgan nodded, pulling Hotch closer to him, until there was no space between them. Water pooled in the crevices, arms circling Hotch's waist protectively, foreheads pressed together. The pain was fuzzy, crackled like electricity and then fizzled out leaving only scorched earth in its wake; a process repeated with no limits, and the pills seemed only to make him care less about it all.

Hotch's shampoo sat in a small nook alongside his other toiletries, lined up in order of use, faced and ready to go. He knew exactly what the shampoo would smell like before opening the bottle, he couldn't be certain, but he thought Hotch might never have used a different shampoo in his entire life. It was the only distinct smell he had, and the minute it was in his hands, his senses were overwhelmed by lavender, ylang ylang, petitgrain...the heady bouquet was enticing and as he slicked it through Hotch's thick hair, he breathed it in deep. It filled his lungs, and he closed his eyes, dragging his fingertips over Hotch's scalp. He tried to be gentle as he rounded Hotch's ears, his temples, small circular motions and large sweeping passes. He pulled it up into tiny spikes, twisted bits around his fingers and breathed it in again. Hotch's eyes were closed, his face a portrait of momentary serenity and Morgan continued long after it was necessary to keep going.

“I love you; you know?” Hotch whispered as Morgan tipped his head back, started pushing the shampoo out beneath the water. It ran in thick, foamy rivers down his spine, collected briefly in the curve at the small of his back and coursed down his legs. He didn't know how to verbalize everything fluttering around in his head, all of the explanations, the NYC job and Kate and the bomb...there was so much in there, but the simplest thing he could say was also, he figured, the most important. His voice rattled around in his chest, sharp and raw in the hot shower and he hoped it was loud enough for Morgan to hear. “I love you.”

“I know.”

With a lopsided grin entirely encouraged by the pain killers, Hotch positioned Morgan beneath the running water and, with the same shampoo, proceeded to make a mockery of the hair washing experience. Coarse stubble scraped his palms, rough and thick but gentle like fine sandpaper and he scrubbed the dirt and ash from Morgan's scalp. Suds coursed in rivulets down Morgan's face, caught in his eyebrows and he sputtered the soap out of his mouth. “You suck at this,” Morgan muttered while Hotch clumsily thumbed soap from his eyes, from his mouth. “Don't quit your day job.” He knew Hotch wouldn't hear him, there was some allure in that. He could, at least for tonight, say anything he wanted and suffer few consequences in the morning.

“Woahhhhh...” Morgan reached out, steadied Hotch against him as his foot slipped out from beneath him. They'd tested the limits of his body and the medication; it was time to succumb. “Let's get in bed, huh?” He had one thing on his mind: room service.

Out of the shower was easy, the towels were an exercise in futility because the room was so humid and hot from their extended shower that the moment it swiped across their skin, they were damp again. There were worse things, they'd both decided as they gave up and in a naked heap they fell into bed, limbs tangled together.

“You hungry?” Morgan asked, exaggerating the way his mouth moved around each syllable in the hopes that Hotch could read his lips from so close. Hesitation, followed by a nod. “Good. I'm gonna order us a pile of waffles so damn big we explode...and then we're gonna sleep in and check out late and maybe we won't go back to Quantico right away...maybe we extend the trip by a day or two, drive around, find the world's biggest ball of twine or some stupid shit...” He knew Hotch had no idea what he was saying, it didn't matter. He could feel the vibrations in Morgan's chest as he spoke and something about it soothed him. His eyes drifted shut, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings against flushed cheeks. He would sleep until Morgan told him not to, naked and tangled up in the sheets and, briefly, content.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jj jareau #david rossi #criminal minds #hotchgan #fanfiction

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schrijverr · 4 years ago

Text

Hold Me Together

Chapter 3 out of 4

Eliot gets hurt on a job and then sick. Hardison and Parker waste no time to jump in to care for him and it becomes harder and harder to say no to their care when it’s just so nice. After he has a nightmare, they’re there for him and feelings come to light.

AKA Eliot has a terrible time physically (and partly emotionally), but gets lots of cuddles and two partners in the end.

On AO3.

Ships: Thiefsome OT3

Warnings: Eliot's low self esteem and the flu

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hold Me Tight

Eliot ate his soup under the watchful gazes of Hardison and Parker. It was good soup, but he felt guilty about having the kitchen staff cook for him, deciding to thank them profusely later. He also made a mental note to yell at Hardison and Parkerlater about burning a pan, hoping it hadn’t been one of his nice pans.

For now though, the soup was heavenly on his throat and its warmth was great for his cold bones, so he just leaned against the headboard and ate his soup, spotting the stuffed mushroom on his bedside table.

Once it became clear, he wasn’t going to explode, or whatever those two thought he was going to do, they relaxed and started babbling about all sorts of things. While Eliot had been sleeping, they had also taken a nap, before the failed soup experiment, after which Hardison had taught Parker how to play Thief: Deadly Shadows, which Parker found too unrealistic and critiqued the stealing animations, until they had decided to keep him company.

Their chatter was relaxing and despite the fact that Eliot had been asleep for sixteen hours, not to mention the car ride before that, he found his eyes drooping.

“You tired?” Hardison asked kindly and Eliot’s gut instinct was to deny it. He couldn't go to sleep again, it was embarrassing and unnecessary. Still, he was tired and they had been so nice, but if he went to sleep they would leave him again.

That train of thought had taken a quick turn and Eliot was frustrated that he didn’t have a good control over his emotions and thoughts due to the fluof all things that was making him dazed. He blinked the thought away and shook his head.

“So you’re not tired?” Parker filled in with a confused frown. And Eliot wanted to deny it for real this time, but instead he yawned.

“I somehow find that hard to believe,” Hardison quirked a brow playfully.

God, they were so nice to him and he didn’t deserve that, but it was so nice and he wanted them to stay with him and not go to sleep, even if he was tired. He pushed down the tears threatening to well up in his eyes, before whispering: “Don’t want to sleep yet.”

It was pathetic and he should have just said that he was fine and that he was going to get up, but he couldn’t and if anyone asked later he had a sore throat and couldn’t speak.

“No?” Hardison asked.

“No,” Eliot replied. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to be left alone and he didn’t want to be pathetic, yet there he was.

“We could watch a movie,” Parker suggested and Eliot could have kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her on multiple occasions, but this was definitely one of them- And he should really stop thinking about kissing Parker right about now, okay, pushing that away.

“That’s a great idea, mama,” Hardison exclaimed, getting up to grab his laptop since Eliot had refused to let him install a tv in his room. As he went he took the empty bowl with him.

Parker took it upon herself to built a semi-pillow fort around Eliot, before burrowing into Eliot’s side with a content sigh. Alarms went off in his head at the closeness even if it was nice, so he protested it with a raw voice: “I could be contagious.”

“We slept next to you for a night then sat on the backseat of Lucille for eight hours, bit too late for that,” Parker said. “Besides, you’re warm and soft.”

His brain short-circuited for a moment and when he came back online Hardison was there, three steaming mugs on a tray as he said: “Ahw, aren’t you two making an adorable picture,” successfully breaking Eliot again.

Next to him Parker smiled and did grabby hands to the mugs. Hardison gave her one, which was obviously hot chocolate under the pile of marshmallows on top of it. Luckily, the mug that Eliot was given was filled with tea. It was bag tea, badly prepared, but there was honey in it and he was touched anyway.

“Okay, I’m thinking 007, it’s James Bond, a classic, must see,” Hardison said, plopping down on Eliot’s other side, setting the laptop on Eliot’s lap and leaning over as he started typing.

“He’s a terrible spy,” Eliot protested, barely audible, more because if he said anything else, he would blurt out something embarrassing and bickering with Hardison about his movie taste was the safest thing right now.

“And your voice is almost gone, so you should rest it,” Hardison shot him a cheeky grin, “No complaining from you for once.”

Eliot guffawed about that, frowning, but he didn’t reply, because he wouldn't waste his voice on something so petty and childish, no matter what Hardison thought, so he just looked away haughtily to convey his dismay.

“Oeh, I know, it’s the one with the dude he thinks he’s good at what we do, but he’s not and also on the other side of the law,” it clicked for Parker and Eliot smiled when she picked his side of the argument.

“Other side of the law? Woman, do you mean the right side of the law?” Hardison said.

“I mean, it’s the other side of the law from us,” Parker shrugged and Eliot couldn't help but bark out a laugh, Hardison joining in, before everyone was distracted when it turned into a coughing fit and Eliot’s tea had to be saved by Parker while Hardison rubbed his back.

“You good?” Hardison asked when the coughing had subsided.

Still a bit out of breath and red in the face, Eliot nodded. He gestured vaguely with his hand to convey that he was fine and that they should let it go, before clearing his throat and rasping: “You know, I’m with Parker.”

“Really? You just nearly died of coughing and your first reaction is to continue a stupid argument where you know you’re wrong,” Hardison said indignantly.

“‘m not wrong,” Eliot told him, voice now barely a whisper.

“You. You stay quiet, okay. Your voice is making my throat hurt-” Hardison took the tea from Parker and pushed it into Eliot’s hands “-drink your tea and shut up, while you watch how wrong you are, okay. Both y’all.”

Eliot grinned lightly, but let them push him back onto the pillows, cradling his mug as Hardison finished setting up the movie, while Parker whispered in his ear: “I don’t get why people think he’s cool, besides the explosions.”

“I heard that,” Hardison called out, clicking play, before settling down on Eliot’s other side, bracketing him between them.

It was nice and comfortable and Eliot should really not be allowing this, because he was fine dammit and he could take care of himself. But it was really really nice and, honestly, it didn’t seem like Parker and Hardison thought him to be breakable and they had had movie nights in the past, so it wasn’t anything new. Besides, his muscles were too sore for fighting right now.

The movie played on the screen, but he couldn't focus and his eyes were closing more and more. He felt himself slide to the side and land on something warm, but no one pushed him away and to the sound of bullets flying, he began to nod off.

He fought it for a while, he really wanted to stay present with Parker commenting on the movie and Hardison defending it until a hacking scene came on and then he was really upset about the whole thing.

It felt like home, comfortable and safe and Eliot wanted to experience it for as long as it lasted, but sleep won out and soon he was out like a light once more.

When he woke up again, he was shivering and cold to the bone, it didn’t matter that there were multiple blankets piled on top of him and that he still had Hardison’s stupidly warm hoodie on. The sweat was cooling on his body and he was cold.

And alone.

Somehow that second fact hit him harder than he’d expected and he immediately hated himself for being a clingy pathetic little bitch. He knew better than this, they’d already seen enough weakness from him. They had handled it so far, but there would be a breaking point and he knew it. He had to keep them out of it, before they got there and they would leave. He had to take care of himself from now on.

Determined he got up out of bed to find more blankets and clean clothes, because still wearing Hardison’s hoodie should be weird and not comforting and the clothes were too sweaty to be comfortable anyway. His left ankle still throbbed as he got up, but he could walk and stand on it now, albeit unsteadily and with a slight limp.

He felt entirely uncomfortable, his skin itchy around him and his body uncoordinated. He wanted to take a shower, but didn’t trust himself enough to take one, so he just pulled on new clothes, a shirt and boxers – no pants because he’d already almost fallen over with the boxers – before padding out his room and to the living room where there should be more blankets. He had no clue what time it was but it was between sun and stars, either early morning or evening.

The unanswered question about the time was answered when he entered the living room and saw Parker and Hardison curled up on the couch with a blanket and pizza. Dinner. At least he hoped it wasn’t breakfast, because then he would have to yell at them and that seemed like about as much work as standing was right now.

Two pairs of eyes had locked onto him the moment he had come stumbling into the room, and he looked at them like a deer in headlights. He somehow hadn’t counted on encountering them, even if it was technically their apartment and he just had a room there.

After a moment of staring, Parker sprung up, exclaiming: “Eliot!” as she scrambled over the back of the couch with the blanket she and Hardison had been sharing.

“Hey, man, what are you doing here? You should be in bed,” Hardison had gotten over his initial surprise of Eliot appearing in just his boxers and a shirt (and he was really regretting not putting in the extra effort of pants).

Then the question registered and with a hoarse voice, he explained: “I go’ col’. Blan’e’s.”

“You’re up looking for more blankets?” Hardison asked. “Good god, you’re shivering, man. Come, sit on the couch.” Parker led him to the couch while Hardison mumbled: “How is this man cold? We left nearly all the blankets on his bed.”

Eliot felt guilty about interrupting their evening when he’d already taken up so much of their time since their last con, on which they also hadn’t been able to spend much time together, but between his clattering teeth and lost voice, his explanation got lost.

He was alone on the couch now, with both Hardison and Parker having disappeared once they’d installed him with the blanket tucked tightly around him. He was a bit lost on what was expected of him now, but soon Parker came back with the mess of blankets that had been on his bed and Hardison arrived with a steaming bowl and a hot bottle.

Hardison handed him the bottle and he tucked it against his chest, before Parker practically swaddled him. He softly protested: “You don’ nee’ to do t‘is.”

“We know,” Hardison smiled again with a bit of knowing in there as if he was aware why Eliot was protesting. It should bother him more than it did that they knew him so well. “Just drink your soup, Eliot. We want to take care of you.”

“Yes, it’s a skill you need to learn and you helped me,” Parker smiled and it was so easy to agree with the smile and just drink his soup, but he couldn't just accept help like that.

What he wanted to tell them was: ‘You two need to stop all of this, because I don’t need it and you two are dating and I’m only in the way of that right now. Just let me get to my room and I’ll be fine on my own while you have date night. This is really sweet and all, but I’ve been through worse and I’ll survive a little flu by myself.’

However, his voice had left him entirely now to the point of inaudible, so instead he moved his mouth while hoarse whispers that couldn't even be called words came out.

“I didn’t get that,” Parker said after a beat and it was just blunt and honest and completely Parker.

“Me neither, mama,” Hardison said. “I can go grab you a pen and some paper, man. You can write it down if you want?”

And that was the opposite of what he wanted. He wanted them to see he was bad in their life and not worthy of this attention, he wanted them to go away before they could see he was weak and they couldn't count on him, even if he would die before they couldn't count on him anymore. The longer this went on the sooner they would see the soft, weak parts of him and they would want to cut him out. And he didn’t want to be cut out. Of course he didn’t want to be cut out, but that would be inevitable if they stayed, because they would see his creepy feelings for them or see how much he craved contact and that would be the end.

His vision blurred and his breath came in raspy wheezes. Far away he could hear Parker and Hardison’s worried voices and he faintly wondered why they weren’t upset with him for ruining their night and falling apart over nothing.

Why couldn’t they just leave him like everyone else? It would hurt, but it would be easier.

But they didn’t leave, instead there was a bony arm around his shoulders and a soft hand rubbing his back as two voices spoke in calming tones, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. He took some more deep breaths and tried to push it all down and lock it away.

Once his vision had cleared he could see a laptop on a blank word document in front of him. He didn’t have the energy to repeat all he’d said, but he typed anyway: im aorry dioe ruinug your date nifht

He couldn't really focus, but both were quiet for a moment as they deciphered his words. Then he was pulled into a half hug by Hardison this time, as the other said: “You’re not ruining anyone’s night, man. What gave you that idea?”

Eliot shrugged helplessly at that, because how could they not see he was ruining their night by getting injured and then sick and deciding to stay here even if he had an apartment, because there was a room here. And he was really relying too much on them already for when it all came crashing down around him.

“Do you not want us to be here with you?” Parker asked, sounding sad.

He shook his head quickly, because he could never let Parker be sad, a stab of pain going through his skull as he did, before shrugging, wishing he had a voice, even if he was too exhausted to explain. He wasn’t sleepy, just tired, like he wanted to sit and stare, but not sleep.

Parker wrapped herself around him, putting her head on his shoulder as she said: “It’s okay. I sometimes also don’t know what I want. We’ll just figure it out together.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Hardison agreed with her and Eliot wanted to cry at their kindness, but instead he just nodded weakly, giving in to taking up space when they didn’t seem to mind. He accepted the soup again and focusing on eating it and the warmth of Hardison and Parker as well as the blankets around him, instead of the thoughts swirling in his mind.

The two had the good sense to let him be, while they went back to the conversation he’d interrupted. It seemed they had been discussing the ethics of pushing someone of the building. Eliot had heard both sides of the argument often enough to tune them out and just listen to the tones of their voices as his mind sank away.

Content he stared into the void for a while. He didn’t keep track of the time, but it could have been minutes to an hour. In the time he ate his soup and let the bowl get taken away gently as the hot water bottle cooled and the shivers came back. His breath was wheezy and he sniffled, regularly interrupted with a cough.

After a while they put on a movie and cuddled on the couch with him, but he could not have told anyone later what the movie was.

They helped him to bed at some point, he brushed his teeth slowlyand slept long and deep, but when he woke up he was still in that hazy staring mood. Parker brought him a few crackers with more tea with honey that he ate gratefully giving her an, in her opinion, dopey smile, even if his eyes couldn't stay fully focused on her.

It was never brought up later and Eliot didn’t remember, but when Parker had asked him why he was smiling, he had told her in a hoarse whisper: “‘s nice, not bein’ alone.” And after that, he hadn’t been alone, because Parker had told Hardison, who had gotten a sad look in his eye, before getting Eliot and carting him off to the couch.

Eliot had gone along willingly. He couldn't really do more than think ‘hmm, warm,’ as he leaned in and stumbled along, but he was glad to just sit on the couch under a lot of blankets while Parker hung in the rafters and Hardison worked on some IDs.

He was pretty sure Sophie came by and he said hi to her and she told him something about talking to Nate, but he couldn't be sure. He should ask Hardison or Parker about it, because they had talked to her more and he should be interested in who went in and out of the apartment, check for security risks. But he was exhausted and he couldn't focus on anything.

Still, he was completely sure that if something were to happen, he would be up and ready to fight as best as he could, but his brain had shut off for anyone he’d deemed safe.

That night Hardison and Parker slept in his bed again, like they’d done at the hotel and the first night back in Portland. Their presence was calming and despite the chills, he felt warm.

During the night he didn’t wake up once, which was actually rare even with the sickness knocking him out constantly. The shivers had been waking him up for short moments, along with the coughing, but pressed between Parker and Hardison, he slept like a baby.

When he woke up, however, he was keenly aware of the cooling sweat on his skin and the every present smell of sickness in the air and the horrid taste in his mouth. He also then realized that meant Hardison and Parker were smelling it too and he let out a small noise of embarrassment, before he was even aware of it.

“What’s wrong, E?” Hardison asked and Eliot would rather just sink into the ground, but he couldn't so he burrowed into his blanket and wrinkled his nose.

“Are you still a mermaid?” Parker appeared where he had rolled away from Hardison.

“We watched The Little Mermaidrecently,” Hardison explained.

Eliot nodded. He might be able to talk, but his throat hurt and none of his thoughts stuck around for long enough to form into sentences he could verbalize.

Parker was still studying his face closely, while Hardison went on a mission to figure out what the noise had meant. “Are you in pain? Do we need to get you some pain meds?”

A grumpy, negative grunt.

“Okay, okay, no need to be so touchy feel-y. I get it, no pain meds,” Hardison backed off. “Is there any other discomfort?”

And there was, the taste and smell and the fact that Hardison and Parker were in the smell and not saying anything about it. Also the fact that his clothes felt grimy from the sweat that madehis skin feellike it needed to crawl off him if he ever wanted to feel comfortable and clean again. But he wasn’t telling them that, because they might want to do something about it, which would be even more embarrassing.

“He’s not telling us something,” Parker snitched on him and while he was glad her people-reading skills had increased, he didn’t like her using them on him. So, he hid in his blanket again as protest.

“There is something!” Hardison agreed, taking his silent protest as Parker’s words having truth and Eliot hated and loved them both for how well they could read him. It was dangerous to have people that close and it would hurt when they left, but to have a family again was nice.

Having them was nice.

Oh no. Abort. Abort. Not having those thoughts while they were in his bed and he was in just a shirt and boxers.

Actually, never those thoughts.

Never.

They were happy together and he only broke things. He was bad and needed to stay away from that and he knew it. Just had to ram it in a few more times before it would stick in his thick skull and- fuck they were still talking to him.

“… never tell us anything and I know you can’t talk and shit, but you really need to give me more than those blank, panicky eyes,” Hardison looked at him, before sighing in what Eliot would call a fond manner, if he didn’t know better. “You didn’t hear a word I was saying, did you?”

Sheepishly Eliot shook his head, wincing when that every present headache made itself known again.

“He feels bad about it,” Parker observed and he would love it if she stopped reading his face to Hardison and let him vanish in peace.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Hardison smiled and a knot loosened in Eliot’s chest, even when he hadn’t noticed it had been there. “I’ll ask again. He listening, mama?”

After a look Parker confirmed: “He is.”

“Good. So, Eliot, the thing that’s bothering you, could we do something to change it and help?” he asked and there was, but Eliot wasn’t showering with them near him again, maybe they’d hold him and the last time was too intense already. His mind spun when he thought about it, so yeah, he didn’t need a close repeat of that, not if he wanted to push Hardison and Parker away.

“I’m taking your silence as a yes,” Hardison informed him, snapping him back to the present, though he could play that off. He had been distant mentally ever since he got sick.

“So, what is it?” Parker asked, poking him and, oh yeah, he realized, them knowing something was up meant that they were going to needle him for answers until they had them.

Luckily for him, he had sat through worse torture and never breathed a word.

