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pink-imagines · 3 years

Text

snow day

request: Hi hi! Can I get a headcannon of needy Todoroki were Todoroki is in the ~mood~ 😏but his s/o is out shopping. But when they get back he’s all on them and pretty much attacking them w kisses and cuddles.

a/n: let’s just say for this fic’s sake covid never existed!! (stay safe ppl, try to stay at home as much as possible!) also hi! i’m back, i literally have no excuse now but i’ll be posting a bit more soon hopefully. (you can probably tell that i started writing this back in january)

warnings: mentions of something smutty that might go down but no smut and no other warnings!

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The snow couldn’t seem to stop falling. It had already been snowing for the past few days, but the weather didn’t change. It stayed the same and the snow piled on and on. You quite liked this kind of weather, somehow seeing people wrapped up in their scarfes with beanies dragged far over their ears made you feel warm - despite the cold weather. Today was your day off work, so you had a wonderful lazy morning with a bath and eating breakfast while watching TV. The only thing you could think of that would make this better was if Shoto would be here. He was, unlike you, out doing work. You remember teasing him lightly about it yesterday, that you got to spend the day at home while he had to be working out in the snow. In reality you worried that he’d become sick or catch a cold, even though you knew he stayed safe. Either way, you decided to treat yourself today with some shopping. It had been so long since you could actually go out to shop, so despite the cold you wanted to go outside.

You took the train to the mall and walked through the stores. The only thing you were planning on buying was a sweater, considering that you had been frequently stealing more and more of Shoto’s hoodies so you should probably get some of your own. When you saw the little jewlery shop you stopped dead in your tracks. Knowing that your wallet would start screaming if you walked in there you decided to keep it to window shopping. Earrnings, necklaces, bracelets... but most importantly rings. The memory of your mom straight up asking Shoto when he was planning on proposing came to mind. A smile grazed your lips, he had been so flustered that he choked on whatever he was eating. You had been trying to tell your mom off when he put a hand on your thigh and lightly brushed his thumb across your skin there. “No, it’s fine.. we’ll see in the future.”, he had said and had given your mom a soft smile. If it weren’t for the fact that people were around you would’ve started giggling, but you held yourself back and kept glancing over the rings. One in particular caught your eye, a simple silver one with a smaller diamond. You knew you couldn’t wear a lot of jewlery for your line of work so it seemed so perfect. For the sake of the memory that your brain decided to pull out from the dust, you took a picture of it and sent it to Shoto. -So... when’s it happening? :P You snickered to yourself and started walking again but your phone buzzed quicker than you expected. -You’re starting to sound like your mom A laugh escaped your lips at the message. However, it did surprise you that he could be texting you back so quickly since he was at work. -I was just joking.. aren’t you supposed to be working right now? The text bubble that indicated that he was typing appeared immediately. -Not on patrol today and I just finished my paperwork. I’m about to go into a meeting though -Is that a warning or a challenge? -Y/N. Do. Not. Yet another laughed made it’s way up your throat and you put your phone away again. He usually sounded cold over text, but you could always see right through it. Maybe that’s what four years spent together does to you.

The hours passed by as you walked around in the mall. It was actually quite pleasant, as not many people were there considering the fact that it was a weekday. As you were trying on clothing in yet another store you found a sweater that you really liked. It was an oversized black sweater that went down you your mid thigh and the collar was a bit wider, almost creating an off the shoulder look. You smiled at yourself in the mirror. Under the sweater you had the black bralette you had tried on moments before. Both of the items fit you perfectly and together it created a very cute look. Without thinking you sent a picture to Shoto, asking him if you should buy it. Thinking he probably had his phone off during the meeting, you put your phone down and changed back to your clothes. When you had just finished up putting your pants back on you looked at you phone again to see Shoto’s messages... you forgot his messages are connected to his laptop as well. -Y/N I told you I was in a meeting! -I mean you look very pretty, I like the sweater.. but if you’re going to send me pictures while I’m at work please put pants on. This was not a funny situation, is what you tried to tell yourself... but that didn’t stop you from smiling at the thought of his ears going red in the meeting room. -Sorry, I forgot! I’ll make it up to you by making you soba, okay? It took a while for him to answer so you went out of the dressing room and put away the things you weren’t going to buy. -... fine. I’ll be home after this meeting, so maybe around 5. -See you then ;) Were you being cheeky? Yes, but it wasn’t anything that he hadn’t dealt with before.

