#「 ic. 」 ⇀ alone I walk the winding way ; here I stay . | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-writer-momo · 3 months

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I cut out the sex scene because it bordered on Noncon. This is pure horror, it’s not even meant to be seen as romantic.

Yandere Baki Short Stories: Monster

Yandere Cheater Hanayama x Afab Reader

TW: HORROR, Suicide (fake death), depressing themes, angst, delusion, Yandere behavior,etc

(Your name) blankly stared at the passport in her hands. this was it… She was finally leaving her neglectful husband. She would turn over a new leaf and live her life for herself for once.

No more arranged marriage. No more loneliness. No more sleepless nights from the women he’d bring to his room. (Your name) would finally be at peace.

The wind ran its fingers through her hair and tousled a bit. She wished the comfort was an actual person rather than the icy wind but life didn’t quite work out that way. She was a woman born into a crime family but she had no interest in continuing the legacy her family intended her to.

(Your name) had no desire to be a pawn piece used as a peace treaty amongst the rival family. She wanted love. She wanted to live. (Your name) didn’t want to be the submissive, demure wife of an oyabun who constantly fraternized with other women.

She tried to make it work, she truly did. She tried talking to him whenever she had the chance, she tried to cook for him, organize his schedule, do his paperwork, and she even tried to get him to walk with her in his rose garden, but he’d flat out ignore her. She merely wanted to make their relationship tolerable, she wouldn’t even care if he wanted to continue to see those promiscuous women so long as they were amicable with each other. Yet he hated her because she was the daughter of the rival gang that killed his father.

Hanayama Kaoru was as cold as ice. His heart permanently locked up and unthawable. If (your name) stayed in that manor and went through with the marriage, she had no doubt she’d be miserable with him for the rest of her life… so she did what any sane person would do. She ran.

(Your name) would start a life in a different country with a new name. She would be selfish… faking her death wasn’t even a hard task to do. She simply wrote some depressing diary entries that would bring an angsty teen to shame. She even wrote a suicide letter.

Poor, clumsy (your name) jumped off a cliff and drowned in the murky ocean never to be seen again. It was fool proof.

(Your name) adjusted the sunglasses on her face and continued her journey into the airport. Her small suitcase rolled behind her, the wheels clacked against the brick road.

It was the start of a dream… or so she thought.

Hanayama laid in his bed in thought. Where was she? (Your name) would usually be here around nine in the morning to make sure he was up…

Hanayama sat up in his bed and pushed the woman that was draped across his chest off. His dark eye turned toward the door. Why wasn’t she here?

Hanayama wrapped a robe around his bare body and made his way out of his room. He ignored the grumbles of his latest bed warmer to instead try to figure out where his wife was. Why wasn’t she here?

Hanayama noticed how quiet the manor was and it unnerved him…

Hanayama was shocked to see there was no breakfast made for him in his office and no (your name) in there to greet him… where was she?

Hanayama then paused. Maybe she decided to leave him alone like he asked?

Hanayama sighed and nodded. Yes… that’s what happened. She must have finally decided to listen to him!

And so Hanayama went on to continue his day but the dread in his stomach hadn’t gone away.

His gut knew there was something horribly amiss.

A week had gone by since Hanayama had last seen (your name). His glass of water was no longer full beside him and his desk was unorganized. Hanayama’s meals weren’t made correctly and his schedule was in disarray.

A week without her and Hanayama now realized just how much his wife did… and it bothered him.

Hanayama stood outside the door of her room with a frown. He should talk to her… he needed her help with the paperwork.

“Wife. Are you in there?” Yet there was no response. He felt his hair stand up on his arm as alarm bells loudly rung in his head. She always answered him… she would have ran to him if he came to see her first.

Hanayama slid the door open to her room and was shocked to see how plain it was. This room didn’t look like it belonged to the wife of an oyabun. This room looked like a servant’s. Where were the decorations and the clothes?

Hanayama felt his stomach twist when he noticed just how little she owned and how cold it was in here. Was this why she’d ask for blankets? Why she wanted to go shopping?

Hanayama felt guilt sink into him. He was an awful husband- what was that?

Hanayama began to tremble in fear at the letter on her desk. His hands shakily opened it to read its contents. And not even after the first paragraph, he ran out the door.

She couldn’t have killed herself… she wouldn’t have. She loved being here with him. She loved him. She’d never do that.

Hanayama ignored the shouts of his men as he ran onto the cliff behind the Hanayama compound. His heart drummed in his ears from his scared he was. She was okay… she didn’t actually do it…

But the sandals at the edge of the cliff told Hanayama everything he needed to know.

Hanayama’s hands shook as he picked up the dainty, worn out sandals. Tears gathered in his eyes in realization.

(Your name) jumped off this cliff and it was all his fault…

Hanayama heard his men shout as they paused behind him in shock.

“Send out a search party to find my wife’s body.” Hanayama ordered his men who obeyed. They quickly left him to his own devices.

Hanayama held the sandals close to his chest as the tears began to fall. His wife… his poor wife.

This was all his fault.

(Your name) really loved her life in Hawaii. It was such a beautiful island and the people were so friendly!

(Your name) smiled as she laid in the sun to tan. She wondered if Hanayama was finally happy since she was out of his hair?

She shook her head to get rid of the thought. Why did she care if her neglectful husband was happy? It’s not like he ever cared about her happiness…

Hanayama never went on walks with her and he never ate a single meal with her. Hell, they never consummated their marriage. He went to bed with some other woman on their wedding night just to let her know how he felt about her.

Hanayama probably left for joy when he found that letter. He no longer had to deal with such an awful wife and he was free to do whatever his heart pleased so (your name) should do the same.

(Your name) went back to enjoying her drink. It was better to forget the old life she had, it’s not like Hanayama ever cared about her in the first place.

(Your name)’s funeral was practically empty save for Hanayama and Kizaki. It made Hanayama feel even worse that her own family didn’t even come.

Her body was never found either so her sandals would be buried. It made this whole ordeal even more depressing.

Hanayama had read her diary and was so distraught to find out just how much she cared for him. Of how she had originally really wanted their relationship to work since she didn’t have love at home. But she eventually just wanted to be friends if he didn’t want to ever touch her. To at least be civil with one another if he couldn’t love her.

(Your name) would write about how she had always wanted to go on a date or just a walk in his rose garden. Of how she just wanted to spend time with the husband that hated her. Of how she’d like to start gaze with him and listen to his troubles… he never deserved her.

Hanayama felt like the worse man in the world because she had ended her own life to make him happy. To leave him alone like he wanted her to… but he no longer wanted that.

“They always say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone…” Hanayama whispered as he placed a rose on (your name)’s casket. “I will never touch anyone else ever again. I will atone for my sin of neglecting you.”

Kizaki frowned at how distraught his boss was. (Your name) was a really sweet young woman but he didn’t think Hanayama would be so affected by her death. He’d give him time to move on, Kizaki was sure Hanayama would be back to normal in no time…

Hanayama now slept in (your name)’s old room. It was so cold in there but he felt closer to his wife… like she was here with him.

Hanayama would bury himself into her pillow and inhale her soft scent every night to help him sleep. He missed her so much… he missed his beautiful wife.

Hanayama often dreamt of her smiling at him when she used to bring him breakfast. Of how her face would light up whenever she’d ask about the rose garden… he swore he heard her voice from time to time. (Your name) haunted him.

Sometimes he’d dream that she was still here and she was pregnant with their first child. Vivid images conjured in his mind of her smiling face as the two of them had a picnic together in the rose garden she loved so much. Or maybe even the two of them visiting Hawaii together so she could swim with the dolphins?

Hanayama would never forgive himself for what he destroyed. For how he pushed his wife to do such a horrible thing. Hanayama would punish himself till the day he died for being the reason such a sunny person was snuffed out of existence.

“I miss you so much, (your name). I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

Hanayama apologized to her every night in her room, he just wanted her back… he wanted his wife back so he could make it all better to her.

If she reappeared before him, he’d be the perfect man for her. Hanayama would take her out on dates and have her sit beside him as he did paperwork. He’d sleep beside her and he’d make love to her every night.

Hanayama would be the ideal husband if she was alive. Yet that was all a dream he had… or so he thought.

Half a year had went by and Hanayama looked worse for wear. He had bags under his eyes and his face was a bit gaunt. Kizaki began to be worried sick about Hanayama.

“How about a vacation?” Kizaki offered Hanayama. “You could go to Hawaii?”

Hanayama felt his heart clench at the mention of that island. (Your name) had always wanted to visit there… she wrote about it in her diary.

Kizaki frowned at Hanayama until the large man rose up. “Yes… I think that’s will be nice.”

Hopefully Hanayama pulled himself together on that little trip.

Hanayama felt his heart stop when he arrived to the hotel in Hawaii. There she was… there was (your name)! But how was she alive? Was this some sick twist of fate?

“I can help whosever next-“ (your name) felt her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when he ex husband stood before her. What was he doing here-

She was suddenly pulled over the counter and into his large arms as he latched onto her like a lifeline. His face buried into her hair while his nose greedily inhaled her scent. She was real… she was alive!

(Your name) tried to pull away from him but Hanayama’s grip was inescapable. His whole body trembled in relief. “(Your name)… I’m so happy you’re alive. Let’s go home.”

“I think you’re mistaken-“ (your name) gasped when Hanayama suddenly kissed her. His large lips practically swallowed hers in a hungry kiss. Why was her ex husband so strange? He’s never cared about her before, hell, he’s never kissed her before. So why did he act like they were long lost lovers?

“Let’s go home. I’m going to make everything right this time. I think the boat is still at the dock so this must be destiny...” (Your name) could do little to change the Oyabun’s mind. The giant threw her over his shoulder like a savage as he carried her out of her job at the hotel.

“Hanayama, please let me down-“

“I read your diary every single day since you disappeared. I’m going to make it all right.” Hanayama quietly rambled. “I will live the rest of my life as your one and only husband. There will never be anyone else, if you want I’ll get rid of them.”

“That’s unnecessary-“

“It is necessary.” Hanayama interrupted her with a sigh. “I have to atone for my grave sin of negligence.”

Hanayama set her down on the boat before he gestured to the bewildered crew to take them back to Japan. The silence was so thick, a knife could cut through it.

A few moments went by, the sound of waves and the engine of the boat their only soundtrack until Hanayama’s deep voice spoke up.

“When we get home, we can walk together in the rose garden.” Hanayama engulfed her small hands in his large palms. “We can have another wedding and this time, we can consummate our marriage properly.”

Hanayama sighed dreamily when he brought her hands up to cup his cheeks. “I’ll spoil you this time around. I forgive you for your little runaway attempt but this time I’m never letting you go.”

(Your name) gulped as pure terror swallows her whole. This man was no longer her old husband, this was a man who had gone completely insane with guilt to the point he didn’t realize what reality was… this was a monster.

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cricket-reader · 11 months

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Mutual Agreement

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: whilst on a mission, you and Bucky get caught in the cold. Your body doesn’t handle the temperature well, being you’re not a supersoldier. Your state brings back memories of Bucky’s life before Hydra, making him fear for your health.

Warnings: language, hypothermia, crying, mentions of death, fluff

Word Count: 1,551

Prompt: Delirium | Hypothermia | Stabilisation

A/N: Day 4 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

Bucky never showed his emotions. He was a closed book, and he intended to keep it that way. But that all shattered to pieces one fateful mission.

You and Bucky had been assigned to take down an abandoned Hydra base in Russia. Bucky had wanted to go alone, but Steve insisted that he went with a partner. That partner just so happened to be you, the girl that Bucky admired from afar.

You were strong, intelligent, and beautiful. He admired you for that and all the good you had done. You were better than him in every single way.

Finding and destroying the base was an easy matter. It was abandoned, therefore, there were no surprise attacks. It was the perfect mission. No injuries, no deaths, and most importantly to Bucky, not even a hair on your head was harmed.

Things only went downhill from there.

The getaway vehicle you had parked in the forest refused to start again. It didn’t matter what Bucky did, the vehicle refused to start up. On top of that, it was freezing in the vehicle. Almost as cold as it was outside, without the wind, of course.

If your shivering was anything to go by, Bucky knew you both couldn’t stay there. On his GPS, the safe house wasn’t far away. The supersoldier could make it on foot no problem. He just wasn’t so sure about you.

Internally, his thoughts were running rampant. On the outside, he looked as calm and collected as usual.

“We shouldn’t stay here. Do you think you can walk to the safe house?”

You bit your lip. “Sure.”

Bucky didn’t trust the tone of your voice whatsoever, but he didn’t let it show. He had to get you to warmth before he lost you.

You both exited the useless vehicle, and trudged your way towards the cabin.

It didn’t take long for your hands to start shaking, and your steps to begin faltering. You had to stay strong, though. You couldn’t face the embarrassment of failure in front of a teammate that you swore hated your guts.

The feeling in your face as well as your feet had long since vanished. Your fingers hadn’t had feeling since you reached the vehicle. These were not good signs, but you resigned to deal with it since the cabin was coming into your view.

Bucky noticed you lagging behind before you did. His heart raced, wanting to pick you up and bolt to the cabin where he could get you warm. He knew, however, that you would not like that notion. You’d probably smite him if he dared lay a finger on you. You liked your space, hating when people invaded it. Because although you were kind, you too had boundaries. Physical touch just happened to be yours.

It wasn’t until you tripped and fell into the snow that he decided, “screw that” and picked you up from the ground. You were trembling so hard, as cold as ice and it fucking scared him.

You let out a small noise of protest as he gathered you in his arms and began to run to the cabin. You could do it yourself. You just needed a little rest, that’s all.

Bucky slammed the door to the cabin open and slammed it shut before running to set you on the ground. He took off your soaked jacket and boots. You gently pushed him away, not really able to put any force behind it. “I can do it myself,” you muttered indignantly.

Whilst Bucky usually loved your sense of independence, it only served to frustrate him. He pouted with his signature grumpy face, arms crossed and all. He watched you peel off your drenched socks. Your fingers were still trembling.

He just wanted to help. You turned to go to one of the rooms, hoping to find a new pair of pants that weren’t wet.

You overestimated your ability to walk. Tripping over nothing probably had to be the most embarrassing thing you had ever done in front of Barnes. He didn’t hesitate to catch you. In Bucky’s arms you wanted nothing more than to melt into a puddle of shame.

Bucky muttered something to himself as he carried you to the nearest room. He set you on the ottoman in front of the bed before going to ruffle through the closet. He found some clothes for you to wear.

He turned around to give them to you, so you could change yourself. When he saw you falling asleep, he dashed to your side. You couldn’t fall asleep on him now. “C’mon, wake up,” he muttered, not a trace of worry evident in either his tone or on his face. He was determined to keep calm in front of you. Freaking out would do no good.

You blearily opened your eyes. It was so cold. Why were you so cold? You were in the warmth now. You should be fine.

“I’m gonna change your clothes now, okay? Is that alright?” Bucky asked. He didn’t want to do anything without your consent, but if worse came to worse, he would have to. He just needed to stabilise you before things got any worse. You just groaned in response. Cursing under his breath, Bucky dutifully peeled off your pants and dressed you in the sweats he had found. He left your shirt on, since it wasn’t affected by the snow. He didn’t want to do anything more. Not without your consent.

In your state of delirium, you barely noticed that he had picked you up and carried you to bed. You barely noticed the way he took care to wrap you in multiple blankets.

When you woke up, you were incredibly warm. You were also practically trapped in a cocoon of blankets. Groaning, you unwrapped yourself from the layers upon layers of blankets.

You tiptoed your way into the hallway. Looking around, you didn’t see Barnes anywhere.

You furrowed your brows when you heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom down the hall.

You creeped to the door and pressed your ear against it. You could hear ragged breaths and choked sobs coming from behind the door. It had to be Bucky. No one else would be out here. However, you’d never seen him cry. He always was so strong given what he’d been through. He was resilient. So what could have prompted his tears? Did he have a nightmare? You knew from Steve that he was struggling with them. Your hand hesitated at the door handle. How you longed to go in there and comfort him, to wrap him in your arms and tell him he was safe now. But you knew he was a private person. He hated it when people saw him vulnerable, and you didn’t blame him.

All it took to break your hesitance was a sob.

Bucky had a hard time keeping everything in. He didn’t mean to let it out, but god he couldn’t help it. Seeing you look so pale and weak, your ice cold skin and shivering body… it reminded him of Steve. Little Steve back when they were kids. He thought Steve was going to die that cold January night. Bucky had stayed with him the whole night, praying to anyone that would listen to not take away his best friend.

It was like history was repeating itself and just the thought of you dying tore him to shreds. Now, Bucky didn’t believe in any god, not after all he went through with Hydra, but you bet your ass he had prayed. He didn’t get too far before his emotions caught up with him, hitting him head on like a bus.

That led him to the moment where you burst through the door. Your concerned features swept Bucky’s distraught figure. He was in the corner of the room, curled up into a ball. He didn’t even notice you, too busy trying to get air into his lungs.

Your heart tore at the sight of him so broken. You gently moved up beside him and kneeled just a few feet away. “Bucky?”

His red, watery eyes looked up at you like you were a ghost. Those eyes widened as he scrambled to make himself look like less of a mess. He sniffled back his tears and ran his hands over his eyes. Red creeped onto the tips of his ears and the back of his neck, completely ashamed you were seeing him like this.

His body froze when you wordlessly wrapped your arms around his body. He wanted to cry all over again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him as if he were something precious. It took him a few seconds before he returned the gesture, hesitant to touch you. He could hurt you… or what if this was all just a figment of his imagination. Bucky didn’t want your tender hold to disappear.

You both stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for the rest of the night. Not a word needed to be said between you both. In your silence was a mutual agreement. An agreement that no one had to know about Bucky’s meltdown. An agreement that you wouldn’t ask questions. An agreement that this is what both of you needed. Some comfort.

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billthedrake · 3 months

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Note: This is a hypnosis story co-written with @josmith1718

THE PROTOCOL (CHAPTER TWO)

The next day, Dad and I had a lazy Saturday. I usually woke up early, but I slept like a log especially after dad's insatiable appetite after being under. I woke up and saw I was in bed alone. I stretched and made my way downstairs. I was wearing only boxer briefs when I came to the kitchen and saw dad making a whole breakfast spread, "Morning, bud. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Morning dad, what time did you wake up?"

"I've been up for a while. Woke up so refreshed." He smiled and gave me a kiss before asking me again, "Drink?"

"Uh, I'll have some orange juice."

"Okay bud, sit down, I'll get it for you."

Dad was very happy this morning. He was wearing an old baseball tee and shorts that were being eaten by his ass. I was spent from last night but seeing the sex god in this kitchen making me breakfast was giving me a second wind.

"Here you go son. What do you say we have a nice cookout today? Weather should be good; we can put some steaks on the grill and have some beers."

"Sure dad, but you are in the sun all day, I thought you would want to spend some time in the A/C."

"Well, we could do something else if you want." He smirked as he saw my hardon.

I reached down and tugged at my loose shorts, playfully showing off my endowment to Dad, but also pinching the base a little bit to tame the beast.

"It'll probably be better if I wait." I said.

"Waiting isn't your strong suit, buddy," Dad smirked.