A few moments later and he was breaking. Parker kept on poking him and Hardison kept looking at him with those open, concerned eyes while he spoke too much for Eliot too keep track of everything, until it all became too much. “Uncomfortable,” he finally said. Well, tried to say, it sounded more like ‘un’omf’r’le,’ but that was besides the point.

“What’s uncomfortable, E?” Hardison asked, not unkindly.

“E’erythin’,” he replied, tugging at his shirt and wrinkling his nose as he smacked his lips and shuddered, before the shudder turned into a sneeze and a small, miserable cough.

“You feeling yucky, buddy?” Parker asked, earning her look form the other two. Defensively she shrugged: “What? It’s what they say in those movies and shows.”

And when she mentioned it, he did feel pretty yucky, even if he would never describe it like that out loud. Hardison, however, had no such qualms and he delighted in saying: “He probably does feel very yucky. But we can take care of that. I’ll start running a bath.”

Immediately Eliot felt conflicted and made a protesting noise. He wanted a bath, god, nothing sounded better than nice hot water on his sore muscles and cold, sweat stained skin, but if he had learned anything, it was that neither of them would leave him in peace in the bath and he was trying to distance himself, even if that seemed absurd with how both were in his bed, cuddling him through the night to keep him warm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back,” Hardison smiled, misinterpreting his noise and sweeping out of the room before Eliot could rectify the mistake.

Parker cuddled back into his side and confided in him: “He never breaks that promise. Took me a while to believe it too, but it’s okay. You’ll get there.”

Eliot didn’t understand, didn’t get how neither of them could see how wrong they were. He wanted to rip his hair out and- oh, there was a hand in his hair, getting out the tangles. It was nice and his mind blanked as he leaned into the contact, something he would berate himself for later.

He only remembered that he should have been convincing Parker that this was a terrible idea when Hardison returned. “You two gotta stop doing this to me, man. You look like a content cat. Now get up, we got a bath to get too.”

The blanket was pulled off him and the cold swept over him. He shivered hard and tried to flee into Parker’s side before he could even think about that action too hard. For a moment, he thought he was safe too, because she wrapped her arms around him like a hug, but then she turned it against him and dragged him to his knees with her.

“Man, I feel like I’m about to slaughter a puppy right now,” Hardison told him as he took Eliot from Parker and pulled him out of bed.

“He’ll be fine once he’s warm and clean again,” Parker assured him. “He’s just being a bit of a baby about it.”

“I think he’s allowed to be a baby about it,” Hardison said and Eliot would have a lot more opinions on the conversation if the room wasn’t spinning and he was barely keeping up with Hardison’s steps, completely trusting the hacker not to drop him. “I mean, look at how he’s shivering, can’t be comfortable.”

Eliot blinked again, the room was still swaying, but it was a different room than before. There was a hot steam in the air and there were tiles around him. The bathroom. He was too late to stop them and he gave in.

If anyone he used to know could see him now, they’d never believe it. The great Eliot Spencer giving into the whims of a hacker and a thief, not even fighting getting a bath even when he knew it was a security risk and something that could blow up in his face.

Deft hands were divesting him of his shirt and soon he was in just his boxers. The door opened and closed behind him as Parker vanished, while Hardison said: “She’s gonna change the sheets and I’m here to keep you from drowning. There are bubbles in the bath, but I can understand if you want to keep your boxers on.”

He nodded, because he would like to keep the boxers on. The steam was doing wonders for his throat, but he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet.

Hardison supported him at the elbows as he stepped into the bath. The water was warm and he sank into it gratefully with a soft sigh, his muscles were already loosening and the heat did nothing against the sleepiness that had been plaguing him. His eyes closed without his permission as the water embraced him.

A hand under his chin stopped him before he could sink underwater and his eyes snapped open to find Hardison smiling at him. “Told you I wasn’t going to let you drown. Go on, relax, Eliot. It’s okay, I got you.”

It was distinctly harder to relax with Hardison holding him up, his big warm hands were very distracting and Eliot was trying really hard not to be distracted. The water was like heaven on his muscles, so that helped and he could feel the steam clearing his sinuses and alleviating the strain on his throat.

Few minutes in and Hardison’s hands were just part of the little place of niceness away from all the discomfort that came with being sick.

Eliot knew he could have just existed like that forever, floating away from his body while still feeling the nice sensations, were it not for the door making noise again as Parker came in. He perked his head up and cracked one eye open.

She smiled at him and held up some clothes, which she put down as she skipped forwards, kneeling next to the bath. With open eyes she asked: “How are you feeling? Baths always make me feel tingly in a good way, are you feeling tingly?”

He didn’t know what hisface did at the question, but Hardison laughed: “I think he’s feeling plenty tingly, mama. I saw you with your hands in his hair, wanna wash it?”

Parker lit up at that and even if Eliot had been planning to protest – which hadn’t crossed his mind before it was too late – he couldn't have told her no with that face. So he watched as they switched places, feeling kinda awkward at both of the staring at him while he was going to face a vulnerable action.

Eliot wasn’t going to ask where she had gotten the skill, but she knew what she was doing as she slipped a hand under his neck, before slowly pushing him down into the water, until he was comfortably floating. She ran a hand through his hair and the final awkwardness slipped from his mind along with most of his thoughts as he leaned into the touch.

Under the water with his eyes closed, he couldn't see Hardison’s looks that he couldn't place with his fuzzy mind, nor Parker’s excitement and apparent happiness about taking care of him like he needed their help. He could just be and feel the tender touches that no one had given him in many years, everyone always quicker to see him as a threat to be avoided.

He was even slightly upset when Parker pulled him back up, a noise leaving his throat before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to find Parker’s hands on him nice, she had a boyfriend. A hot boyfriend, but also a no-no on the touch list.

So, he kept quiet as Parker lathered shampoo into his hair. It was her shampoo, he was almost sure of it. Her hair always smelled like it and, if he remembered correctly, it had been a gift from Hardison. Now he had to fight both the blush as well as soft pleased noises.

And he failed at both.

“Ahw, man, the moment you feel better, I am so teasing you with this,” Hardison said. “You’re just too sad for me to do it now, but I will remember this. I’m probably not allowed to film you, right, because this is great.”

His response was going to be something along the lines of ‘Dammit, Hardison,’ but Parker was faster as she spoke for him: “Hardison! Shush, we just got him to accept a bit of nice things, don’t ruin our master plan.”

“Sorry, mama,” Hardison looked chastised and Eliot wanted to ask about the master plan, but Parker just hit a knot in his hair and he shivered against her touch instead and forgot was he was going to ask.

When Parker washed out his hair, she was careful not to get it into his eyes, but she also let him float a bit longer, the silence of the water stilling his swirling mind. It was empty now, which was better than the confusing half-thoughts and admonishes.

Still, the water was cooling around him and sooner than he’d like, Parker was letting him up as Hardison got him out of the bath.

He could at least stand on his own now and Parker left the two of them while Eliot got dried off and into new clothes.

Being able to stand on his own, however, didn’t mean it wasn’t still strange. His entire being felt soft and collapsible from the bath and sitting on the toilet with Hardison rubbing him down with a towel wasn’t helping. He couldn't even remember why he was allowing Hardison to do it, instead of drying himself, but the contact was nice and he got lost in it.

Soon there was a shirt floating in front of him and this time his shoulder was good enough to slide his armin it. Hardison had dried his stitches and mumbled something about them healing well, which Eliot appreciated. He didn’t need more of his body to turn against him like it was doing now with the way he swayed towards Hardison whenever then man moved away slightly.

The pants was still awkward as fuck, with Eliot leaning one hand on Hardison’s shoulder and looking away at the ceiling while Hardison helped him into dry boxers and sweatpants, patting him on the leg when he was done.

He expected to go back to bed, but Hardison had remembered all the little details and was standing in front of him with his toothbrush. He reached out for it, but his arm was heavy and fell halfway through the uncoordinated grab.

“Yeah, okay, this is just sad, open up,” Hardison said. Eliot didn’t comply and he raised a brow, before putting on a voice and going: “Come on, say ahhhh.”

Eliot glared at him, but said ahhh with a murderous glare that fell flat in the grand scheme of it all. He let Hardison steady his jaw, before he brushed his teeth. It was rhythmic and soothing and Eliot allowed himself to get lost in the sensations as Hardison took care of him, spitting in the sink and accepting the glass of water offered to him.

Then they returned to the bedroom, Hardison a steady presence at his side as had become the norm in the past few days.

When he got to his bedroom, the sheets had been changed and he never thought he’d see the day where that would make him emotional, but there were still tears trying to well up that he pushed down, because they were just so goddamnedthoughtful and they were taking care of him even when they didn’t need to.

It was just a lot. Eliot wasn’t used to it. And his brain would have told him to not get used to it, if it hadn’t been turned to slight mush by the sickness and the nice warm bath.

So, he got into the bed and burrowed into the clean sheets with a happy smile, not seeing the ‘oh my god, he’s being adorable like a puppy looks’ that Hardison and Parker shared as he whispered a soft thanks.

“No problem,” Hardison said. “Here scoot over, Parker picked a movie.”

And he did so gladly, even if he knew it was a play to get him to sleep again. He wasn’t fighting them, his brain felt warm and he wasn’t thinking straight enough just yet, so he let them cozy up to his sides as a movie he couldn't name played.

He napped till the evening then he ate more soup and he would complain about different nutrient intakes and diversity in a diet, but he was just glad that they cared enough to bring him food – and he would really have to thank the kitchen staff later for that too – while also not burning down his kitchen.

That evening, he stayed awake through the movie, which was a shitty horror movie that Eliot had never heard about and could have gone his entire life without knowing about it.

However, sleep took him for the night just as easily and he was looking forward to the day he could stay awake and think straight again. That day was not the next day, however, which passed in a similar fashion.

But, while he felt and looked like a wreck, on the fifth day back at the brewpub, he felt slightly better. His nose was still completely stuffed but with all the tea, the bath and resting his voice, his throat was much better already, even the coughing subsiding little by little. His appetite was still shit and he had no energy, his head was also constantly thrumming and his muscles hurt like he’d been fighting for hours, on top of his healing injuries that had fallen into the background of his general discomfort.

Still, while it wasn’t a lot, his head wasn’t so fuzzy anymore either. It meant he felt all the aches more, but he liked that he had a little more control over his head.

Sadly, because he had more control over his head, he remembered how this was all wrong and he should be far away from this.

A/N:

Eliot goes from grumpy man to emotional wreck in three chapters and I commend him for that, because it takes me five minutes max

Also, it’s really hard to write a story when the person from whose POV it is written keeps falling asleep, like sir, I need you to write the fic, stop sleeping.

Fun fact!: I typed this ‘im aorry dioe ruinug your date nifht’ without looking, bc I am actually a shit typer in the sense that I type with two fingers (four if I’m in a hurry), lmao. How I get anything done is a miracle, though I am pretty fast despite it all.

I feel like I should also mention that I know nothing about taking care of sick people and this was written for the emotional care, not the realistic nursing techniques. Also don’t look too closely into what happened to all the injuries, I half forgot, oops

Btw, angstier chapter incoming, fear me >:3

#RR writing #tw: self esteem issues #tw: flu #tw: sickfic #leverage #leverage ot3 #thiefsome #hitter hacker thief #eliot x hardison x parker #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage parker #leverage tv #Hold Me Together #Hold Me Together Part 3

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golbrocklovely · 5 years ago

Text

the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter fourteen

A/N: sorry this took a long time to make. work has been kicking my ass recently and i’ve had like no time off. i finally get one after today so that’ll be nice. i’ll try to write more when i can. thank you to everyone that was so sweet when i came back, yall are seriously the best. as a treat, a special something finally happens in this chapter. alrighty, enjoy and lmk what you think !!

story description

taglist: @far-to-many-bands , @idfk-tbh-oops , @muted-mayham , @ughwhyislifesohard , @justtanerd , @ashyoungxblood , @cmburgos

trigger warning: cursing, angst, mentions of a massacre, surprise ending 👀

word count: 2385

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, this is what you guys do when you have a day off? Lounge around and be lazy?” Tara huffed.

I glanced at all of us quickly. Sam and Kat were cuddled up on the end of the couch I was laying on. Jake was on the other, sprawled out, and Colby sat on top, his feet digging into the cushion where Jake laid his legs.

“What would you like us to do Tara?” Colby deadpanned.

“Well, I'm thirsty.” Tara turned to Jake, “Jakey, could you get me something from the fridge?”

“Get it yourself.” Jake mumbled, scrolling through his phone.

Tara barked. “Jake. Get me a blood bag and some vodka. I want to have a party.”

“You know if you're so thirsty, you could just drink from me.” Jake dared, getting up from the couch.

“No thanks. I'd rather drink from Sam than you. No offense, Kat.” Tara sassed, crossing her arms.

Kat shrugged. “None taken.”

“But Tara… that's not how it played out the last time.” Jake sang, smirking.

Tara punched Jake in the shoulder hard, all of us busting out laughing. Jake winced as he stumbled into the kitchen, digging in the fridge.

“Tara, you do realize it's only 3 in the afternoon. Ain't it a bit early to be drinking?” Colby stated.

“No. I'm just... pregaming.” Tara smiled innocently, sitting down where Jake had been.

Mike and Kevin busted through the door suddenly, slamming it shut and locking it hastily.

“Woah, where's the fire?” Sam broke in, sitting up with Kat in his arms.

“Go lock up the windows, Mike. I don't want there to be any way in.” Kevin motioned. Mike nodded his head, rushing to the windows.

“What's the problem?” Jake questioned.

“We just got word from a very reliable source that an elder is coming to LA.” Kevin informed.

“Are you sure it's not just Tara?” Sam asked.

Mike shook his head. “No one knows about her being an elder, so it can't be her.”

“How do you know your sources are telling the truth?” Sam slid out of Kat’s hold, standing up.

“Apparently, he already flew in a couple days ago. Some of our boys down at the airport saw him.” Kevin replied.

“Who?” Jake requested.

Kevin’s voice darkened. “It’s Rinaldi.”

I could feel everyone’s body stiffen at the name. Not a single breath was taken.

Tara’s eyes bore at the floor. “Well, I've just lost my appetite.”

“Wait, who's Rinaldi?” I puzzled, looking around at everyone.

Colby answered. “He's one of the most powerful elders. He was like the second or third vampire ever turned.”

Jake agreed. “He's fucking terrifying, bro. I heard if his eyes land on yours, he could make your head explode, spontaneous combustion style.”

��I'm surprised you know those words, Jake.” Tara joked, her voice remaining monotone.

“Okay, so he's a big deal. But why would he come here?” I doubted.

“Who knows? All I know is that him being even remotely near us isn't good news. So, we gotta take extra precaution. So Jade-” Sam began.

I held my hand up, finishing his sentence. “’Stay here for a while’…I might as well keep a bag here.”

“Or you could start paying rent.” Mike retorted calmly.

Colby scowled. “Me and Sam don't even pay rent.”

I rolled my eyes at Mike, turning back to everyone. “I know this might be a dumb question, but besides the fact that he is super strong, why is everyone scared of him?”

Mike sneered. “Tara. Do you have something to tell the class?”

“Fuck you, Mike.” Tara hissed.

“What is it, Tara? Do you know something?” I uttered, my voice weakening from my nerves.

Tara exhaled, her eyes on me. “Rinaldi is one of the worst vampires I know. He's the reason why the vampire population is so small.”

I furrowed my brow. “How does that make sense?”

“Back in 1872, he told a bunch of us elders that we should make a council, something to police the growing vampire population. He believed that a lot of vampires at the time were starting to get restless and wanted to come out to the public. The world was changing so fast, so they thought most people might be okay with vampires,” Tara chuckled sarcastically, her tongue clicking against her teeth. “I was against the council, mostly because I don't like running in groups and I hate authority. But also because that's not how most vampires felt. A lot wanted to stay hidden. But he made it very apparent that wasn't the case. So, the council was created. And by the summer of that year, the massacre happened.”

“A massacre?” I whispered, surprised.

“Rinaldi was working both sides. For some reason while creating the council, he was telling all the younger vampires that we elders were coming to attack them, take away their rights and kill them. He came at them as an elder against the council, when he was the whole reason it was a thing in the first place. The spirits are the ones who told me all of this, and I had warned that council that a war was gonna begin. They all laughed me off and told me I was lying. When the battle took place, so many vampires died, both elders and young. Our population went from over a thousand down all the way to a hundred. And of course, Rinaldi survived.” Tara fumed, her hands clenching harder with each word.

I gulped. “Holy shit.”

“After the massacre, every vampire that was left disappeared, moved away from each other. That way no one could attack them or know who they were. It wasn't until a hundred years later that the vampires that were still alive decided to start turning humans again.” Tara finished, relaxing her back against the couch.

Kevin nodded, crossing his arms. “I remember. It was a long time before I ever saw a vampire. I didn't even meet Mike until, what? 1982?”

My eyes widen. “Wait, Kevin, you were alive during the vampire massacre?”

“I fought in it. Or, was forced to. I was turned a year before the massacre.” Kevin recalled.

“And you two?” I glanced at Kat and Mike.

“Not until after. 1974.” Mike responded.

Kat chimed. “1983.”

Sam commented. “I'm dating a cougar.”

“Shut up.” Kat smacked his leg, a smile rising to his face.

“So that's why Rinaldi is terrifying. If he's here for some reason, it's not good. We have to be safe and stay as far away from him as we can.” Tara cautioned.

~ \/ \/ ~

After the lovely news of Rinaldi, I decided to take a nap before work, especially since now I was staying over the Trapp Haus longer than expected. When I finally woke up, I could hear the thumping of the club downstairs, but the rest of the apartment was silent. I slowly stumbled out of Sam's room, opening the door to the empty living space. The lights were dim, no one around.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I called out.

The continuous music from downstairs was the only response. I stared over at Colby's door, wondering if he was inside. I trudged over to his door, taking a deep breath.

“Colby?” I muttered.

Silence. I knocked three times, the door creaking open with the force of my hand.

I've never been inside his room before...

I flicked on the light, looking around at the unusual space. His room was a little messy, but nothing too crazy. His bed sheets and curtains were a dark black, his walls a deep shade of blue. A couple water bottles rested on his nightstand. His laptop sat haphazardly on his floor near his bed. His closet door was ajarred, clothes spilling out onto the floor.

“What are you doing in my room?”

I gasped, turning around to see Colby. His body was slightly tense, his eyes matching.

“Shit, sorry. I-I woke up and thought maybe you were in your room since no one was around.” I stuttered.

“I was downstairs helping Kevin get rid of an overly excited patron.” He revealed.

“Where's everyone else?” I queried, my arms crossing uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Sam and Jake are doing some research for a hunt. Kevin and Mike are downstairs, and Kat and Tara are out partying at Bloody.” He explained.

I bit my lip. “And you're here.”

“Someone has to protect you.” He remarked dryly, walking into the kitchen.

“Sorry.” I murmured.

“About what?” Colby glowered, leaning against the counter.

My eyes fell from his for a moment. “I mean, it's obvious that you don't want to be here... with me.”

Colby’s eyes softened as he fell silent, his hands holding the counter tight.

I turned to go back to Sam's room, only to be stopped by Colby's voice.

“That's not true. I like... having you around.” He interjected, “You have to know that.”

I exhaled, turning to face him again. I could feel my heart bang in my chest.

“You know, the other day there was this guy at my work, and he looked really sad. He and I got to talking and he asked me if I ever wanted something badly. Not something crazy hard to get, but something that's just out of my reach.” I stepped towards Colby, “And all I could think about was... you.”

Colby objected. “You shouldn't.”

“What? I shouldn't what?” I echoed.

“Think of me like that.” He shook his head.

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because I'm a monster. Do you know how easy it would be for me to lose control and kill you?” Colby threatened, closing the gap between us and getting in my face.

“You haven't done it before.” I argued.

Colby backed away at my words. “Yeah, but there's no guarantee that it won't happen. Plus, besides the fact that I crave your blood all the fucking time, I'm... a lost cause, Jade.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I snapped, my hands resting on my hips.

“Whatever you think a relationship needs to have, you're not gonna get it from me. I'm damaged as hell. I trust little to no one. The kindness and love you deserve won't come from me. And you don't need something like that.” He scoffed.

“Then we take it slow, Colby. We don't have to fall headfirst into this. We can take our time. There is no time limit on this.” I ignored the aching memory in the back of my mind of Tara's reading.

“What makes you think I want to be with you anyway?” He jeered, his gaze pointing daggers at mine.

I growled. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?” Colby grunted.

“Try to be mean so you can push me away. I'm done walking on eggshells around you, Colby!” I exclaimed.

He groaned, racing to his room. “I-I can't do this right now.”

“I want you.”

He stopped abruptly, the muscles on his back tight.

“I want you, Colby. Even though you don't trust anyone, even though you could kill me. I still want you. I'm not gonna pretend I don't anymore.” I confessed.

He slowly spun around to look at me, his body rigid, eyes glaring.

“So, decide. Right now. Because I'm not gonna wait around forever.” I warned.

Colby bit his lips, staring at the ceiling. His hands twitched as he slid them across his face.

“I know you didn't lie that night we almost kissed. You're the one that said you wanted me close.” My voice fell to a whisper.

I could feel my face flush, my palms damp with moisture. I shuddered a breath as Colby looked into my eyes.

“You're right.”

He sighed deeply, shaking his head with a crooked smile.

“Fuck it.”