After making your purchase you looked at your phone and saw that the clock was nearing 4:45 pm, this meaning that it was time for you to go back home. You went over to the trainstation only to see that the train you were taking home was delayed by 20 minutes due to the snow. With a sigh you sat down on the nearest bench and took out your phone. Because of the 20 minutes it would take to arrive at your home station and the 5 minute walk home, you’d be home in about 50 minutes. Knowing Shoto, he’d probably already be home by now as he most likely managed to cut the meeting short - what was the meaning of staying longer when you had already gotten to the point? Even so, you decided to not call him just yet in case he actually still was in the meeting.

Time passed and as soon as the clock struck 5:00 pm you got a call. “Hey, are you okay? I’ve been waiting for a few and you’re still not home...”, Shoto’s voice was slightly distorted over the line due to your bad connection but you were still relieved to hear his voice. “The train got delayed, can you believe it?”, you sighed heavily. “Yes I can actually, it’s been snowing all day.”, he said calmly, “Do you need me to pick you up? I can be there in 10 minutes.” “No it’s fine, the train should be here in 5 and then I’ll be at the station in just 20 minutes.”, you stood up and looked by the track for the train. “Are you sure? The train’s probably gonna be packed.” “It’s fine, I have headphones with me so I won’t even notice.”, you smiled at his tries to come get you, “Besides I can practically see the train by now.” “Okay... then I’ll meet you at the station.”, he answered, as if it was nothing. “No, baby, you don’t have to do that. You’ve been at work all day just rest please?”, you reasoned. “I’ll see you in 20 minutes, sweetheart.”, he hung up on you. You were taken aback by the usage of the nickname, he barely ever called you by petnames. Before you could think to much of it the train arrived and you put in your earbuds and got on quickly to find a good seat.

The train wasn’t as packed as Shoto had thought. Though there was a crying child in your cart. The mother who frantically tried to calm her baby down gave you an apologetic smile. You made sure to look friendly back at her to make sure she understood that you didn’t mind. The poor woman was trying to keep her child from screaming while also balancing groceries and a stroller at the same time. “Do you need any help?”, you asked and took out your earbuds. “Please.”, the woman gave you a relieved look. You took her grocery bags and balanced them against some empty seats. Then you took the stroller from her hands so that she could properly care for her baby. “He’s just a bit hungry...”, she said and took out a bottle to give to the young boy. “... I’ve never understood how parents always know what their children want like that.”, you said mostly to yourself but the woman answered anyways. “I guess it’s an instinct.”, she said with a warm smile, “Thank you for your help. My husband’s working late so he couldn’t take care of the groceries tonight.” “Ah... I understand.”, you nodded. “Are you married?”, she asked and when she saw your shocked face she quickly apologized, “Sorry I didn’t mean to pry, I was just trying to make small talk.” “It’s alright.”, you stifled a laugh, “I’m actually not married... not yet at least, my mom’s been pressuring my boyfriend for a while now so who knows.”, you joked. “Oh, you have a boyfriend. Have you two been together for long?”, her demeanor had changed back to the kind and warm one from before. “A few years, actually.”, you nodded, “He’s a very sweet guy and-... that’s him actually.” Your phone started buzzing and Shoto’s caller-ID flashed up on the screen. His picture that you had chosen was of him holding a puppy husky that you had been thinking of adopting. Sadly, you ended up not doing that since you were both to busy to take care of a dog - let alone a puppy. You excused yourself to the woman next to you and answered. “Hi, babe, is everything okay?”, you asked. “Yeah, I just wanted to say that I’m by the station. Was the train packed?”, he spoke softly, which made it clear for you that he was in fact outside. “Not at all actually, it’s quite roomy. I told you that you didn’t have to wait for me though...”, you sighed. “I wanted to. It’s fine.”, he said and then added in a whisper, “Then I get to see you sooner.” Your face flushed up in all shades of pink as he said that. He was never usually this affectionate, but you couldn’t deny that you absolutely loved it. “You’re cute, Shoto.”, you chuckled. “Don’t laugh at me.”, you heard him huff slightly. “Sorry, sorry.”, you smiled, “I’ll be by the station in a few minutes if I’m lucky, okay? Thank you for waiting for me.” “No problem... see you soon.”, he said and hung up again. When you turned back to the woman sitting beside her you could tell she was holding back her excitement. “That was the sweetest conversation I’ve ever heard. That sounded like it was straight out of a story!”, she realized what she said and quickly apologized again, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop!” “It’s no problem, we all do it sometimes.”, you tried to control the blush that was creeping across your face but it was near impossible. “I bet he’ll propose to you soon.”, she said and looked back at her baby, “I hope he does.” “Thank you.”, you smiled and looked down at the baby, who was staring back up at you. You waved at the child and he let out a gurgling laugh that had your heart melting. Today was certainly a special day.