"Nah it isn't," I admitted. I was about to ask whose fault that was but I reflected at how great my father was. I was the luckiest guy in the world. "So... cookout?" I asked. I knew if we stayed in that kitchen, I'd be initiating sex. And last Saturday we didn't leave the house till after noon...

Dad went to get dressed to run his errands to the grocery store. I offered to hit the hardware store for charcoal and some other stuff we needed. Surprisingly, bagged ice is cheaper there, too, so Dad asked me to get a bag or two so we could set up the cooler for the beer.

I was in and out of the big box store pretty quick. I don't know if it was the hypnosis, but I was in a weird mood that morning. Almost giddy with excitement of seeing if Dad was gonna put out for me later, really put out. Maybe I had some misgivings, too. I mean, Dad had brought up the hypnosis route and found the Company, but maybe I was too excited by the idea of reprogramming my loving father.

As I tossed the stuff in the back seat and as I started the car, I wondered about maybe my approach with fucking Dad was wrong. Maybe it wasn't just mental. Hypnosis was one thing, but he would need to get used to having something in his hole.

I took a little detour home, to where one of the adult sex stores was. Hopefully the ice wouldn't melt too much. I'd only been to this store a couple of times, the first time when I turned 18 and a buddy dared me to go as some sort of stupid high school ritual. The other was soon after that, when I heard a rumor you could get a no-strings blowjob in one of the booths. I went in, but chickened out.

Now, I went in and made a beeline for the vibrators and butt plugs. I was not a small fry and Dad would need some practice, even if he was under when I used the toys on him.

I found a beginner sized dildo and picked up an enema bag. I looked for a smaller sized butt plug. Even the smallest looked like it might be a challenge for a newbie at bottoming, but I picked it up too. With a naughty thought I eyed one of the bigger plugs. It would take a hell of a lot of hypnosis to get my tight virgin father to fit that inside him. But the idea turned me on like mad so I bought it too.

I made my purchases and headed back home. Dad was already putting away the groceries in the kitchen, as I went upstairs with my toys and hid them until I needed them.

I'd barely stashed them in the back of my sweaters in the closet when Dad walked into our bedroom. "I'm gonna hit the gym, Kyle," he said, peeling off that baseball shirt. God, here comes my hardon again. But Dad seemed oblivious to that as he went to root through his drawer for his workout gear. "I'll fire up the grill when I get back, OK?"

"Yeah, Dad," I said.

He grabbed his stuff and then paused to look at me. Maybe he wasn't so oblivious to my excitement after all. With a grin he sauntered over and stepped up to me, leaning forward to kiss me gently. It was hot, a lot of soft tongue as Dad and I made out in our bedroom.

His free hand was on my flank, feeling up my muscle beneath my T-shirt. "Nice, son," he grinned. "I can tell you've been hitting the gym too, buddy," he smirked. I worked out during my lunch hour at a corporate gym near my office. I usually enjoyed taking Saturday off.

"Gotta keep up with my old man," I smirked back. I reached down to undo my shorts, but Dad stopped me.

"Save it, buddy... it'll be worth your while, I promise." With that, dad pulled my shorts up and gave me a parting kiss, “Try to keep your hand away from that dick.” He said as he left the room. I did not know it was possible but I was even harder at that comment.

***

The food smelled great as dad sat next to me to let the meat cook on the grill. He had continued to wear the same workout clothes except for the sweaty shirt. He was showing off a good pump, I'd say, his perky nipples saluted me and his calves looked exceptionally delectable. If I was not so hungry, I probably would have tackled him as soon as he walked through the door.

"So how do you feel about the hypnosis, son?" Dad asked as he took a sip of his beer and sat next to me.

"I was hesitant at first but if it makes you happy, Dad, I'm game but, how about you? Did you feel different when you were under?" I asked. I kept putting the old man under and never even thought of asking if it was enjoyable.

"Not just me, son. Remember what you told me, if we're both not into it, we don't have to do it." He held his gaze on mine, "But I will be honest, if it'll help us... me... I want it."

I nodded and smiled at him. He reached and patted my thigh before answering the second half of my question.

"And to answer your question, I didn't feel anything. It felt like I fell asleep and when I ‘woke up' I felt refreshed. I hope it can help me to be able to give you what you want but if not, it's helping me to feel relaxed at least."

"Did you remember what you did when the man from the Company put you under?"

"No. We were talking and then he was telling me we were done. Whatever I did, I don't think it was embarrassing but I did feel good afterwards."

We ate, we tanned, and we had some more beers. It was a nice relaxed way to spend the weekend. Dad worked hard and in my own white collar way, I worked hard too. It was nice to lie in the backyard and think about nothing.

I had my eyes closed and tried to keep everything out of my mind. I just heard the sizzling of the grill, dad whistling, the light chirping of the birds. Suddenly, I began to think about the hypnosis and started throwing wood. It was a hot idea, having my dad do anything I wanted, bend over, and let me rim him or ask me to fuck him as matter-of-factly as he did when providing me with his oral services. I was maybe hoping it was a one session kind of deal and then Dad would be lifting his legs for me. Yet, he'd put off sex, even more than normal. I wondered if he needed more reinforcement or if I needed to expedite the process.

The more I thought about it, the more I decided I'd put him under again and take dad back to the white hallway. As soon as we went inside, I was determined I'd be putting him under again. I wanted to get in his ass but didn't want to do it prematurely. As I went through the motions of helping him clean and put away things, I was formulating a script in my mind of what I was going to say and do. I had to think of the Protocol the Company provided, and how reinforcement could help tap into Dad's inner psyche.

"That was great." Dad said as we were putting away the last of the leftovers in containers. I admired his hairy frame now that he had gotten a tan on his chest and back. A shame he didn't go shirtless at work, I'm sure he'd get more contracts showing his body off and he'd had an overall tan.

"You are the grill master, dad."

"You flatter me buddy." Dad rubbed my shoulder, as he stepped by me. I watched him walk down the hall, and even as he was out of my sight, the sound of the door closing suggested to me he was taking a piss.

It seemed the perfect chance to catch him unaware. That approach seemed to work the first time and if he was easily put under then, it should be no issue now. I put the food away as quickly as I could and then I walked down the hall to wait outside the bathroom for him to come out. I heard the flushing of the toilet followed by the start of dad washing his hands and whistling as he cleaned up.

"Hey buddy... you gotta go...?" Dad began as he opened the door but at the sound of me saying “power down” he stopped mid-sentence. He went from animated to emotionless in one swoop. His face was drained of emotion, his arms fell to his sides, and he looked past me, as though there was a point behind me, he needed to concentrate on.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Relaxed..." Was dad's monotone response.

"Remember what I told you about Kyle?"

Dad nodded and said "Yes..."

"Repeat to me what you learned about Kyle and what you need to do."

"Kyle does the fucking, to show him I love him, I have to let go and give him what he wants..." He responded. Once again, I smiled, "What does he want?"

"To fuck me." Dad responded, determined. As he finished his thought, I saw how he began to breathe a bit faster, and his cock began to swell up. The shorts he was wearing were flimsy and nothing hid what was happening down there.

"That's right. When this finally happens, you will give him happiness and he, in turn, will bring you pleasure. Your son will be happy, and you want to make your son happy right?"

"That's all I want, my boy to be happy." He was more determined with his response.

"Extend your hands and hold on to me, we are going back to the door in the white hallway." He extended his hands and I reached with mine. I held on, feeling the dampness on his skin.

"Walk with me as I count to five. Once I reach five, we'll be at the door."

"One... we're walking down the corridor," I slowly walked us to the bedroom where I had stashed the toys I would be needing, "Two... you are feeling relaxed and calm knowing your son will never cause you pain or hurt you," I passed a couple of framed pictures of us at a camping trip and from both of my graduations, "Three... you are closer to the door, remembering what you saw there, getting you excited..." At the threshold of the bedroom, I said, "Four... the door is at arm's reach, you want to open the door, right?"

"Yes, I want to open the door." Dad responded a bit breathlessly.

"Good... five, reach for the doorknob and open the door. What do you see?" I let go of his hand momentarily and saw him reach to the imaginary door to open it.

"I'm in bed with my boy... He is on top of me, getting ready to fuck me... My son looks happy..." Dad began to smile warmly as he saw the scene.

"He is very happy, but you can't bottom for him yet, why?" I caressed his hand.

"Men don't get fucked." Again, determined. I knew we would need to work on this now if we were going to get anywhere.

"Look at yourself, Brian. You are a man. Look at your muscles, your hairy torso, strong legs, are you not a man?"

"Yes, I'm a man."

"Keep looking at the scene in front of you, is your son inside you, fucking you, making you feel good?"

"God... yes, he is fucking me, making me feel pleasure." He tightened his grip on my hand and his breathing increased. He wanted to be able to give his boy this, the pleasure that he would experience was secondary at this point. All he wanted was to be a good daddy and take care of his boy's needs. He wanted what he saw.

"And as he is doing this... are you changing at all?" I asked, looking at dad's face to see if there was any resistance to what I was inferring.

Dad looked confused at this. I continued to caress his hand and pushed on, "Did you become less of a man?"

Again, confusion, his brow creased as he thought of it. I answered for him, "No you didn't. Look, Kyle is still fucking you, bringing you pleasure. He is fucking a man, not a woman. Say it, Kyle fucks men."

"Kyle fucks men..."

"Again, with conviction."

"Kyle fucks men." I moved his hand to my cock, and I moved my free hand to his, "Hold Kyle's cock and ask him who he fucks."

Dad looked at me as though trying to look through a fog and asked, "Who do you fuck?", his hand lightly gripping my cock like he did when he was ready to give me a handjob. I fished out his cock and began to match his grip and stroking motions as I answered.

"I fuck men, dad, not women, just men. Hairy, muscular, masculine men. Men that work construction, that have a tan from being in the sun working hard, muscles from moving heavy things all day." I said this as I stroked him.

"God, son..." he whispered to himself.

"Brian, who is getting fucked on the bed?" I asked, getting a thrill calling him by his name.

"I am..."

"Are you a man?"

"Yes..."

"So, say it, I'm a man that gets fucked."

Dad's voice was direct and unwavering. A pure expression of his unconscious. "Men don't get fucked."

Jesus Christ. Back to square one.

I let go of his dick and thought for a second. What would the Protocol suggest? I don't even remember where the idea came from, but I remembered something about triangulation. Shifting the focus. "Brian.... Listen carefully to my voice.”

Dad looked at me with unwavering concentration.

"You are past the white door now... where only my voice matters."

"Your voice."

I felt his grip on my cock get tighter, now playing with it, then stroking it. Fuck, this felt good.

"When you are awake, Brian, and you worry about not being a man, you can listen to my voice and it'll relax you, helping you let go for your son."

I spread my legs and let Dad openly stroke me. The more I talked the more eagerly he tugged at my dick. "You know what that voice will be telling you?"

He shook his head no. Like an eager student studying for a test. Aww God, his hand felt amazing. This man, even under, only had one mission and it was to bring me pleasure. I had to bite my lip and take a deep breath before I continued because I didn't want to shoot yet, I needed to see this through.

"That voice will be telling you that anytime you don't feel like a man, to think instead about Kyle. Your son—" God, Dad's hand was driving me crazy. I wasn't normally a hand job guy, but this head fuck was messing with mine in its own way. "—and how manly he is." I finished my train of thought in a raspy voice.

"Yes, Kyle is a man." Dad responded determined, proud even. The same way he would when bragging to his buddies about me for something.

"Good," I said. "And because Kyle is a man, you do not have to worry about yourself. Just listen to that voice...Dad." My breath was getting shorter. I reached out and began stroking Dad's cock as he did mine.

"What does that voice say, Dad?" I stopped calling him by his name and reverted back to ‘Dad.' I wanted him badly and calling him Brian, while naughty at first, was not as personable as ‘Dad.' The man raised me, taught me so much. Now it was my turn to return the favor, as it were, and teach him new things. Things that would bring him pleasure.

"That voice is saying Kyle is a man." He was sweating a bit, his nipples were perky and his cock throbbed in my hand.

"What do men do?"

"Men fuck.”

"What is going to help you be able to be your son's bottom daddy?” I was stroking dad hard, and he was too, we were both lost in the moment. I don't even know when it was the last time, I called dad ‘daddy' but I had just said it and if I was not in the edge of shooting, I was when dad responded.

"Listen to the voice... allow Kyle to make me his bottom daddy." The combination of seeing dad zonked out, his words and his hand on my cock, I shot my load, some of it landing on his hand and floor. Dad, in turn, shot all over my hand. Like father like son, both shooting our loads at the idea that I needed to fuck him, and he was going to allow me to.

We were both breathing hard and as we both caught our breath, I looked at dad and with some clarity instructed him to close the door. Dad used his free hand and simulated closing the imaginary door. I continued, "You are a man that gets fucked, keep that in mind. You still can't bottom for Kyle, but you want to, desperately. You want to get pleasure, you want to make Kyle happy, but you need to prepare for it. You will ask Kyle to help you. It'll be scary but put your trust in your son, he loves you, he is here for you, he is going to make sure everything you do for him, is returned with pleasure tenfold."

"I trust my son." No hesitation at all. That made me really happy that dad have trust in me.

"And he trusts you. He loves you very much." I kissed his cheek and felt the stubble, it was the weekend he hadn't shaved since Friday.

Dad smiled and continued to stroke my spent cock, bringing it back to life, "Once you come out of this state of relaxation, at some point tonight you will ask your son to help you. You will ask him what you need to do, what can you do to get ready. You will only feel pleasure once it happens. This pleasure will make you feel comfortable getting played with and fucked by your son, Kyle. Understood?"

"Yes... I want that... I want Kyle to play with me..."

"He wants to play with you too. Now, you are going to wake up when I count to three. When you wake, you will not realize you were under but will retain all instructions and suggestions. You will also not find it weird that we are here covered in cum. You will find it hot and want to shower off the remnants of it before we head downstairs, and watch T.V. Understood?"

"I understand."

"Good, let's wake up. One... Two... Three..."

Life came back to dad's eyes, and he smiled when he saw the mess we had made, "Shame I didn't get that load in my mouth but can't cry over spilled milk, right buddy?"

I smiled and he closed the gap and gave me a kiss, "Let's hit the showers, son." I nodded and followed him as he dragged me to the bathroom without letting go of my cock.

We showered, made out under the running water, and then saw a bit of T.V. before we called it a night. As we were getting ready for bed, dad looked at me intently, "I love you so much, buddy."

"I love you too dad." I smiled and threw a pillow at him. He caught it and then stroked it a bit, almost as if he was arming himself with courage.

"I really want to give you everything I can, son. I'm a man and I shouldn't be scared to ask for help so here it is.” He took a deep breath, “Help me."

"Dad, anything you need, you know I'm here for you." I responded. I sat on the edge of the bed and dad came to my side and sat next to me.

"I want to be your bottom and I need to know how to do that. I don't know if hypnosis will help but in case it does, I need to prepare myself... but I don't know what I should even do first." He sounded determined but innocent all at once. I bit my lip as he said that, damn, I was once again throwing wood.

I moved a bit, trying to hide what was growing between my legs and at first, I was not sure if dad noticed but he definitely did when he got up and used my name, "Come on Kyle, I need your help. Tell me what I need to do to prep for when I finally give it up." He sounded annoyed that I would choose his vulnerable moment to be a horndog.

"Sorry dad...” I grabbed a pillow and put it over my crotch, “You need to clean yourself out and then practice. It's not much to it. Here..." I got up, covering my crotch making dad more annoyed.

“Take the pillow off, I already know you're horny,” he growled softly.

I blushed and nodded and went to get the toys. I pretended to take a while to look for them as though they were there for a long time and brought out the enema bag, "Here you go dad, this is an enema bag, you use this to clean yourself out."

"So...I fill this with water and then..." He mimed it not wanting to say it, blushing as I nodded my head.

"I can help you if that would—"

"I'll do it alone buddy. We may shower together but I draw the line with you watching me shit out poop water."

"Alright, I'll be here dad. Take your time, it's not a race."

"How long do I do it for?" He asked as he walked towards the bathroom.

"Until the water you push out is clear."

Dad was gone for a while. My cock deflated as soon as he left. Dad's mere presence had that effect on me. He could be standing perfectly still and I'd want to jump his bones. As he cleaned himself, I ended up working on emails and getting them scheduled to be sent out Monday morning. I even folded some laundry as he stayed in the bathroom. I didn't hear much other than the occasional flushing. After a little over half an hour, I heard the toilet flush again and dad come back to the room as I was putting away some clothes.

"If we were to do the deed, I'd have to do that every time?" He was red and sweating. God only knows what he did in that bathroom, but I didn't think it would take that long.

"We can get a bidet and a proper douche, you know, to be cleaner down there." I smiled at dad.

"Fuck, buddy... I have never been in the bathroom this long ever but honestly, I never felt so clean." I couldn't deny my need to be with dad. I grabbed the folded clothes still on the bed and put them on the chair in the corner of the room and ran towards dad. He held me and we began to make out. He held me tight, his shirtless frame on my clothed one. He pulled the shirt off and I began to play with his hairy chest.

As the kisses became more needy, my hands began traveling slowly down towards his ass, something he would not let me do before. The man had his hangups and one of those things was not getting near his hole. I kissed, sucked, touched, caressed and loved every part of my dad's body but his ass... that was something I wanted to explore at length but never could.

"Son..." He began as my hand caressed his ass.

"Dad please, I won't go in, I just want to touch it." I said, going back to kissing him deeply. Dad moaned into my mouth and let me explore. Fuck, that furry ass was making me bone something bad. Dad slowly lowered my shorts and began to play with my cock, "Fat executive cock..." he hissed.

We were both enthralled by what we loved on each other's bodies. I scooted up in bed and let Dad suck my dick some. I had to urge him to go slow at times and finally pulled him off. I didn't want to cum in his mouth, though I could read Dad's desire to get off that way. He loved having my dick in his mouth and loved swallowing my cum.

I got back down so we were face to face, naked in bed together. But as I got on top of him, almost a classic missionary position, I felt Dad's body jerk and shiver beneath mine. Like he got a cold spell.

"You OK, Dad?" I asked.

He nodded, gulping. "Yeah, son... it's just... fuck!"

He got another shiver. I realized it was the hypnotic suggestion, giving him that excitement when I was on top of him. I humped his cock and we made out. Dad was moaning into my mouth and clutching at my back and then my arms. Pulling me in, wanting nothing more than my weight on top of his.

"You're such a fucking stud, son," he whispered as we finally broke that kiss and looked into each other's eyes. Dad was vulnerable and yet totally alive. Turned on. Fuck, this was gonna happen. Maybe I wouldn't even need the toys.

I kissed my way down, feeling my father shiver as I enjoyed the feel of his fur and his aged brawn. I went further, pushing Dad's legs back. That didn't get resistance but almost immediately his hand was on my head, stopping me.

"Can't son," he said. Not apologetic. Like, freaked out just from the fact I was gonna rim him.

Goddamnit.

"Power down," I said.

Dad's body relaxed, almost to the point of going limp. I even had to hold his legs in place, splayed back. I could see his squeaky clean pucker. Maybe this wasn't the Protocol, but I wasn't gonna waste a clean dad hole like this. Not after dreaming about it all day.

"When you were awake, how did you feel Brian?"

"Horny... then nervous."