Colby raced up to me, smashing his lips onto mine as he thrusted me against his body. I immediately relaxed into him, my fingers finding their way into his hair to pull on his locks. I moaned against his lips as he picked me up easily, my legs wrapping around his waist. His hands gripped my thighs, bringing me over to the couch and placing us down. I straddled his lap, deepening the kiss as my tongue glided into his mouth.

He ripped his lips away, slamming them back down onto my neck. He kissed the hollow of my throat, his teeth scraping the skin, causing me to whimper in pleasure.

Colby pulled away suddenly, his breath coming out ragged as his hands clenched my waist hard. My eyes landed on his face, and a small gasp left my mouth. His crimson eyes stared back at me, dark black veins pulsing from under his eyes, his fangs protruding from his gums.

He stammered. “I-I'm sorry, I-I need to-”

“It's okay, Colby.”

I gently raised my hand to his face, watching for any sign of disapproval. My middle finger lightly traced the veins under his eyes, feeling them throb under my touch. Colby closed his eyes tight, allowing me to keep touching. His breaths slowed down, the veins disappearing. When he opened his eyes with an inhale, his eyes had returned to their intoxicating blue.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I'm alright now.”

I leaned in and pecked his lips, breaking away only to see his reaction. He smiled lightly, his dimples surfacing sweetly.

My phone ringing broke me out of our trance. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and picked it up, noticing the time and who was calling.

I grumbled to Colby. “Shit, it's my boss.”

“Hey, sorry I'm-” I started.

Roger interrupted. “No need to come in now. One of our bathrooms overflowed and the whole place is flooded. It's gonna take a couple days to get fixed so, I'll see you next week at some point.”

“Oh, okay. See you then, Roger.” I hung up the phone, my eyes landing on Colby’s. “So, work’s cancelled for a while.”

“Well that's good.” He smirked.

“Why?” I questioned.

“Because then we can focus on more of this.”

Colby leaned in quickly, capturing my lips in a romantic kiss, instantly taking my breath away. I smiled against his lips, wrapping my arms around him again.

But even with my attention on Colby, my mind drifted back to Tara's words.

Please let her be wrong…

<< CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 15 >>

#colby brock #colby brock vampire #vampire #colby brock x oc #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock angst #the chosen daughter #colby brock story

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messrmarauder · 6 years ago

Note

sup’ share your remadora headcanons pls

i have too many, here we go!

‘amused, impressed, smitten’ happened so damn fast because they spent so much time together doing order work and she would come over to try and cheer up sirius a lot

they get on straight away, always laughing and joking and they flirt but it’s a joke, it’s a just a joke.. right?

so he was basically completely in love with her within a month

he doesn’t know it though because they’re just friends, right? and friends think about friends all the time right? like all day? and all night? and friends can’t sleep because friends winked at them at 3pm? and friends feel their heart shatter when someone subtly teases their friend about someone that may or may not be another man? and friends secretly switch shifts around so they’re on the same guard watch and missions together? and friends walk each other home all the time? even though it’s a 40 minute walk each way and its far easier to floo but if she floos he wont get that kiss on the cheek that he thinks about the entire walk home and then regrets it because its creepy isn’t it? because she’s so young? and she doesn’t know that he’ll lay in bed and think about it for hours wondering why he cares so much but they are just friends

then one day he’s writing her a letter, about something that doesn’t matter and is definitely something that doesn’t require a letter to be sent to her while she’s at work, but he’ll find any excuse at this point. and it just hits him, he thought something to himself about how even thinking of her made his entire day and it sounds far too similar to something james had once said about lily when he was trying to explain how he knew she was the one

he panics. he panics hard. he sits for hours completely still just wondering what the fuck he can do, until he decides to write to dumbledore saying he has to leave London, he can’t face her loving someone else, he thinks he would literally explode. but he calms himself down, there’s a war, harry needs him. so he bins the letter. he knows she would never think of him like that so he feels no guilt being her friend. because theyre just friends.

and the worst part is, to her, they really are just friends. it creeps up on her slowly, rather than being hard and fast like it was for him.

so for the most part, theyre just really close friends, joking and flirting, and he’s hiding the fact he’s completely in love with her and she doesn’t know but sometimes looks at him a bit suspiciously at the things he does or says that are a bit too soft and a bit too caring. but he slowly becomes her best friend

the order can tell straight away, its pathetic, he’s a mess around her despite them being so comfortable around each other. what they don’t see is that he literally pines for her. at 35. listening to all those songs about love knowing he’ll never have it

he’s badly jealous and can get quite nasty and judgemental if she has a date or talking about her exes. he used to really like bill, they get on great and he’s a good laugh, but he doesn’t speak to him for 3 weeks after finding out he and tonks had a drunken night once years ago and repeatedly tells sirius he’s a self-obsessed prick and hints to molly that bill needs a haircut. he used to support the montrose magpies until he found out tonks used to see the current captain, they never win anyway, remus thinks it’s probably because of him

molly even sits tonks down for a strong word about ‘being careful with him and letting him down gently because none of us need a broken heart in this war’ and tonks just laughs but she does start to notice what the rest of the order sees but she thinks maybe he’s just got a little crush and that’s fine because maybe she thinks he’s cute too? maybe

she falls for him way after he has and its not as terrifying, she doesn’t even think about it. it just sort of dawned on her one that that’s what it was, the thing they had going on, it made sense

she tells her friends about this guy from her ‘duelling team’ to secretly get advice on him

they end up together about 3 months before sirius dies after 100 ‘almost kisses’ and cuddling in bed as ‘friends’ because ‘the other rooms don’t have heating charms’ and holding hands because ‘she falls a lot padfoot, shut up’

there’s a fight with the death eaters and they think each other have been hit so when its finally over they’re running and screaming for each other until they dramatically run into each other’s arms and kiss and its all very romantic until mad eye shouts ‘HANDS OFF MY AUROR LUPIN’ and they break away and grin at each other

the next few months are bliss and they’re rarely apart, sirius moved from teasing remus about fancying her to glaring at him and giving him ‘the big brother talk’. remus quickly tells him to fuck off but tonks thinks its hilarious.

tonks friend finds out about them because he’s visiting her while she recovers after being really badly injured in the department of mysteries. she doesn’t take it well and starts telling tonks she’s crazy etc and tonks is like fuck off then bigot

but it reminds remus of how people see him and therefore how they will now start to see her. he’d never really thought about it because he never imagined them actually being together because it seemed so unrealistic. now he’s in full meltdown mode about what he could actually give her, which coincidentally, is nothing

they fight about it. they break up. remus decides to go and spy since that’s all he can offer the world. tonks is sent to guard hogsmeade/hogwarts since she’s not fit for detective duties.

he announces in a order meeting that he’s leaving and that’s how she finds out. he says he has nothing to lose when someone mentions the danger. it just makes her angrier, that she’s sitting there loving him, but he says there’s nothing for him. she says she loves him when he leaves. quite angrily. and disapparates before he can react

he shows up on her doorstep less than a month later, face black and blue, filthy, teeth missing, broken bones, after being caught out. he expects her to shudder and be disgusted when she opens the door but she kisses him. she starts to clean him up when he says he had to come back to tell her he loved her, he didn’t want to die without saying it. he says it 400 times that night, he can’t stop.

he leaves the next morning while she’s asleep and doesn’t say goodbye. this is the start of the ‘grief fucking’. something happens, he comes back, kissing her, saying life’s too short, that they need each other, he ‘stays the night’, she thinks they’ll be fine but he leaves in the middle of the night every time, and she breaks all over again. he knows its not fair and promises himself that he won’t do it next time someone dies but he does because he needs her

dumbledore told him to take something with him while he’s spying that will make him feel human and keep him sane. so he takes a picture of her, he’s scared he’ll forget her smile. but they find it, the werewolves, and he’s come back smelling of her one too many times so greyback decides he’s going to teach him a lesson about running away to witches. remus finds out about it and sends word that she needs to be hidden immediately

he goes to see her to explain he needs to be completely cut off from her and she needs to deny all knowledge of him, he needs to fully be isolated from the wizarding world for this mission to work. but she’s seen what this mission has already done to him, he’s a mess, physically, mentally, he talks of himself as if he is one of them, he’s adopted far harsher habits and doesn’t have his usual patient personality. she doesn’t want to hide, she wants to fight them, fight for remus, fight for them, so they start to argue and he’s so terrified of greyback getting her he’ll do anything to get her to forget him. so when she screams “but it doesn’t matter, if I love you and you love me-“ he turns around and screams “I DON’T LOVE YOU” and he says it while looking right in her eyes and he sees the light leave her eyes and she looks down. he didn’t mean it, he was just desperate for her to understand and he’s trying to take it back, trying to explain but she shouts at him to get out. he goes back to the pack to try and blend in again, hoping she’ll stay hidden

there’s an emotional wizarding condition about shock that makes your eyes, ears, nose bleed and cough up blood etc, it’s pretty nasty. she gets it and gets it bad because she was so sure about their love but now she’s utterly convinced he was speaking the truth, he’s a bad liar and who would ever lie about that? mad-eye finds her bleeding out in her flat soon after remus leaves, she’d started choking on her own blood and she couldn’t see, she signalled him, he takes her to st mungo’s. he’s been alerted by dumbledore about the situation so he knows the werewolves can’t know her whereabouts so he gets a professional wizarding copycat, whose hired to walk around hogsmeade under polyjuice as a decoy while she recovers. she’s in hospital feeling completely useless and pathetic, what kind of auror doesn’t know someone’s not in love with you? she sits for hours thinking about how disappointed mad-eye must be, how dumb she is, how every touch, every kiss, every i love you, it was all a lie. she analyses every moment they had together, convincing herself they were all fake and trying to understand what his motive was, if he was just lonely?

the pack catches the fake tonks but remus doesn’t know about mad-eyes plan so he wakes up to the pack making a riot and goes over to check it out only to see tonks screaming and being hurt and groped and attacked. he is forced to watch greyback rip out her throat while they hold him back, he’s screaming and begging, then they drop her and move on to him. he’s battered but not enough to kill him. once they leave him he’s able to grab her and disparate to the burrow. arthur is in the garden and suddenly remus is just there with her, both covered in her blood, her throat ripped out, on the grass screaming.

the weasleys don’t know about the plan either and try to get him away from her, but he wont stop screaming and holding her and saying sorry, begging her, telling her he always loved her, that he’s a liar. he cant stop thinking about the last words he said to her, ‘I DON’T LOVE YOU I DON’T LOVE YOU I DON’T LOVE YOU’ and that she believed that. she died believing he didn’t love her and knew he and his kind were the reason she was dead. he cant take it and suddenly his wand is at his throat and he says the words as bill dives for his wand but blood splatters everywhere and he falls backwards and molly is screaming. he’s managed to cut himself but not his throat, thanks to bill. he spends 2 days in percys old bedroom on suicide watch begging bill to empathise and give him his wand back, ‘what if it had been fleur? if you had killed her, bill’ until they switch it to charlie who remus cant even look at considering the long feud he’s had with him for being on-and-off with tonks. he’d once told tonks that charlie was a fucking idiot, what kind of fucking idiot would ditch her for dragons? probably the same kind that left her for werewolves

after they both find out the truth, dumbledore breaks it to him, tells him about mad-eyes plan. mad-eye is trying to explain to tonks that remus had been caught with a picture of her, that the werewolves knew he wasn’t loyal because of her, so they killed her, or so they thought. she doesn’t want to see him, it doesn’t make a difference, he doesn’t love her anyway does he? he just feels guilty. but she needs to know why he had the picture and mad-eye says if she doesn’t go to see him he’ll probably break into her house, seeing the state of him. so she agrees to meet him at the burrow. he’s so relieved he’s openly sobbing on his knees, holding onto her and she’s thinking this is awkward and fully to do with guilt and nothing to do with love. he tries to explain how he had to say it to get her to stay away, that he was beyond desperate and she doesn’t believe him. ‘you can’t look into the eyes of someone you love and say that’ and he doesn’t really have an answer, just mumbles something about life or death.

after molly tells her all the details and how distraught he had been, she rethinks and goes to see him again. they talk it out properly, not screaming for once, they’re both too tired in this war and he’s too grateful to see her with her throat intact to be angry. she tells him about being in hospital but downplays it a lot, he’s still beating himself up about it until she points out she would have been caught by the werewolves if she wasn’t. they only see each other at order meetings until christmas.

he didn’t know about her patronus until harry mentioned it. he goes to see her, she is alone, but she had been working a double shift. he asks to see it and she refuses, says it’s not really any of his business unless he wants to be with her, but as he explains more about it, she thinks he’s realised they can’t be apart if this is true, so she shows him but it makes no difference because it was the usual ‘stay the night but leave again as soon as she fell asleep’ situation. she turns hopeless, if her patronus isn’t enough to show him how willing she is to sacrifice things to be with him, nothing ever will be.

after the hospital wing scene they go to grimmauld place to destroy any evidence before snape lets the death eaters in. he tries to avoid her but she catches him just to say that he’s right and they don’t have time to fight each other now that Dumbledore is gone, that they need to focus on the war, they’ve too much to do. he just nods but he doesn’t feel right. is that really it? shouldn’t he feel happy that she’ll be spared his life? but she’s still not happy he thinks. he sits up all night in the house they fell in love in and thinks maybe mcgonagall was right.

she goes home to sleep before the ministry spend all day interrogating her about dumbledores death tomorrow, but he wakes her up in the middle of the night, he asks to come in, she says there’s no more ‘grief fucks’ that she cant handle being used like that anymore. he says it’s not like that, obviously she’s not going to believe him but it’s different. he says he can’t go to the burrow, that he doesn’t want to intrude after what just happened. tonks lets him stay but only on the couch, and he thinks maybe he has lost her for good. he’s fucked her about too much and for too long. he wonders how he can show her he won’t leave this time.

the next few days are him trying to convince her this isn’t grief, its real and he is back for good, and her saying he just wants what he can’t have now and he’ll get over it in a few days. they go about missions together because she is on suspension for failing to protect the school

they’re on a weekend mission together away in scotland and they’ve kind of gotten cosy together again, almost like they’re back together but he sees her doubting him constantly, like she thinks it’s too good to be true and he’ll leave again so she doesn’t want to get too close. so it hits him that he has to prove that this is permanent so he abruptly says ‘marry me’, it’s not a question. she just laughs asking if he’s hit his head but he’s gotten very serious and says he’ll prove this is serious by marrying her, she thinks he’s fucking insane and says absolutely not but they get back together and she says she trusts him. but he keeps mentioning getting married to prove he’s here to stay after so many times of walking away but she keeps refusing him, saying they don’t need to, that it doesn’t matter. eventually he gets really emotional about how it’s really important to him to feel secure together, that they need a solid confirmation of this thing, and she agrees and they get married two days later.

it’s not a secret for long, her friend turns sides and rats them out to the death eaters,

umbridge sacks her for ‘beastiality’ in front of the entire auror department and she swears she’ll never work for the ministry again

the pregnancy is a mess. he leaves while she’s screaming at him saying if he leaves, that’s really the end of them, no going back, their marriage will be void. he leaves anyway. she waits all night for him, when he doesn’t return that night she waits until 3pm the next day before packing some stuff and going back to her parents, knowing that there was no going back this time.

he comes back to her parents, where they stayed after her parents were attacked, and andromeda screams and refuses to let him see her and says the flat has been sold and she’ll be out by monday so he better pack his shit and fuck off quickly. he has to plan the right moment to catch her in the flat by herself. she’s calm, terrifyingly calm for a pregnant women whose husband walked out on her, just packing boxes, telling him all his stuff is in the small amount of boxes in the livingroom, he can have that spare cauldron if he wants. he tries to talk to her about it but she keeps dismissing him, trying to ignore him, she shuts him up with ‘look, i know you were scared, i know you always come back, i know that but i wont have a child sitting at the window wondering if daddy will come back this time. that’s not fair, they didn’t ask for this, i did.’ and he knows he has no argument.

she says there’s post for him on the mantle and he finds a letter addressed to him with her wedding ring in it. he can’t stop himself, he’s begging her to put it back on, on his knees, half hysterical, trying to put it back on her. she says he broke his vows, theyre not together, why should she wear it but his begging gets to her and she puts it back on to shut him up but she doesn’t take it off again

he spends the next month completely doing up his father’s old rundown cottage, complete with baby room and every method of protection he can do. he doesn’t know how to show it to her since he’s seen andromeda burning his letters and only ted answers the door, so he waits in her parents back garden for hours until he catches her on her own and begs her to come see what he’s been doing. she hesitates but he looks quite manic and like he hasn’t slept in weeks so she agrees just to make sure he’s not lost the plot. he shows her around while she’s silent, he’s talking far too quickly and looking far too frantic, as if he expects her to run out the door any second. he explains everything at lightning speed, how it is for her and the baby, its made for them, how he doesn’t have to be here, he’s been staying in the spare room while he set it up but he’ll be gone the second they want it, how he’ll send all the money he gets, he’s got bill to take out some gold for him - it’s in the kitchen, how he’ll get any medicine or pregnancy things she needs so she doesn’t have to leave hiding, he’ll help her move in if she needs, if it is a werewolf he’ll do everything, if she wants. he looks so desperate so she says she’ll think about it but she breaks down when she’s leaving, shouting that this is what she wanted for them, not just her and the baby. that it should be them living here, not just her and the baby. she moves in at the end of the month.

it’s a really horrible pregnancy due to stress and inability to see a healer whenever they need. he comes home one day and she’s screaming, he finds her covered in blood. they risk getting a healer. the healer says there’s a large chance that the baby hasn’t survived. she’s hysterical, crying and screaming and hitting remus, saying he wished for this, he prayed the baby would disappear. she knows it’s not true, that he loves this baby already but she’s so distraught. its andromeda that defends him, tells her shes being ridiculous, that he’s done nothing but try and provide for this baby, put the baby first always. remus is grateful but still blames himself, for not being grateful for this child.

when teddys born they nearly write edward john lupin down but remus thinks its not right. every lupin baby carries john as a middle name, they always have but he wants to honour james, wants to thank harry for setting him straight, giving him the good bollocking that lily would have. so he adopts the potter tradition, of using the fathers name for the middle name. he thinks it will sound self-conceded but tonks thinks its fitting that he should have something in common with his godfather, especially if he might not get the chance to meet him. so it is edward remus lupin

I have a lot of pregnancy/teddy headcanons but this already ridiculously long so let’s skip that.

they live and harry moves in with them to give the weasleys space after fred. especially since hermione now stays in rons room, there’s not much space for harry. it’s great but there are postwar stresses and pumps. she finds out a lot of her friends are dead, theyre both unemployed with a small baby, werewolf legislation is still awful and then there’s charlie weasley who sends a letter essentially saying if she wanted to restart her life in romania after the war, charlie would help tonks and teddy move. remus opens it and the house is tense for a while.

I also have a lot of headcanons about charlie/tonks and remus and charlie having beef throughout ootp/hbp/postwar but we will skip just now.

they have a second son when teddy is around two. they don’t really have the money but they are both thrilled and were in a ‘not trying but if it happens, it happens’ mindset because neither liked being an only child and teddy is so wonderful and definitely not a werewolf. therefore alastor john lupin is born. teddy and ally don’t get on that well, both are hufflepuff and ally is a mini athletic remus, quidditch obsessed compared to music obsessed teddy. harry is godfather to both, and spoils them beyond belief.

remus eventually ends up at the ministry for a werewolf investigation unit that works with the aurors to stop packs, offering support/help to recently bitten and werewolf integration into wizarding society. he eventually gives it up to home school teddy and look after ally then goes back to teach at hogwarts a few years before the boys arrive.

tonks becomes head of the auror training division after the war and trains harry and other new aurors because she doesn’t want to be out in the field again as a mum but is too good a dueller to be stuck on desk work.

she visits remus in hogwarts one day because shes in the castle anyway and some boy shouts ‘sir?? is that your wife?? shes FIT’ and remus goes ‘yes youre very right mr ross, lets discuss it in Thursday detention’. ‘its not his fault im hot remus, leave him be’. teddy demands his mother never return to hogwarts since his friends wont stop teasing him about how fit his mum is, ally doesn’t mind because his friends are 11 and don’t know how hot she is. remus secretly loves it.

i am so sorry for how long this is but im avoiding uni work and you gave me an excuse

#remus x tonks #remadora #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #tonks #andromeda tonks #teddy lupin #ally lupin #emma mwpp #post war #hp #sirius black #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #remadora fanfic #remus x tonks fanfic

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ofmythsandmadness · 6 years ago

Text

The Night We Met.

PAIRING: Ben Hargreeves x Reader SUMMARY: Years after the lose of your childhood love, you decided to pay your respects, one last time. WARNINGS: angst. pain. lots of both. this is super sad, so read on well aware of what’s to come. there’s zero happiness in this, really truly (oops). WORD COUNT: 3000+

A/N: I was in a rough place and super sad and then I wrote this (like two nights ago), and then I didn’t have a chance til now to finish it up. It’s super sad and unedited, so I suppose read on at your own risk. Also, I don’t know if I really wrote Klaus well...I did my best. Again, this isn’t really edited and sort of just a toss away coming from an emotional me loving & missing Ben Hargreeves too late.

A LONG TIME AGO, she swore she would never step foot in that cursed house again.

But there she was, standing in the middle of the foyer, taking it all in as though it was her first time. And in a way, it was the first time she truly took in all the details, all the terrifying glory the mansion was, standing several metres below it all. In all her visits, Y/N had only once used the front door - and it was to exit, not come inside.