You and the woman just happened to get off by the same stop so you helped her get her grocery bags out of the cart. When you saw Shoto standing by himself you waved and called his name. He turned to you and smiled softly, almost longlingly. “He’s handsome too... wow, you’re lucky.”, she smiled to you, “Thank you for the help, miss.” “No problem!”, you smiled back and watch her walk away before turning your attention to the man walking towards you. “I haven’t seen you all day.”, he embraced you with a sigh. Hugs were normal for the two of you, but absolutely not in public. Your body stiffened in shock before settling in his arms and hugging him back. Eventually he let go of you and took a step back. “Who was that woman? Do I know her?”, he asked. “No, I just met her on the train. Let’s get home, it’s freezing out here!”, you said and took his arm in yours.

The two of you walked in silence, as you usually did, but there was one thing that was running around in your mind. “Do you ever think of having children?”, you asked out of the blue, your breath forming white clouds in the cold air. Shoto stopped in his tracks and looked at you. It wasn’t until then you had realized what you had said, maybe not directly but the question was floating around your heads. “Children, huh?”, Shoto took a deep breath. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, afraid that he’d look disgusted or even scared. He didn’t. His mind was somewhere else, you could tell by the far away look in his eyes. Shoto’s face was dusted pink but, just like yours, you couldn’t tell if it was because he was flustered or cold. “I’ve never thought about it, actually.”, he looked at you which made you look away, “Not against the thought of it though. Let’s talk it through some other time.” He said it so casually. As if this was obvious and not a huge step in a relationship. Then he just kept walking. If it wasn’t for your arm that was still wrapped around his, you would’ve forgotten to walk along with him. “Don’t be embarrased about it, please.”, he said suddenly, “It’s good to bring up these things.” “I just thought about it... you know... the woman on the train and everything...”, you muttered. “Sweetheart.”, there was the nickname again, “I told you not to be embarrased about it.” After a few years you’d think he wouldn’t be able to make you weak in the knees anymore. That was wrong. You hummed in response to what he said and leaned your head against his shoulder. There was an urge in you to feel a sudden intimacy between the two of you and that was the first thing that came to mind. “Are you cold?”, he asked. “Not extremely...”, you looked up at the clear sky, “... maybe it’s not the best time for cold soba though.” “It’s always a good time for cold soba.”, he answered, completely serious but you still laughed. You laughed because it sounded like him. You laughed because it would ease the excitement stuck in your stomach from what he had said before. You laughed because at that moment you felt so incredibly wonderful - and who wouldn’t laugh at that?

When you got home you made yourself a cup of tea while Shoto stuck to heating up by the radiator. “Are you sure you still want cold soba? We could always make warm soba.”, you suggested as you poured the hot water into your cup. “I say we make cold soba.”, Shoto shrugged as he kept his hands on the warm radiator. His nose was still red from the cold. “Then we make cold soba.”, you nodded.