"I understand... but, I'm going to share a secret with you that'll make the nerves fade away. You want that, right? You can speak freely”

“Yes, I don't want to be nervous for my boy.” I smiled. It must be hard for him. A man that has lived so long with this notion and wanting to get rid of it, knowing that it'll be a pleasure for him and his lover but unable to.

“Can you keep a secret?" I whispered, looking up from his hole. Damn, I wish I didn't have to do this right now. I was ready to rock his world. Nevertheless, I persisted.

"Yes." His voice was quiet, obedient, determined.

Damn, I was rock hard. This whole thing with dad recharged me in a way that I was ready to shoot again if dad helped me out. "You are a special man, Brian. Some men only have one pleasure spot. Their cocks. You have four."

"Four?" he said, a bit surprised with a hint of confusion.

"Yes, four. You've already found two. Your cock, and the back of your throat." I reached and caressed his cock a bit.

Dad's dick surged hard again when he felt my hand and my voice, the words and their meanings sinking in.

"You like when Kyle tickles the spot in your throat, don't you Brian?"

"I do," Dad answered.

"It's pure pleasure for you."

"Yes," he said.

I ran my fingers along his leg hair as I scooted in. Dropping my voice to an even more suggestive register, I continued, "You have a spot like that deep inside you, Brian. Deep in your ass."

His face grew questioning, but he nodded.

"So deep only your son can reach it. Kyle is the only man who has the key to unlock that spot for you."

"Kyle is a man." No hesitation.

Fuck, my cock just spurted some pre on to dad's furry belly.

"You know why he has that key?"

"Because Kyle loves me." His smile grew with his response. I loved this man.

"Yes, Kyle loves you and he wants you to feel that intense pleasure deep inside you."

"I am a lucky father."

"You are a lucky man, Brian. Because you have one more pleasure spot. Your asshole craves stimulation."

"Stimulation."

"You want Kyle to make that spot feel good, too."

"Yes."

We'd see if this works.

"Ok Brian, continue to listen to my voice. I am going to count to three. You will not realize you were under, but you will continue to follow all suggestions and instructions while you were in this state. Once you wake, you'll feel alive and happy and allow your boy do what he wants, you trust him. You want this. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Let's wake up, handsome. One... two... three...”

Dad's body tensed beneath mine and he let out a breath. It took him a half second to refocus, but he smirked at me.

"You're hard as a rock, buddy," Without missing a beat he responded as though he hadn't been under.

I nodded. "You get me that way, Dad." I attacked his chest again with my lips then started the process of kissing lower. We'd see if this worked. I slowly got to his cock, kissing it before I went lower.

Dad was hesitant, I could feel his body stiffen but then I pulled his legs back again and he let me.

I saw my prize, that beautiful daddy hole winking at me, inviting me to love it. God, I wanted that more than anything, to show how good my tongue could feel in there... before something bigger went in.

"Son please..." He whispered. He knew it was going to happen and was nervous.

"I'm here dad, please trust me, let me make you feel good just like you make me feel good."

"I trust you son... I trust you completely." He bit his lip before reaching for his legs and raising them on his own.

"Aww fuck, dad..." I said and before he changed his mind, I dove into his ass and began to kiss it. I was in heaven, after so many years, I was rimming him, and it was amazing.

"My fucking God!" Dad cried. Unprepared for the sensations, he let out a moan and spread his legs wider. "Kyle! Buddy!"

"Yeah? Like your son eating this ass?" I asked as I pulled back to look up his furry beef and into his handsome face.

"I think so..." He opened his eyes, then watched as I dipped back in again to lick his entrance. "Yeah... that's it.... I love it, son. Keep going, eat your dad's ass, buddy."

"Thank you, dad, thank you," I muttered into his hole. I responded enthusiastically and began to really eat him out. Dad was moaning, his nipples were hard, his cock throbbing. The man had denied himself this feeling for too long, and I was happy and lucky to be the one giving him this pleasure.

"Eat me out, son, God your tongue is slithering in there." He was now bucking his hole against my face, almost riding my mouth. I still didn't know how much of this was the hypnotic suggestion or his body naturally feeling good from my hitting his spot but either way, I was not going to question it. Right now, I was going to enjoy myself and really give dad the full experience.

I moaned and nodded, really pushing my tongue into that nice, clean hole, wiggling it around before retreating to tease the pucker.

"My executive stud," Dad grunted, "Showing his dad how good it is to have him playing with his ass."

‘His ass,' fuck that made me double my efforts before I reached for his cock and began to play with it.

"Yeah buddy, play with it, that ass is yours, all yours stud. Fuck, you got me so hard, son." Goddamn, my father was contracting his abs and thrusting that vulnerable cherry hole up against my munching mouth. This was out of control in the best way.

Thank you, Tech Bro, I was getting everything I ever wanted. Never would Dad have let me do this before, and now he was encouraging me to play with his amazing dad hole. This guy at the Company knew what he was doing, and Dad and I were proof of it. I would recommend the service to however many people I could and leave a great Google review.

My man was now a moaning mess, sweating profusely, his nipples hard, his cock dripping precum, I wanted to concentrate on his pleasure and not mine. My cock would explode in my shorts for all I care if it meant that dad would love this enough to let me play in there whenever I wanted.

I pushed my tongue deeper in there as I felt his hole begin to open and suck on my tongue.

"I'm on the edge, buddy... ready to cum for my executive stud... shoot for my boy..." That was hot, I got off his ass and crawled until I was on top of him, "I love you dad, so damn much."

"I want to shoot my load for you, I want to give you my load, buddy."

"Shoot for your son, dad, shoot for your man." I kissed him again. He didn't object to tasting my lips fresh from his ass. I slipped Dad some tongue before pulling back. I wanted to rim him more.

Going back to his ass, I doubled my efforts, just as my hand gripped his cock as I began to stroke him.

"Give me that load, dad, shoot for your stud, show him what a good dad you are."

"Fuck son, fuck, fuck, eat me out.... You're working my spot, son," Dad grunted.

I nodded and increased the speed of my strokes. A combination of my tongue work and my hand on his cock, Dad moaned and then I felt his cock expand and shoot his load. I continued to stroke until I felt dad's hand on mine.

"Fuck, son...fuck..." He was shaking. I kissed his ass one last time before I let him lower his legs. Scooting up, I lay next to him, my cock hard as steel. We were both catching our breath. Dad had his arm over his eyes, like he was recovering from a marathon.

"Fuck..."

"How do you feel dad?" I asked as I laid my hand on his chest. His hairy chest was damp from the sweat, and I could feel his heart beating hard.

"Damn..." He responded before he laughed, "That was... amazing. So intense, I never... All I can say is.... fuck..."

I smiled and grabbed his head. He lifted his arm and looked at me, "Was it everything you hoped for?" He asked in a sultry voice.

"And more, dad, c'mere." He smiled and we kissed. We stayed kissing until he realized I had not shot, "You didn't cum?" He asked concerned.

"This was about your pleasure dad." I responded honestly.

"I'm such a lucky bastard. Let's get in the shower, son, I'll take care of you there."

***

Before bed, I pulled out the dildo I'd purchased.

"What's this?" He asked, chuckling, nervous as he saw me bring the thing out of the packaging.

"You washed yourself, now, we need to train your ass to get used to having something up there."

I was undeterred and I looked at him before saying, "Trust me, dad."

He bit his lip and nodded, "How do you want me?"

It was difficult but after rimming him again, to calm his nerves though it was more for me, I lubed him up and ran the dildo along his ass lips.

"Oh!" he grunted. I grinned and gave him a determined look as I ran the toy over his sensitive spot. The more I ran it over his ring, the more he seemed into it, and I watched him get a boner again. I took the cue to push it in. It wasn't too big, but it was enough.

"Easy son, I'm cherry back there." He urged, reaching down to grip my forearm. Dad has a strong grip.

I nodded and concentrated on just the inner part of his sphincter, eventually working an inch in and out, giving my old man time to get used to it. All in all, we both worked to get this next step completed. A compromise between my desire to see Dad penetrated and his desire to focus on the pleasures in his anus itself. We would both get a good night's sleep after our efforts this evening.

I was getting hard, and I stroked my cock in one hand while I used the other to diddle his hole.

Dad let out a grunt and another inch of that fake cock slid inside him. The suddenness tripped my wires.

"Fuck!" I gasped as a load shot out. Since Dad had sucked me off an hour before, it wasn't the heaviest cum, but it was bigger than I expected.

I thanked him with a kiss and pulled out the dildo, laying it on the nightstand.

"That was incredible, Dad," I muttered as he pulled my body to his, “I'm glad bud... and it was good for me too.” We fell asleep soon after, dad holding me in his arms.

#drakestories

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lodisama · 1 year

Text

AEROKINESIS (x.t)

jealous, frustrated xavier x f!reader

summary: reader is in weathervane, and comes across tyler and they have a conversation. making xavier jealous of how close you two are, it ends to something you never expected tw: tyl*r g*lpin

I breathe heavily, out of breath from my bike ride. I wasn’t in a hurry or anything. I just wanted to get to Weathervane before it rains. And it was starting to get gloomy. I don’t mind the rain, in fact I love it.

I practically escaped as soon as Nevermore’s school hours were done— And I might’ve left my friend alone, confused as to where I am now.

I park my bike next to the cafe’s glass window, making sure it doesn’t fall. I make my way to the glass door, the cold air hitting me. Immediately greeted by the usual barista, Tyler. “Good afternoo… Oh a Nevermore. Hi,” His voice falters when he lifts his face to see me. I don’t respond, given his reaction, instead i just went to a seat, at the very back, next to the window. I was the only one anyway.

I place a book on my table, clearly about to read it. I open it to the page I’m currently on. And that’s all I did, for the next five minutes, I consumed my brain with a book. Till I heard footsteps coming my way, I didn’t turn to it, I just waited for what he would say. “Is that Silvia Plath’s book?” The barista starts off.

“It’s clearly on the cover.” I say, obviously uninterested.

He hums, shifting. “Uh.. What can I get for you then?” He holds a pen and a tiny paper. I finally look up at him, seeing his brown curly locks and skinny body. I don’t think much of it. He did sound rude when he saw me come in. “Ice matcha, and a Banoffee pie. Put the pie on take out.” I listed. He nods writing everything down. “Alright, I’ll be with you in a sec.” He walks away to the kitchen door.

A few minutes later he came back with my order, an iced matcha on his hand, and a paper bag on the other. “Here you go, iced matcha, and your Banofee pie.” He smiles, placing the paper bag on my table. “Thank you.” I responded. I took the iced matcha and started mixing it. He just stayed there silently, looking like he wanted to say something to me. “I’m sorry for, uh—Sounding rude earlier, when you came in.” He points his thumb at the entrance door, stuttering through his words. I smile, finding it funny that he thinks it was a big deal. "Calm down, it's not a big deal." "Oh." Silence once again.

I love silences, if it were bad situations that is. Silence in conversations make me utterly uncomfortable. "Mind if i sit? My shift ends in 5 minutes." I stiffen at his debrief. I gulp, and nod. He smiles at this and he unties his apron. I gaze his actions, feeling somewhat uneasy and awkward. He folded it, and placed it on the table, sitting in front of me afterwards. I had both of my hands clasped under the table, waiting for anything to happen. He made himself comfortable, "So what kind of outcast are you?" He starts off again. "A wolf? Vampire, witch, telekinesis? What?" The curly haired, softly laughed. "Aerokinesis." I bluntly said. He stairs in confusion, waiting for me to explain.

"Never heard of that before," No shit. "I can manipulate wind. I can literally take your breath away." I laugh at my own joke. He did the same. It quickly stopped when my phone rang. Shit I whispered. I immediately grabbed my phone from my uniform pocket, the name caller displayed ‘xavier’. I answered immediately, not minding Tylers awkward stare. “Y/n, where the hell are you?” I was greeted by his furious tone. “Hello to you too Xavier,” I bite my lip, hoping he wasn’t mad, though I can already tell the pot’s boiling aggressively. "I've been looking everywhere for you, don't tell me you're by the lake again." The man sighs. " I'm at weathervane," My calm tone reassures him from his accusations of being by the lake. He wasn't really fond of the lake, due to being traumatized by the many unknown failures in the Poe Cup. He dropped the call when I had said where I was, common thing he does for no reason, though I don't find it rude. It was always one of his traits. I set my phone on the table, now looking at Tyler. His perplexed face made it hard for me to compose my laugh, I clear my throat. The rain started pouring loudly, the town looking dull and grey now.

"Want me to drive you to your creepy school? Looks like the rain's really gonna take its time." He bidded, his emerald eyes glistening with hope.

"Hmm.. I'd rather get wet in the rain, rather than be with a normie. Sorry." I shrugged, truly not sorry. This made him emmitt a chuckle. "Seriously? It's not like I'm the one whose a threat to people with her bizarre "super power". " He joked, causing me to smile. I shake my head "Good one, but I'm powerful as I am." I take a sip of my iced matcha, I accidentally turned my eyes at Tyler, for a good long while. He shakes his head, smiling like an idiot. "You weren't wrong when you said you take peoples breath away. No pun intended."

I huff out a laugh, not entertaining his statement. “I’ve heard that one too often” He shakes his head, looking down at his hands. “Hey, there’s a dance this weakened, do you maybe wanna—“ “She has a date.” I turn my head to Xavier’s tall figure. “Xavier,” I stood up, looking at his figure from head to toe. “You’re soaking wet.” His hair drenched, clothes all drowning in water. “Oh… Uh, my apologies, didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Friend.” I corrected.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go, Y/n.” His voice in a low and serious tone. I mumble a quiet Okay in embarrassment, knowing Tyler was watching all of this happen. I grab my things, including the paper bag with the Banofee pie inside. It was for him.

I take a hold of his hands, letting him drag me wherever he wants. He dragged me outside the cafe, with Tyler all alone to fend off his thoughts. He lead me to my bike, which was next to his, and I didn’t even notice it, or his presence. The rain just kept getting louder, the bike was no use.

Xavier was silent the whole time, though his demeanor was loud enough to speak for him. He noticed I was miserably staring at my bike, not sure what to do since the rain really did everything it could to prevent me from using it.

“Leave it. We can go grab it tomorrow.” He softly said, but his tone was rather harsh. I hummed, non-verbally saying okay. He takes my hand, pulling me close to his body. My face becomes hard like stone, unable to move. My face turning crimson red.

“ ‘Friend’, really?” He practically shouts over the loud noise of the rain.

My head tilts up, perplexed. “What?” I say in the same volume as his words.

“Am I just a friend to you?”

“What do you mean?” His grip on my hand tightens.

A punch of realization hits my senses hard. “I—I’m sorry, I thought—“ I pause each word. What am I supposed to say now? He lowers his head to me. “Have I really not showed you enough? Or do I have to say it to your face?” He whispered. The rain was loud to silence both of our voices, but somehow, I heard him loud and clear.

My eyes flutter, my words tied in a knot. I swallow a limp in my throat. We were inches apart, the hesitation blocking the moment.

His eyes, those eyes— They were on mine, and so are mine. His other hand that wasn’t occupied by our tangled hands, made its way to my cheek. I didn’t even realize that the rain painted itself on my face till he touched them. Caressing it around my cheek to disappear.

Now this type of silence is what I love. Our silence. His lips slowly opened, it closes again. “I… like you, Y/n. You have no idea.” His face softens, as my whole body bursts in the flames. I couldn’t contain my happiness, and I leaned in. Our lips felt like they were made for each other. The warmth of his, and the coldness of mine felt good.

It took him a second to respond, but when he did, another flame was set ablaze. I didn’t think his grip on my hand could get tighter but it did. My free hand held his chest for support as his height was too much for me.

What felt like eternity finally came to an end when he broke the kiss. His warm hand still on my cheek, caressing it once more. “You take my breath away.” When he was the one who says it, it felt right and belonging.

“I like you too Xavier.” I smiled, and so did he.

The hand that was on my cheek, slowly made its way to my hair. He tugs it behind my ear. A kiss on my forehead being the cherry on top.

authors note: this is cringe but i kind of love the idea of tyler just watching this at the window lmao

also 2k on my first post??? thank you so much ohmygod

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #x reader #female reader

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the-fiction-witch · 16 days

Text

The Snow

Media House Of The Dragon

Character Jacaerys Velaryon

Couple Jacaerys x Reader (Bastard Stark Girl)

Rating Sweet

Jacaerys did his best not to make a show of his arrival but such was hard to do, he circled over Winterfell on Vermax and landed in some cleared snow. He climbed down and adjusted himself slightly before entering the courtyard of Winterfell where the Stark family and their staff met him to welcome him as their guest. Cregan Stark welcomed him in thick clothes and furs with Ice in hand,

“My Lord Jacaerys Velaryon,” He bowed,

“My Lord Cregan Stark,” Jacaerys returned even if he felt the need to wrap his cloak around him to protect himself from the fluttering snow,

“We had expected you somewhat earlier?”

“Yes, forgive me. The flight from the eyrie was longer than I expected, and Vermax is not used to flight through snow-ladened clouds,”

“Understandable, but the hour is far late for business. We will meet tomorrow at first light to discuss matters,”

“Yes of course my lord,”

“If I may, introduce my sister, Y/n,”

Jacaerys attention turned to the woman beside Lord Cregan Stark,

Y/n giggled to herself slightly seeming to be rather fascinated by the man before her, she wore a gown of a deep grey with silver threat embroidery across the fabric, and she stood without furs, jackets and cloak to mention. Her hair allowed to flutter down with silver beads woven into her braided hair,

“My Lord Velaryon,” she curtsied almost low enough for her knees to reach the snow,

Jacaerys was taken back a moment, he found her beyond beautiful. Surprised such a beauty would be locked away so far north, he did his best to be gentlemanly even if his eyes were drawn to her bosom as her dress had a low neckline that exposed the top of her icy pale skin to the snow and of course his eyes. He tried not to think of her cleavage but he did his best not to gawk even if he wanted to see what lay beneath the silver-threaded gown.

“My lady Y/n, I must admit… your beauty is quite impressive, I have not known ladies in Westeros that can match your beauty I assure you,” He said with confidence,

“Why thank you My lord Velaryon, you are very sweet. I had heard tales of your handsomeness but I admit not of your kindness,” She smiled,

“Take care of our guest sweet sister,” Lord Cregan Stark told her before he and his men headed inside to avoid the snow, leaving the two alone in the courtyard,

“I imagine you must be weary after your long flight, would you like me to take you to the chambers you shall be staying in for your visit with us?”

“Indeed, it was a long trip.” I nodded, “I admit It was tiring, and I would love nothing more than for you to be my guide through this ancient place,”

“Of course,” she smiled offering her arm,

He happily took it and walked with her through the courtyard, “I think I’d be quite lost without you my lady Stark,”

“Snow actually,”

“Oh? Forgive me I-”

“It’s alright,” she smiled, “Cregan thinks of me as full kin even if it isn’t true,”

“I see, that’s very kind of him,”

“It is, Have you ever been so far north my lord Velaryon?”