She tore her eyes away from the sky and shifted forward. In her hand were crumpled flowers, a rather cheap bouquet with wilted petals and a gaudy ribbon holding the stems together. Y/N was never a flower person and she certainly was not going to convert for the sake of a dead tyrant, and honestly it was all she could bother with. Not like the old man was going to see them anyways.

Y/N turned to place the bouquet on the front table, carefully tucking up the ribbons around the flowers, as though that was going to save the cheap, gross look. Without another thought turned to the ‘prison’s’ architecture, she was moving away, floating off and up the stairs. The house was silent, with ghosts of laughter lurking about every corner, but no familiar face to take in. Maybe that was best, too. She would rather be alone. Even just seeing Pogo again made her choke and struggle to even get a word out. The butler was polite enough to let her be, but there was no way to guarantee that for anyone else.

She stumbled down the long hallway, following a trial of memories, past the doors to nearly the end. It was shut, but not locked, and she was able to gently push it open and step inside, immediately coming to a halt at the entrance.

Nothing had changed. Not a detail, not a book changed from how it looked when she had ran out years and years back. Her hand shakily reached out to bump the light switch, heart beating even harder when the small room was illuminated with light.

The bedrooms of the Hargreeves children had always felt small, but as she stood in the doorway, peering about with tears in her eyes, the tiny space felt suffocating. Too many memories, too many reminders of a life she had buried deep, deep down a long time ago. Too much came back too quickly, and Y/N had to steady herself against the doorframe before continuing.

But she had forced herself all the way for a reason. Even if it was the last time she stepped inside, it was something and she had to pay her respects to him. And so, Y/N choked back her quiet sob and shut the door behind her, letting the past wash over her and engulf her beneath the inky black waves.

“Stay still!”

“I’m trying!”

A soft snort left the girl’s lips, followed by a muffled laugh. “You’re not trying hard enough,” she giggled, lunging so the end of her paintbrush could jab into his shoulder. “You gotta stay still, ‘else this drawing’s gonna be bad.”

“You’ve never drawn anything bad. It’s going to look great.”

Once more, she snorted. “Of course it will, Benny. It’s a drawing of you.”

In the dim light of the room, darkness only barely pushed away by a flashlight, his cheeks bloomed with rosy pink, a flush at the teasing compliment. Neither one addressed it, but both of them took note, and even as she studied the paper, the girl was smiling.

She had forgotten about the sketches she had done of him - but moreover, she had not realised he had made a point to keep each one. Her finger traced the thick stains on the paper, lines creating the pointed chin and soft, shy smile she had loved so much. Y/N had forgotten how much she loved to draw, especially him - she had not touched a paintbrush in years.

Not since.

Her eyes lifted and the sketch left her fingers, leaving them free to reach up and trail down his bookshelf. He always had far too many to count, and multiple times she teasingly questioned if he had ever even read half of them. But every time, he claimed that he had and honestly? Despite the poking fun, she had no doubt about it.

She shifted across the carpet, jean-clad legs coming to rest beside his. They were just barely touching, arms brushing every time she took a breath.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Shh,” she sleepily murmured back. Her head fell to his shoulder, eyes lazily scanning the pages of the book in hand. “What are you reading?”

Under her head, Y/N could feel him tense up, a common reaction she had become used to. She knew he was nervous around her, and could discern some sort of reason why - though there was no part of her courageous enough to truly act on it. No, her bravery extend to little actions like that, where she could cuddle into his side and blame her actions on something like weariness.

“H-Diego got it for me,” he said softly. His trembling hand moved to her shoulders, draping across as a sort-of intimate support. All actions were hesitant and unsure, but when Y/N snuggled closer in, some of the shaking died down. “It’s about these elves? And all the races around them. It’s sort of badly done, but considering everything it’s good.”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Yeah, uh - sure.”

Y/N stifled a yawn and moved even closer. Her eyes slid shut and she let her mind drift, focused only on his sweet voice recounting a tale she probably would not remember the next day. And all the while, she could feel his heartbeat just barely against her own skin. And…

She blinked away the glossy cover of tears and pulled away from the book in hand. It had meant a lot to Ben, she did remember that - Diego had got it from him and though it was one of those clearance buys, the sort that were sold at the lowest of bookstores because no one else bought them, he had cherished it because it was from his brother and it was an act of love. And in turn, he had shared that love with her, eventually striking up a routine between the two of them. Any time she came over and it was nice, he would read and her head would rest against his shoulder, eyes sleepily watching as he read aloud to her. Sometimes, she would adjust and press a soft kiss to his shoulder, or cheek if she was brave enough, and watched as his face exploded with a deep red in reaction. It had made her smile, to know even before they ever solidified a thing between them, that they were both madly falling for the other.

It had not taken long for them to break. It was her that made the first move, though immediately after came his eager response. Even through the pain, Y/N smiled, seeing those fateful moments flashed in her mind like a movie. She never forgot that night.

It was raining, and she had come to his window soaked right through. He had scolded her for coming at all in such bad weather, and her argument back was that it was a short walk, and she could just steal another one of his signature black hoodies. Ben still remained tense, arguing back to her that she could get pneumonia or something in the cold, and then...

-Y/N gently touched her lip, cold fingers pressed into the skin. It was their first kiss, and it was everything expected - short, awkward and surprising for both of them. But just as a younger Y/N had pulled back, unsure if her kissing him was even the right move, if he had wanted that to happen, Ben pulled her in and that was when, really truly her young, cold heart burst and bloomed inside her chest.

“He-Y/N.”

She whirled around, coming face to face with a shocked Klaus Hargreeves. Or at least, who she could assume was him - it had been too many years, and he had aged remarkably, but the dark, glittering eyes definitely matched with the boy she once knew. Though, wrapped in cheap fur and a black coat that hung from his willowy frame, with large bags under his eyes and shaking hands - it was clear life had not treated her old friend well.

“What a surprise this is…”

“Yeah, sorry,” she mumbled. Her hands found the pockets of her sweater, forming fists within the fabric. “I didn’t mean to come uninvited. I just...heard the news about your father. Sorry, by the way.”

Klaus snorted. “Please. I think this might just be the happiest day of my life, Y/N. Finally, I can walk through this prison and not have to worry where’s he’s lurking - a goddamn creep, our dear father was!”

That outlook was not so surprising. She could honestly bet that none of them would be too saddened by the news, but there was still a sting of guilt at her being there. She shuffled in place. “Right. Well, still, sorry for showing up out of the blue and intruding.”

“You’re not intruding at all,” he said. Klaus’ gaze had softened and he pulled forward to pat her shoulder. “But I do have to ask - why now?”

“Oh. Well, um...honestly,” she sighed, “I came purely for my own self. I know I said all stuff about never coming back, but I-I - when I saw that he had died, I mean...it felt fitting.”

Klaus knew exactly what was alluded to - it was not hard to remember Y/N and Reginald’s first and only interaction. A shudder ran through his slender frame, and his grasp on her shoulder tightened. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nodded, though there was no possible way for her to be ‘alright’, not there and not then. “Yeah. I just...wanted to pay my respects, see it all one last time.”

“Ah.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around it,” she murmured. Pulling away, she headed to the tiny desk and lifted one of her sketches for him to see. Rough charcoal formed a young boy’s face, frozen in a laugh, almost so real the two of them could hear the giggles fill the room. “I - for years, I couldn’t even think about it. Losing him...broke me so much, and I know - well, you get it. He was your brother, and I know that you two had such a bond. But I...I loved him, too.”

The room’s atmosphere suddenly shifted, a chill running through the and sending shivers down both individual’s spines.

Klaus, for once, said nothing.

“I loved him so much, and I know he loved me. And I…” she stopped, wiping a fallen tear from her cheek. More followed swiftly, but those she ignored. “You know, we talked about what we could have, when he finally got old enough to leave. We’d run far, far away. Say a big screw you’ to dear old Reggie and leave to build our own lives. He wanted to go to school, you know? Dreamt of having a career of his own, something that helped the world. Something he got all on his own.”

“He was always the ‘goodest’ of us all.”

Y/N smiled softly at Klaus’ comment. Her face was alight with silver, and specks of black stained under her eyes, contrasting against the puffy red skin. But neither took note. “He was. He cared so damn much, about everyone. I could never understand how a boy that good could see himself as a monster, but I - I just wanted to tell him that he was nothing like what his father claimed him to be, he never could be.”

“Hey, no-” Klaus stepped forward then, wrapping his thin arms around her shaking frame. It was then that Y/N finally gave in and truly began to sob. Loud, broken cries that echoed throughout, filling the air. She tried to speak, struggling to say some sort of huffed apology, but he cut her off with a ‘you’re going to choke on your words, just hush!’. It was not that funny, but she did smile at that.

Finally, Y/N pulled away, brushing at her eyes and face with a sigh. “Thanks, Klaus.”

“Well, I’m not him but I am known for my hugs,” he grinned back, his own sadness staining his pale face. Still, he clung to the funny facade, twisting into a funny curtsy. “At your service.”

“Well, thanks.”

She moved back to the drawings, pulling through them with a frown, but Klaus did not take note of the art. Instead, his eyes drew down to the flash of light reflected on her finger. He gasped. “Is that--”

“-what - oh. Yeah,” she nodded solemnly. Her hand lifted and then he could see the slim ring on her hand, glittering in the light. It was plain, only decorated by a single diamond pressed into the precious metal. “S’a recent thing.”

“Well, congrats - whoever it is, they must be extremely lucky.”

Despite herself and the pain still wringing her heart through, Y/N smiled, thinking of who had put the ring on her finger. “Yeah...yeah, I think I’m the lucky one in this. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be in this position, truly. But they’re...they’re good to me.”

“Well, I can’t wait for my wedding invite!”

“Ha - yeah. Of course, we’ll save a seat for you, Klaus.” The light soon faded in her eyes, though, as they lifted back to the surroundings and seemingly, she remembered just where she was. “This might sound silly, but...I actually came here, almost to come to terms with the engagement.”

“What do you mean?”

Y/N shrugged softly. “I don’t know. I just wanted a chance to say goodbye to him, one last time, let him go. I held onto him for so long, not accepting that he’s gone - and even now that I’m engaged to be wed, I still had this overwhelming guilt, like I was betraying Ben, somehow.”

“Well that’s not stupid, Y/N - you loved him. I don’t really know much about love, but I do know what the two of you had was...it was something,” Klaus said, almost wistfully as he looked at her hand. He moved beside her again, rubbing her shoulder with long, spindly fingers. She leant into the movement.

“We were supposed to get married, one day.”

“I know.”

“We were gonna have a big house, maybe take in a couple kids - we were both more into adoption, given everything.”

“I know, he told me. He never shut up about the plans, if you could imagine.”

Y/N shut her eyes, swaying ever so slightly where she stood. “I just wish...I wish I could see him one last time. Tell him I love him, that I always will.”

“He knows, Y/N. It’s okay.”

At that, her eyes sprung open, flitting over to stare in surprise at Klaus. “What do you mean by that?”

For a moment he froze, and almost looked through her, past at whatever could be behind. But just as she was going to question him and dig into whatever he could have meant by that, Klaus slipped into an easy smile and a shake of his head. “I just know, you know? Dear old Benny, God rest his soul.”

Her eyes remained narrowed in slight suspicion for a breath, but soon it slipped back into weariness and a soft, sad grin. She pulled him in for one last hug, clinging tight to him before drawing away. “Thanks for this, Klaus.”

“Oh, I - well, I haven’t done a thing.”

“No, seeing you again, getting a chance to get over myself and all the pent-up shit attached to him - it’s helped.” She patted his arm one last time before pulling away, brushing at her eyes on the way to the door. Her voice was choked as she spoke, but still clear enough to discern her words. “Goodbye, Klaus. Don’t be afraid to keep in touch.”

And with that, the door was shut and Y/N had vanished just as quickly as she had came from the room of her childhood love, leaving behind all the memories and pain of years long past.

Once he was sure she could not hear him, Klaus whirled around, glaring at the ghostly figure. “What was all that for?”

Ben’s pale face was stained with his own tears, broken by the image of Y/N. For just like for her, it had been years since he had properly seen her, aside from the glimpses of old memories he begged Klaus to bring out for him.

“Ben?”

“She’s found someone,” he said, barely a mumble into the silence. His hand rose to wipe at his face. “She’s happy, Klaus.”

“Well I know she’s said that, but-”

-he cut him off with a wave of his hand, running straight through his brother’s body. “She’s happy, and I want - I can’t just be selfish and not let her move on.”

Klaus rolled his eyes and moved to interject, but once more Ben cut him off. He could not touch his brother, but did make a point to try, waving a ghostly hand through the man’s arm and torso. “It’s not worth it, Klaus.”

Outside the Hargreeves house, stood Y/N, frozen just outside the large gates. Her eyes were trained on the paper in hand. She had stolen one of the sketches, one of her favourites that were ever done of him. He had not known she was drawing him, lost in his book, cross-legged on his bed with eyes focused downwards. She had taken the chance and sketched him loosely, drawing the boy in all his soft glory, the faintest of smiles resting on thin lips and the silky strands of hair falling freely across his forehead. It never had been her best work, but it had meant the most to him and years and years later, it was the most important to her.

Y/N sighed shakily through her sobs. Her hand pressed one last time to the drawing, tracing the lines before falling away. The drawing was folded back up and slipped into her pocket to be clutched tight by shaking fingers. And with that, she turned away and began her walk back to her new life, away from the one she had left behind.

Little did she know, Ben had watched her from his old bedroom window, craning until he could not see her anymore.

#ben hargreeves #hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #hargreeves family #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #lokidyinginside fics #klaus hargreeves

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longassr1de · 6 years ago

Text

Kitten

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2,207

Summary: Yuta wants to try something new, but he’s decided he’d rather ease you into it before he eases into you. (Sort of pwp, sorry not sorry.)

Warnings: Kitten kink, slight overstim, unprotected sex, squirting, there’s also a bell collar so if this isn’t your thing you might just wanna opt out. This was purely self indulgent, I’m not even gonna lie.

“Come here, kitten,” Yuta called out from across your home. A light tinkling could be heard accompanying the sound of your sock-clad feet padding through to where your boyfriend sat on the couch. “Good girl,” he smiled up at you whilst you stood between his legs, reaching up to ruffle your hair.

“It’s really cute and comfy, I’m just not sure I can sleep with it on or anything,” you jest, tugging at it lightly before leaning down to sit atop one of his thighs. Yuta’s chest rumbles against your head with his endearing laughter, clearly amused by how distraught you were over what he thought simply a cute accessory. His lean arms encase you, wrapping you with his comforting scent as he rests his head on yours.

Truthfully, he couldn’t stop staring at your neck in the pretty little choker, wondering how the sleek maroon velvet would look next to a littering of reds and blues made from his own teeth. Before he could bring it up however, you gave him just the perfect opportunity to attempt his next move.

“Yuta,” you whined, sounding somewhat childish, “can we go cuddle?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” he retorts playfully, loving the reactions he rises from you whenever he insists on being a little difficult.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you huff, trying again. “Can we go to bed?” And the light-bulb in his head clicks on, suddenly all too eager to get you into bed, little did you know what his mind was brewing. He lifts you up into his arms and dramatically carries you to your shared bedroom, stopping to act like he was carrying you over the threshold of your newlywed home rather than simply your cozy apartment.

Once he sets you down, however, he doesn’t join you just yet. He ventures off to the kitchen, the closet, and the bathroom, you presume by the faraway bustling sounds of a cabinet. At long last, your prince arrives to save the day, or well, to save your impatient self from boredom.

Yuta joins you on the bed, opting to lay behind you, spooning you with his arms draped across your stomach. It’s a peaceful kind of quiet that almost lets you settle into a nice afternoon nap, but quiet never seems to last for long, much less when you’ve got Yuta around. Rather than breaking the silence with words, he starts to play with the over-sized hoodie you’d been wearing, one he assumes was probably once his but you just looked so cute he couldn’t be bothered to fight you for it.

His hands slide under the hoodie, lightly tickling across your abdomen at first, making you let out a small hiss at the contact. Yuta doesn’t stop there though, no he continues up to cup your breasts, leaning forward to bury his face into the very inviting crook of your shoulder.

“Yutaaa,” you attempt to sound scolding, but end up sounding halfway to a moan of his name.

“Mmh, what is it kitten?” he responds with a gleam in his eye, knowing full well that his plan is working, as it always does. It’s never been difficult for you two to tempt one another, not much coaxing necessary, but he needed you on board if he was going to ask you to let him try something new. Therefore, he concluded he had no choice but to rile you up.

“I was almost asleep, you tease,” you scoff at him playfully, not actually angry, and even if you tried to act it, he would always call your bluff. The good thing about Yuta was how sweet and attentive he was when it came to you, whether that be emotional or physical.

“I know a great way to help you fall asleep,” he trails wet, hot kisses up the side of your neck, licking the shell of your ear before murmuring an all too tempting offer. “How about I fuck you into the mattress until you can’t remember your name, will that help you sleep better?” He blinks innocently, a complete contrast to his words and actions. While one of his hands starts to trace the waistband of your panties, the only thing you were wearing besides the hoodie and socks, his other hand starts to tease your nipples.

By this point, you know damn well that if you weren’t already sucker into his plans earlier, you were definitely in too deep now to escape. Rutting your ass back onto his crotch, Yuta lets out a soft groan while you provide him with friction just shy of what he was after. He sits up to straddle you on the bed, pulling you by your thighs to situate you at an angle where he can take control and grind into you this time, ever the tease he is.

You tug at his freshly died ginger locks, suddenly feeling too small under his intense gaze, burning like a thousand suns through the windows to your soul. Oddly enough, Yuta finds the time to pull up half his hair into a little ponytail, looking all too cute for the sins he was well-prepared to commit. Opting to run your fingertips through the loose strands left of his hair at the nape of his neck, Yuta peels his hoodie off you, followed by your fluffy socks, leaving you in just your baby blue panties and the choker. You make a motion as if to reach for it and remove it, to which he simply grabs your hands and shakes his head, placing your arms on by your sides instead.

You look towards the devilish grin he has plastered and worry for the sake of your sanity, but you’d sold your soul to him far too long ago to begin caring now, simply strapping in to enjoy whatever ride you were about to sit through. Yuta grabs at your thighs to spread them apart, lifting them over his shoulders as you realize where things are slowly heading. One thing Yuta refuses to do is to do anything half-assed, and that most certainly applies to the bedroom as well. Often the victim of his boundless stamina, you’ve had many a night where you spend the next day limping around. And by the looks of it, tomorrow will be another one of those days.

Starting slow, he runs a finger over your folds, through your panties. You whine, growing impatient, and clicks his tongue in annoyance at the fabric as well when he has to struggle to remove it in your current position. Once they’re off, a switch seems to go off within your boyfriend, Yuta eats you out like a man starved; sucking at your clit and folds, licking into your warm wetness, even sucking bruises into your trembling thighs. Your nails dig into the sheets as you let out moan after moan, turning your face to bite the pillow whilst trying to silence yourself, making the bell jingle from all your movement. And there is it, just what Yuta wanted all along, to fuck you senseless with the pretty little choker on, completing the aesthetic of his pet name for you.

He slides two fingers into you, shortly after proceeding to open you up on three of his fingers. And just when you think he’ll let you come, he pulls away entirely, leaving you to cuss at him as your legs meet the cool cotton sheets once more. Now you understand the ponytail, at least, he was just trying to keep his hair out of the way while he devoured your wetness.

He peels away from you to fully undress himself, opting to keep the apple-like hairstyle seeing as you’d complimented it earlier. Now stark naked, Yuta kneels back onto the bed before you, crawling back over until he stops just short of you, stroking his weeping length. He takes his lower lip between his teeth, murmuring expletives at both the pleasure and the way your doe eyes seem to be taking everything in. “Hands and knees kitten, I’m not planning on going easy tonight,” he practically growls, making you mentally say your prayers.

As you finish accommodating yourself into his requested position, Yuta grabs your hips, rutting his cock against your ass. “Poor baby didn’t get to cum, how badly do you want my dick baby? Tell me,” the sick sadist in him out in full force. If he wanted you to beg, you’d never get anywhere until you did, the man had a heart of gold... but a will of steel.

“Please, please Yuta, fuck me, fill me up-“ you gasp at the sensation of him entering you in one rough push. Certainly wet enough, certainly stretched enough, but completely taken aback by the sudden intrusion nonetheless. Shock aside, Yuta has to wrap his arms around your waist just to hold you up, your knees buckling and arms giving way once he begins thrusting mercilessly into your tightness. “Oh fuck, baby,” you slur your words, face halfway into the pillow before he tsks and pulls you up so that your body is flush against his, leaning up on just your knees now.

“I wanna hear that pretty little collar, kitten, but just that won’t do if you’re buried into the pillow,” Yuta bites at your shoulder and sucks yet another lovely mark into your skin, now focused on making a trail of them to your other shoulder. You try to apologize but he shushes you and slaps your clit, using his other hand to pull on your hair as he slows his thrusts to hit slower, deeper, feeling like you could feel his cock hitting so far up your solar plexus you had no idea if you had hit nirvana (or hell) yet.

The persistent jingling of the bell was only heightened when he sets you back down in all fours, rabbiting his hips so quickly it mas more like one long, constant chime from the choker. Bits of drool and a few stray tears ran across your face from the sheer, animalistic pleasure of it all.