After eating and cleaning up you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Since you usually sat with a bit of space in between the two of you, you did so. However, this time Shoto scooched closer to you and put your head on his shoulder, only to then wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?”, he asked quietly to not disturb the show playing. You could care less about the show, your heart was beating loud enough for you to not even hear it. No words would come out of your mouth so you hummed as an answer to his question. He had been acting very lovingly the entire night, something that he didn’t always do. “Are you okay, Shoto?”, you asked suddenly, “Did something happen at work?” “Why do you ask?” “You just seem... more cuddly?”, you looked up at him, catching him staring but he didn’t look away. “I just missed you then I guess.”, he said, “... and you sent me that picture and that wasn’t very fair.” He looked away and now he couldn’t blame the cold on his reddened face. That’s how you remembered your sweater that you had bought. “Right the sweater!”, you exclaimed, “Can I show you?” “Sure.”, he said and watched you get up, “You seem very excited about this sweater.” “Yes! And you should be too, because now I won’t be stealing yours anymore!”, you took your bag and walked over to the bathroom. “But I like it when you wear my clothes...” “Then...I won’t be stealing your clothes as often anymore!”, you smiled before closing the bathroom door behind you.

You walked out of the bathroom, dressed just like you were in the picture, and walked up to him. He looked over at you, looked you up and down, and then stood up. “What do you think?”, you smiled as he pulled you closer by your waist so that you could wrap your arms around his neck. “I like it more when you wear my clothes... but this is also very nice.”, he leaned down and kissed you quick, “Let’s go have that talk about having children...”, he whispered and started guiding you to the bedroom.

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clandonnachaidh · 3 years

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Remember Remember the Fifth of November

“D’ye think she’ll be warm enough?”

I looked down at our daughter and swallowed the urge to comment on the fact that he’d asked that very question at least ten times in almost as many minutes. His strong jaw was clenched in concentration as he wrestled a cosy knit hat onto her head, trying to be as delicate as he could so as to not wake her but having to go to war with her already abundant curls as they fought back against constriction. Brianna was in my favourite place, cocooned in a wrap that held her close to my chest with her head resting heavily on my shoulder as she slept. I even welcomed the drool that would no doubt be spilling from her parted lips as she dreamed.

Amongst all the other blessings that having a child of our own brought to us, the fact that she was such a good sleeper was not one to go unmentioned.

I smiled softly at the sight of my husband, huge and imposing in every way but somehow unbelievably gentle when it came to his daughter. Jamie was looking at her with the sheer adoration that appeared only when he was looking at Brianna.

“She’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be warm beside the bonfire.”

“Aye but nae too close,” Jamie warned me, pointlessly.

“Don’t worry, lad, I don’t have any inclination to launch our daughter into the flames.”

He quietly muttered ‘dinna even joke’ under his breath as he put an arm around me and pressed a kiss to my temple, showing me that I was forgiven for my attempt at comedy.

Brianna shuffled slightly so I checked that she was comfortable, made sure that her little booties were firmly on her feet and saw that her hands were cradled in tight fists under her chin. Jamie retrieved his favourite Barbour jacket from the wardrobe and slipped into it, pulling his own beanie down around his ears before he caught sight of the three of us in the mirror.

Of course I was biased but the picture reflected in the glass was glorious. We looked like the perfect little family. Jamie towering over his two girls, ever the protector. I hadn’t been aware that I was beaming with pride but when I saw myself, my face was split into an open grin. Our little unit, all bundled up against what would be a cold autumn night, complete with matching wool jumpers that had been a gift to Jamie and myself from Jenny the previous Christmas with the promise of a smaller version being underway for Brianna to receive this year.

We could hear Ian and Murtagh having a loud discussion about where best to stick the Guy even through the thick walls of Lallybroch. With a chuckle, Jamie decided that it was time for him to wade into the discussion lest his godfather and brother-in-law decided to try and drown the other in the basin full of water that had been set up so the children could bob for apples. Just as we made it into the kitchen, Wee Jamie was caught red handed trying to stick a single finger into the treacle that was cooling around the toffee apples that were supposed to have been a surprise for later. A fact that wasn’t lost on my husband.

“Yer ma will tan yer hide and ye ken fine well.” Jamie grabbed his namesake around the waist with his free arm and lifted his giggling nephew out into the cold air, his other arm never dropping from the shield that he had created around Brianna and myself.

Lallybroch had come to be our home. It was beautiful in the spring with the first buds beginning to bloom and the small walk down to the burn was worth it for a dip in the midst of boiling hot summers. Of course, it was picturesque enough to be on a postcard when it was covered in soft, fluffy snow but my favourite had to be autumn. The trees that surrounded the land had all turned, greens deepening until they turned bright orange and red. It hadn’t been too windy so even though the ground was covered in a deep layer of leaves, the huge trees were anything but bare.