“No, I have not ever been this far north my lady, but I have heard the tales, of the endless snow storms, the fierce winds, and the people being made of steel and ice. I am curious to see it with my own eyes in my time here,”

“I think it is true what they say,” She chuckled, “That northern men are built of ice and snow with a centre of steel. Often when Southern men come they tend to shiver,” she explained,

“Then when northmen come south do they melt?” He joked,

She laughed, “I do hope you enjoy your stay with us in Winterfell my lord Velaryon, I rather love it here, the cold stone, the harsh winds, the gentle snow. It sort of chills me in a way that… makes me feel alive,” She explained her eyes on the grey clouds that fluttered the snow upon them, “Forgive me-”

“No need my lady, I understand. The cold makes you feel at home,”

“Very much so,” she nodded,

“I admit it is not familiar to me,”

“I imagine not, I know Kings Landing is a place of sunshine, and I know Dragonstone has its deep volcanic warmth,” She explained as they headed inside the dark grey halls,

He nodded, “I barely recall days the sun didn’t shine in Kings Landing, but I was a child then.” he said, “But Dragonstone, the heat feels like home. The dark stone and volcanic tunnels warm the castle even if the sea winds can send chills across the narrow sea, and storms are abundant on Dragonstone sometimes they last for days.”

“I see,” she nodded, “You must learn to like the rain?”

“You have to learn to live in its mercy,” he nodded, “Have you ever been south my lady?”

“Once, My mother took me to Kings Landing once.”

“What did you think of it?”

“I found it… awfully warm, dirty, foul smelling, full of madness.” she said, “Forgive me, I should not speak of the capital as such. I know it is your birthplace, my lord, so… I suppose it must have some good if someone so sweet can call it their birthplace,”

“My lady, there is nothing to forgive. The city is as you described. I may have been born there, but Dragonstone has long felt like my home. And I admit those reasons are part of my distaste towards the capital.”

“I understand,” she nodded, “Here you are Lord Velaryon,” She opened up a door to a sweet chamber.

The chamber had grey walls and stone floors, a wooden bed to the side with many covers and furs, and a window to the other side with iron metal across the glass, the window looked out to the Winterfell god's words and the heart tree covered in snow, the window had a seat built into the stone to look out the window on, the floor had a fur rug by the bed, a large fireplace was central to the room with a pile of logs beside it, with a iron chandelier of candles above the room even if the place still seemed dark.

“This shall be your chamber while you visit us, I hope it is to your liking,”

“I must say, my lady, it is lovely.” He nodded, “It is nice to see the Starks have such pride in all rooms of their house and take such care of visitors,”

“Guests are seldom this far north, we must do our best to take care of them. I did make sure to fetch you some more furs and blankets myself, I imagine the cold will be striking to you these forest few days,”

“You are too kind Lady Y/n,” He nodded,

“I shall let you rest Lord Jacaerys,” she nodded back curtsying as low as before which one again took his attention to her chest, she went to the door but he felt compelled to speak,

“If- you do not mind lady Y/n, may I ask something of you?”

“Yes Lord Jacaerys?” she turned back to see him,

“... I uhh it is a bold question,”

She chuckled, “You’d be surprised how bold North men are. I’m sure your question shall not be too bold for me, ask away,”

“My lady, forgive me but… when you curtsy for me, in this dress you wear, tell me to my eyes deceive me?”

“Well, that depends on what you think your eyes have seen?”

“Your dress… it uhh it tends to reveal, much of you.” He explained, “Is this… deliberate?”

“Deliberate?” she chuckled,

“I can’t help but think perhaps you are being, deliberate. For my arrival?” he raised an eyebrow,

“Not exactly, one may call it a happy accident. I am merely used to spending time alone, and thus my gowns are made to accommodate my body and my preferences.” she explained, “Forgive me if I had offended you or upset you, I apologise I didn’t mean to,”

“I will admit my eyes were caught by such a beautiful sight, but I was not offended by it, my Lady Y/n. You are free to dress the way you wish this is your home, forgive me I meant no disrespect by calling your actions deliberate. I shall refrain from such thoughts and looks.”

“I'm glad you are not upset my lord. You need not refrain yourself I do not mind. Have a pleasant rest my lord Jacaerys,” She smiled before she left shutting the door as she went,

He can’t help but let her linger in his mind for longer than he should but he cleans himself up and takes to bed exhausted from his travels.

Part Two

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whore-era · 1 year

Text

under the weather

☁︎ ellie williams x fem!reader ☁︎ fluff ☁︎ summary: in which ellie takes care of her sick girlfriend. ☁︎ a/n: my first ellie fic! let me know how u guys like it, reblogs and comments r much much appreciated! ☁︎ word count: 1,475

“babe! open up!”

“i’m coming, i’m coming,” you muttered, tightening the blanket wrapped around you.

opening the front door, a gust of crisp, frigid wind blew in your face inducing a full-body shiver. stepping inside the foyer of your house, ellie gave you a confused look as she leaned down to greet you with a kiss on your forehead.

“why’re you still in your pjs? we start patrol in 45 minutes,” she asked. about to answer her question, you let out a deafening sneeze.

“i know, babe. i’m sorry- i- i woke up late this morning and, you know, i’m still trying to wake up a little bit but i’m feeling a bit-,” you pause to sneeze, “-a bit groggy.”

you use your long sleeve shirt to wipe your nose, and as disgusting as that was, you couldn’t be bothered to care. your head was pounding, your throat was sore, and your nose was all red and runny. it was obvious you’ve seen better days.

“just give me 10 m-minutes, els. i’ll be dressed for patrol,” you murmured, attempting to reassure ellie with a weak smile.

you should’ve known she was smarter than that. she took one look at you—still in your pajamas with messy hair and a blanket cocooning your frame—and determined that you wouldn’t be going anywhere; knowing that if you were to step out of the warmth of your home into the freezing, jackson winter, you’d probably pass out.

“oh, no. you will not be getting dressed, little lady, let alone going to patrol,” she raised a brow at you, and her cold hands made their way to cup your cheeks. the unexpected chill of her palms on your face evoked a wince from you.

“fuck, baby, you’re burning up,” she cooed at you, “you’re in no shape to be leaving this house today.”

“then what are we gonna-,” sneeze, “-do?”, you look up at her with glossy eyes. her green orbs soften and she lets out an apprehensive sigh.

“well, i’m gonna go let jesse know that we won’t be going to patrol today,” your brows furrowed in confusion. did she say ‘we’?

“what do you mean ‘we’?”, you asked, your voice coming out all congested and muffled.

“uh, yeah. you think i’m gonna let my favorite girl stay here all alone?”, ellie narrowed her eyes, “especially while she’s sick?”

“els, i can take care of myself just fine,“ you countered, “just have jesse or dina take my place instead. i don’t want you seeing me all ugly and germy and gross.”

she let out one of her award-winning laughs, “you’re still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen, even if you’re quote-unquote ‘germy and gross’,” “besides, it’d bug me all day knowing i left you alone while you weren’t feeling good.”

“but-“ you began, but before you had time to interject, your girlfriend interrupted you.

“no buts, you know damn well you would do the same for me, baby.” ellie walked over to you, taking your ice-cold hands into hers, squeezing them tenderly to warm them up. “let me take care of you.”

of course, you couldn’t say no to her. the way she’s just so insistent on taking care of you, even when you’re all snotty-nosed and sneezy. it made your heart swell.

“m’kay.” you gave in softly looking down at your feet, “i..i just feel bad, y’know? they need you out there.”

ellie’s finger lifted your chin up softly, your eyes meeting with her green ones. “i know, sweet girl. but right now, you need me in here.” she leans down and kisses you briefly on the lips, sending your heart in a frenzy, as all her kisses did.

“why don’t you go in your room and lay back down? yea, baby?” ellie instructed, “i’m gonna go real quick and tell jess the news. i’ll be back in a sec.”

you weren’t sure when you woke up from your short nap, but by the time you did, ellie still hadn’t been back yet. it worried you a bit, and if you weren’t feeling so feeble and faint, you’d definitely be searching for her right now.

so, there you were, sprawled out on your bed, blankets tangled between your legs every which way. your eyes shut closed, but your body sank into the silence, soothing you.

you hear the front door open and then close. god, if i’m about to be robbed, then this will be their easiest heist yet. you had no energy to even call out who it was.

“babe? y’awake?”, ellie greets with a knock on your bedroom door.

“mmm.” you managed to groan in response, you pick your head up and squint your eyes open, seeing that your girlfriend has changed her clothes into something a bit more comfortable—a hoodie with sweats—and that she has a bag in her hand.

“what’s that?” you question, using your elbows to prop yourself up in bed. ellie walks over to you, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. she opens the bag and inside is a thermos, various snacks, tea bags, medicine, and a DVD.

“i just thought i’d pick up some things for you. i mean— we’re gonna be here all day. didn’t wanna be unprepared,” she scratched the back of her neck and smiled sheepishly. you wrapped your arms around her tightly, “thank you.” you whispered.

her arms wrapped around your waist, one of her hands rubbing your back soothingly, “it’s nothing. anything for you, sweet girl.”

as you sat in bed, watching the DVD ellie picked up, ellie took care of everything.

turns out, maria made a batch of chowder for you after hearing that you were feeling under the weather. she also threw in some tea bags to help soothe the sore throat. ellie made sure you were bundled up like a baby, and had no complaints tending to you or cleaning up after your messes.

now your head laid on her lap, both of you intent on the movie playing in front of you. you turned your head, admiring the way ellie’s eyes were so focused and how perfectly her freckles sprinkled her face. she looked down at you, catching you red-handed.

“what?” she asked, shakiness in her voice.

“nothing.” you murmured, your eyes still studying her.

“y’sure?”

“yea,” you smiled, “i just like looking at you.”

hues of pink faded onto her cheekbones and across her speckled nose, “well— stop.”

“why?”

ellie let out a nervous laugh, which was new to you. “because you’re making me nervous.”

you smiled and rolled your eyes, “fine, fine.” but now ellie couldn’t stop looking at your face. she intently studied every detail; the wisps of your eyelashes, the curves of your nose, the way the soft glow of the TV illuminated your face, the shape of your lips. it was like she was seeing you for the first time all over again. falling in love with you all over again.

ellie didn't care if your hair was all over the place or if your nose was red from rubbing it all day. she didn't give a fuck if you were dressed down, or if you sounded 'weird'. even in your sickest state, she still thought you were the most gorgeous girl this universe had to offer.

she bent her head down, planting yet another warm kiss on your lips.

“you’ve got to stop kissing me before you get sick, silly goose.” you contended, eliciting a laugh from her.

“if i were to get sick for every time i kissed you, put me in the hospital,” ellie joked. you snorted and rolled your eyes, “ha ha, nice one.”

you got up, and sat against the headboard of your bed next to her. “seriously though, els. thank you for doing all of this for me,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “no one’s really ever done this for me before.” you looked down at your hands, beginning to feel all shy in front of her now. it was a habit, avoiding eye contact with ellie everytime you were opening up to her. it made you feel vulnerable and anxious.

“hey, look at me,” she lifts your chin up, your eyes meeting hers again, “what’d i tell you?”

ellie’s eyes studied yours, “i’ll always take care of you. as long as you’re with me, i’ll be the one taking care of you.” no doubt was in her voice.

“‘kay, sweet girl?”, she asked, and you nodded. ellie smiled at you and her lips pressed against your cheek.

“i love you.” your heart warmed up and your stomach erupted with butterflies. it always took you by surprise how much of an effect ellie had on your body.

“i love you, ellie.”

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff

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honeybeefae · 1 year

Text

Valentine's Mini Fic // Azriel

I know it’s way past Valentine's day, and I did mean to post this on that day, but life got in the way. However, better late than never right? These are all small blurbs featuring various ACOTAR characters and romantic book tropes that we all love. I hope you guys enjoy and are having a great night!

WARNINGS: None, just fluff and some slight angst.

Trope: I thought you hated me/I never hated you

Thunder boomed around you while lightning crackled across the sky, the storm causing a downpour of rain that was sure to flood the valley below you. Azriel had been flying the two of you to the Illyrian camps when the storm had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, forcing him to take shelter in a cave in one of the mountains.

It was musty and small but it would have to do until the storm passed. You would have found humor in the situation if you weren’t stuck with the biggest Illyrian baby you had ever met.

Ever since you had joined the valkyries, and eventually Rhysand’s inner circle, Azriel seemed to have it out for you. He would throw glares your way, skip over you when greeting everyone, and even pushed you off to Cassian during training. You had no clue what you had done to piss him off so much but you still tried to keep an olive branch extended, hoping it was just you being new and not a complete hatred for no reason.

However, every effort you made was useless. Showing up early to training, complimenting whatever book he was reading, saving him the last dessert that Elain had whipped up, none of it mattered to him. You’d be better off trying to make friends with the weaver than Azriel.

And for some reason, that made your heart hurt.

His opinion of you shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t make you second guess every choice you made, but it did. You yearned for his approval, for one of those secret smiles to be shot your way, and you were too scared to dive into why it hurt you so much. That was a door that should remain closed…no matter how loud the banging was on the other side.

“It was supposed to be clear skies,” Azriel grumbled from behind you, his hazel eyes as cold as ice as he glared out into the sky. “This is going to set us back.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do now but wait.” You reply softly, wringing out your shirt that was clinging to your form. Azriel’s clothes were soaked as well though he showed no signs of discomfort. “Should we make a fire?”

“I don’t plan on staying here that long.” He stated while walking further into the cave. “And if I do, I’d fly out of here instead, rain be damned.”

Another stab at being alone with you, the comment making your lips turn down into a frown. He would rather risk his life than wait it out with you. The shadowsinger was the definition of an asshole.

Your fists balled up at your side and you turned back towards the entrance in anger, sitting close to the edge to watch the rain fall in hopes of it calming you down. Azriel was mumbling about something but you decided to tune him out, bringing your knees up to your chest to try and conserve some warmth.

The sound of the storm was lulling you into a gentle sleep, your head resting against the top of your knees as your teeth chattered and your body shook from how cool the cave was becoming. You were starting to lose feeling in your toes but you didn’t want to bother Azriel, knowing he wouldn’t care anyways.

“You will catch your death sitting there, Y/N.” His deep, raspy voice echoed across the walls. You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your head yet you continued to ignore him, childishly turning even more towards the harsh wind that was starting to pick up.

“As if you’d care.” You grumbled, closing your eyes once more before you felt two large hands scoop you up and carry you further into the cave. You struggled against his hold, ignoring how warm his body was and resisting the urge to snuggle into it, while he simply tightened his grip.

He sat you down against the back of the cave before sitting in front of you, expanding his wings so that he was blocking most of the wind. The gesture was unexpected and made you a little suspicious, your eyes narrowing while you tried to decipher what exactly his game was right now.

The silence was tense. Azriel was twirling his blade in his hand to keep himself busy while you focused on trying to warm yourself up. Your hands were shaky as you rubbed them up and down your arms furiously, your teeth still chattering. How he wasn’t in the same situation you didn’t know but you refused to ask for help, a small part of you hoping word would get back to Rhysand about this so that everyone finally saw how he treated you.

“Are you still cold?” Azriel asked, breaking the silence and your thoughts. It was a stupid question, he could clearly see your entire body trembling, and it was the final drop in the cup of your patience that caused it to spill.

“No, Azriel, this is the warmest I’ve been in my entire life.” You said snarkily, rolling your eyes. “In fact, I was thinking of vacationing here next summer.”

His eyes hardened and jaw clenched, his scarred hands fisted on top of his thighs as he snapped back, “I was going to offer to build a fire but if you’re going to act like that then never mind.”

“Oh, I’m sure you were Mr. ‘I’d rather die than be stuck in this place with you’.” You mocked his voice, rising to your feet to stomp past him, his wings barely folding in time to let you go.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel scoffed, standing to follow you. “Has the cold made you imagine things? When did I ever say that?”

“For cauldron’s sake, give it up Azriel!” You shouted, turning on your heel and coming nose to chest with him. “You don’t have to say it. I can tell with every interaction we have, every look you send, hell even the way you breathe around me!”

His eyes widened at your tone but you continued on, ignoring whatever excuse was about to come out of his mouth. You had finally had enough. “You can’t stand me and I don’t know why. I don’t know if I offended you in some way, if I said something, or what, but from the moment you saw me you hated my guts.”

“That’s not-” Azriel tried to interject but you cut him off, glaring up at him with all the anger and hurt you had managed to hold back all these years.

“Don’t tell me what I see isn’t real, Azriel.” Your voice fell as memories flooded into your brain of his resentment towards you. “You won’t train with me, you look at me like I’m the bane of your existence. Even Cassian asked me if I did something to you.”

Perhaps it was the cold finally getting to your brain, or that small part of you that was still hoping things would change, but you could’ve sworn his eyes flashed with guilt as you listed example after example of his actions.

You took a shaky breath and stepped back, your lower lip trembling but not from the temperature. This moment was one you had thought long and hard about, how you would confront him and he would shower you with apologies or pull you into his arms in remorse, but reality was often different from the fantasies inside our heads.

Another loud crackle of thunder rolled behind you as you let your true feelings show, your mind and body exhausted from the fight. “I only ever wanted to be your friend, to joke with you like Feyre or read together in the library like Gwen. It hurts to be treated this way and whatever I did or said, I’m sorry. After we get back, I’ll leave you alone. I’m done trying to force this on you.”

As you walk past him, careful to avoid touching his body or wings, you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a warm hand circle around your wrist.

“Wait. Please.” Azriel says, his voice as soft as the rain. It sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, making your stomach flutter, as you turn your head to look back at him.

For the first time since you met him, he looked scared. He didn’t look like the Night Court’s most notorious spy nor like the feared Illyrian warrior he was brought up as, he looked…vulnerable.

Those mysterious, enchanting hazel eyes were swimming with uncertainty as you gazed into them, your face softening. Azriel’s shoulders drew upwards as he took a steadying breath.

“I-” He croaked, quickly clearing his throat as his cheeks turned pink. “You haven’t done anything to me, Y/N. I thought it would be better this way, thought it would save both of us the pain, but I was wrong.”

As he spoke you turned to face him fully, noting in the back of your head how his hand still held you tightly. The shadows around him that so often covered him were nearly invisible…as if they were allowing him to be truly seen for the first time.

“When Nesta first brought you to train and we met, I felt this tug deep in my chest that I never thought I would feel,” Azriel confessed, moving his hands so that they now held both of your own. “I never thought I would be allowed to feel it, that the Mother was punishing me.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. There had been a moment, very brief, where you had thought you were destined to be mates. You felt your heart soar in disbelief and excitement, ready to run to the stranger until he had scowled and stormed off.

After that, you spent the next weeks convincing yourself you were delusional whenever you felt it again when he was near. It tore you apart.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” He asked, lifting your chin up from where it had fallen to look at the ground. “I saw it in your eyes. I was a fool thinking I could deny it, that this was just another fluke like the others before you. I convinced myself it would end the same, with you finding your true mate, and that I would again be left in the ashes.”

Azriel licked his lips, a flash of lightning illuminating the both of you for a moment. “I thought the feeling would go away but when it didn’t, I lashed out instead of speaking up. I took it out on you, thinking you had something to do with it because despite how cold I was, or how much I ignored you, you kept coming back to me.”

“And I can never make up for what I’ve said, what I’ve done, but I don’t want this to be the last time you come back to me, Y/N.” He whispered, your heart hammering in your chest. “I am a fool. A scarred, angry, fool. I know I don’t deserve you, that I have hurt you, but I want you to stay with me for just a little while longer. Don’t give up on me.”