Your thighs convulsed as the tell-tale signs of your incoming orgasm approached. Yuta continues to fuck you as he approaches his own orgasm, helping you ride out your own by rubbing at your clit. Then without warning, you come hard, harder than you ever had before, feeling your cum nearly explode as you end up squirting all over Yuta’s thighs and onto the mattress. His eyes nearly roll back into his head at the mere thought of having made you squirt, just barely pulling out in time to cum all over your ass.

Entirely breathless and in utter disbelief, both of you lay within the mess of your bed, covered in a mix of your combined cum. Yuta coos about how well you did for him, about how hard you came and about what a good girl you were for him. Too exhausted and far too sore, you simply let him take care of the cleaning as he carries you into the tub he prepared, joining you moments after he’d changed the sheets and started on the laundry. As he slips in behind you, carrying you onto his lap, you reach up to kiss him. You’d forgotten all about his little ponytail until your hands couldn’t find purchase comfortably in his bright locks. He grins at your glee, feeling you flipping about his ponytail before leaning back down to kiss you again; long, slow drags of his lips against yours, melding of tongues as your submerged bodies intertwine below the surface of lukewarm bathwater.

“You know,” Yuta starts, reaching his hand up to rub some spit off your chin before cupping it tenderly, “all this water... and you’re still only half as wet as you were for me earlier.” He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh upon the roll of your eyes, enamored wholeheartedly by your very being, but far too shy to ever be able to put that into words. Perhaps one day he’ll work up the courage to tell you how much he truly loves you, but for right now, he decides he’ll simply enjoy every moment he gets to share with you.

And as you’re falling asleep in his arms that night, you hear the twinkling of your now favorite necklace just before you feel an innocent kiss placed at your jawline. “You know.... I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, kitten,” Yuta whispers while gently stroking over your hair, mistakenly assuming you’re already asleep. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too, tiger,” you tease, drifting off into your own sense of moonlit peace while Yuta’s left to mull over his own shock.

#yuta #nakoto yuta #yuta smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct #nct 127 #kitten #reader insert #longassr1de #my post #did i really get struck by inspiration and end up writing this at like 4am? ....yes..yes i did :^)#i’ll add the read more and fix any errors tmrw cause i’m about to pass out im so tired rn #yuta scenarios #nct hard hours

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bunnis-babes · 6 years ago

Text

So tumblr is being a whore and won’t let me post this request, so I have to post it separately. Essentially it’s about the boys chosen with an innocent sweet fem!s/o. Enjoy.

Oof, this fluff seems like something I just wanna face-plant in. Like, stuff like this is super cliché, but also some of the most fun to write. Also, simple ones like these make it so much easier to expand and imagine what the boy’s reactions will be. Thank you, I love you! (Also, HC’s might be short because fuck Tumblr post limits)

Bakugou

💥As we all know our boy is already emotionally stunted, so this is very taxing for him.

💥He swears she’s teasing him, what with the soft way she looks at him that makes his heart explode, and the way she smiles that makes him want to kiss her right then and there. He’s got it, and he’s got it BAD for her.

💥She’s always so gentle with her words and she’s always giving him hugs and cuddles that he can’t really bring himself to turn down… and always leaves him with a problem…

💥He really really likes this girl, and really really wants to be with her, but she is sending out totally mixed signals

💥One minute she’s hugging and flirting with him, the next she’s all over fucking deku! What the hell?

💥This won’t deter him, of course, because he’s always going to work harder to get what he wants… and he wants her.

💥He decides he’s going to actively flirt with her, well his version of flirting at least. It can hardly be classified as flirting, but he’s trying his best.

💥Yet every time he does something even a little bit romantic, she always out does him with that huge and beautiful smile. That damn adorable smile.

💥It makes his heart beat out of his chest and his face flush, he loves it, but he hates it oh so much. God, he hates love.

💥One day he decided his aggressive flirting style really doesn’t have much of an effect on her oblivious ass, so he’s going to have to be super blunt, and he is.

💥He just stops her outside of the dorms and says, “I fucking like you, alright?” And when she says she feels the same way, the widest, cutest Bakugou smile spreads across his face.

Iida

🤖He c a n t. She’s so sweet and soft and kind and he adores her, and she makes him feel so good, but he doesn’t know what the hell to do!!!

🤖She’s a very affectionate person to everyone, he knows that for sure, but there’s something different about it when he’s with her. A little glimmer in her eye that changes all of her intent.

🤖He believes she must be doing this on purpose, theres no other reason as to why she would be so affectionate and sweet in that way with him.

🤖The way she is sure to always give him, and only him, a really big hug when she sees him, It gets to him; the way she talks to him like no one else is there, god end him right there and he would die a happy man.

🤖And yet, he just can’t tell what she feels for him. Some days she acts like she’s going to ask him out, and others it feels like she has no clue what she’s doing.

🤖It eats him up inside, not knowing whether or not she recuperates his growing feelings for her, and he wants to tell her but he doesn’t know how.

🤖Luckily, Ochako does and takes pity on him. A couple of reassuring words and back pats, and she finally let him in on the secret. Just give back the same amount of affection she’s giving to him.

🤖He felt stupid for not seeing how easy it was, just be affectionate back. Give her flowers, hug her a bit closer, tell her how much he appreciates her every once in a while. Its so e a s y.

🤖While it is mildly awkward for the first few times, Iida does start to initiate affection with her, and he learns to adore it. Especially when she gets that cute little blush on her face when he initiates hugs.

🤖He’s still not sure she 100% understands what he’s trying to get across, but he keeps doing it because it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. All of class 1-A is screaming for them to get together already.

🤖One day Ochako just gets so sick of the pining she shoves Iida into kissing her, and they’ve been together ever since.

Tokoyami

🕶🐣Does not know how to deal with the love, only lets it happen. He just adores her so much, she’s so nice and kind, and she needs to be protected.

🕶🐣At first he disliked the affection, and then he slowly felt himself getting used to it, and now he feels uncomfortable if she hadn’t hugged him at least once a day.

🕶🐣He’s actually pretty cuddly, just doesn’t like to be shown the affection when others are around, so he makes sure she knows that she can only be all over him when only a few people he trusts are around.

🕶🐣He knows she’s just a naturally affectionate person, but he can’t help but feel she’s doing all this stuff on purpose just to get to him.

🕶🐣He’s so happy he’s got black hair on his face, or else she’d be able to see the huge blush on his face every time she hugs him close.

🕶🐣She has no clue what she’s doing to him, and he doesn’t want it to stop.

🕶🐣Dark shadow is his wingman, but also teases the hell out of him. (She also has to give dark shadow huggies too.)

🕶🐣He’s not a super forward guy— especially not with emotions—so when he catches feelings he struggles a lot. He has no idea how to express them with his words.

🕶🐣Luckily, or rather unluckily for him, Dark Shadow is good with words…. Well, he has words…

🕶🐣Tokoyami is just sitting and talking to her on moment trying to flirt, then dark shadow just shouts “Tokoyami has a crush on s/o!” And Tokoyami just dies on the spot.

🕶🐣Obviously she returns the feelings and tells him so, and thats essentially how their relationship started.

Midoriya

🥦The things she does to him and makes him feel are just… too much! “So much love!!! GgGghghhGhGhhg” -Midoriya probably

🥦But seriously, he doesn’t really know how to accept all the affection, so he just takes it with his face as red as a stoplight.

🥦He does wonder if she is doing this to get to him, but then he realizes she’s way too sweet for that.

🥦Tells her he doesn’t deserve all her affection. She then proceeds to hug and coddle him even more while telling him how much she loves and appreciated him.

🥦Really doesn’t get why she loves on him so much, but he enjoys it too much so he isn’t complaining. Like, he’s not gonna tell his crush to stop cuddling with him on the common room couch. Who would?

🥦He’s really red and unresponsive most of the time though… its a lot for our good boy, and he loves it.

🥦He wants to just kiss her so badly, but he’s already dying and literally nothing will be done about this relationship if it’s left up to him.

🥦He will eventually become desensitized to the affection, and it’ll just be a part of his daily routine.

🥦He has a hard time getting the guts to ask her out, but he’s lucky enough to have Iida, Uraraka, and kind of Todoroki encouraging him.

🥦And Izuku being Izuku, he confesses in the most uncomfortable awkward and adorable way possible. (I’m not telling you how, you know what I mean) And boom, the power couple was made.

⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚⚚

Okay… I made the s/o super affectionate because that’s what comes to mind when I think of sweet people… Anyway, welcome to River’s world of mediocre writing, sorry this was so bad! The worst of it is Bakugou and Iida, and I have no idea how to fix them… I am so sorry! Hope the others were enjoyable! Also…. I kinda made it so the s/o was only a crush, I’m not sure if thats what you wanted???

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

💙River💙

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cheekaspbrak · 6 years ago

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Turning Page

Summary: Richie knows that he fucks everything up, which is why courting Eddie is like walking on a tight rope.

Word Count: 1863

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Warnings: Cursing (duh), and mention of homophobia, and hopefully not anything else because i seem to be terrible at warnings lately

This was inspired by Turning Page by Sleeping At Last, so if you listen to it before/after it will make it even better. Please said requests, compliments, or criticisms because it makes me so happy when people read my stuff.

Richie fucked up a lot of things in his life. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d ruined a perfectly good day by hurting someone’s feelings or doing something stupid. The group even had a way to shut him up when he was going too far: “Beep, beep, Richie.”

He knew perfectly well that he didn’t know when he was crossing lines. He knew that he steam-rolled over people and pissed them off in unimaginable ways and pushed them away with his crude humor. Which was why, when puberty hit and he started to realize that his platonic love for Eddie had turned into something much different, he became softer. He paid careful attention to his buttons and when he could push them and when he couldn’t. Eddie shared his sharp humor but he was sensitive about some things, and Richie wanted so badly to not fuck this up. If there was anything in this world that could shut him up, it was Eddie Kaspbrak.

It took him a long time to figure out. He always loved picking on Eddie by making jokes about his mom and sure, he was always a little more touchy feely with him than everyone else, but that was just what best friends do. Then It came along, and everything started to fall into place. In the worst moments, the ones where he was absolutely terrified, he felt himself gravitating towards Eddie. His hands, his eyes, his heart moved towards him out of terror, but only him. He would have used his whole body as a shield to protect the small, terrified boy next to him.

Then they went into the house on Neibolt Street. He could vividly remember the way he pushed Bev out of the way just to get to Eddie, who was on the ground, cradling his broken arm with his eyes wide as Pennywise crept towards them. The world felt like it stopped when he heard him scream “No, no no no! I don’t want to fucking die, Rich.” In that moment he was incredibly certain that, yes, they were going to die. Eddie tore his eyes away from the clown when Richie forcefully moved his head to look at him.

“Eddie, look at me! Look at me.”

He held his face in between his hands, probably hurting him as he tried twisting his vision back to It. He wanted Eddie to be looking at someone who cared about him when he died. He kept chanting look at me and cupping his cheeks even as the clown moved backwards, into the darkness. Eddie stopped straining to try and see Pennywise and complied with Richie’s chants.

When the dancing clown was no longer a concern Richie started to think about his behavior during all those terrifying times. He thought especially long and hard about how, in the middle of the horror and screaming going on around him, he cared about nothing but making sure Eddie knew he was there for him.

He did some experimenting, then. He held Bill’s hands and hugged Beverly and pinched Mike’s cheeks to see what it felt like, but nothing felt even close to the butterflies that erupted in his stomach when Eddie so much as sat next to him on the couch. He cuddled up next to Ben and Stan and only felt kind of awkward. The affection he once passed off as platonic was starting to seem more like romantic. Richie had always thought dating was stupid and marriage was a recipe for disaster but feeling the hole in his chest when he wasn’t around Eddie made him think that maybe love sometimes… wasn’t stupid.

That was when he realized that he couldn't fuck this up the way he fucked up everything else.

The group definitely noticed how he tiptoed around conversations now. He was still a jokester and just as obnoxious as before, but he was careful when it came to certain things. No one could pinpoint why, though, so they just assumed it was him getting older and finally getting a filter.

From Richie’s point of view, it was like playing a game. A game with really high stakes: if he lost, he lost everything he cared about. He’d already pissed Stan off in the past by pushing something too far, and it took him a long time to be okay with Richie again. But Eddie, he was stone cold, and forgiveness didn’t always come easily to him. He hoped that Eddie cared about him enough to where he wouldn’t push him out of his life forever, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Then, he fucked everything up.

It was a normal night and everyone was hanging out in the pitch black park. Ben wanted to stargaze and while most of the group had turned their noses up at that, Bev called them all assholes because Ben did things with them that he didn’t particularly enjoy. So, there they were, lying on their backs side by side, stargazing. Richie was in between Eddie and Bev, trying to get them to see the way the stars lined up to look like a really weird dick.

Eddie had been distant all day, like he sometimes was. Richie never knew why, but when Eddie was like this he usually liked Richie’s jokes because they helped him get out of his head. Richie reached for his hand. Eddie didn’t look away from the stars, but hesitated for a moment before slipping his hand into Richie’s. He stared at him for a long time, admiring the way his profile looked and how good that shade of blue looked on him and how dorky he was with his dumb fanny pack on. He shifted and Richie looked away.

“That looks like your mom over there.” He used his other hand to point at a collection of stars.

“There’s no fucking way it looks like my mom.” Eddie rolled his eyes, refusing to look in the direction he was pointing.

“No seriously, I’ve studied Mrs. K’s body enough times to know what it looks like.”

“Gross, Rich.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand away from Richie’s. Bill laughed at his incessant babbling.

He sensed that Eddie was more annoyed than amused, so he zipped his lips and turned his head to poke fun at his auburn haired friend instead. She giggled at his joke, but Eddie rolled his eyes again with a huff.

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“I bet you like it that way.” Richie responded, without missing a beat, and immediately regretted it. What was once mild annoyance turned into pure anger. Eddie sat up and looked down at Richie with disgust.

“Fuck you,” He spat. “You’re such a fucking asshole. Why can’t you just shut up?”

With that, he stood up and stalked off in the direction of a bench near the playground. Everyone sat up to look at him, but Richie turned towards Bev. She could see the desperation in his eyes. She knew that while Eddie was quite the badass, the things people said behind his back- particularly what they said about his sexual orientation- got to him. He hadn’t even come out as gay, and people still treated him like that. Today had been particularly awful when they were getting ready to leave school, with Bowers and his friends relentlessly picking on him, but Richie didn’t know that. She covered his hand with hers.

“It’s okay, go talk to him.”

Richie took off after him, nervously raking his hand through his hair. He approached the small boy sitting criss cross applesauce on the bench. He felt his heart thud at how cute he looked sitting that way.

“Eds, I’m sorry I-“

“Beep fucking beep, Richie.”

“Please,” He said with his voice barely above a whisper. “Just let me talk for a second.”

“That’s the problem!” Eddie exploded, hands flailing about wildly. “You can’t ever shut up! You just talk and talk and talk…”

Eddie continued on his rant but Richie barely could register anything else he was saying. He just shut down because all his brain could think was I fucked up oh god I fucked up he hates me he hates me.

“Eds,” he tried again, but Eddie interrupted.

“Don’t call me that.” He enunciated the last syllable and Richie felt like he was going to cry. He opened his mouth but all the words were stuck deep in his throat. Eddie briefly looked guilty before returning back to angry. Richie took a second to breathe and calm himself down because he needed to fix this.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he started and surprisingly, there was no interruption. “I’m so stupid and I know that I ruin everything with my big mouth. But… but I love you so much Eds- I mean, Eddie. And I am trying so hard not to fuck this up.”

Eddie stared at him for a really long time. The only thing moving was his dark eyes, blinking steadily, until he uncrossed his legs and set his feet on the ground.

“You’re trying to not fuck what up?” He implored

“This.” Richie told him pointedly. He was taking a huge leap and god he hoped he wouldn’t fall on his face. “You’re so perfect and I’m such a goddamn mess but I’ll be damned if I don’t spend every second of the rest of my life trying to become the man who might just barely be good enough to deserve someone like you.”

This time Eddie stood up. His chest was rising and falling like he just ran a marathon and his hands were shaking and Richie briefly thought that maybe he should get his inhaler. Before he could do anything, though, Eddie was pulling on the collar of his shirt and kissing him like it was the only chance he would ever get. Richie was in absolutely shock, his stomach doing flips at how cute he looked with his eyes squeezed shut like that. And he totally knew it was weird to kiss with your eyes open but how could he take his eyes off of a sight like that? He stumbled forward a little when Eddie pulled back, not wanting the kiss to end.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” He said meekly, pausing for a moment, then adding, “Also please don’t stop calling me Eds.”

Richie knew that the adoration in his eyes must have been ridiculous, and probably only made worse by the magnification of his glasses, but he honestly didn’t care. Eddie spaghetti just fucking kissed him.

“I love you I love you Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou,” Richie said as he wrapped his arms around him and shoved his face in the small boys hair. Eddie laughed and pressed his face against his chest.

“I love you too. You have always been good enough.” Richie choked on air at that but stayed perfectly still, not wanting Eddie to see the embarrassing tears of joy in his eyes.

The losers watched the two figures from across the park, cheering amongst each other and rolling their eyes at Bill who claimed he knew all along. No one said a thing when they came back and Eddie laid his head on Richie’s shoulder. They just enjoyed the stars.

#3 fics in 3 days????#what is wrong with me #im having so much fun #reddie #reddie imagine #reddie oneshot #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #eddie x richie #richie x eddie

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years ago

Text

Ripped: Part 22

Hey so uhhh...it was a good couple of cute chapters, right?

Ao3

“I love you,” Hiccup whispers under his breath, heart racing as he carefully brushes a lock of hair back from Astrid’s face. It was tangled in her eyelashes and stuck to her lips as she snored, and it only seems decent to set it gently behind her ear.

She’s impossibly more beautiful when she’s asleep, all twitching eyebrows and soft, tired cheeks. He pulls himself closer to her, dropping a cautious kiss on her hair-covered forehead and hoping she doesn’t wake up.

“I love you.” The second time he tries on something he’s never worn before, it’s braver, if not louder.

She snorts in her sleep, burrowing her face into his shoulder, and he laughs under his breath.

The last twelve or so hours have been some of the best of his life.

In the shower, he orbited uselessly around everything she said and knew nothing could make it make sense except talking to her. He didn’t expect her reaction though, given, well, the fact that she’s embarrassingly perfect and he’s definitely not. He never could have expected what it would mean to see her naked and wanting on his desk in a room full of his books.

Hiccup’s sexual encounters can be sorted into two neat sections: those who he would never show his books and those who upon being shown his books would ask him if he’d ever killed anyone.

Last night was so much more than either.

Even though Hiccup has never said ‘I love you’ to anyone but his parents and not even them post age nineteen, he knew he couldn’t say it when the words sublimated in his brain. ‘I love you’ isn’t a thing to be said for the first time around any coital activity, pre or mid or post. Isn’t there usually a present of some kind involved? Or some sort of event? Maybe he’s just imagining an event as a way to keep from blurting it out at her the next time she smiles or scowls or looks at him with that brave worried strength.

“I love you, Astrid,” he mutters against her hair, arms wrapped around her shoulders, sighing when her leg reflexively curls around his hip. He’s still off schedule, after years of night tours and a few days in the hospital with Snotlout. She’s probably lagging too, but either way it led to a night of napping with occasional periods of mutual lucidity.

Yes, there was more sex. Laughing, comfortable sex and sleepy touching that made him feel closer to her than he ever has to anyone, but that’s not what he’s dwelling on now. Mostly, they talked. Not about anything in particular, they just talked and laughed and cuddled and the flicker of ‘I love you’ he’d felt twice in his office fed off of every word and bloomed into a compulsion he doesn’t know what to do with.

He watched her dream, her face twitching without her intentionally rigid expression to contain it and the concept of loving her expanded so wholly that he thought his heart was going to explode. He woke up to her kissing his back and those dangerous thoughts about the future grew hooks and dug in.

“I think I love you,” he whispers against the top of her head, hugging her tighter, “More than think, I think I’m sure I love you.”

She grumbles in her sleep and rolls away from him, pressing her face into the pillow, profile hidden by a cloud of tangled blonde. Her back rises and falls with her breathing, a freckle on her shoulder blade moving just in and out of the shadow the streetlight casts as it peeks through the blinds.

He should let her sleep.

But if he lets her sleep, he’s going to spend the next hour whispering ‘I love you’ at a sleeping person, and at some point that gets creepy, no matter how pure his intentions, so he should probably wake her up.

“Astrid,” he says her name in a sing-song tone, brushing her hair away from her ear and kissing the corner of her jaw. No response. “It’s time to wake up,” he continues, lips against the back of her neck, hand on her ribs.

She groans, pushing up onto her elbows and glaring around the room with sleepy, squinting eyes, “what time is it?”

“A little after four,” he strokes her arm, seemingly unable to stop touching her now that he’s started.

“That’s not time to get up,” she shakes her head, curling back up on her side and facing him.

The truth is as obvious as bold, black text on a page. He loves her. He loves her bedhead and the way she’s cocooning in his sheets, uncovering his foot as she claims more blankets. He loves how she’s scowling at him now, maybe self-conscious even though it’s buried under sleepy irritation.

It is entirely too soon to be thinking like this, but timelines have never stopped him before.

“What?” She asks when he’s apparently stared too long, and maybe he never had a chance to avoid being creepy.