“Go and sort them out before I stuff one of them into the Guy’s outfit masel’,” Jenny’s voice came from behind us and Jamie snorted a laugh as he moved towards the two men who were still having words with each other over the correct placement of the effigy that had lovingly been made from potato sacks and straw with a somewhat terrifying hand-drawn face thanks to the efforts of Wee Jamie and his little sister Maggie.

“Mary, Michael and Bride, they’re worse than the weans sometimes,” Jenny sighed heavily, a sentiment I was not going to disagree with. We watched the three men bicker over this and that before finally coming to the conclusion that they would play rock, paper, scissors to determine the outcome of a very simple issue.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I laughed as Murtagh clipped Ian around the head, clearly not happy with the result. Victorious, Ian pulled the physical representation of Guy Fawkes from the ground and placed him proudly on the bonfire, balancing him right in the middle of a particularly dense patch of branches to serve as a sort of throne.

I hadn’t noticed Jenny had gone until she reappeared with two mugs in her hands, spirals of steam rising and disappearing into the air.

“I slipped something special intae yer hot chocolate, mo phiuthar,” Jenny gave me a wink as she pressed the warm mug into my hand. I inquisitively stuck my nose close to the rim and felt a wry smile creep onto my face as I confirmed my suspicions with a look at my sister-in-law.

“That creme brûlée liqueur I got you?”

She nodded before taking a solid glug from her own cocktail, “The very same.”

From his place at his dad’s side, Wee Jamie bolted towards us and pulled at his mother’s arm, dragging her towards her husband as he begged the two of them for the bonfire to be lit.

With a look down at my own sleeping offspring, I took a sip of my hot chocolate and closed my eyes appreciatively, letting the warmth flow down my throat and into my chest.

“Christ alive, Claire.”

Jamie’s husky voice appeared from behind me and I smirked at him, knowing that only my husband could be one of the only men to see his wife enjoying a hot drink and make it a sexual thing.

“There’s booze in it. Here, try.”

I offered my mug to him but instead he closed the gap between us, careful to cradle Brianna’s head in one of his hands, and kissed the taste from my lips.

“Delicious.”

“Uncle Jamie, hurry! Da’s doin’ it!”

We all convened around the modest structure that had been built from old fence posts, planks from barn doors and old bits of timber from wooden pallets. I spied the leg of a kitchen chair that had met an explosive end the previous Hogmanay after a drunken Jamie and Murtagh had fallen into it during what had started as an eightsome reel and quickly descended into the two men trying to spin each other as hard as possible until they both lost their footing.

As if she knew that it was time for the festivities to start, Brianna started to make the little noises that meant she was beginning to wake.

“Ah, the wee snuffle pig is comin’ around, is she?” Jamie whispered soft words over her as his hands began to untangle his daughter from the folds of the wrap. I giggled at the nickname that he’d given her and stretched the tired muscles of the small of my back now that I didn’t have an extra 10kg of weight hanging off of me. Even though she was only a year old, Brianna was affectionately referred to within the family as ‘the long baby’ due to the Viking genes that had been passed down through her father.

As her sleepy eyes began to blink open, the first thing in her line of sight was her father which produced a rather spectacular smile.

“Daaaaaa,” she groaned with joy.

It was the only thing that she said, not yet having mastered any sort of name for me. She had, however, had given me the gift of a very specific, very shrill screech to know when it was mummy that was looking for. As much as I joked about him pipping me to the post, it was my favourite thing to see Jamie’s utterly radiant smile each and every time she said it.

“Did ye have a nice wee sleep, m’annsachd?” he asked as he kissed her head and then each cheek for good measure.

“Look, darling!” I put on my best excited face and pointed towards the bonfire where Murtagh held a torch and Ian held Maggie on his hip, Wee Jamie at dutifully at his side.

“Remember, remember, the 5th of November! Gunpowder, treason and plot! We see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot!”

With a round of applause for the two Murray children, Murtagh put the torch to the woodpile.

It went up with a whoosh causing Murtagh to stagger back slightly. He caught himself before subtly giving the finger to Ian who was doubled over laughing.