It was almost too much to take in by the time he waited for you to answer. Between the confession, the feel of his hands against your skin, and the incessant tugging in your chest that was too strong to ignore, you felt as if you were drowning.

But as you gazed up at him, at the pure emotion in his expression, you knew you would drown a thousand times just to hear him say your name again. It was like your first meeting all over again.

“I thought you hated me.” You murmured, memorizing every inch of his face. The cold was no longer bothering you as you moved to hold his face between your hands, smiling fondly as he seemed to melt into the touch.

“I never hated you,” Azriel said earnestly, his hands coming up to cover your own. “Even on my darkest days, when my doubt was high, you were always the small piece of light that kept flickering in the darkness.”

“I could always count on you to be there, no matter what, and now I want to return the favor…forever.” He smiled, a bright, dazzling smile that made your knees weak. It was all you had ever wanted.

“Let us just start with today, okay?” You hummed, breathing in and savoring the warmness his body gave you as he brought you to his chest.

Azriel closed his eyes, feeling peaceful for the first time in a long, long time while resting his chin atop your head. “Okay.” He promised, squeezing you tighter as the storm outside started to grow calmer.

The sun started to peak through the clouds as the rain died down but the two of you stood there, too content to move as you both finally held what you truly wanted.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acotar fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel reader #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel #acotar drabble #mini fic #valentines mini fics

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heliads · 2 years

Note

Alright, please hear me out. Peter Pan took a girl from her lonely, awful home in 1899. A year later he (unknowingly) takes her twin brother to Neverland. They hang out a lot and catch up and Peter get jealous.

please hear ME out, i love a good chance to write for peter pan

masterlist

It is 1899, the cusp of a new century, and you have never felt so alone. Your family is somewhere inside the house, talking in excited voices that manage to pierce the gloom long enough to drift up to you every once in a while. You aren’t inside, because you haven’t felt like a real part of their closely knit gathering in months, maybe even years.

New Year’s is approaching, and even though it isn’t your birthday and you have no candles to blow out, you silently close your eyes and make a wish. Let this year be better, please. Let me feel wanted for once in my life.

No one answers, of course, and when you open your eyes again, you’re still out here, still alone. You’ve left the festivities inside and climbed up to the roof. Your legs dangle over the edge, although you pull one up to your chest so you can lean your chin against your knee and think. The wind out here is brisk, but it’s been a warm December, and you can still stand to be out here without a coat.

Soon enough, the cold will be too much to bear, and you’ll have to slip inside again. That would be a second kind of death, wouldn’t it? No ice could freeze your lungs when you’re inside your parents’ home, but you would feel enough nothingness that you’d almost wish that you stayed outside. At least hypothermia would mean that you’d get to leave it all behind.

A voice flickers by your ear, carried over by the wind. “I’m not sure that’s the proper way to think on New Year’s Eve.”

You scoff, half sure you’re just talking to yourself. “Why not? I can think what I please, and if you’re reading my mind, you should leave without comment.”

You fully expect the same dismal, cold silence to follow your spoken words, yet for some reason, the voice laughs. You know many kinds of laughs, those faked around families of higher social standing, or the kind of laugh that’s high and thin as a reed and promises that you’re in for a world of trouble.

Therefore, you know for a fact that the laugh from behind you was real, not just a figment of your imagination. You didn’t hear anyone climb up onto the roof after you, but someone is here nonetheless.

You risk a glance over your shoulder, and see a boy about your age leaning against one of the stone chimneys on your family’s house. Either he doesn’t care for smoke and ash or he’s smarter than you and wants the heat, but he’s still here.

“Who are you?” You ask. It seems the most fitting question to pose at a time like this.

The boy shrugs, straightening up so he can walk over to you. “I think I should be asking who you are, actually. I only stumble upon the Lost, after all. Why are you one of them?”

You bite back a laugh of your own, gesturing towards the house below you. “I don’t belong here, I think that’s obvious. What do you do with people who get Lost?”

The boy takes a seat next to you, idly slinging his legs over the chasm before you. “I take them with me. If they’re good enough to come to my island, that is.”

He shoots you a glance, but you just roll your eyes. “That’s fairly theatrical, but okay. If you, in all your judgmental glory, decide to take these people with you, what happens to them next?”

The boy spreads his hands as if the answer is obvious. “They live on my island, of course, and as long as they can keep up, they never want for anything else ever again. Why do you want to know?”

You shrug. “I’m deciding whether or not I’ll accept your offer.”

The boy’s face splits in a grin, one that appears as quickly as if he had been slashed with a blade. “I like your spirit.”

You allow yourself a brief spark of hope. “Does that mean you’ve made a decision, then?”

The boy nods, standing again and holding out his hand. “It does. I’m Peter, Peter Pan.”

You stare at his outstretched hand, then take it. He pulls you up with more strength than you’d expect from such a wiry frame. “I’m Y/N.”

He grins again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I have a feeling that we’re going to get along just fine.”

You return Peter’s sharp, brilliant smile. You’ve never been the best at guessing what the future will hold, but for once, you think he’s dead right.

Peter Pan is standing at the outskirts of a forested clearing, feeling quite proud of himself. He likes being right, just like anyone else, and there’s no greater challenge than having to find the proper Lost Boys for his island. He took a risk on Y/N, but he’s glad to see that it’s paying off.

She’s been here for about a year now, according to time back on the mainland, although to Peter it passes like the blink of an eye. It’s long past time for him to start finding new boys to bring to Neverland, but for some reason he’s been so infatuated with showing Y/N around his island that he hasn’t really been thinking about anyone else.

She just impresses him, that’s all. Most of the other Lost Boys only half attempt to hide their fear of him, mostly responding through sharp, instant remarks whenever he asks them a question or even passes by them. He’s grown used to their following, Peter supposes. In the past, he never would have thought of that as a bad thing.

Then he met Y/N, who is quite possibly the most charming girl to ever hold a knife against his throat, who matches the energy and spirit of the Lost Boys with ease. She has the whole island confused with the fact that she keeps calling him Peter, not Pan, and that he keeps letting her. Peter should have corrected her on that a long time ago, yet he doesn’t. Perhaps he has some shred of sentimentality left in his cracked and dusty bones after all.

He is trying to move on, though. His shadow identified a new potential Lost Boy, who’s probably flying over the seas now. This newcomer will touch down on the beaches of Neverland soon enough. The rest of them can engage in Cat and Mouse or long, spirited chases through the woods and everything else a group of bloodthirsty, ageless kids are wont to do when they find themselves in the presence of a stranger.

In fact, as Peter registers an odd sensation that vaguely feels like someone yanking a hook through some part of his skin as if to drag him backwards, he realizes that someone new is on the island, someone attempting to fight the shadow so they can leave. Everyone tries to fight it at first, but they always grow to love Neverland before they can finalize their escape attempts.

Somewhere in the back of his subconscious, a voice whispers: Y/N didn’t. Y/N wanted to stay ever since the beginning.

Peter brushes the thought aside. He’s not supposed to be thinking about her. For once, though, his mind refuses to cooperate with his demands.

Peter steps forward, and automatically, all eyes turn to him. “Boys, we have someone new coming to camp. If I were you, I would make sure to give them a warm welcome.”

The Lost Boys erupt in a wave of malicious chatter that promises the new kid will likely be greeted by friendly death threats and general tomfoolery. Peter loves it.

A boy bursts forth from the opposite side of the clearing, panting heavily. He’s been running like mad through the woods ever since he managed to shake Peter’s shadow, so his racing heart isn’t all that surprising.

The new boy stops short when he sees that he’s no longer alone. His mouth starts to form the words to ask who everyone is, but he’s slowed by his own ragged breathing and, strangely enough, Y/N, who turns to the boy as if she’s seen a ghost.

“Walter?”

Her voice is hesitant, like by saying the name aloud she’ll dispel whatever myth has allowed this boy to be here in front of her, but the newcomer reacts anyway. He scans the crowd until he finds her, then surges forward again.

“Y/N? Y/N, is that you?”

Peter watches with raised brows as the new boy pushes through the crowd of Lost Boys to reach Y/N. They stand for a moment, just staring at each other like some scene out of a play, then he hugs her.

Peter doesn’t realize he’s storming towards them until everyone is practically leaping out of his path. He comes to a stop before the two of them.

“Y/N, do you know who this is?”

The question is, admittedly, redundant, but seeing as Peter would much rather claw this guy’s eyes out than partake in conversation, he feels that everyone can accept this.

Y/N steps away, smiling far more happily than Peter can ever remember seeing before. “Yeah, I do. This is Walter, my twin brother. I thought I’d never see him again.”

Now that he knows about it, Peter wonders how he didn’t realize before. The two siblings stand similarly, with those same proud shoulders, and their eyes are identical, as if they shine and narrow in the exact same way.

“Ah.”

The word is cold, but Walter doesn’t appear bothered by this. “Thank you for bringing me here. I mean, when Y/N disappeared last year, I thought I’d never see her again. I’m glad to see that she looks much better. Thanks again, I mean it.”

Peter’s mouth sours. “Any time.”

He hadn’t actually known that he was having his shadow ferry Y/N’s twin brother over to the island, but he’s not about to say this when she’s grinning at him like he’s saved her from the brink of death, again.

Instead, he just nods, and pretends it doesn’t affect him. It doesn't, of course, even when Y/N dedicates her days to catching up with her brother, when she stops hanging out with Peter to teach Walter to use a bow and arrow instead.

Peter should be pleased about the whole thing, or at least apathetic. However, he feels his temper growing, his patience shrinking. He hadn’t realized how much time he spent just drinking in Y/N’s presence beside him until she traded him in for someone else. Now, he’s left choking in the dust.

He’s watching the Lost Boys undergo sword training at the moment. Inevitably, his eyes stray towards Y/N and Walter, who are exchanging parries with bright laughs as they fight. He hates to admit it, but Walter had rapidly progressed ever since first arriving at the island. He would be one of Peter’s best Lost Boys, were it not for the unnameable feeling in Peter’s chest that roars to life whenever Y/N leaves him for Walter yet again.

A small cluster of twigs crunches in the ground next to Peter, and he turns to see Felix walking up beside him. Felix is silent at first, as per usual, although Peter can tell that he’s harboring some sort of secret.

Peter is proven right soon enough. Felix coughs pointedly, looking over at the training Lost Boys.

“So, what do you think about the latest arrival?”

Peter makes sure to keep his voice level. “He seems to be doing well with the others. He doesn’t fall behind.”

Felix nods. “You still don’t like him, though.”

Peter casts his second in command a wary look, but Felix’s face is as impenetrable as always. Perhaps Peter should ask him for pointers.

“No,” Peter manages to admit, “I don’t. Not quite sure why.”

Felix breaks from his solid expression long enough to glance knowingly at Peter. “It has to do with Y/N, doesn’t it?”

Peter folds his arms across his chest. “I’d caution you not to bring up topics that you know nothing about.”

Felix doesn’t seem cowed by this, perhaps because he knows there’s nothing Peter can really do to him after all the time they’ve spent on this island.

“I’m going to take a guess and say that you don’t like Walter because he’s drawing Y/N away from you. I could be wrong, of course—” Felix raises his voice to speak over Peter’s attempts at interrupting, “—but even if I was, it wouldn’t be unreasonable. Y/N was your favorite for a long time. Anyone would expect you to be displeased if you were no longer hers.”

The words cut deep. “I’m not jealous,” Peter defends, but he knows as well as Felix that it’s a lie.

Felix just shrugs. “If you aren’t, I suggest you discover some other reason to hate Walter. Y/N is going to find out soon enough.”

The blond boy chooses this moment to slip back away into the woods, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts. As he looks back at Y/N, and notices that she’s now regarding him with a mixture of confusion and downright suspicion, he realizes that Felix may be right, and he’s going to need to act before it’s too late.

Fate comes for him soon enough; scarcely a week has passed since that conversation when Peter finds himself walking with Y/N through the forest. They used to do this all the time, a ritual that slowed to a stop once Walter arrived. Peter can’t imagine that this sudden meeting signifies anything good.

Y/N is the first to speak. “What’s your problem with me?”

Why is it that everyone close to Peter is so brutally direct? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Yes, you do. You’ve been practically avoiding me.”

“That problem,” Peter amends, “is different than you think. I’m not avoiding you.”

Y/N seems unimpressed by this answer. “Then you’re avoiding Walter, which brings us back to the same issue. What did he do?”

Peter tries to stay silent, but he’s never been able to manage it around her. “Nothing. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Nothing at all. I did everything for you, yet the second some brother shows up, you toss me aside like a rag. I thought you hated your family.”

Y/N’s lips purse. “He was the exception.”

Of course he was. “All I’m saying is that Neverland is supposed to be a place where you leave your entire prior life behind. If Walter is distracting you from that, then maybe—”

Peter regrets voicing the thought aloud, but Y/N catches on to what he’s saying before he can take it back. “Maybe you’ll take him away again? Is that it? You’ll leave me alone, just like how I started.”

Peter jerks backward. He wants to say that she was never alone, she had him, but too many sharp words have been said for such a soft thought to survive.

Instead, he pulls up that same persona of Peter Pan that the rest of the Lost Boys fear. He never wanted her to fear him, but if it gets her to stop reading so closely into him, perhaps it will work this once.

“Maybe.” He says, and it sounds so final that he almost does not recognize himself.

Y/N takes a hesitant step backwards, and some part of Peter knows he can’t do this any longer.

“If it keeps you here, maybe. If it means you don’t follow him off of Neverland, maybe.”

Y/N’s expression morphs from shocked to confused. “Wait, why would I leave Neverland?”

Peter spreads his hands. “Because he’s your family. When people have family, they aren’t lost anymore, and they leave. That’s how it always works.”

Y/N laughs, surprising both of them. “I’m not going to leave, you idiot. That was never an option.”

Peter blinks at her in surprise. “Really?”

Her smile is back in full force. “Yeah, really. Were you doing all this because you thought I would leave? You’re kinder than I thought.”

Peter scoffs, although it sounds fake even to his own ears. “I’m not kind.”

Y/N just grins. “I’m sure you’re not. If you were, though, I wouldn’t mind.”

She leans over and kisses him on the cheek, then heads further into the words, leaving him standing there speechless.

Peter’s in trouble, isn’t he? Good trouble, though. He doesn’t mind at all.

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

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chilly-me-softly · 1 year

Text

The photo • Jack Grealish

It's pouring rain, you can't see the back of your hand. The car has stopped along the road and in an attempt to want to call someone to pick you up you realise you've left your bag in the office. What else could be added to the list of the worst night of your life?

It sounds like the beginning of a horror movie, or the end of your life. But you don't want to panic, you're trying to stay as clear-headed as possible to figure out the best thing to do at that moment.

"Okay, I can stay here and wait for the rain to stop at least. But it could take all night and there seems to be someone in the house there. I just have to be brave and-" a sharp tap on the window makes you startle, with your heart pounding in your throat you throw yourself out of the car. Bad move when you think of all the movies you've seen but you've definitely been known to not think too much before acting.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"What you have been doing outside my house for days!" a guy with an umbrella yells at you as if he hasn't just given you a heart attack. And you certainly don't let him get away with it, yelling to be heard from above the rain that has already drenched you.

"Excuse me?"

"You journalists just don't have an ounce of dignity"

"Please, who knows you!"

"Wait... you're not a journalist?"

"No I'm not"

"Who are you then?" faced with your merely furious face, the boy seemed to change expression raising an eyebrow and perhaps wondering if he was really wrong.

"Just a loser I guess. My car broke down and I don't have a way to call for help" you sigh and in that instant a gust of wind to turn the boy's umbrella upside down, thus leaving him without his protection.

"Come into the house"

"What? No way" maybe it's just your wounded pride from the scare or the slight fear that all the stories you hear around has established within you with time, but the proposal doesn't entice you at all. Even if you are alone, with no way of getting home and no money.

"Come into the house with me, come on" but then you reconsider looking him in the eyes and deciding only to trust him, starting to run after him to the front door of his house.

"Hold on let me get you a towel"

"Thanks" you murmur again in front of the door, this time inside though, waiting for him to return without moving so you don't make a mess.

"Jack. My name is Jack"

"(y/n)"

"Bathroom is down the hall if you need it"

"Thanks really, but I just need to make a phone call"

"Here. The least I can do after almost assaulting you" you dab at your hair to keep it from dripping, picking up his phone and dialling the one number you had memorised over time and which had earned you much teasing from your family.

"I got you a shirt while I was at it" Jack had given you your privacy on the phone call, going to change having soaked himself a little. The call had been short-lived, your brother would arrive as soon as the storm faded, and in waiting for the host you had walked into his living room. There was a fireplace burning and your body had been drawn to it, seeking warmth after all that water had made you a piece of ice, hanging your jacket on a chair and pulling it closer to dry faster.

You didn't want to pry, your gaze had begun to wander on its own over the countless photos placed on the fireplace frame. Jack with his family, Jack with some boys, maybe his friends, with children. And yeah, reaching out to see the frame hidden by the others had been your idea.

"What happened?"

"Why do you have a photo of me on the chimney?" as usual you didn't think, you could have run off without saying anything and waited for your brother outside. It would have been better than getting killed by someone who is so obsessed to keep your picture instead of replacing it for the one he bought the frame for in the first place. You knew that job would bring you trouble sooner or later.

"Your what?" a flash of alarm passes through his eyes and there it is, you think, the way you're going to die. But the doorbell rings and suddenly you are relieved because your brother is there with you. Because it must be your brother, or you don't know what else to do.

"Wait a minute. It's not what you think" the boy rushes to the door, grateful for whoever it is but not so grateful that he didn't check before opening it after all.

"Oh Jack you're home. I saw the lights on in passing, thought I'd check to see if you were there"

"Megan this isn't a good time and we've already talked about it, you can't just come over whenever you want" but she pretends not to hear him going straight into the living room.

"Megan" Jack hurriedly goes after her trying to stop her but she is already in the room and more importantly she saw you.

"So it's true" this other stranger approaches you, "You"

"Have we met?" you are confused, disappointed at the face of another unknown person. All that could easily be a dream, it could make sense only that way.

"You have no chance with Jack. You're just a rebound he'll soon throw away" and you really aren't getting it, but her intimidating tone prompts you to react. You might as well have some fun.

"You're the previous one?"

"Excuse me? How dare you"

"What, you get to say whatever you want and I don't?" the grin on your face sends her over the edge, you can almost see the smoke coming out of her ears.

"You're a bitch! Jack will never love you like he loved me!" and then icing on the cake, you find yourself wet again because of her and a glass of water on the coffee table nearby.

Jack almost drags her away after that, while the chick still screams like a desperate woman in a vain attempt to make the guy feel sorry for her.

"Guess I'll take that shirt"

"I'm sorry about what happened" you had taken some time to change your shirt, thinking whether it was better to stay there until your ride arrived or face everything else. When you'd come out, Jack's mortified face was the first thing you'd seen.

"Who was that?!"

"My ex"

"She knows the meaning of the word ex right?!" he chuckles, running a hand over his face, exhausted.

"If she didn't know before she does now" he mutters and you flash a smile before going to sit down on the couch next to him.