“I…” He sits up, pulling the sheets across his lap and cringing when his stomach growls audibly. “I’m hungry, apparently.”

“We skipped dinner,” she informs him like she was previously aware of the transgression.

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” he raises an eyebrow, and she deflates.

“I’ll get dressed.”

“I hate that idea,” he blurts and she smiles a private, grumpy smile that makes his heart jolt. He loves her. “I’ll figure it out, ok?” He rolls reluctantly out of bed and pulls on a pair of boxers from the clean laundry basket in the corner, grabbing his crutch and standing up.

The fridge is predictably empty. Hiccup shouldn’t be surprised, as Snotlout was a little preoccupied with almost dying and that clearly led to him skipping his usual Sunday grocery errand, but he was hoping for a miracle. He doesn’t think it’d be particularly charming to offer some of Snotlout’s protein drink and everything else in the cupboard is canned and dusty.

When Snotlout first joined the force, there were a few months when he continually got ‘Protect and Serve’ wrong and announced ‘Protect and Provide’ at nearly every opportunity. It wasn’t a hit at the precinct, but it really seemed to work for him with girls, and as much as Hiccup teased him about it, the phrase is sticking in his head now.

Not that Astrid needs protection, she never has, and he knows she doesn’t explicitly need to be provided for, but it feels important. Breakfast feels important, especially because he takes at least half the credit for missing dinner and he has absolutely hit his hospital food limit for the century.

“No luck,” he walks back into his bedroom, feeling more self-conscious from the way Astrid looks at his shoulders than her curious expression when she examines the leg that he retrieved from the bathroom. “I’ll go get breakfast.”

“I can come with you,” she insists through a yawn that turns her tone unconvincing and he leans over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Get some more sleep,” he sits on the edge of the bed to pull his jeans on, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“That’s a pretty good offer.”

“Text me if you want anything in particular,” he pulls on the first shirt he finds in the clean laundry basket and doesn’t bother with socks. As willing as he is to do this, it’s already taking too long when Astrid is settling back into his bed.

“Can’t,” she sighs, “my phone’s still at my apartment.”

“Right,” he rubs his hands together, “I can stop by your place and grab it really quick, if you want.”

Again, Astrid doesn’t need protection, but she wasn’t looking forward to going back to her apartment. He’s not exactly either, but after the Grimborn revelations of the day before he feels the need to examine it. It’s important to know for sure if the wall outside her courtyard still has some bone deep connection to the past, even if it means encountering another scrubbed clean patch of pavement.

“Are you sure?” She frowns, propped up on one elbow, sheet slipping slightly down her chest.

“Yeah, there’s a bakery a couple blocks from your place that’s probably open now. It used to be a workhouse kitchen and they still bake their bread in the Victorian cast iron oven—“

“Come here,” she pulls him down into a kiss when he listens, hand firm on the back of his neck as her tongue dips into his mouth. And she’s warm and smells like his laundry detergent, her other hand on his hip, fingers slipping through his belt loop.

Her stomach growls and he pulls away with a laugh.

“If I don’t go now, it’s not going to happen,” he brushes his lips across her forehead and tugs the blanket up before he can look down and lose the fragile scraps of his resolve. He loves her, she’s hungry, he wants that to be his problem. “Where are your keys?”

“In my pants pocket,” she holds the blanket to her chest even as her eyes flick down to his lips, “on the floor of your office.”

“Oh my God, I’m going.” He takes a big, purposeful step back, running his hand through his impossible hair, “before I—nope, not going to say it. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Before you what?” She laughs after him as he leaves the room and he bites his lip to keep from answering her. “Come on, that’s not fair.”

“I’ll tell you when I get back, ok?” He says as he plucks her keys out of her jeans pocket.

Maybe he will.

Astrid’s all about complete information, isn’t she?

They exchange one last goodbye as he leaves through the front door and locks it behind him, double checking the doorknob. Just two days ago, he was avoiding coming home, scared that he’d once again be left with a pile of things that someone wasn’t ever coming back to, but now he can barely make himself leave. The apartment feels more like a home with her in it, more than it has since his dad died, and he might be alarmed at how badly he wants her to stay if he hadn’t already thrown emotional caution to the wind.

The hallway is colder when mentally compared with how warm he knows his bedroom is and he almost unlocks the door and abandons the idea of leaving entirely. Maybe the bakery does Uber Eats.

But then Astrid still wouldn’t have her phone, which would be pretty inconvenient for her, considering she’d have no way to tell anyone that a crazy person just admitted his undying love for her after they slept together one time. And that said crazy person has half convinced himself that asking her to move in is a decent idea.

Ruffnut clearly needs an update, given how the fallout might change her fake wedding planning.

“The walk will be good,” he mutters to himself, forcing himself down the stairs and out onto the quiet street.

It rained at some point in the night, the pavement still damp as the first rays of morning sunlight hit it, and Hiccup takes a deep breath, clearing the Astrid infused air from his lungs. The thought that he loves her doesn’t leave with it and he shakes his head, heading towards her apartment.

He knows it’s too early to say, hell, it’s really too early to feel, but most people go on a slew of dates before they have to be a murder suspect with someone. The Berkian criminal justice system is far from perfect, but it is a legendary bonding experience. Not to mention that he doesn’t know where he’d put ‘occasionally finds disemboweled victims of serial killers’ on a dating profile, because it’s not really intentional enough to be a hobby, but it’s a definite obstacle for his free time.

But excuses he’s leaning on to delay the inevitable do nothing to the truth of it.

He loves Astrid. He probably loved her the second she whacked him in the head with a toothbrush, his fear of going to jail for harassment just got in the way of him realizing it. Well, that and the fact he never would have thought he’d have a chance or that she’d look at his books like they’re something special.

Whenever he discovers something true, he always wants to share it as widely as possible, and the impulse threatens to overwhelm him. If she had her phone, he’d probably text her, like that’s not worse than someone blurting it out the first time she gets them naked.

Hiccup takes the next right without really thinking, ducking onto an old shortcut and relaxing when the old alley’s shadow embraces him like a centuries old echo chamber built for more than Grimborn. The city still feels alive, creaky in the early morning but willing to shake off another wave of violence and keep trudging forward. The brick is cool and damp from the rain, smudging rust colored dust onto Hiccup’s fingertips as he trails them along the side of the nearest building.

He doesn’t think about how close he is to the second Grimborn site until he sees Gruffnut standing outside of his bar’s back door and dusting a two-foot-tall copper tank.

“Fuck!” He jumps and Gruffnut jumps too, almost knocking the tank off of the table it’s on, barely managing to catch it with his very much alive hand.

“What is it?” Gruffnut looks around, spinning in a circle trying to check behind his shoulder, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. And I don’t trust that old Teddy isn’t coming to even the score after I outed him to the police.”

Right. Teddy Roosevelt. Eretson’s face, unamused above a binder of nonsense that Hiccup accidentally dropped months ago in another alley that was just becoming reacquainted with blood. A binder of nonsense that Gruffnut’s creepily identical cousin gave Astrid to give to him.

“You’re Tuffnut,” Hiccup claps his hand over his heart, willing it back into his chest.

“Who else would I be?” He affirms reality a little more when he goes back to cleaning. Gruffnut never cleaned anything, he definitely wouldn’t start after being literally caught dead.

“Is that an antique still?” Hiccup asks, distracted by the copper pot gleaming in the low light.

“It’s still an antique alright,” Tuffnut says, “an antique something, I don’t know, it’s shiny though.”

“No, it’s a still,” he clarifies, wiping dust off of a curl of copper pipe twisting up from the tank like a spout.

“It is still, yes, it’s an inanimate object that I’m not currently lending any animation to.” Tuff nods, giving Hiccup an eerily Snotlout-like look of surprise that Hiccup is managing to function while being so stupid. “Maybe you’re the ghost. Did my sister kill you after you ruined your fake marriage? Because I’ve got my own reasons to get revenge on Ruffnut, buddy, I can’t be your vengeance liaison to the world of the living.”

“That’s—she told you about—never mind,” Hiccup shakes his head, pointing at the copper tank, “this is a still, it’s a piece of equipment used to make alcohol.”

“Make alcohol,” Tuffnut rolls his eyes, “right, if making alcohol is possible, why would anyone buy it at a bar?”

“Well, where does the bar get it?”

“It was all here when I showed up.” He frowns, “but when the bar runs out, where will I get more? Oh right, the store…but where does the store get it?”

“I should get going, Tuff,” Hiccup interrupts the runaway train of thought and Tuffnut nods.

“Right, sure.” Tuffnut nods, “oh, by the way, have you heard from Astrid at all? I haven’t heard anything since I dropped her off at the hospital yesterday.”

“Oh,” Hiccup blushes, rubbing the back of his neck, “yeah, she’s actually umm, at my place, so…”

“Right,” he winks, “and I’m ‘doing my homework so I don’t fail out of grad school’. I get you.”

“Whatever that means,” Hiccup says, waving Tuffnut off with a laugh and one last look over his shoulder to assess whether he’s seeing things or not.

He avoids the alley exit where Gruffnut’s body was found, taking a slightly longer route and skirting condo property, keeping an eye out for cameras. There’s one, but it’s pointing towards the docks instead of down the narrow path heading vaguely towards Astrid’s apartment building, so it doesn’t alter his course.

Winding through still dark alleys is another kind of coming home, truly separate from Grimborn for the first time, but still comforting. Another thing returning to normal after the end of the copy cat killer’s spree makes Hiccup feel like he an breathe again, especially since the new normal includes Astrid.

If he tells her he loves her, she doesn’t have to say it back. He knows it’s ridiculously early, by any standard, he wouldn’t expect it. The fact that she’s impossible to scare off makes him brave. Brave enough to be stupid, probably.

When he finds the street again, he’s looking at the back door to her building, the one he walked her back to the morning after the first murder. The day they saw Dave. If any of the tourists knew about that, it would be swarming with them.

Part of the Houdini phase was about fame. Notoriety. The irony of wanting fame for being the best at disappearing isn’t lost on him, especially now that someone invisible is getting famous for the worst reasons.

The wall outside her courtyard just looks like a wall. It’s old but cleanly built, the bricks rectangular from their mold and entirely, sparkling clean. No chalk writing, no blood stained asphalt. Power-washing removes almost as much history as a new slew of murders does. People more interested in murder than history clear away the rest, paving the road for copycat killers in their wake.

The building’s back door unlocks with the second key he tries and he counts the steps up to Astrid’s floor, glad he separated this pilgrimage from getting her home safe after their midnight tour. He knows that Gobber does his best as a landlord, but the staircase is still badly suffering from a well-intentioned renovation in the mid-nineteen-eighties and Hiccup feels like he’s wading into some bus terminal rejuvenated for the new decade with geometric carpet.

It’s not just the neighborhood, it’s really not a great building. Honestly, it was the condo of the eighteen eighties, just a pile of rectangles cobbled together because people were flocking to an idea of a city without thinking about the consequences. The most remarkable thing about it was the murder committed here, and that doesn’t seem so remarkable anymore.

Astrid’s apartment door doesn’t look like Elizabeth Smith’s.

It looks like a door he approached with a book in the rain with sweaty palms. A door he paced outside thinking about when he was five minutes early for a midnight tour.

A shitty door with a cheap new lock that makes his heart ache.

It’s too soon to say ‘I love you’ but is it too soon to ask her to move in? She gets along with Snotlout and that’s most of the hurdle, isn’t it? Plus, his place is nicer, less soulless even before Astrid infuses soul into it. He wonders what Gobber charges for rent and almost texts him to ask before catching himself and re-committing to the task at hand.

Phone. Breakfast. Astrid.

Astrid. Astrid. Astrid.

He almost knocks, even if it’s just symbolic, but that would be a step back he doesn’t want to take so he slides the most worn key into the knob.

It doesn’t turn.

Maybe there’s a thump inside or maybe that’s just his heart as the air in the hallway suddenly goes still and stale.

The knob turns.

Someone on the other side of the door pulls it open and Hiccup is stuck staring at Mr. Grisly in a familiar top hat and long wool coat, grinning with a face finally thawed from its usual permafrost.

“It took you long enough, Hiccup,” Mr. Grisly produces a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slaps one ring too tight around Hiccup’s wrist before locking the other half around the doorknob. The motion is not so much practiced as it is nonchalant, someone smacking a fly that just landed too close to their food.

Mr. Grisly takes a step backwards like a circus ringleader in the center ring, twirling a knife like a ceremonial cane. Then he rotates Astrid’s only chair to reveal a blonde woman lashed to it with duct tape. Her hair shines painful, familiar gold as he stands behind her and stabs the knife decisively into her neck, dragging sideways before she can scream.

The chair shields him from the blood.

It doesn’t shield Hiccup.

He coughs, she dies. Quickly, historically, choking without substance as the fabric of the red chair deepens to truly match the fully closed soundproof curtains. He gags. His heart would stop if it slowed because all he can think about is Astrid, warm and alive in that same chair. Of her soft and sleepy an hour ago.

Was there time for Grisly to go back to his place?

He should have told her. He never should have left.

“You had to know it was always going to come to this,” Grisly says, holding the woman’s face up by her hair. She’s not Astrid and relief tastes like bile and someone else’s blood. “Oh, you didn’t?”

“Enlighten me.” Hiccup barely recognizes his own voice, detached and too deep, furious as his fist clenches in the cuff, guilty high throbbing in his throat. It’s not Astrid but it’s someone else and he’s sick with it.

“I’m in the business of making money,” Grisly chuckles, ripping duct tape off of clothes that don’t matter anymore, “subcontracting means my methods are up to my own discretion.” Grisly smiles as his knife bites through fabric and skin, spilling parts of someone across the floor, “dental is...not great.”

“I can see that.”

He can see everything. So much he never wanted to.

His dad wanted him to be a doctor, for a while, but he didn’t even try to lie about that one, not after his cat killed a bird and he threw up at the aftermath. He focuses on the substance of the conversation instead of the gore, falling back on what he does best.

“The developers employ me to clean up the streets and to make their buildings more desirable places to live, so that they can raise the rent.” Grisly’s hands are working, calm and sure of themselves even as he prattles on, “and with tourism on the up and up, they can raise it even more. Shorter leases, higher cost, everyone wins.” He mimics the wounds in the Elizabeth Smith crime scene picture with detached efficiency.

“Not everyone.” Hiccup has always hated taxidermy. Something about presenting what used to be life in a way that glorified its murder is awful, but this is worse, entirely destroying the illusion that death leaves anything pristine.

“Aren’t you curious?” Grisly laughs, full of life, throbbing with the flow of someone else’s blood. “Don’t you wonder why I’m not surprised to see you?”

“You’re never very surprised to see me.” It’s a fact that could meld into realization if he could look away from blood seeping into the carpet. “How did you know to be here?”

Hiccup hates himself for being curious. For the first time, he absolutely, truly, profoundly hates the ever churning gears of his mind, fitting together things they shouldn’t and searching for gaps in the madness with intent to fill them. Was Grisly watching his apartment? Is he still? Or is this just the next notch in this string of luck so impossible that he can’t even call it luck anymore?

“I’ve been waiting for you, Hiccup,” Grisly says the name like he’s talking to an old friend and Hiccup swallows back another gag, “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you had to come see the scene of the carnage. It’s in your nature. I thought you’d bring Astrid with you, of course.”

“What are you talking about?” Hiccup doesn’t know which of his confusions is most pressing. His nature. Astrid. The fact that Grisly has been waiting here. They all swim in useless, buzzing circles around his mind and he chokes back something raw that’s either a sob or a desperate, miserable laugh.

“You know what?” Grisly slashes a vertical and then drops the body ceremoniously on the floor, approximately on top of the historical footprint of the eighteen-eighty-three doorway. “I’ve got time. Perhaps I moved too quickly, maybe if I’d waited, Astrid would have come looking for you and I wouldn’t have needed the substitute.”

Substitute. Astrid.

Grisly sees Hiccup move, reaching for his phone with frantic, shaking fingers, and he’s there instantly, wrenching Hiccup’s arm behind his back hard enough his elbow pops and prying the phone from his hand. Hiccup tries to kick him and stumbles, smearing the still open door. The geometric carpet in the hallway is splattered, adding to the dying arcade ambiance.

He gags again and Grisly lets go, walking around him to waggle a finger in his face like a stern schoolteacher.

“Don’t go ruining my crime scene now, I’d hate to have to fake a weak stomach.”

“Your crime scene,” Hiccup narrows his eyes, funneling shock into rage, “I saw you, you told me that…Astrid…”

“Let me lay this out for you, Hiccup,” he gives the name the teasing intonation it hasn’t had since high school, and the top hat on his head is even more surreal, “in a way you’ll understand.” His smile is alive, crawling and creeping across his cheeks like it’s devouring pale flesh, “you’ve always been the prime suspect for the Grimborn copycat murders.”

Hiccup’s heart pauses for a terrifying millisecond, the freefall giving him just enough quiet to think.

“You framed me.”

“Very good, Hiccup, I knew you wouldn’t break at the first sight of a fresh kill,” he claps, a macabre Willy Wonka who didn’t outgrow murder with the advent of security cameras.

Cameras.

There has to be evidence of this somewhere. His eyes flick to the curtains and his stomach twists at how well they’re shut. But on the street, somewhere, there has to be evidence. Over the last few bloody months, there has to be something.

If his alibi had been with him…

“You weren’t supposed to find the first body,” Grisly starts digging through Astrid’s kitchen cabinets, pulling out a jar of bleach wipes and holding them up triumphantly, “that video I gave to the police was supposed to place you there after the investigation was another useless, lazy victim deep.” He wipes the back of the chair, the rickety stool by the door.

“But Astrid…”

“Focus,” he grabs Hiccup’s chin with bruising fingers, “I’ll take care of her once you’re in custody. This is all a bit of a rush now, you can thank your idiot cousin for the change in schedule.” His lip curls, revealing a canine a little too sharp, “I’ll see if a syringe of air finishes what a bullet couldn’t.”

Hiccup bites his tongue against shouting, every muscle in his body fighting to stay upright as his head swims. Snotlout. Astrid. The hospital that felt like home for a second the scene of another flat lined monitor, blaring in tune with Hiccup’s incoherent thoughts.

“Why are you telling me all of this? I’ll just tell everyone the truth—”

“Who will listen to you?” Grisly is a cat with a mouse in his corner, holding it down by the tail and watching it squirm.

“I don’t know, a jury? Don’t you think it might introduce reasonable doubt for me to tell a detailed account of how you killed someone in front of me and told me that you were framing me for it?” Hiccup has never reacted appropriately to corners, he starts looking for windows before he checks if the door is locked, “if this goes to trial—"

“Trial? Ha!” Grisly shouts a laugh, “this won’t ever go to trial.”

“How—”

He cuts off the question with a sharp flick to Hiccup’s forehead, “the system is broken, it destroys those who refuse to exploit it.”

“Nice Bond villain line, but you won’t get away with this.” Hiccup hears his dad’s absolute confidence in his tone even as his heart is screaming at him to run and regroup, but he forces himself to maintain eye contact.

“Oh, but I already have,” Grisly grins, uncuffing the door and yanking Hiccup around to cuff his other hand. His shoulder sings in pain as Grisly pulls out a police radio and starts speaking into it with a horrible impression of an officer’s anxious, professional tone, “we have a 187 at 324 Harbor Rd. The suspect is in custody. Send an extra clean-up crew, there’s a lot of…evidence to be collected.”

#ripped #httyd fic #tw murder #hiccstrid #modern au #tw blood #serial killer tour guide au

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zayashmaya · 6 years ago

Text

some marvus angst alphabet headcanons

im bored and feeling some type of way so lets get truckin’ folks

a - accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

- absolutely, marvus has a savior complex that’s quite beforus-style due to how he perceives purplebloods and their role in society. he wants to be the protector for his lover, and failing to do so would shatter his high opinion of himself regarding his ability to keep them safe. his mind will constantly be flooded with thoughts of how he could have done things differently, if he had just had security follow you around, or kept you locked away safely in his hive, none of this would have happened. he should have known better - alternia is a dangerous place. b - break up (how would they deal with one?)

- aloof, aloof, aloof. at worst, he would play it off as though he didn’t really care, and at best he would be understanding and try to remain friends (although he quickly realizes he can’t do that, it hurts too much, so he ghosts his ex). marvus isn’t the type to date officially to begin with, and if he does then he goes all in. breaking up would have him revisiting where things went wrong. little, random things would remind him of his ex, and he would find himself missing them. c - crying (are they much of a crier?)

- nope, he cried when he was a wiggler if he skinned his knee or something but ever since he embarked on a career in entertainment, he learned to keep his true feelings to himself. d - death (how do they deal with any death?)

- he is very, very good at handling death. he’s a killer himself, and surrounds himself with death on a daily basis. the clown cult taught him early in life to get rid of his discomfort with dead bodies and murder and all that fun stuff, so by now he is utterly desensitized and looks upon it with mild disinterest. - if someone he loves dies, that’s a different story. first of all, it is hard for him to openly love someone to begin with. so if someone manages to break down that barrier, all of those teachings from clown church fly out the window. if his lover dies, he will bear this burden for the rest of his life, and it will be a weight that cannot ever be lifted. he will be more violent during his concerts, more erratic with his work life, drowning himself in hedonism to help himself forget the pain and loneliness, but it will never go away. e - emotion (what’s the emotion they tend to push away the most?)