“Ye’ve got a bit less beard the noo!”

Shaking my head at the childish antics of the two eldest men in the family, I set my sights on the reflection of the flames dancing around in Brianna’s beautiful blue eyes. A lighter higher up, I saw the same vision replicated in the eyes of her father.

“D’ye like it, Bree? Can ye see the manny on the top there?”

“One year old might be a touch young to start explaining about why we burn a man on a bonfire, Fraser,” I said sardonically.

He made a face at me before bringing his mouth down to meet mine, Brianna’s pudgy hand caught somewhere between our bottom lips.

“She’ll be raised on stories of rebels, Sassenach. Guy Fawkes and Robert the Bruce and the like.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Any women in that list?”

“Aye, ‘course. Joan of Arc, Sophie Scholl. All the good ones.”

I nodded once with a smile to tell him that I was happy with his additions and we turned back to the bonfire, watching as the effigy burned in front of us. Jamie secured Brianna on his hip, burying his face into the riotous curls that had escaped from her hat and delighting in the resulting giggles. His other arm was wrapped around my side, sheltering me under his arm. Despite the cold, he was warm enough for all three of us.

We watched as the flames licked and crawled over the wood, bursts of air popping as the heat became too much. It was a beautiful clear night, even with the smoke from the bonfire billowing upwards and all at once, a huge explosion of white light lit up the night sky.

Brianna’s face at the sight of her first firework was something I knew that both Jamie and I would cherish forever. Her mouth hung open, eyes glittering with excitement as the colours burst in the sky. White and blue and green and red illuminated the pale skin on her face and it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.

She began to make breathy noises of awe, her little hand gently resting on Jamie’s cheek just to make sure that he was watching it all unfold with her. He quickly snuck a glance at me and smiled knowingly when he saw the tears in my eyes. A laugh snuck out of me, ready to dash my eyes and make a self-deprecating comment about being a silly, emotional mum but Jamie pulled me tighter against him and laid a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I am the luckiest man alive,” he announced. “Happy Bonfire Night, my beautiful lasses.”

#outlander #outlander fan fiction #Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #Brianna #ao3

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crashdevlin · 5 years

Text

Secret

Author’s Note: This is part one of my second card for @spnskinnyballs‘s 500 Follower Challenge. The prompts for this were Jody and ‘What are you wearing?’

Summary: Y/n is missing her girlfriend because she doesn’t get out to Sioux Falls very often.

Pairing: Jody Mills x Reader

Word Count: 1643

Story Warnings: Biting kink, exhibitionism, femslash 18+ HERE BE SEX, DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!

The phone rang twice before she picked up. “Mills.”

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, y/n.” You could hear her smile and you loved it. “You're calling? You always text.”

“You know, I don't like how my voice sounds through the phone but I love hearing yours, so I decided to suck it up.” She chuckled and you could imagine the skin on her neck turning ever-so-slightly pink like it always did when you complimented her. “So… what are you wearing?”

Now you imagined her rolling her eyes at you. “My uniform. I'm at work.”

“I love you in your uniform, Jodio.”

“You aren't Donna. Don't call me ‘Jodio’. Did you call for a reason or are you just bored and trying to get a rise out of me?”

“Baby, if I'm calling ‘cause I'm bored, it's not to get a rise out of you. It's because I'm lonely and I miss you.”

You could hear a car door shut and knew she'd climbed into her truck to talk to you in private. “You're lonely, huh?” Her voice had taken on that husky quality that she usually left to the bedroom and it sent a thrill straight to your core.

“Uh-huh. Haven't seen my girlfriend in a few weeks ‘cause she won't let me tell my best friends and travelling companions about us, and we don't find a lot of time to just hang out in Sioux Falls.”

She sighed and you heard the engine of her truck rumble to life. “Oh, this is one of those conversations, then?”

“Yes, it's one of those conversations. I just don't understand why it's okay for your girls to know, but we can't tell my boys.”

“Because it was good for Claire to know, y/n. It was good for her to see that there wasn't a problem with it. Can you imagine how those guys would react?”