"Why did she believe I was your girlfriend?" he stays silent, shifting his body forward so you can't see his face properly and sighing. "For that photo" he admits.

"Oh right, you still owe me an answer"

"Listen, I had just bought the frame and that picture was already in it. I might have made her think that--that we were together. But only to get her off my back I swear"

"Crazy" and maybe if all that hadn't happened that night you wouldn't have even believed him, all so surreal.

"Yeah" your eyes meet for the first time since his confession, you give him a small reassuring smile. Certainly much lighter than a few moments ago.

"I thought you were going to kill me" you suddenly admit to lighten the mood, the boy at your side laughs surprised.

"What?"

"That's true! A shiver down my spine seeing my face there in that frame. Only my mother has one like that"

"I'm sorry. I never thought I'd meet you" he chuckles again.

Then a honk echoes through the air, a quick glance outside tells you that this time it really is your brother.

"Well I gotta go"

"Okay. It was nice meeting you" Jack lowers himself slightly to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Bye fake boyfriend"

#jack grealish #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish one shot #football imagine #football imagines

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moth-like-habits · 1 year

Text

Caught in a Storm // ethubs, 1,015 words

Bdubs is so remarkably cold. Snow has coated the world- coming down in a ruthless flurry that makes it hard to see and impossible to fly. His fingers are losing feeling, and with how bad he’s shaking he can’t find the strength or stability to type a message on his comm, let alone find the button to turn it on. But he’s close- so close to the monolith. If he just makes it a bit further-

The pain is deep, his hands hurt so much. He doesn’t have gloves, how can the wind bite when he can’t feel it? He was up at the crastle when the storm rolled in, the altitude chill gnawing on his bones. He flew a little ways home until the wind almost batted him out of the sky, a cat messing with its prey. He can’t feel his toes.

Bdubs can see the monolith up ahead, but the snow is deep, making the uphill walk take even longer than normal. His moss cloak is heavy, pushing downward with the weight of the snow. Yet his hands are almost completely numb, his toes as well. He’s hardly even shivering anymore. There’s no pain. That’s gotta be a good sign, right? Right?

The door is only a little ways away but… he’s so tired. “It’s not much longer,” he thinks, “just get to the door.” He can’t feel his feet, his hands stay curled motionless where he brought them to his chest. His cloak feels like a dead weight. His elytra drags behind, pulling him down. He can’t feel his cheeks.

The door is there. Yet there’s ice on the steps and he goes falling in front of the door. The snow isn’t too cold now. It’s almost soft, a comfortable blanket. “I have warmer blankets inside” he thinks, “but it’s warm here already” a voice says within him. He’s inclined to agree. But some strong instinct has him raising a curled hand to the door to knock. He can’t feel his hand hit.

A moment passes and Bdubs can’t find the energy to try again. Etho should be home. He would know what to do, how to help. Bdubs needs his help.

“Etho?” He slurs, “are you there? please…”

The snow is blowing on top of him and maybe his words are lost to the wind.

Then there’s another gust that blows past him and around him, light shining off the ice crystals he’s fallen on.

“Oh no Bdubs…” He recognizes Etho instantly, his voice lighting a spark in his tired mind. Warm hands reach under him and quickly pull him up and in, the door slamming shut behind him. Instead of going up the towering monolith stairs they go downwards. It’s hot in the dark stone passageway. Shouldn’t it be chilly?

A piston moves and then he’s brought into what feels like a sauna to his frozen face. Etho sets him down gently on an armchair and there’s the crack of a fire across the room. His cloak is removed. Bdubs thinks Etho might be changing his clothes because the vague sensation of wet is being slowly peeled away and replaced with dry. He’s gently moved into one of Etho’s fuzzy coats. Etho’s mumbling something that seems encouraging and desperate all at once and Bdubs drags his consciousness toward that sound- Etho is worried.

“Bdubs. Bdubs please say something for me”

A groan is all he manages.

“I know, I’m really sorry but you’re going to be in a lot of pain for awhile.”

It’s already started. The warmth is seeping into the ice shards that are his bones and it hurts. His eyes are skrewed shut with the pain, Everything is drowned out by the all consuming thing that wraps around him. Careful hands lead him to take sips of something warm and sweet. Hot apple cider? After a while the hands return and cradle his and they’re too hot. The pain is not sharp- it is almost dull with a crushing intensity. It is constant. A whimper escapes him, he needs it to stop. At least the cold was numb.

Etho has gone back to his soft murmurs. “You’re going to be okay. I’m sorry, I’ve got you.”

It feels like forever but the pain lessens into an ache. The ache resolves into feeling. It’s not a pleasant feeling- no, all his nerves feel… off. Like the temperature shock has left them confused. His hands are still held in Etho’s and he opens his eyes to meet grey and red, worry apparent in his gaze.

“Hey baby” he whispers.

Etho’s barked laugh speaks to his relief, the tension falling away from his shoulders. “Hey dubs. You okay?”

“Yeah” and Ethos eyes soften.

“What were you doing out in the snow? Coming back from the crastle?” Bdubs gives a small nod. “I’m sorry for the pain you felt. That’s a part of warming up” and he lightly kisses the hands he still holds. “Let’s get you to bed alright?”

Bdubs is picked up again, and he rests his head on Ethos shoulder for the short trip over to the bed. “We’re going to stay down here with the fire, okay bud?” Bdubs manages another nod and he’s being carefully placed in bed, warm blankets draped over him. It’s a few moments before the place in front of him dips and Etho is opening the covers and joining him. They stare at each other for a moment. Etho’s eyes say I’m so relieved you’re okay, and I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. Bdubs hopes his own say that he doesn’t care. That he’s grateful Etho found him.

He thinks they did because strong arms reach out to pull him closer and Etho presses a kiss to his forehead. “My flower” he murmurs, and who needs a fireplace when the love obvious in his voice sends warmth rushing through his tired nerves. Tomorrow he’ll no doubt get a lecture on winter safety- and extreme amounts of fussing. But for now? He’s here, Etho’s here, and he couldn’t feel warmer.

#ethubs #etho #bdubs #hermitshipping #in which it’s actually cold this time #fics

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coquettexnightz · 6 months

Text

| Quiet |

- 18+ Content, breeding kink, british skinheads, fluff, tummy bulge, slow & nervous sex, virgin reader, etc. -

Y/n was walking down the street, zipping up her oversized, leather bomber jacket. She then let her hair down from her curled ponytail due to the cold wind beginning to blow. She stuck her hands into her pockets to warm them up, staring down at her black, slightly ripped fishnets as she did so. Her high Doc Martens were scuffed and beat due to the year she had been wearing them.

Snow was just beginning to barely litter the ground as she walked down the sidewalk. She noticed that she was approaching a group of young, but intimidating skinheads. Some were either her age or maybe even older, about two young boys alongside them. They were all dressed quite similar, their typical look.

Her mom always advised her to stay away from them, so she tried her best. But today it seemed almost unavoidable as she got closer. She kept her head down but glanced up every once and a while to make sure she didn’t run into anything. That would be embarrassing. Curiosity got the best of her, glancing over at the group to see if they had noticed her.

They had, especially one of the main boys. He looked to be one of the leaders of the group, if there was one. She accidentally made eye-contact with him, her eyes widened as she sped up, trying to get by as fast as possible with no confrontations. But she wasn’t fast enough, “Aye, princess?” One boy called out, a younger one. He seemed more outgoing and talkative than the older boy did. “Wait, we don’t bite.” He snickered.

Y/n stopped walking, pursing her lips and glancing around before sucking it up and turning around to walk toward them. “Yes?” She asked quietly, looking around at the group of boys.

“Our mate, Reggie over here thinks you’re fit.” The young boy smirked, looking her up and down excitedly. Y/n glanced to the older boy, Reggie, who elbowed the younger skinhead.

“What’s your name?” Reggie softly asked, pushing his way through the group to get closer to Y/n. She replied quickly but shyly, leaving him to try and break the ice. “Excuse him, he’s a bit daft. Always taking the piss, you know?” He smiled, leaning closer teasingly as he saw a smile grow on Y/n’s lips. “Pretty name you got there.”

“Thanks…Reggie.” She replied with a laugh.

“You on your way somewhere?” Reggie suggested, raising his eyebrows.

Y/n shook her head, “Nope, heading home is all.”

“It’s getting dark. Pretty little girls like you shouldn’t walk home alone in the dark, let alone during the day. It’s not safe either way.” Reggie hummed, looking at his smirking friends from the side of his eye.

“I do it everyday.” Y/n hummed.

“The quiet birds are always the best.” The younger boy whispered suggestively to another older boy. They laughed silently together, shoving each other playfully.

“I’ll walk you home, no worries.” Reggie pushed, walking up to stand beside Y/n. “Alright, don’t wait up, Lads.”

“It’s fine, don’t waste your time.” Y/n blushed, shaking her head at Reggie.

“No, no. I can’t be arsed with this lot anyhow. Lead the way, on you go.” Reggie waved to his friends once more before placing his hand on the small of Y/n’s back as they walked side by side. “You must be cold.”

“Hm?” Y/n looked up at Reggie, “Oh, not really.”

“Really? As much as we liked your outfit, specially those fishnets, you’re close to freezing those pretty legs off.” He joked, then glaring at a guy who walked by before completely forgetting about it.

Once they reached the flat, they both stood in front of the door awkwardly. Y/n avoided eye-contact moving to unlock her door, while Reggie stared shamelessly at her. “You’ve walked me all this way. Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea to warm up before you go on your way?” She suggested hesitantly. Reggie seemed nice enough, but she knew that she’d get chewed up and spat back out if her mom caught a skinhead in the small house.

They talked for a while, the moon shining on them both. The house was completely quiet and her mother was sleeping in the other room after having gotten home shortly before them after her fourteen hour long shift at the hospital. Her mother was a nurse in the children’s unit, so, she spent long shifts when having to stay with the kids.

It was all so risky already, even though the two teens weren’t doing anything wrong just yet. They still felt like they were doing something illegal. Then, her moms bedroom door creaked open and revealed a little girl, no more than five years old. She was very short with soft, platinum blonde hair. Wearing a large, pastel pink nightie along with socks that were too big for her as well.

“Silly girl, you’ll get me caught.” Y/n whispered after letting out a breath of relief.

“A boy.” The little girl, Posie giggled mischievously, pointing at Reggie.

“That’s right, a boy. But you can never ever tell Mummy, are we clear, Posie? I’ll give you a biscuit.” Y/n smiled cheekily, kissing her little sister on her soft, chubby cheek. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Posie whispered dramatically, shaking hands lazily with her big sister.

“Good girl, back to bed you go.” Y/n picked her up and walked toward her mothers bedroom. “I’ll be back, Reggie.”

“Bye, bye, Boy.” Posie giggled quietly, pointing at Reggie as she was carried into the darkness of her sleeping mothers room.

Once Y/n came back, Reggie was already beginning to get turned on. He couldn’t stop looking at her fishnet clad legs, then, on top of that, she was extremely good with kids. But he guessed that she had to be due to her mom being gone so often for work. Just to keep food on the table, but he knew how it felt.

“Should we go to your room?” Reggie asked, Y/n tilting her head in confusion. “Just so you don’t get caught.” She gasped in realization and immediately ushered him into her room. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’m going to change. Just— if you could turn around, that would be great.” She stuttered as she walked to her dresser and pulled out a short night gown.

Reggie tried his best to act like this encounter was nothing, but inside he was freaking out. He knew it was embarrassing, him being the one the boys looked up most to in the group, but he didn’t have too many encounter’s with girls. Especially not girls as pretty as Y/n.

But now Reggie was screwed. Because as her turned around to face the wall, he realized a mirror was in front of him. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t. His eyes remained on Y/n as she slowly slid off her fishnets, making sure she didn’t rip them even more.

Just as she pulled her thin nightgown over her head, she glanced over to the mirror and made eye contact with Reggie. Neither looked away, nor did they mention it. “You tired?” Reggie yawned, looking up at the ceiling. Y/n nodded, knowing he was still looking. She then climbed onto her bed and curled up into a ball. “Guess I should get on my way then? Huh?” Reggie suggested, even though he didn’t want to leave.

“No, no. You can stay. Just lay beside me, it’s okay.” Y/n mumbled quietly, nuzzling her head closer to her arms.

Reggie quickly moved to lay behind her, practically cuddling her. She then shuffled backwards, pushing her butt closer to his crotch unknowingly. “Hey, Love?” Y/n just hummed in response, half-way asleep. “You’re— oh.” Reggie paused, holding in a moan as Y/n pushed backward once again. “Alright.” He grunted.

Slowly but swiftly, Reggie grabbed Y/n’s almost limp body and pinned her to the bed. “Reggie.” Y/n scolded absentmindedly, pouting her lips and turning her head away. “Your belt is poking me.” She sighed. But the thing was, Reggie didn’t have a belt on.

“Don’t got a belt on, Love.” Reggie then began to slowly grind on Y/n’s pantie clad pussy. “Already feel so good.” He sighed as she began quietly moaning.

He moved to sit down on the edge of her bed, dragging her to straddle him. He lifted her gown with one hand and used the other to cradle her neck, he pressed her head on his shoulder as he tried his best to move her back and forth. “Reggie.” She whimpered into his ear. “More.” She begged, “S’not enough.”

Reggie agreed. He had previously taken off his boots, so then he began unzipping his jeans and pulling his shirt off. “You gonna make me take your gown off?” Reggie softly asked her.

“Please?” She hopefully asked.

Of course, Reggie obliged after leaving himself in onto his boxers. He leaned over her and began pulling her thin gown off from above her head. Leaving her on her white, cotton panties. “My pretty girl.” He mumbled to himself. “Lay your head on the pillows, rest.” He ordered her nicely, helping her to do so. Once she was situated, he slid down to the middle of the bed to where his head was by her splayed out thighs.

He kissed up the inside of her thigh before biting down on the waistband of her panties. He slowly drug them down her legs before using his hands to pull them the rest of the way off. Y/n’s eyes were still closed as she made almost silent noises.

He bent one of her legs upward, then spread her other leg. He hooked his arms under her legs and pulled her closer to his face. Just as he finally began licking, she whined and stopped him. “No. Please, more. Something more.” She complained needily, eyes still shut.

Reggie smirked, pulling his boxers off and taking his boxers off. “You’ll need to give Reggie a hand, here, Baby.” Reggie softly told her. Truthfully though, he could pick her up and move her around like a rag doll. He picked her up and placed her on her knees. “Hold yourself up.” He ordered as he angled his tip to rub through her folds.

Reggie pressed himself as close as he could onto Y/n, slowly pushing himself in. Y/n cried out quietly, knowing her mother wouldn’t wake up due to such quiet noises. “Ouch.” She blabbered, then moaning in pleasure. She let out a squeak once Reggie bottomed out and began thrusting. Her eyes teared up and she began to sniffle quietly, Reggie immediately halted upon hearing her silent cries and seeing the blood coating his dick. But somehow, her crying and bleeding made him harder than ever.

“Going to move, now.” Reggie wanted her, he watched as she nodded in approval before starting up his thrusts once again. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, tiling it backward. He let out breathy moans, both teens trying their best to keep quiet. They hadn’t locked the door and there was a mom and a toddler in the other room.

“Faster, please, Reg.” She whimpered, but Reggie shook his head.

“No, baby. Slow and steady…be a good girl and be patient for me.” Reggie leaned down to whisper in her ear, his chest pressing against her back. Reggie couldn’t help himself, speeding up slightly. “Making me wanna cum already.”

“No, no.” Was all she could reply with, not even sure of what she had managed to get out of her mouth. Just as Reggie slowed his pace, Y/n began fucking herself on his dick.

“Atta girl, fuck your self. There you go, perfect.” Reggie smirked, begging to move again. He pushed in balls deep and then rolled his hips in order to get closer to Y/n. “Just wanna be close to you.” He mumbled, placing a kiss against her back.

“Feel so full. You make me feel so full.” Y/n cried, “Feels s’good.”

Reggie slid his arm under Y/n’s body and slithered his hand toward her stomach, he pressed down on her abdomen and felt his dick going deeper and deeper into her. So deep that he knew he could just cum in her and fill her with his babies.

“Feel that? That’s my dick, all the way up in your tummy.” Reggie hummed, pressing down harder and thrusting faster. It was still at a relatively slow pace, but not as slow as it used to be. “You know we didn’t use a condom, right?” He then revealed to her.

Y/n was now almost completely awake, no longer dozing off in the middle. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Reggie didn’t let her. “Oh, no! Reggie please.”

“Please, what? Please fill you up?” He joked. “Wouldn’t you want to swell with my baby inside of your tummy. Hm? You’d look so beautiful.” He complimented Y/n, gripping her hip firmly and keeping the other on her tummy. “That okay with you, love?”

“S’okay, Reg.” She finally agreed, undeniably cock-drunk. “You can do it.” She mumbled, slowly sliding down to lay on her stomach. But Reggie managed to hold her up as he made sure to thrust deep into her.

“Gonna cum inside my pretty little girl. You gonna cum?“ Reggie already knew the answer to this question as he felt her clench against him. She was milking his cock and he loved it. “Gonna fill you up.” Reggie moaned. Just as Y/n came with a restrained moan, trying her best to keep her lips closed, Reggie let go as well. He sped up as fast as he could in order to stretch out both of their highs, making sure his cum couldn’t leak out of her. “Look at that, got a bucket load inside of you. Can’t wait to explain this to your Mummy.”

“Reggie.” Y/n pouted, her eyes halfway closed as Reggie moved to palm her breast.

“What? Afraid she’s going to be ashamed of you because you let a skinhead fuck you while she was sleeping?” Reggie laughed, his thrusts slowing to a stop as both of their highs were just ending. “We’ll get you cleaned up tomorrow, lets just sleep.” Reggie sighed, slowly pulling himself out of Y/n. She whined in her own form of a complaint. But he then slammed two fingers into her pussy to keep the cum inside of her. “You’ll be sleeping with my cock inside you tonight, love.” He tiredly whispered in her ear as he moved to lay on his back. Just as he got Y/n to hover over his dick, he took his fingers out and thrusted up into her. She moaned and clenched on him, Reggie clenched his jaw, trying to keep from getting hard, but he failed.

It was too late, they couldn’t go for another round. Y/n had already fallen asleep with his hard on inside of her…and Reggie sure as hell wasn’t going to wake her up.

A/n; I’m way too lazy to proof read this, I’ll do it later 😭

#80s #british boys #smut #breeding k1nk #v1rgin #18+ minors dni #fanfiction #70s

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justmultifandom · 4 months

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Kidge winter event

Day 1: Ice skating

Every large city during the Christmas period begins to wake up from the cold and sad autumn, just as the yellow and orange leaves fade away, all the streets are filled with a warm atmosphere of joy and lights. In the evening the shop windows, streets and decorations light up while families, couples, teenagers and children stroll with packages in hand and smiles on their faces. New York was covered in snow, and everyone seemed so happy and carefree at the idea of celebrating the first Christmas after the end of the war. One couple in particular, however, were trying to keep a low profile, dodging other people and walking with some haste, and when they arrived at the closed gate of a public park, one took the large duffle bag off his shoulders and gave it to the figure smaller next to him.