- sadness. marvus haaaaaates moping around and thinking about stuff that upset him. he thinks he could do far more productive things, and he certainly works himself to the bone or hangs out with his friends to distract himself. this dude rarely deals with his own feelings, despite how introspective he tends to be. f - frustrated (how much would it take to push them off the edge?)

- i feel like it varies. if things are going well for marvus, he doesn’t usually get pissed, he’d probably take it all in stride and figure things out with a level head. but if he’s already in a bad place, then adding to the situation will make him frustrated and grouchy. g - great pain (what is the most painful thing they have witnessed?)

- the first time he witnessed a lowblood being sacrificed at church. he still remembers the begging and screaming. h - humiliation (how could they be humiliated?)

- if someone looks down on him. i think this is where his hatred of sea dwellers comes from; he doesn’t like feeling like someone is better than him, especially when they haven’t earned that status. being forced to submit to the whims of his superiors is something that pisses him off more than anything. i - injured (how do they handle themselves when injured?)

- shrugs it off, no matter what. we saw a classic example of that during his bad end after his limo exploded, and despite him eventually acknowledging he got hurt more than he thought, he still looked at the brighter side of things. j - jittery (which part of their past makes them flinch or even worked up?)

- genuine intimacy. he is totally unfamiliar with it. pailing and sensuality, he has no problem with. violence, no biggie. but vulnerability and expressions of love? he’s ready to simultaneously crawl out of his skin and yet chase after those caresses. he’ll get accustomed to them eventually, and once he’s comfortable with intimacy, you best believe he will be the biggest cuddle bug. k - kill (would they kill for revenge?)

- marvus prides himself on his self-control. he allows murder and mayhem at his concerts, and even instigates them, because all of this is done at his discretion. killing for revenge out in the open would make him feel like he lost that self-control, which he is loathe to do. so i think he would handle matters personally, either one-on-one where no one else can see and the camera crew is gone, or he will hire an assassin to do his dirty work. l - loss (what was their greatest loss?)

- i imagine he might have had close lowblood friends among his profession when he first started, and he was probably forced into a situation where they got killed in a match with him during slam or get culled. m - mistakes (how much do they want to fix the mistakes of their past?)

- marvus is probably the type to have very few regrets. he believes that everything that’s happened to him has taught him an important lesson, so changing the past would change his perspective and who he currently was. o - outrage (what makes them angry?)

- needless to say, cocky sea dwellers who overstep his boundaries and make him feel like shit. also people who invade his privacy. he puts a lot of effort into letting the public see what he wants them to see, so if someone goes the extra mile to breach the very little privacy he has left for himself, he’s gonna be livid. he also has absolutely no tolerance for anyone daring to insult his lover in any way. someone will lose their life for that.

p - pressure (what stresses them out to the breaking point?)

- honestly, i think he would never lose his composure like that in his line of work. it’s the issues that might arise in his private life that he will be unprepared to handle, since he tends to leave things unspoken and doesn’t deal with issues head-on. so when the tension between him and his lover starts to overflow, he doesn’t know how to handle it because he never learned coping mechanisms or how to properly analyze his feelings. basically, his own feelings will overwhelm him. q - qualify (what part of themselves do they see as dangerous?)

- his charm mixed with his detached facade. marvus thinks that chuckle voodoos are only a small part of what makes him dangerous. his ability to win over anyone through his personality and manipulate them into doing what he wants is what he considers to be his strongest asset. t - time (what if they had limited time to live?)

- if single, marvus immediately comes to terms with it and spends his time doing what he loves, making music and making his fans happy. if taken, he will still accept his fate to some degree, and he would stay strong for his lover until the very end. but deep down, he wishes he had more time with them. so he spends his last days entirely in their company. they are all that matters to him. u - urge (how badly do they get the urge to see you after separating?)

- if he goes on tour, the first few days, maybe week, is easy peasy. marvus is very independent and driven, and when he has a lot of duties to attend to, he will absolutely focus on them. but once he starts thinking about his lover, how he misses their warmth and laughter, it’s like a switch is flipped. he starts getting antsy about getting back to them. there’s definitely a whole lot of texting (sexting too for sure), phone calls, you name it, he even buys them a bunch of gifts for them. - if his lover is the one who goes somewhere and he has little to occupy himself with, he’s going to be THE neediest bitch on the planet, and he will try to convince you to come back as soon as possible if he can. sends them lots of texts about how much he misses them. when his lover returns, he’s waiting at the door like a housewife watching her soldier husband return from war. in both instances, he’s gonna need at least a week of your undivided attention. v - vent (how do they get rid of feelings they find unnecessary?)

- he raps about his problems! that’s how the feels jam sessions go for him (with chixie ok, there’s no one else better equipped to handle this situation). y - yearning (do old memories make them yearn for your touch?)

- he thinks about the first time you ran your fingers through his hair, when you stroked his bare cheek after he removed his face paint for the first time in your presence, the way your fingers graze along his alien features and committing them to memory, little things like this that he always remembers and craves more of.

#homestuck #friendsim #marvus xoloto #headcanons

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shewolfofficial · 6 years ago

Note

Heyy I really love your stories! uwu I would like to request a fic where the reader gets badly injured end they just believe she's dead and put her to the other corpses but then she wakes up on the kart next to the dead bodies and Levi can't believe his eyes and cofesses to her... Thank you so much💕

Warning: Cursing, Slight Angst, Mentions of Suggestive Content

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your heart thundered in your ears, yet you couldn’t hear or see anything, you could feel yourself getting picked up and wrapped in something though. What was happening? The last thing you saw was a Titan's hand rocketing towards you sending you into the side of a building and Levi’s shouts shortly after that but right now- it was like you were in an empty void.

Suddenly the darkness began to fade into a warm light, Levi’s bedroom morphed around you in a hazy warm state. Sun came through the window from the blue sky outside, you shifted around in confusion- tiredness etching into your mind as you laid in the bed your mind tricked you into thinking. A weight shifted onto the bed next to you making you turn and see who had gotten in next to you as you sat up. Levi’s face was pale as he sat there at the edge looking at you as if you were a ghost.

His usually narrowed eyes widened a little as tears began to gloss them, leaning in further he went to reach out to you yet he stopped halfway like there was an invisible barrier there. He began to hit the barrier, muffled words coming out of his mouth as he tried to talk- yet you couldn’t hear him. ‘’Levi what are you doing..? It’s like 7am and you’re acting weird’’ you tiredly yawn as he continued to hit on the barrier, tears streaking down his cheeks as he continued to call out to you yet you couldn’t hear a single noise. You looked at him in slight confusion suddenly muffled words managed to slip from his mouth.

‘’You can’t be dead! F/N please.’‘

‘‘What? Levi, what are you talking about? I’m not dead- what has gotten into you?’‘ you said rubbing your eyes. That didn’t stop his assault on the invisible barrier that played out to be stopping him from getting closer to you though.

‘‘You can’t leave me.. I have nothing left if you go..’‘

You sighed and laid back down on the fluffy pillow beneath you with a roll of your eyes. ‘’Levi I’m right here- stop it and go to sleep or something, I’m tired..’’ you mumbled letting your eyes flutter shut. You were left in silence- finally dozing off before the sound of gear rattling and footsteps on grass took over your ears. The vision of Levi’s bedroom phased into blackness before you felt your eyes flutter open. A whimper of panic left your lips as you adjusted to the light creamy fabric you were wrapped in tightly kept your hands and legs tightly restrained.

You recognized the colour of the fabric as the things you’d usually wrap up the corpses in after an expedition. Your throat stung and your chest heaved with panic as you tried to move about, chatter from right beside the wagon and all around made you whimper more. Were you going to be buried alive? Or even thrown off the wagon for titans to eat?

You tried to roll over onto your side, to try to get someone’s attention anyway to help you or else you’d have to use your sore throat- obviously not liking the thought of trying to call for help when it felt like you had swallowed a pack of razors a few minutes ago. Wiggling about like a worm you winced in pain before sighing a little.

‘‘Help..’‘

Shit F/N. Louder goddamit!

‘‘I’m going to strangle the fucker who wrapped this shit tightly around me- I can’t breathe!’‘

Suddenly the chatter stopped, you heard a pair of boots walk away before another pair came closer, the wagon shifted and you felt the fabric being tugged from the mount of corpses you were rested on, tumbling down the pile you landed on your chest and continued to wriggle about like a worm in broad daylight.

‘‘What was that.. My throat hurts.. I swear I may be in bad condition but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna slap whoever yanked me just there now’‘ you grumbled, face planted onto the wood of the wagon, you rolled over onto your back as the fabric was ripped open by your face. The first thing you came face to face with was a mortified captain.

‘‘Evening captain, why am I wrapped up..?’‘

‘‘I thought you died- What the fuck..’‘ Levi muttered as he ripped the rest of the fabric off of you before helping you out. You winced at the pain in your throat- subconsciously bringing your hand up to rub it in an attempt of easing the pain. Levi had your hand in his own softly staring at it with widened eyes before blinking and looking back up to you with parted thin lips.

‘‘You’re alive- I watched you get flattened into a building, what the fuck is even happening anymore.’‘ he commented running a hand through his ebony hair before hesitantly bringing you into a hug. More like he wrapped his arms around you and held your head at the crook of his neck with shallow breaths. You lightly wrapped your arms around him in slight confusion but nevertheless cuddled into him. ‘‘Why are we hugging sir-?’‘ you shyly asked as he squeezed you a little bit.

‘‘I’m wrapping my mind around the fact that you’re still here- You should do the same that your crush cadet is hugging you.’‘ he slyly commented as your face exploded in a fiery blush you pulled away with a gulp of embarrassment. ‘‘I don’t like you-’‘ you were cut off by a shot of pain that went up your back making you hiss, Levi shuffled towards you before looking around you both satisfied to see nobody was around due to them getting ready to set off back to the wall. He turned back to you gaze a miniature smile. ‘‘Don’t deny it, idiot, the other day I happened to be walking by the women’s showers and I heard you.. saying my name.. you were doing dirty dirty things in there while thinking of me hm?’‘ he purred leaning towards you more as your blush darkened excessively.

‘’I-Uh..’‘ you muttered, Levi’s lips found their way onto your own- giving you a subtle kiss before pulling away. ‘‘Ngh, you teasing little-’‘ you stopped yourself from carrying on since he had a higher rank than your own. He could easily punish you. Levi smirked again before giving your lips another peck. ‘‘Whatever- Stay near me until we get back then I’ll bring you to the infirmary, I have to go tell Erwin, stay here until I get back’‘ he explained before hopping out of the wagon. Your face was still ablaze but you nodded anyways. Levi walked off towards a group of Scouts, his gear rattling as he left you alone again letting your thoughts wander for a bit.

‘Wait- Captain Levi has the hots for me? Well obviously- Holy shit though..’

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alrightinbed-betterwithapen · 6 years ago

Text

we look so good, and we never even try — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: heyo my lil doves, so this is based off an ask for a David x reader from this video. And I kinda ran with it hard! Read the warnings!! I hope you like it. It was heavyly inspired by this song below! Love you all ♥️♥️♥️

Warnings: heavy drinking, drug use, smut, oral sex, sex, idealization of drug use (drugs are bad, srs, this is fiction), smut again

Summary: rockstar, rich, bad influence!Reader x David thats loosely stemmed from a dear anon ask♥️. There’s drinking, drugs and sex... and lil fame.

~~~$~~~

They say David Dobrik has a type. The internet gossiped about how he liked girls that were more famous than him, Liza must have given him a complex. Madison Beer, Kendall Jenner, Miranda Cosgrove all rumored flings of his. None of this was true and, nah, fame level didn’t matter.

His type is you. You just happen to be famous.

~~~$~~~

You’d started a silly garage band five years ago and were heading to the Grammys in a month with several nominations. You thought your life was crazy and filled with luck, until you met David. A boy who drew fame and money to him with paintball guns, flamethrowers and recorded drunken nights out. You can’t believe they call you a success story.

And what can you say, you’re in your early twenties, rich and want to get into as much trouble as possible while living in LA. So, it’s kind of fate when your guitarist says he met some crazy dude named Zane at the bar you were drinking at and he invited the whole band back to a house in the hills for a party. He also said something about YouTube, but whatever all exposure is good exposure at this point in your career.

(They don’t know what’s about to hit them. If the vlog squad was a ten on the scales when it comes to madness and nights only remembered from the phone videos, you and your friends were a hundred. There’s partying and then there’s partying.)

When you meet David, you’re enraptured and you decide quickly that you want to ruin him. Such a driven, confident man who’s used to watching other people live instead of experiencing it for himself. You’re drawn to him like a tiger to prey, and David, well, David wants to be eaten.

~~~$~~~

That’s how he finds himself surrounding by his friends and the members of the band they’re all in love with; high, wild and camera-less. Yeah, he got the obligatory footage and thumbnail, MY FAVORITE BAND CRASHED MY PARTY?!??!!! But that was before (Y/N) had sunk her teeth in, asking about his job and life while vaguely disinterested, but looking at him like he was the only person in the universe that mattered to her.

Oh no, she was a problem.

Her presence alights a longing in him that nobody else had before; not Jason giving him shit for his lack of experience on the podcast, not Toddy shaking his head at him for not knowing something obvious about drugs or partying and damn well not Liza with her tales of dabbling in the things David only records. (Y/N) coaxes a yearning out of him that he didn’t know existed, that he’s convinced himself he didn’t have.

That’s how he justifies the insane level this party had gotten to. Drugs are free flowing, the booze is close to being gone and his friends are dispersed around his house, all completely fucked up. Living in the realm of vlogging, this was a rare occasion when all cameras were thrown to the wayside. The single friends are fucking strangers in different rooms or causing chaos in the open space of the house, and the couples are wrapped in each other like no one else exists.

Everyone is in their own world, high and floating, and his world is on the grass in his backyard, waiting patiently on her knees for an answer from his sitting form.

She had dragged him out here after he was a couple shots deep, laying him on the ground and ruining all make outs for him forever. The had left a conversation with Zane, Matt and a couple techies that worked with her band. Matt had some ecstasy, and they were making fun of his early 2000s drug choice when Molly was so readily available in Hollywood, not to mention in this house. David was so curious in his drunken state, he just kept asking question after question. (Y/N) was determined to give him the answers when she pulled him outside.

He doesn’t verbally answer, he just leans forward and sucks the neon purple pill off her finger, telling her if he dies like the after school specials say he will, she better write a song about him.

She says she’s gonna write one either way.

~~~$~~~

He’s wrapped so prettily in his innocence when you first met him that you couldn’t look away. From how he gulps down the pill to the way he downs a fourth shot with your drummer, you feel a need to take him apart.

The night is deep, the suns promise of rising only a few short hours away and David’s laying shirtless on top of his black pool table. Most people are passed out or left to continue the fun else where. There’s an older man with his bleach blond girlfriend passed out on the couch and cuddling your bassist, only a stones throw away from where the two of you are. Where you’re sucking marks into David’s chest while he moans into the room like you’re both alone. He’s skin is rippling with bumps wherever you touch and he’s so needy, the pill taking over his senses.

You pull your lips away and he’s jerking up on the table, grabbing and hauling you into his lap, murmuring into the skin of your shoulder, “No, no, no, no. You can’t stop touching me, that’s not fair. Feels so good, don’t stop (Y/N).”

Your answering laugh might sound mischievous, but your intent is soo much more wicked than he realizes when you tell him to take you to his bedroom.

~~~$~~~

David didn’t know feeling like this was a possibility. There are chills all over him as he rubs his back over the contrasting textures of his wood floor and the silky, white rug he was half laying on near the foot of his bed. He thinks he could come from just this, if he really concentrated. But he doesn’t need to. Not with (Y/N) laying next to him, fully spread out on the wood, watching him like a hawk.

“You think that feels good? You should let me massage your head,” she laughs out, sitting up to grip the bottle of champagne she had brought with her when he led her down the hall and to his room. She’s in the middle of swallowing around the bottle when David sits up just a bit to throw his head into her lap and moaning out a fuck yes.

“Open,” she commands, holding the bottle over his face, bringing it close to his lips. He is so wrapped under her spell, dropping his jaw and looking up at her with wonder. She pours the carbonated booze in, spilling around the sides of his mouth. It might be too much, he’s had enough to drink, he doesn’t need anymore. What he does need though, is anything she’ll give him.

When her hands comb through his hair and begin to softly knead his scalp, David swallows the liquid and lets out these tiny whimpers, eyes falling shut. He wiggles his head in her lap, begging for more. The touch makes his entire body shudder. At this moment in time, he would let (Y/N) lead him into the gates of hell if it meant she would continue to touch him. He’s known this woman less than six hours and she has him upside down and questioning who he is, his wants, his goals. Her fingers slide down to his neck and he thinks he’d give her his Tesla to feel her lips on him again.

“Feels good, huh? Like your skin is having its own orgasm,” she giggles while he nods dumbly at her. David wants to crawl inside her and never leave.

She’s lifting his head then, moving around his body and straddling him, like she had on the pool table. She pulls off her thread bare cotton crop top, leaving her in only a bralette and black skinny jeans that scrape against his hips so perfectly. She runs her hands from the waist band of his pants upwards, the touch makes David whimper and shake his head from side to side, not enough but so good. Her palms brush his nipples, causing him to gasp a soft ah, and then her fingers wrap around both sides of his throat.

David eyes burst open at the feel of her tongue on his lower stomach, beginning to lick upwards, following the trail her hands had just left. He can’t stop himself when he grabs her under her arms and flips them, pushing her down against the soft rug. He brackets her body with arms on either side of her head, grinding his hips down against her, panting out roughly. He’s so hard, he just wants to be come already. The pleasure she brings is all-consuming and blissful, but also a tease of what he could be feeling.

“Daaavid,” She simpers, going to wrap her legs around his waist and push her pelvis up to meet the slow, hard roll of his hips. She runs her hands up and down his arms, relishing in the noises she brings out of the man. His gaze is so clouded with want as it bores into her. He’s so close to losing control and she wants to see it more than anything.

“How do you feel, do you want to come yet?”

He nods his bent head, snapping his pelvis roughly, crying out.

“Not yet, baby. Don’t you want to feel how good my mouth is? Don’t you want that?”

And god, is he fucking torn. He wants to come, so badly. The chills all over his body a promise of an experience he doesn’t want to wait for. But, the image of her mouth devouring him stirs a monster inside that wants only that for the rest of time. He stares at her blankly, looking for guidance, his lower body weighing down on top of her. He wants everything she’ll give him.

He doesn’t know how his body becomes situated on the edge of the bed, legs twitching while she works his jeans open, and he doesn’t care to remember. Not when she’s placing feather kisses on his thighs, hand coming up to grip his shaft while wet heat envelopes him. Closing his eyes and letting her work him over, David staves away the tightness in his stomach. Her mouth feels like velvet hell, and he can’t help the grunt that rises up in his chest and explodes into the room when she takes him in all the way, tapping the back of her throat while her tongue flicks and massages the base of his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK,” he’s all but screaming when the hand wrapped around the base of his dick grips too hard. His gut seizes and begins to flutter along side his legs. His death grip of the duvet under him pulls the cover up and he falls back into the bed. He’s coming and he’s not. She’s giving his tip kitten licks and humming around his ruined orgasm. There is fire inside him, burning him alive. Twitching on the bed, David wants to curse this woman, throw her out of his house.

Instead he’s sitting up and pushing her back, making her lose balance and fall on her ass in front of him. The glare he gives her is the angriest he thinks he’s ever mustered when she coyly purrs,

“What? Don’t you want to come inside me?”

It goes to show what the drug is doing to him, because he didn’t even consider that an option. And yeah, he wants that. He’s wants to feel her grip around him and pull out his orgasm. He wants her to ruin sex forever for him, because he’s sure that’s what it’ll do. Then, causing his brain to short circuit, she stands and begins peeling her too tight jeans from her legs, exposing a pair of black lace boy shorts that match her bralette. But she’s not walking over to straddle him like David wants. No, she’s walking over to his floor to ceiling windows, running a finger under his chin, lightly turning his head to follow her.

Head tilted and thumbs hooking into the tops of her panties, she’s pulls them down, just slightly below her hipbones. When David can tear his eyes away, her watches (Y/N) lick her full, bottom lip, long and slow.

Shivers still radiate down the mans body, even as he’s lifting himself off the bed with strength and speed he didn’t know he still had in him. Everything is blurred in his vision until he reaches her soft, warm body, carding his arms through hers and wrapping around her. His lips go immediately for hers, tongue sinking into her mouth with no hesitation. Her torso is pressed back against the glass, sinful fucking hips rolling against his.

He doesn’t ever want this to stop.

Not as she’s spinning them around til he’s flat against the window, and not when she’s pushing him down, moving along with him to settle on his lap, knees under her frame. The cold glass on his skin is an amazing contrast to the warmth of the girl sucking and biting his neck and chest. Her deft hands move to push and pull the material down and off his legs, with only a little help from the man. He arches and wiggles off the clothing, ridiculous in his flailing, but her assault doesn’t cease, no it doesn’t even slow. Then, there’s slightly damp, coarse lace rubbing against his cock so sweetly. It’s a little painful, but the feeling of contact on skin so sensitive makes David grab her hips and begin to grind along with the woman’s movements.

David understands addiction firsthand in this moment; it’s pulling lace to side and sinking down onto him, wet and hot, too tight and fast. She’s stretching back, arms behind her head, moaning into the room her approval while taking his dick in as far as possible, bottoming out. Her cunt is fluttering around him, she’s supporting herself when she begins to ride him like a play thing, like he isn’t even there. His hands almost feel wrong on her in this moment, he feels like he should be sitting back and watching her take what she wants while he brims on the edge of losing his mind.

They don’t feel so wrong when she finally snaps her back and head to him, wraps her arms around his neck and goes to latch onto his throat, lips sucking and biting so hard, David thinks there will be a bruise for the next couple of days. She speeds up her long, deep strokes, mewling against his skin. He doesn’t even mean to start yanking her against him, but it happens. And the resulting cry from the girl on top of him is so infatuating he does it again and again, lost in it.

This is purgatory.

This is bliss.

He doesn’t realize he’s coming until a hand pulls the back of his hair sharply. It doesn’t make him snap his neck back though. His teeth in her shoulder assure him of that, but he can’t recall when it happened. Every nerve ending is vibrating, wave after wave of ecstasy roll over him. His eyes closed and crinkled, he’s groaning these loud, needy sounds into the room, but her hips don’t stop, his hands don’t let them. David thinks it’s only fair if he dies in this moment, accepting he will never have a moment this mind numbingly pleasurable ever again in his life. He’d accept death like an old friend.

He’s rutting into her now, coming down a bit with each thrust, and her scent of champagne and perfume focuses him, he can take in the room and the fact that (Y/N) was twitching in his arms, gripping his hair too tight and whispering obscenities in his ear, still in the middle of her own orgasm. He doesn’t let go of her shoulder, he just soothes the skin between his teeth with his tongue when she begins to whimper.

David is in fucking love.

He thinks he really means that as he falls over, her body coming with him. He doesn’t know how the beanbag chair got so close to them or if it was there the whole time, but he’s grateful. He’s laying on his side, the girl wrapped around him as he undulates into her wet cunt languidly. Pulling out, he can barely touch his now soft dick, it’s too much and makes random muscles spasm throughout his body. Slumping back against the fabric, he looks over at her, shaking from the aftershocks of her orgasm, mouth hung open and staring at him like he’s the sun. It makes him reach out and run his thumbs over her lip and hook behind her teeth, it also makes her snap her eyes close and writhe a couple times.

David can’t help what happens next, the sight of her eyes closing stirs a need inside him to do the same. He leans back and drops his eyes shut.

How did tonight end up here?

He feels a hand come to rest on his chest eventually, weight dipping beside him on the chair and it soothes his head. He lets the poison and new addictions of the night pull him into darkness and he pointedly doesn’t think about tomorrow

Even though the sun is already rising over the hills.