“Keith, I swear to God if we end up in prison for any of your stupid shit that you didn't do in your teenage years I'm going to stop hanging out with you!” the girl growled, looking around to make sure they weren't seen.

“You sound so legal, but I'm not the one who illegally signed up to a military space base, Katie”: he sneered, climbing over the fence and landing on his feet on the other side. She tossed him the duffle bag, which fell to the ground with a silent clang on the snow.

“Yes, but that's not why Shiro invited us here…”: she grumbled, taking one last look around before climbing over and following him. Shiro, after declaring that he was engaged to Curtis, bought a large penthouse in the center of New York, which now housed all the paladins including Coran and Romelle. According to him it was a way to meet again and maintain the bond as long as possible after the departure of the lions.

“Okay, but honestly, what are we doing here?”: she asked, adjusting her scarf and shivering at the gust of wind.

"Ice-skating"

"Ice-skating?"

He nodded.

“But what if you don't even know how to skate?!”: she laughed.

“Indeed, but at least everyone will think that we went to the legal track, and not on a frozen lake…”: he smirked, holding her hand and dragging her through the light snow-covered bush up to a point where the snow left room for a flat ice field.

“You're smart, you know?”: Pidge smiled, looking him in the eyes: “You gave everyone a false lead so Lance and Romelle won't know where we are…”

“Do you see that sometimes I think?”: he smiled, sitting down on the snow and taking two pairs of ice skates out of his bag. As soon as they had them at their feet, she began to move to gain confidence by doing a few laps around the perimeter from the pond, while Keith remained sitting next to her watching her move with all that elegance.

“Are you going to stay here and watch me from behind all night or will you come here with me?”: she laughed, approaching slowly.

“The view from here is very beautiful…”: he smiled, standing up and trying to gain balance. As she had said he didn't know how to skate; How could he have learned in the middle of the desert? She helped him, pulling him up gently, then intertwining their fingers. Pidge continued to guide him, showing him how to bend his knees and move his feet. After years of war in which he was leader, Keith finally let himself be carried away by someone else's orders and advice.

When he was finally able to skate slowly without that attention, they remained with their hands clasped as they were transported by the cold mist into their immense solitude. She let out a gasp when he surprised her by whirling around almost knocking them both over, wrapping his arms around her hips as he pulled her into a passionate kiss.

There they were alone: just two hot bodies making fiery sparks, ready to explode. They were alone there. There they could just screw it all and show themselves for what they were. They had wasted too much time hiding their love from the whole world.

“You have no idea how long I've waited for this…”: she smiled, her cheeks and nose slightly pink from the cold.

“Me too…”: he replied, dragging her into another kiss. They remained there for many moments warming themselves with their bodies pressed next to each other's, exchanging fiery kisses. They were interrupted only by the sight of blue and red flashes shining in the night and reflecting off the ice and snow.

“I saw them climbing over here!”: they heard a man grumble: “It must be those usual thugs who deface the walls!”

“I think we have to run now…”: Keith whispered, taking her hand and letting her accompany him to the shore.

“I can't believe that if they reach us I'll end up in prison because of Keith Kogane!”: she snorted in amusement, quickly taking off her ice skates and putting her boots back on.

“Hey, you two!”: shouted a stout and chubby looking man in a uniform. They both laughed as they stood up, starting to run away.

#voltron legendary defender #keith voltron #voltron pidge #kidge #keith x pidge #keidge #kidge winter event

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calliecwrites · 8 days

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The Final Ice

Every year, winter came earlier, and the snows fell further south. Lands that had once been hot were now temperate. Lands that had once been temperate were snow-bound well into what should be spring. People and animals moved south. Something was very wrong.

The humans came to me for help. They wanted me to join their expedition to the north. I had a reputation for being able to endure the harshest conditions – and I knew snow and ice, I had lived high in the mountains for years. They had more chance of surviving if I was with them.

The world was cooling. That was the conclusion we all came to. Something must have changed in the north, something must be the source of all this, and it was up to us to find out what. But we knew almost nothing of the uttermost north – only rumours. Even the nomads who drove their herds south into previously-settled lands told only contradictory tales. No one went there, they said, even in good times. Nothing could live there for long. Things were strange there – though they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, say how.

So we travelled north. Those coming south thought we were mad. Soon we left them behind, and were alone in the abandoned forests. During the day, I took on eagle-form and scouted ahead. At night, when my companions shivered in their tents, I took on wolf-form and hunted. Without me, they would have gone hungry more nights than not. There were fewer animals than there should have been. And when we sat around the fire, picking apart the meat with our hands, they told stories. Some of the stories were about me. After all, I had been living on the edges of their lands for longer than a dozen of their lifetimes. Some of the stories were even true.

I made them uneasy. That much was obvious. But mine was a familiar strangeness, and this time, I was on their side. Easier to talk about me than the unknown we were heading for.

There came a point where the trees were cracked and dead. As the world cooled, the line beyond which nothing could grow was moving south, into the forest. For days, we stayed in one place, hunting, scavenging, stocking up on all the food we could carry. Then we continued north.

Gradually the dead forest gave way to dead scrubland, then tundra, and then, at last, the final ice. Bare, blinding white, snow whipping against our faces, nothing able to keep out the wind. This was where our knowledge ended. From here was unknown.

I became a great white bear, the only form I knew hardy enough for this landscape. The others stayed behind me to get some shelter from the wind. Hauling our sledges became harder every day. The ice creaked, and sometimes crevasses opened at our feet. More than once, my changing, my wolf-quickness and bear-strength even when I walked in human form, saved the others from disaster.

Then the strangeness began. At first, we dismissed it as a trick of the mind. We were exhausted, half-frozen, blinded by the glare. It was easy to hallucinate here. But day by day, the air became thicker. The hard ice became sticky. The water we defrosted to drink was sluggish. The few fires we managed to light gave off less heat, and the flames moved slowly. Eventually they wouldn’t light at all.

At that point, my companions could go no further. Breathing was hard. The air wasn’t thin, like on a mountain, but thick, like syrup. Moving was slow, like wading in water, even though the wind had died days before. Stand still, and your feet would begin to sink into seemingly-solid ice. Words didn’t carry. Food didn’t nourish. The white plains stretched away northward.

I told the others to turn back. I was the only one who could go further. I still had a chance to find the source of this strangeness.

Sometimes I ran and sometimes I flew. But as the days passed, running became a stumbling scramble, and flight became a struggle to move forward at all. The cold pierced my fur, my feathers, whatever clothes I formed to keep myself warm.

In the end I couldn’t tell the difference between the land and the sky, the snow and the air. It was all white. It was all one, semi-solid, semi-liquid. I could be a mile in the sky, or deep in the ice, and it would all be the same. It was so cold, all difference had been erased. It was something primordial. It was something terrible.

It was moving south. If I stayed still, I could feel my own form starting to fray. If I stayed here, I would dissolve into this sameness.

This was as far as I could go.

I would turn back. I would carry word of this to my companions, and to our home. But what would we do? We had no answers. All that had changed, was that we knew what awaited us. This was the world’s fate: everything would become one, and in becoming one, would become nothing.

Also on Instagram.

The strangeness here was inspired by the ancient Greek explorer Pytheas's weird descriptions of sea ice. From the wikipedia page, quoting Strabo: "Pytheas also spoke of the waters around Thule and of those places where land properly speaking no longer exists, nor sea nor air, but a mixture of these things, like a "marine lung" [jellyfish], in which it was said that earth and water and all things are in suspension as if this something was a link between all these elements, on which one can neither walk nor sail."

#writing #writeblr #fiction #short story #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy writer #my writing #writeblrcafe

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j4y-lvr · 1 year

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❝too late.❞…sim jaeyun ft. lee heeseung as mister steal yo' girl

pairing. jake x fem!reader genre. angst warnings. cheating(both), kissing, drinking (lmk if I should add anything) wc. 700 listen to. too late - the weeknd ; too late - chase atlantic ; too late - sza (😭)

jake puffed warm breath from the frisky air that evening, the sole thought veering him in his mind amidst the bustling camera's and flashing lights. jake posed for the various instruments shuttering and blinding his sight with white spots dancing around his vision.

nonetheless, he maintained the crisp and chiseled smile and waved, like everything was okay.

despite his fall out with you from the sudden outburst and how you found him lip-locked with another disturbed and threatened the longevity of your barely-standing relationship. jake was to blame but that wasn't like he didn't notice you coming home late and later.

that one night he'd had enough, with a glass of his preferred drink before him, swindling it around in his veiny grip, the ice cubes crinkling and the sound of the fizz diminished, sending you chills down your spine as you creaked open the door.

you found jake awake, with a disgruntled scowl on his face. "you're home early," you comment despite knowing why his ever bright face was muddled. "where were you,"

"friend's, figured i'd be there than rot here all alone," "friend? who?"

You narrow your eyes at him, and approach him, snatching the brimming glass and gulp it down. you wipe the remains with the back of your hand, showing your most wicked grin to him, recalling the recent endeavors, with one and half a bottle of beer down your throat that led to heeseung's tongue next in line.

whether it was because of the lack of love or lost of love, you relished the feeling, the way heeseung handled you with such ease and confidence, like he had all the time in world appealed to you, 'cause clearly, jake didnt.

"can't i have a social life, jakey,"

jake continued to pucker his lips and give them a swipe, the way your nickname for him rolled off lowly while your eyes giving it all away, the gnash on your lip, the sweet grin, all signs pointing towards the obvious.

the least he could do is confirm his suspision.

he cupped your face with his palm, lurching closer as his other held your face before his. he took in the way you smelled of a rich and heavy woody scent, rubbing of off you.

the lazy look you gave and gazed at with little to no interest, the way your lips swell and the reek of alcohol. getting the memo, you leaned forward meeting him in the middle and stayed there for a good while.

nothing progressed and you broke it off, sighing and swiping you face once and heading towards your shared room. jake dropped his head to his hands in defeat.

you slept soundly beside him, your back imitating his, a good distance apart. troubled, jake lied awake, and let a few drops of tears dribble down. you weren't his, you never were.

the lingering glances at his friend, the more than handsy you were with him, jake never saw it as something to mention. the last thing he'd want was to be a possessive asshole who's never home.

jake blinks back and walks down the carpet, searching for his phone and dialing your line and exiting the venue missing the blazer that came with his complete fit, the warm black turtleneck that hugged him.

everyone seemed so interested in his business, more than him. but who knew he was going to pull his shit together and try to better for you. for the both you in this crumbling relationship.

breathless, the cold wind strips him of his warm puff. he fiddles with the keys and stuck them in the keyhole, discovering a pair of male shoes by yours, aligned messily. the door already unlocked, jake braced himself and panned it open, just enough for a peep into the hall.

and there he found, you pressed on the couch, hands in heeseungs hair gripping on his shoulder and muffling noises from you as his locked your jaw in his hold, his arms circling your slender waist. breaking it off, you stared at heeseung lovingly, forgetting all about the australian boy by the doorstep.

jake was too late.

NOTE. the last part for ador u! is taking a while considering the event i'm preparing for is in less than three days and i have finals in two weeks. . .

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dapperbasil · 2 months

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OC Kiss Week: Day 5

Reno, Nevada. Fall 2024.

Years after the events in Portland and Chicago, Tammy still has to face the mental scars left behind. Luckily for her, she's not alone, not by a long shot.

The snowstorm was a familiar sight to Tammy, but that gave her no comfort. The cold battered against her body, wind and sleet raining down, pushing her down. Worse still was the laugh, the constant, overbearing, condescending laugh of a woman she met only a handful of times. Even now years after their last encounter Tammy heard that laugh. There was nowhere to run, and no way to escape. The perpetual feeling of entrapment bore down on the Ventrue as she trudged forward through the frozen wasteland. Walking against the wind, she felt almost frozen over, cold creeping through her limbs. The shadow in the distance of that woman's figure never seemed to get any closer no matter how long she walked.

The further she moved, the harder the storm bore down on Tammy. The laughing grew louder, where she could hear it over the wind and the sleet and the crunch of ice beneath her shoes. Tammy had been here before, countless times. She had to keep moving, if she didn't she would slip and never catch up to her. To the woman who ruined so many lives, killed so many Innocents, all simply because she could. “Like sire like childe, Miss King.” Words in the same voice as the laugh, taunting and dry in their expression. “This is a lesson you need to learn. Just like he did. Now sit down, shut up, and listen well.” The storm raged stronger and harder than ever before. The wind and sleet made it so hard to move, so hard to see. All it took was one wrong step and Tammy was plunged into the darkness of the icy lake below.

Warmth, soft warmth. Tammy opened her eye to see the familiar bedroom around her. There was no snow, no ice, and the only haunting laughter she heard was in her mind. She was curled up under a pile of blankets, and in front of her was a small black and white figure bumping its head against her. “Vivaldi…” The Ventrue reached out and wrapped her arms around the cat, pulling him to her and nuzzling her face into his soft fur. “Another nightmare…” Vivaldi lets out a soft meow as he wiggles against Tammy, to which she releases her hold on him just for him to reposition himself and lay against her once more. Taking her gaze from the tuxedo cat, she looks around the room before closing her eye once more. “Just you and me I guess, Vivaldi.”

It didn't stay like that for long. As time passed and she lay in bed resting, she soon heard footsteps in the hall looking up just in time to see Zacharias open the door, letting himself and a tiny gray tabby inside. Tchaikovsky curled up on her other side while Zacharias sat on the edge of the bed, carefully brushing her hair from her face. “You were so peaceful when I woke up. I didn't mean to leave you alone with a nightmare. I'm very sorry Tammy, I thought you wouldn't have one since you were resting so well.” His words were a jumble of apologies, worry lining his voice. She glanced up at him as he leaned over, leaving a kiss on her forehead. Somehow he knew, he always knew.

“It's okay. Vivaldi was here. I'm okay.” He continues to cup her face, pausing only momentarily to scratch the cat behind the ears before returning to her. “You’re here. I’m okay. I promise.” Tammy relaxed, cherishing the moment with them. Times like these made all of it worthwhile to Tammy. The nightmares were a punishment for the sins of her past, and given the choice she would do it all again just to protect him, to protect her family.

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #vampire the masquerade #vtm #Ventrue #Tammy King #Zacharias #Ventrue's Gambit #dapper drabbles #I hope y'all like Tammy because she's in all 3 of the last ones

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clovrtree · 2 months

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Wayne Manor was much grander on the outside than it was on the inside. Sure, the long sloping archways and winding grand staircases grabbed his attention, but otherwise it felt… normal? It was very lived in despite being spotless.

Alfred walked with a confidence from someone who has lived here for many years, and Peter didn’t doubt that fact. Karen had informed him moments ago about how Alfred took Bruce Wayne under his wing after his parents had died. They were like father and son.

“I’m sorry for intruding on your morning, Mr. Pennyworth.” Peter apologized for the umpteenth time, shoulders sagging as he curled slightly in on himself.

“You are not a bother, young Peter.” Alfred assured with a smile in his voice. The man led the teen all the way through the bottom floor, where they ended up in a large kitchen that was surprisingly modern. It must have been redone within the last few years. “Do you have a tea preference?” he asked, gesturing for Peter to sit at the long island counter.

He obeyed the gentle command and slid onto a stool. His feet no longer touched the ground, so he crossed his ankles and rested them on one of the leg bars. “No, sir. I’ve never really had tea that wasn’t iced.”

Alfred hummed in slight displeasure. Clearly the British man had his qualms about the correct temperature of tea, but he couldn’t blame Peter! They were in America, where iced, sweet tea dominated most people’s tastes.

“Well then, we’ll go with a staple. Does Earl Grey sound alright with you?” He asked while setting a kettle of water to boil, pulling out a long box of tea bags with different colored tags, likely symbolizing different flavors.

Peter nodded in agreement with the choice, resting his head in his hand and looking around the kitchen. He had assumed that they would both be quiet while the water boiled, but he was wrong.

“So, young Peter, where is your family?”

The innocent question sent a wave of sadness over him. Either dead or dying in a place where I can’t help them, he thought absently.

“They aren’t here.” he decided to reply, figuring it was the easiest lie to get away with. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, just a half truth. He could get away with those easily.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you living with a friend, then?”

Oh, he thought that Peter had a place to stay. Peter frowned, unsure if he really wanted to tell this man that he was homeless. “..I’ve got a friend in the area.”

Also only a half truth, considering Karen was talking in his ear once more.

“Peter, Alfred Pennyworth is your best shot at getting help. The family that he works for could be very beneficial allies in your time here considering their wealth and social statuses.”

“...but I’m not living with any, no.” Peter confirmed after letting Karen’s words seep into his mind. She was right, as usual. He would need to learn to accept help sooner or later, and this man looked about two sentences away from offering Peter more assistance than just tea.

Alfred frowned thoughtfully, eyes flickering across the counter as he pondered to himself for a few moments. “...you are not from Gotham, are you?”

Peter shook his head, confirming Alfred’s suspicions. That sinking pit that was the teens stomach at the moment was starting to ease itself through their conversation. This was okay, this was fine, Alfred wouldn’t do anything bad to him.

“I see.” Alfred mumbled. “...young Peter, may I ask how long you have been alone?”

“Not long.” He answered truthfully. It had been less than 48 hours since Peter last saw anyone he recognized or knew. The last face he could remember was Tony’s, with an apology on his tongue.

“...I’d like to make a few calls, my boy. Could you wait here?” Alfred asked kindly with a smile, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Peter. He hadn’t even noticed that it had finished during their conversation, and he picked up the warm cup with both hands.

He nodded in agreement, giving the beverage a testy sip. Like he said, warm teas were never really his thing, but this Earl Grey stuff wasn’t so bad. It tasted old, but in a good way. Maybe vintage was a better word.

Alfred stepped out, leaving the teen alone in the large kitchen. Its tiles were a warm cream color, and the accent wall was charcoal brick masonry, a surprising contrast to the old wooden walls. Various pots, pans, and other handled dishes hung from the ceiling on a rack over the island, and just above that was one of the many overhead lights. They looked like miniature stage lights.

The appliances were all a sleek black, and had strange brand names that Peter didn’t recognize. He guessed Whirlpool didn’t exist here.

There was a big window on the far wall, showing a view of the backyard. He recognized the winding path as the one that he had used to find the dumpsters. On the other wall was a breakfast nook that jutted out in a half hexagon, housing a little table with comfortable looking wooden benches to be sat on.

Knowing this house, Peter could already tell that there were probably two or more dining rooms elsewhere. No rich man hosts parties in his breakfast nook.

“How are you feeling, Peter?”

He wanted to be mad at her for asking a question at this time, but then he realized that Alfred probably wasn’t paying attention to Peter at the moment. At least, not entirely. He was supposedly on the phone in the other room.

“...Strange. I’m trying to figure out what Mr. Pennyworth wants with me.” whispering surely couldn’t hurt.

“I think he just wants to help you, Peter. You’re an unaccompanied minor who is injured and homeless.”

“He works for a rich guy, he can’t be that generous.” he grumbled, glaring at the counter and sipping his tea. Tony be damned, the rich were never that easy to understand. There had to be some sort of goal with keeping Peter around.

“I was created for you by a rich man.”

“You’re different.”

“Different how?”

“You’re from Mr. Stark, I’ve never even seen this Bruce guy.”

“They sound very similar to me, Peter. Especially based on the information I’ve gathered on the internet.”

Peter scoffed, downing the rest of the tea and cringing at the way it burned in his throat. He should have let it finish cooling off, but Karen was really starting to frustrate him. The kitchen filled with silence once more.

Alfred entered a few minutes later, holding a cell phone up to his ear. He glanced over Peter, taking stock of the boy and giving a description.

“Sixteen year-old white male, dark brown hair with a white streak on the front–” “White streak?” “Yes, Master Bruce. It would do you well to have patience and let me finish my sentences.” Alfred rolled his eyes, and Peter smiled a little bit at the sass. They really did seem like a father and a son.

“Where did you say you were from, young Peter?”

“Queens.”

“From Queens, New York.” “And he was digging through our trash?” “Indeed, Master Bruce.” The silence that followed on the other end of the line told Peter that Bruce Wayne was thinking.

He was glad for his super hearing. Without it, he wouldn’t have been able to hear the entire conversation happening on the phone.

“I’ll be home before lunch. For now, set him up a room.” “Of course, Master Bruce.”

Peter paused, eyes widening a little bit. There was no hiding the fact that he heard Bruce. Alfred hung up the phone, and Peter was fast to start speaking.

“Did he say to set me up a room?” He asked, a bit nervous. He couldn’t possibly stay here, he already felt like he was intruding after being invited in for tea!

But if he did stay, he could figure out what that secret room was underneath the manor. It had been nagging at him since he got inside. He wanted to get into that study and find the staircase.

“If that is alright with you.” Alfred nodded in confirmation to Peter’s nervous question, an air of reassurance wafting off of him. “I promise you that Master Bruce is not as bad as certain news sources have made him out to be.” He smiled gently. “You are from New York, I have no doubt that you’ve heard a lifetime of insults about him.”

Peter just nodded hesitantly, not seeing a reason to break his interdimensional cover. He could figure out plenty about Bruce from Karen, like a mini crash-course. She would catch him up to speed on anything he would need.

“Master Damian, Master Tim, and Master Duke are all at school already, meaning that you’ll get to meet them later. For now, how does a shower sound?”

Peter couldn’t and didn’t try to hide the smile that slipped onto his lips. “..a smile sounds nice, Mr. Pennyworth.” Peter stood up, eager to get the feeling of Gotham’s Harbor off of his skin.

“I’m sure that I can find something to fit you in Master Tim’s room. Here, I shall lead you to a bathroom.”

The semi-tour that Peter got for the next ten minutes was overwhelming. Once again, they passed through many rooms on the first floor before arriving at the foyer, where Alfred led him up the grand staircase and down the left hall. Two turns and an archway later, Peter was standing in a large guest bedroom that was probably the size of his living room back with May.

“There is an en-suite bathroom that you can use. If you leave this door unlocked,” Alfred gestured to the main bedroom’s door. “Then I can leave you fresh clothes on the bed. Does that sound okay?”

Peter nodded, looking around the bedroom. As much as he wanted to fall into the queen bed and roll up in the soft looking blankets, he felt like he would tarnish the material with his current state. Showering would need to come first.

He flashed Alfred a smile and two thumbs up. “Sounds great, thank you Mr. Pennyworth.” he beamed, backing into the bathroom and shutting the door carefully, clicking the lock shut.

Unbeknownst to him, the moment the door shut, Alfred’s gentle smile faltered. He forgot to hide his super suit, I’ll need to look into potential amnesia symptoms.

Peter’s shower was plain and uneventful. He scrubbed his skin until it was pink with a loofah and gel body wash that was stocked bountifully in the shower caddy. He massaged his scalp and hair with both shampoo and conditioner too many times to count, relishing in the feeling of the warm water flowing down his back. The pressure was perfect.

He would have stayed in there forever, but steam was starting to fill the room. He didn’t want to waste any water either, even if he doubted that a water bill was any problem for billionaire Bruce Wayne. It was the thought that counted, after all.

He stepped out onto the fuzzy drip mat after twenty-ish minutes, wiggling his toes in contentment. He felt thoroughly clean, and the hot water had let his muscles relax wonderfully.

Unsure of what to do with his dumpster-clothes, he folded them carefully and left them on the counter. As for the Iron Spider suit, he frowned, more unsure. “..Karen, are you confined to the Iron Spider?”

“No, Peter. I can use a small sample of the nanobots creating the suit to make something more convenient to wear. Would you like that?”

Her voice came from a speaker near the neck of the Iron Spider, and he nodded. “Yeah, can you make anything?”

“Do you have a preference?”

He hesitated. Did he have a preference? It couldn’t be anything too substantial, since Alfred might notice that he didn’t have it before and assume that he stole it from the house. Then again, he still wanted to be able to hear Karen at all times…

“...can you make something that looks like a hearing aid?” he asked hesitantly. After a beat of silence, the nanobots that usually make up the mask of the Iron Spider sparked to life, crawling across the toilet seat and connecting together to make a small black and red earpiece that would wrap around his outer ear. When he picked it up and slipped it on, Karen’s voice spoke.

“Does this work for you, Peter?”

He wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror, turning his head enough to see the device in his ear. Peter smiled. “Yeah, it looks great, Karen. I can just say I had it in my pocket so that no one would steal it.”

“That makes sense, good thinking, Peter.”

He beamed at her praise, eyes flickering down to the rest of his body. He felt.. Different. He could have blamed it on the interdimensional travel, but upon further inspection, he realized that he was different. Was he older? He seemed fundamentally bigger, even if it was just by a miniscule amount.

The last time Peter measured his height, he was 5’7. Embarrassing for a kid his age, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Now, he stood at nearly six feet, having grown at least four inches. It surprised him. What didn’t surprise him was the fact that most of his wounds were either gone or mostly healed. The large gash in his side was just a mass of puffy pink raw scars, now.

He met his reflection’s eyes, and like in the library, they were green. That white streak in his hair had just become more prominent since he had washed, and was a snowy white. Its presence made him uncomfortable.

He forced his eyes to look away and wrapped the towel around his hips. He doubted that Alfred was waiting in the bedroom, but he would still rather not walk out naked in this house he didn’t know.

Peter stepped out into the bedroom and glanced around. After making sure that it was empty, and using his tingle to check for any cameras, he walked to the bed where a few sets of clothes were.

The first set was a pajama set with multiple golden W shapes on it. The logo looked vaguely familiar, and he thought that he could recall it from his research on the Justice League. It was long sleeved, with the base clothes being a deep navy blue.

The next set was a black pair of drawstring sweatpants with a plain white t-shirt and a green zip-up jacket. This one also had a logo on it- but of a circle being sandwiched by two horizontal lines.

The third and final set of clothes was a pair of blue denim jeans with holes in the knees covered by frayed white threads. Alongside it was a gray t-shirt for a band he had never heard of called Ashes on Sunday. This one got paired with a plain purple pullover sweater.

Peter mulled the options for much longer than he had to, his hair dripping onto the bedroom’s hardwood floors. The pajamas and sweatpants both seemed extremely comfortable, and he wasn’t sure if he was feeling jeans right now. But then again, he was likely about to meet a very wealthy family, and would want to make a good first impression.

In the end, his mind won over his heart, and he tugged on the provided black boxers and socks, followed by the jeans, t-shirt, and pullover. Everything was just a bit too small, but he wouldn’t be complaining. This was the cleanest he had felt in days. Being in space in the Iron Spider suit had made him sweat an awful lot.

Peter went back into the bathroom and grabbed the suit. Then he briefly searched the room to find a decent enough hiding spot for it. He couldn’t just leave it in plain sight- Spiderman didn’t exist here, so he couldn’t use the cosplay excuse that had worked far too many times back home.

He settled for tucking the Iron Spider underneath the bed, slipping it between the wooden slats that held up the mattress. It took a bit of wiggling and adjusting, but once he was done, no one would be able to see it by looking under the bed unless they looked at the mattress.

Satisfied, Peter walked out of the bedroom, quietly tugging the door shut. It was at that point that he realized that he didn’t know how to find Alfred. Maybe he was in the kitchen? How was he supposed to get there?

“Go through the archway at the far end of the hall and make two lefts.”

Peter sighed in relief through his nose, smiling. Thanks to Karen, he was able to make his way back to the kitchen in just under ten minutes. Even though Karen was giving him directions in his ear, he still needed to seem somewhat lost just in case Alfred found him wandering.

Speaking of, Alfred was not in the kitchen. Peter frowned, looking around the room. “....Karen, can you scan the house and find him?”

“One moment.”

Peter hummed a thanks, leaning against the counter. Being in a room meant for food made his stomach clench uncomfortably- he really should eat something soon. Ever since being bit, his appetite had changed drastically. He ate quite a lot now, and considering he hadn’t eaten since before Titan, Peter was overdue for quite a few meals and snacks.

“Alfred Pennyworth is located near the dumpsters in the backyard.”

“Oh.” he said out loud, only momentarily surprised by the answer. Alfred had never finished throwing away the trash. Now Peter felt bad, since he was intruding on this man’s time. This was his job, after all, and he hated to be in the way. “..I’ll just wait here, then.”

At first, it was easy. Peter kept himself occupied by asking Karen different things about this universe, its customs, and about Bruce Wayne. Every so often, he would ask for Alfred’s location, and upon confirming he was nowhere near the kitchen, he continued his vocal investigation.

Karen proved to be an extremely valuable resource for him at the moment. Since being connected to the library computer, she had found access to almost every private and non private server in the world. She couldn’t even do that back home, which proved to Peter that this universe was not as technologically advanced as his own. A silent thanks to Mr. Stark was tossed out, and he hoped that somewhere in the multiverse, the man felt his gratitude.

He learned that Bruce Wayne was not as sleazy as Peter had originally guessed. He had no public relationships, and almost all of his children were adopted orphans. The exceptions to that were Damian Wayne, who was his biological son, and Stephanie Brown, who lived permanently with her mother and visited Bruce occasionally.

Peter also learned about Batman. The vigilante had been on the scene for quite a few years, and seemed to cycle through sidekicks like they were plastic forks. His current one was a kid who held the Robin title. Batman’s preference for working with literal children was… concerning at best.

Working with a teen was one thing, but based on the descriptions that Karen gave, this Robin couldn’t be older than eleven, and even that felt like it was pushing it. This was also his fifth robin. The rest either retired or died.

Hearing about the second Robin’s death saddled Peter with an uncomfortable churn in his chest. Beaten to death and then exploded, and the man who did it was still around. Peter frowned when Karen told him that the Joker was still alive, and had recently broken out of Arkham Asylum.

Peter hoped that Tony would avenge him if anything ever happened. It’s not like Spiderman was Iron Man’s official sidekick, but there was a similar dynamic happening here. In fact, Peter hoped that Tony was working to avenge his death right now.

If the multiverse was merciful, it would let Tony get the revenge that he deserves and live a long happy life in the afterglow.

Everything else that Peter learned from the conversation was basic information about the world and its customs. Superhero identities were kept under a harsh lock and key, villains ran amok almost daily, and the supers tended to keep to themselves unless there was a dire emergency. The Justice League felt more like a club than a team. Meet occasionally, only work together when needed.

“Alfred Pennyworth is approaching the kitchen. Arrival in ten seconds.”

Peter frowned, but sat up straight and wiped the expression from his face with his hands. He really needed to change Karen’s alert settings, he needed more time to mentally prepare for this.

Alfred’s footsteps entered the kitchen ten seconds later, just as Karen predicted, and Peter looked over with an easy smile. “Hey, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Alfred smiled, looking a bit surprised to see Peter. He glanced over him, appraising the outfit and giving a very subtle nod of approval. Peter wasn’t sure if it was approval to him for his selection, or to himself for providing such a fashionable choice.

“Young Peter, I hadn’t realized you would be out so fast. My apologies. Was finding the kitchen easy?” he asked, tugging off his white gloves and setting them neatly on the counter so that he could wash his hands.

Peter shrugged. “I got a little lost, a lot of these hallways look the same.” he replied, glancing at the back of Alfred’s head.

The butler nodded in understanding, turning off the faucet with his elbow after a moment. “You sound just like the rest of Master Bruce’s children.” he chuckled softly, not seeing the look of panic on Peter’s face at that statement.

Peter acted like Bruce’s kids, and he wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He didn’t want to get attached to these guys, and he didn’t want them to get attached either.

“How many kids live here?” Peter asked, evening out his voice as much as he could.

“Three, though he has seven. I’m sure you know that already, though.” Alfred hummed, opening the fridge and retrieving a few fresh vegetables.

Peter nodded absently, and after a few seconds, spoke up once more. “......whatcha makin?”

“I was going to prepare a brunch, I’m sure that you’re hungry.” Alfred replied, rinsing off bell peppers, green onions, and tomatoes in the sink. “Do you like omelets?” Peter could hear the man’s smile.

“Yeah, omelets are good. Have you ever had them with bacon?”

“I have, but we do not keep pork in the house. Master Bruce is Jewish.”

Peter nodded in understanding, not that Alfred could see. “That’s cool, I didn’t know that.”

Alfred used the knife and cutting board to slide the chopped bell pepper pieces into a small bowl, then he started on the rest of the produce. “We do have beef sausage that I could mix in if you were wanting meat. Would you like that?”

“...Yeah, if it’s not too much of a bother.” Getting protein into his system sounded heavenly right about now.

“Beef sausage omelets it is then, young Peter. How many shall I make you?”

“How many?”

“Yes, how many?”

Peter paused. He needed to say a normal number. No regular teenage boy would eat seven omelets in a day, even if he really wanted seven omelets. Alfred seemed to somehow understand his quiet dilemma, even if it was only slightly.

“Whatever you don’t finish, I can pack away to be reheated.” He assured, glancing over his shoulder to Peter.

The teen bit the inside of his cheek, and after a moment, nodded to him. “....uh, maybe seven? Or eight?”

Alfred paused, obviously not prepared for the answer. He nodded after a moment of collecting himself, making some sort of mental decision. “As you wish, young Peter. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Peter learned very quickly that Alfred’s cooking was a weapon. His control of flavor, texture, and quality truly made him an asset to the culinary community. All seven omelets were eaten within minutes of being served, and Peter found himself missing their delicious flavor, despite his semi-full stomach.

Now that Peter had bathed and eaten, he felt very content with himself. He could almost forget about the conversation that had happened earlier between Alfred and Bruce over the phone. He said almost, because the unmistakable sound of the Manor’s front door being open sounded softly in the kitchen.

Peter felt every muscle in his body tense up, and he crossed his arms uncomfortably in his chair. He was about to meet Bruce Wayne. The teen counted the footsteps until they paused in the threshold of the kitchen a few minutes later. Suddenly, Peter’s tingle spiked frantically, buzzing around the back of his neck and shoulders, making his spine itch. This man was dangerous.

Alfred turned from the sink where he had been cleaning up and smiled gently at the man a few feet behind Peter. “Ah, welcome home Master Bruce. This is Peter.”

A large man rounded the island and stood at the end, wearing a black suit pressed to perfection with a forest green tie tucked under the white collar. His hair was oily black, and only had a few stray grays on his hairline. His eyes were a deep blue, but they held a gentleness when they looked over peter.

Just like Alfred, Bruce was seeing a homeless teen with bruises painting his face. At least now he was clean and clothed.

“Peter, it’s nice to meet you.” Bruce smiled gently, extending a large hand. Peter shook it hesitantly, feeling suddenly small while sitting at the counter. He wanted to run and hide.

“You too, Mr. Wayne.” Peter replied quietly. He immediately noticed the way that Bruce assessed Peter with a few once-overs. It was similar to Natasha, or Steve. They were always telling him something or another about knowing your opponent before they knew you.

“Please, call me Bruce.” When Peter nodded, Bruce continued. “I hear you were knee-deep in my dumpsters when Alfred found you.” he joked, obviously trying to ease the tense teen.

Peter noticed and forced himself to relax his shoulders, nodding a bit and letting his smile loosen up. “...yeah, I’m sorry about that. I just figured that diving in the richer neighborhoods was safer than the city.. Plus, y’know, a more valuable yield and all.”

Bruce Wayne nodded, easing himself into a stool. “That makes a lot of sense, great observation, Peter.” he approved, much to Peter’s surprise. He hadn’t expected for this man to be critiquing his dumpster diving tactics. “What’s your last name, kid?”

“...Parker.” No harm in telling Bruce that. The man wouldn’t find anything if he paid off the police to give him records.

“Peter Parker, I like that. Where’s your family at, Peter?”

The teen bit the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the counter when Bruce asked about his family. The air in the kitchen became tense, and for a moment, Peter felt his vision get a little blurry.

“...not anywhere near here. My uh.. Uncle died a few years ago. I left my aunt to go on a foreign study with my mentor, and my mentor was…” he hesitated, trying to find the right word. “...is out of the country at the moment. I’m not sure where he went.”

The perfect half-truth.

Bruce seemed to mull over his answer, brows pinching together slightly. “...I see. Do you have any names we can potentially look up? Or a phone number?”

Peter sighed through his nose. “...May Parker-Jameson is my aunt. My mentor is Tony Stark.” he knew that both of those would yield no search results. He had already tried and failed.

“I appreciate your honesty, Peter.” Bruce smiled and reassured. “We’re gonna let you stay here for the time being, okay? We won’t call CPS.”

Peter frowned. That thought never even crossed his mind- of course someone would try calling CPS on this homeless teen! But not Bruce, apparently.

“Bruce Wayne has a tendency to take in homeless orphaned teens.”

Very informative, Karen, Thank you so much. Peter thought sarcastically. He had figured that out after learning more about Bruce’s kids. Peter just… didn’t want to be another one of this man’s charity cases.

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce and Alfred both shared a glance and a smile, and Bruce stood up. “I’m going to finish the rest of my workday from home, Alfred. Peter, if you need me, I’ll be in my study, okay? Though I’m sure that Alfred can help you with anything you may need.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, staying in his seat. He tracked the man as he crossed the room to the entry archway.

“The rest of the kids will be home this afternoon after school. I’ll go ahead and let them know in advance of your unexpected stay, that sound okay to you?” Bruce asked, already pulling his phone out.

“Sure.” the teen shrugged idly.

“Thanks, Peter.” Bruce smiled.

Batchat

Bruce ; We’ve got a situation at the Manor, everyone be ready to meet a new face when you get home.

Duke ; oh god don’t tell me you adopted another one

Tim ; Is seven not enough, old man?

Bruce ; I’m serious, boys.

Dick ; What’s their name?? :D

Bruce ; Peter Parker. I’m going to do some digging. I’d like to have everyone home this weekend so that we can all get a look at him.

Bruce ; That means Jason, too.

Dick Wayne added Jason Todd-Wayne to the Batchat.

Jason Todd-Wayne left the Batchat.

Bruce ; I’ll message him privately.

Dick ; :((( why is he so stubborn

Tim ; Because he’s your brother. B, what’s the situation?

Bruce ; Homeless teen from Queens. Alfred found him digging through the dumpster wearing destroyed clothes and a supersuit. He’s got signs of a Lazarus Pit being used.

Duke ; oh shit

Tim ; White hair, green eyes?

Bruce ; Yes.

#batman #spiderman #batman spiderman crossover #dc x marvel #dumpster diving for treasure #batman fanfiction #batfam #batfam plus peter parker #chapter two !!!

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