~~~$~~~

David is so tired the next night. He is being drug out to some U.S. Weekly party for... something. His publicist dressed him, Jack and Natalie were going with to make sure he talked to enough people and David wanted In-N-Out and sleep. But, apparently this was important. All of Jacks clients were going to be there and blah, blah, blah.

He had no energy to listen to the semantics of this bullshit night. Not when he was nursing the worst hangover ever and trying to forget that he doesn’t know where (Y/N) went to this morning, or afternoon, whatever. He woke up alone in a bean bag chair, covered in come. It was the most wild night he’d ever had and he wanted more with her. Maybe not the booze or drugs (At least not on the regular, I mean shit, who was he, Zane?), but he wanted her, the girl that makes him feel like a firework embodied. He wants her all over again, and he’ll see that happen... when he doesn’t feel like eight different kinds of death.

That’s when David suddenly starts believing fate.

When he’s at that dumb party and starts recording some basic ass Snapchat promo with Tana Mongeau and behind the blonde a couple yards is (Y/N), talking with a journalist, having her picture taken at several different angles. He almost instantly forgets the discomfort of being sick when she angles his body towards him, showing the oversized red hoodie dress she was wearing (and only wearing, with thigh high black Louboutins and a black velvet choker, fuck him sideways) was a signature Clickbait hoodie. The one she had ripped off him the night before.

She winks at him, points to her outfit and continues the conversation she was having with the reporter. David flushes when Tana snaps her head back from looking at the rockstar and says,

“You really don’t deserve that.”

He shrugs, grin real wide when he retorts,

“I know.”

~~~$~~~

#david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik smut #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik #imagine #vlog squad imagine

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banesapothecary · 6 years ago

Text

my name is whatever you decide (I’m just gonna call you mine)

read on ao3

“Come on, pup. Time to rise and face the day.”

The room is far too bright, and the bed beside him far too cold. Alec sits up, squinting against the sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Pup?” he asks, raising a hand to block the sun but to no avail. He wants to bury deeper inside the covers and blot out all of the light in the known universe, but he suspects Magnus has other plans. Why can’t those plans include cuddling? he thinks to himself, grumbling even in his thoughts.

“Panda?” Magnus tries again.

“No.”

“Okay,” Magnus relents, turning away from the bed but not before Alec sees his tiny pout at the rejection of his pet names. Alec almost feels bad. Almost. He can’t really be blamed for being opposed to nicknames when he’s barely woken up and his boyfriend isn’t in bed with him. Alec may have angelic blood in his veins, but he is only human, after all.

“Why is it so early?” Alec groans, falling back into the bed, if only for a moment.

“The thing about moments,” Alec says, “is that you’ll miss them if you’re always running after the next one.”

Magnus doesn’t answer, his brow furrowed.

“When I’m ninety,” Alec tries again, looking away under the weight of the implication that he fully intends to be by Magnus’s side until the day he dies, regardless of when. “I’m not going to remember the trendy gallery, or...or the amazing Greek food we had if we don’t slow down.” Magnus’s gaze is more open, softer but still confused. “And savor moments like these,” Alec adds softly. “And I’m staring into the eyes of the man that I love.”

Magnus’s smile is small, but it’s real, and Alec thinks maybe he understands now. “Of course,” he says. “Everything I need is right here in front of me.” Alec returns his smile, searching his boyfriend’s eyes. The shift in his demeanor is sudden and minute, but Alec still catches it. “Amazing how a twenty-something year old pup can teach an old man new tricks,” Magnus says airly, his eyes teasing and mischievous.

“Please don't,” Alec says, shaking his head. “Don't try to make ‘pup’ a thing.”

“No?” Magnus asks, stepping closer.

“No,” Alec breathes, their lips inches from each other. They meet and the kiss is slow and innocent, yet still all the intimacy Alec had been craving from his boyfriend all day despite its simplicity.

“Pup?” Clary asks with a raised brow and a smirk on her lips. It’s good to see her smile, Alec thinks, after everything. She looks exhausted, her eyes full of a dread Alec is sure won’t go away until the rune on her collarbone connecting her to Jonathan is gone. A patch of dried blood is just visible on her dark jeans, surrounding the tear where she’d stabbed her own leg.

Alec gestures vaguely with his hand, trying--and failing--not to roll his eyes. “He’s trying to make it a thing,” he says.

Her smile grows, and Alec is really, really glad to see it. Magnus shifts beside him, and he doesn’t have to turn and look to know that Magnus feels the same. “It’s cute,” she says. Her voice is light and teasing, a sharp contrast to what is was moments ago while informing everyone at the Institute about her new rune, her new reality. For now, Alec reminds himself. Clary might not be a Lightwood, and Alec might not use a word as strong as friend for the redhead who’d turned his world on its head a few months ago, but he did care about her. Probably more than he’d ever admit, lest he ruin his grumpy and brooding persona.

“I’m a Shadowhunter,” Alec scoffs. “I don’t do ‘cute.’”

“But, pup, you did me last night,” Magnus chimes in, smiling and blinking up at him innocently, much to Clary’s delight. Her laugh echoes around the mostly empty Ops Center.

Alec knows he’s blushing, feels the heat pooling in his cheeks and his neck. He wonders if the blue light cast off by the monitors are blending with the red to make him a shade of purple, like the girl who turned into a blueberry in that children’s movie Magnus had made him watch a few weeks before. Alec didn’t think he’d like to be a blueberry very much, but the happy and almost carefree looks on both Clary and Magnus’s faces are enough that he decides there are far worse fates.

Alec enters the loft quietly, the relief of finally being home not quite enough to shed the weight of the day from his shoulders. It doesn’t help, of course, that he’s 99% sure someone is drilling into his skull, if the gnawing pain behind his forehead is anything to go by.

Magnus hears him anyways, or maybe he just felt him slip into the wards. “Alexander?” he calls, his voice carrying from the apothecary.

Alec hums in response, too tired to speak. He heads straight for their bedroom, stripping off his jeans and jacket. He lets himself fall face first into the bed, burying his face into the pillow. It feels good to be off his feet, and he’s more than content to fall asleep right then and there.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall have other plans, it seems. “Alexander?” Magnus asks softly as Alec hears him enter the room. He feels the bed dip beside him, but he still can’t bring himself to turn and open his eyes. He just wants to sleep for a trillion years and forget that today ever existed.

“What’s wrong, pup?” Magnus says, and Alec would never admit this to his boyfriend, but he couldn’t stop his lips from upturning just slightly at the pet name. For the first time all day, he felt warm, even if the construction crew inside his head was still pounding away at his skull.

Alec turns, but not before schooling his expression into a scowl. “Not a pup,” he mumbles, squinting up at Magnus against the afternoon light.

Magnus sighs, threading his fingers through Alec’s hair. It doesn’t ease the headache, but by the angel does it feel good. “What’s wrong, darling?” Magnus tries again, his voice concerned underneath the teasing lilt.

“Bad, terrible, long, miserable day,” Alec grumbles, his squint morphing into a glare at Magnus’s low chuckle. “My head hurts, I’m exhausted, the Clave sucks, and my parabatai is so annoying.”

“Your head hurts?” Magnus asks, ignoring the rest. “How badly?”

“You know those things they use in TV to tear up roads and stuff?” Alec asks.

He raises an eyebrow. “You mean a jackhammer?”

Alec nods, the side of his face smooshed against the pillow. “That’s in my head.”

Magnus frowns, his fingers still carding through Alec’s hair. The motion already felt heavenly to Alec, but now a warmth emanates from his fingers and spreads through Alec’s head, easing the pain. Alec sighs in relief, scooting closer to press a kiss to Magnus’s side.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, suddenly on the edge of sleep once again.

“Of course, pup,” Magnus answers.

Alec closes his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “Not a pup,” he argues, but he’s already fast asleep when Magnus laughs and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Magnus, what is all this?” Alec asks, stopping short just inside the loft. He almost doesn’t recognize it for all of the pink and red decorations everywhere. It looks like Cupid threw up, he thinks. Or exploded.

“It’s our first Valentine’s day together, darling. I wanted to celebrate properly,” Magnus says proudly. His arms are behind his back, hiding something, but that’s not why Alec’s staring at them. Magnus is wearing a shirt of deep burgundy, and the fabric clings to his shoulders and biceps in a way that Alec is sure is going to kill him.

“You know,” Alec says, his mouth suddenly very dry. “I don’t need heart decorations everywhere to celebrate with you.” He can’t stop his gaze from drifting up and down his boyfriend’s body appreciatively. He’s not sure he even wants to.

Magnus smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction he’s elicited. “I know, darling,” he drawls, “but, humor me?” His eyes are wide and how could Alec ever deny this man anything?

Alec nods, acquiescing to whatever Magnus has planned for the evening. His agreement is immediately worth it, he knows, watching Magnus’s eyes brighten and his smile grow.

“Excellent,” Magnus purs.

By the angel, Alec thinks. I’m fucked.

“I have something for you,” Magnus says, stepping closer. He moves his arms, holding up a stuffed animal for Alec to see. Alec frowns, eyebrow raised in confusion. “A pup for my pup,” Magnus explains.

“That is incredibly sweet,” Alec whispers, taking a small step so their lips were inches apart. “But I thought we agreed not to make ‘pup’ a thing.”

“You agreed, darling. I’ve made no such commitment,” Magnus winks. Alec’s groan is lost to the press of Magnus’s lips against his.

“Don’t go,” Alec mumbles, eyes still closed.

He doesn’t even know what time it is. All he knows is that it is his day off and he fully intends to spend the day in bed doing absolutely nothing but curling up with his boyfriend, even though the shift of the mattress as Magnus moves to pull himself out of bed means his boyfriend clearly has other plans.

That simply won’t do.

He reaches out a hand, wrapping his arm around Magnus’s torso to hold him in place. Magnus laughs in surprise, the sound breathy in the morning and music to Alec’s ears. He scoots himself closer, lying his head half on Magnus’s should and half on his chest.

“I have a client this morning, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, but he doesn’t try to extricate himself from Alec’s hold on him.

“So cancel,” Alec murmurs. He opens his eyes, glancing up to meet Magnus’s eyes. “It’s my day off, and I just want to spend it relaxing with you.”

Magnus’s chuckle vibrates through him like the best kind of earthquake, each tremble sending a new wave of warmth through Alec. “You can spend the rest of the day relaxing with me after I meet with my client.”

“Hm mm,” Alec hums, shaking his head. “I want to spend the entire day with you.”

“It would take an hour at most, darling,” Magnus whispers, but he slips an arm around Alec’s waist.

I’ve almost got him, he thinks.

“What would it take to convince you not to go?” Alec asks.

“Hmmm…” Magnus hums, running his fingers through his goatee in ponderance. Alec rolls his eyes at the theatrics, but he can’t help but smile. “Oh, I know,” he says after a moment, his voice pleased. “Let ‘pup’ be a thing.”

Alec exhales, the sound coming out in a surprised laugh. “I really should’ve seen that coming,” he says.

“Do we have a deal, Alexander?” Magnus asks, his eyes challenging as they are affectionate.

“Fine,” Alec grumbles, but in truth he doesn’t mind at all. He’d grown used to Magnus’s tendency to call him by various terms of endearment, not that he would ever admit this to his boyfriend. “But no using it around our friends,” he adds, not wanting to repeat the teasing looks he’d gotten from Izzy and Jace the first time they’d overheard Magnus call him ‘darling.’

“On my honor,” Magnus says in mock seriousness. Alec watches as he picks up his phone from the nightstand and send a message to his client. “There,” he says as he powers the phone off. “I’m all yours, pup.”

“Good,” Alec whispers, pressing a kiss to Magnus’s chest.

#malec #malec fics #malec fanfic #shadowhunters #i made pup a thing #my fic

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neffi3 · 7 years ago

Text

Hugs

Inspired by this post: https://doc-squash.tumblr.com/post/180206725661/there-is-a-rumor-that-nightwing-can-subsist-solely

Dick noticed he may not be entirely human after his parents died. He chalked it up to being downright miserable after their deaths at first. But then he got really sick and weak and Bruce spend the night in his room cradling his small, fragile body at a loss of how to help him. Dick woke up feeling well rested and re-energized, the empty sucking feeling akin to hunger gone.

Bruce couldn’t explain his sudden recovery and Dick didn’t look to closely either. Bruce didn’t like metas in his city and Dick was afraid the man would send him away if it turned out he was one.

However he was forced to face the issue a week later, when he started to get that feeling of hunger again despite the mountains of food he was consuming every day. He started experimenting, based on what he knew happened the last time and came up with an answer: hug. An actual hug, no just casual contact like a hand on his shoulder or ruffled hair. He noticed he felt better after he gave Alfred a quick hug in thanks for something or the other. Dick tested more and came up with a decent pattern: a hug lasting a few seconds got him fed like one meal did for a normal human being. About a minute and longer hug could sustain him for a few days, even a week if he really had to. In other words, the longer the hug, the longer he could function between his… meals.

It was good Dick was an affectionate boy. He could hug Bruce and Alfred at random without raising any suspicions. Still, Bruce wasn’t a very expressive person. Far from it. The man was always uncomfortable when he got trapped in a hug, so Dick tried to limit displays of affection as much as he could.

With Titans things were a little better. Not that they hugged each other much, but definitely more than in the Wayne manor. However, those hugs helped for a little less time. Then there was Kory and Barbara and Dick was fed daily with high dosage of cuddles.

Then came Blüdhaven and it was miserable. A long string of abymyssal dates followed in an effort to just get by. Jason helped a little when he visited or Dick dragged himself back to Gotham, but then he died and Dick just couldn’t deal. He latched onto Catalina, trying to help her be the hero he knew she could be. But he misjudged badly and it ended up in a disaster he barely survived.

Things started to look up when Tim entered the picture. The hugs he kept stealing from the kid were enough to keep him going, so Dick abandoned his self destructive tendency to date whoever came across and focused on being the big brother to Tim.

Then Red Hood exploded into their lives, Damian was dumped onto Bruce to take care of and Dick discovered that his little brothers gave the best and fulfilling hugs ever. He made sure to spend some time with each of his brothers every few days and hug them.

Tim gave it to him semi freely, usually too busy with his cases to actually stop him when Dick attacked him with cuddles. Damian with his upbringing and being Bruce’s little clone allowed him one hug a week. Jason, the elusive angry little brother, whom Dick wanted to smother with affection, had to be bribed.

It was one of such times.

“C’mon Dickie. I just need you to cover as Red Hood for a few days,” Jason wheedled.

Red Hood requested a meeting with Nightwing. Dick not one to miss an opportunity to spend time with Jason, especially since he was difficult to get a hold on, agreed immediately and brought some food in the hopes of coaxing Red Hood into a hug. But this. This was so much better.

“For a price, Little Wing,” Dick grinned, ready to milk it for all it’s worth.

“Name it,” Jason said immediately, and stupidly-his mind supplied, ready to do anything he had to to get those few days free.

“A hug.”

Red Hood should have seen that one coming. It was almost always about hugs with Dick. Didn’t the man ever had enough of this crap?

“Hell no,” Red Hood protested. “Unlike you, I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Two hugs!” Dick raised the price in response, lifting his hand with two fingers up least there were any doubts Jason misheard him. “And a forehead kiss.”

Fucking hell, it can’t be happening. Why Jason didn’t just agree in the first place?

“One,” Jason growled.

“One for two minutes and I get to nuzzle your hair.”

“Ugh,” Jason threw his head back and sighed. He needed those free days. “Fine!”

Dick squeaked in delight and didn’t waste time in jumping down from the ledge and wrapping his arms around Jason’s body. Jason hugged back, because it was the part of the deal and started counting down two minutes.

“Ahh, that’s the stuff,” Dick sighed happily.

Red Hood pulled back slightly and narrowed his eyes at Nightwing speculatively. He looked at the barely touched food and back at Dick.

“So the rumors are true,” he stated in incredulity. “You do sustain yourself through hugs from us.”

“Uh, yeah?” Nightwing tilted his head in confusion. “You all know this.”

“You- Wha-” Red Hood didn’t know what to address first. “We know?”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Yeah? You all always say ‘he needs to cuddle like his life depended on it’ or ‘he needs hugs to breathe’.”

Jason’s stomach dropped, he felt vaguely sick at the realization.

“We were just saying things,” he said faintly. The possible consequences of them not taking seriously Dick’s need to hug flashing through his mind. “Like a joke. Dick. We- I didn’t know.”

“Oh,” Nightwing muttered, his eyes widened and he stumbled back. “Oh.”

Red Hood didn’t let him escape, tightening his hold on the older man.

“You really think I would withhold something so vital to your well-being for bribes?” Jason asked softly. He was nauseous just at the thought of Dick thinking Jason was capable of such an act.

“No!” Dick paled in horror and stuttered, “I just thought you were just teasing.”

“I wasn’t,” Red Hood replied. He hugged Dick tight and after a moment of deliberation, he kissed his forehead. Dick asked for a forehead kiss, so it had to help in sustaining him, right? “Tell me what you need.”

“Just this,” Nightwing hummed, snuggling close. “For a few minutes.”

Eventually Dick let go and Jason reluctantly allowed himself to be chased away after confirming that, yes it was enough for Dick to last for a week, and yes, he would fill in as Red Hood.

After patrol two days later Dick found out Jason moved in with him. Dick wasn’t complaining, because fuck, those hugs were fantastic and not just for feeding.

“Bruce!” Dick grinned as he opened the door. “Come in. This is a surprise.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him as he entered the apartment. Not only Dick wasn’t close to death as he feared, but he thrived. He was happy in a way Bruce didn’t see him being since that fated night at the circus.

“You missed your weekly visit,” he offered as an explanation to his sudden appearance at his son’s doorstep. “I just come by to check on you.”

“Oh!” Dick bounced on his feet and Bruce hid a smile. It was rare nowadays to see Dick so full of energy he was practically bursting. He really wanted to meet the person that had his son this happy just in under two weeks. “I’ve been busy. You know, night job and all that.”

“Mhm,” Bruce agreed, looking around. There were some things in the apartment which clearly didn’t belong to Dick as he didn’t saw them before and he frowned. Wasn’t it a little fast having this person live with Dick already?

Just then Jason walked out of the bedroom, his chest bare, and started rooting through the couch cushions.

Only years of training saved Bruce from staring with his mouth hanging open in surprise. He watched as Jason finally fished a t-shirt and put in on. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dick salivating at the sight. Bruce resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course.

“Bruce,” Jason drawled, slumping down on the couch and opening his arms invitingly. Dick immediately dived into his side, snuggling happily and Jason smirked at Bruce, “As you can see Dick has all the hugs he could want, so there’s no need for you to pop up here, at all.”

“I see,” Bruce agreed contemplatively, he turned to leave but paused and looked over his shoulder at his two sons.

“It’s not the hugs,” he said. “It’s love.”

Then he left while both of them sputtered at the revelation.

@doc-squash

#mfic #fanfiction #fanfic #batman #nightwing #red hood #dick grayson #Jason Tood #jaydick #batmanfic

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