“Yes, I can, because I'm with them all the time and they know I'm bi, Jo. They watch me every time we go into a bar to see if I'm gonna try to pick up the same quality of roadhouse pussy they do and every time I go back to the motel alone, they make backhanded comments about how they think I'm lying about my own sexuality because they've never seen me with a woman before. I’m sure you don’t understand what that kind of erasure feels like, ‘cause you’re still half in the closet, but it hurts. More than they think and more than you know. I have endured that pain, and I will continue to endure, for you because I love you. But these conversations aren’t gonna stop just ‘cause you don’t like ‘em.” A familiar rumble outside caught your attention. “Hey, I gotta go. Talk to you later. Bye, Jody.”

You bit your lip and waited for the door to open. Jody appeared in the doorway of the Sioux Falls Sheriff’s Department, completely bundled against the South Dakota winter. Your teeth pressed into your bottom lip harder as you watched her unbundle, taking off her beanie, coat and gloves. She really was gorgeous, and you were so damn lucky.

You smirked and moved to lean against her office doorjamb. “Hey, Sheriff. Is this where I report a stolen heart?”

Bright hazel orbs jumped to your face and she gasped, dropping her gloves on her deputy’s desk and rushing for you. “You’re here?!” She exclaimed, ignoring your cheesy line as she wrapped cold fingers around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss.You moaned as she bit your lip and tugged it with her teeth.

You wrapped your hands around her wrists and pulled back. “The guys are here, too. They’re in the break room raiding your vending machines.” You whispered.

“So, we got a few minutes, then.” She said, smirking as she pushed you into her office and kicked the door closed. As soon as she had you on the edge of her desk, she pulled the collar of your V-neck thermal out of the way and started to lick and suck at your neck and shoulder. Her teeth came down hard on your shoulder and you moaned, loudly, as wetness dripped out of you.

Your eyes rolled back and closed as she continued to scrape her teeth at the bite and she slipped her a right hand into the front of your jeans to rub at your clit through your soaked panties. “Oh, god, Jo.” You whined. Jody just bit you again and increased the pressure on your clit. When you opened your eyes, Sam and Dean were standing at the door, arms laden down with snacks and eyes wide. “Jody. Sam and Dean, they’re-”

“Let ‘em watch.” She whispered in your ear. “They might learn somethin’.”

Now, exhibitionism was not usually your thing, and you didn’t really want the Winchesters to know what your ‘O’ face looked like, but with Jody’s voice in your ear, her fingers working you hard, her teeth digging into your earlobe, you didn’t really have a chance against the climax that crashed over you.

She smiled and licked her fingers before waving at the guys to enter. “See somethin’ you like, boys?” She asked, leaning against her desk next to you.

Dean smirked, dropping his snacks on Jody’s desk and turning to Sam. “Yup. Ten bucks, in my palm right now, Sam.” Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wallet.

“Why is money being exchanged?” You asked.

“I told Sammy you had a secret girlfriend in Sioux Falls. He didn’t believe me.”

“You thought it was Claire!” Sam argued, but he still handed the money over.

“Doesn’t matter. Bet was that y/n had a secret Sapphic relationship in Sioux Falls, which she did.”

“Ew! Claire is jailbait.”

“Not technically.” Sam and Dean said, together.

“Still way too young for anyone in this room to even consider sexually.” Jody said in her very best Mom voice.

“Oh, yeah, totally.” Dean agreed. “‘sides, she’s a brat. But she digs chicks, y/n digs chicks, you never said you did, so I thought she was keepin’ it secret ‘cause Claire’s so young.”

You shrugged. It made an amount of sense. “You know, I’m surprised you know the word ‘Sapphic’, Dean.”

He scoffed and smirked. “You kiddin’ me? The amount of pornography I consume? Course I know that word, as well as a few other choice words for what just went down.”

“So, uh, how’d this start?” Sam asked, gesturing between you and Jody, who took your hand in hers. You smiled down at your fingers entwining with hers.

“Remember, uh, couple years ago, when Amara tried to eat me and I ended up bedridden with depression?” You bit your lip. Having your soul ripped from your body and almost eaten by God’s sister had taken a toll on your will to live. “Jo got me through it.”

Jody brought your hands up to her lips and kissed the back of your hand. “She got herself through it. I just didn't let her give up.” She squeezed your hand and gave it another kiss, before turning her attention back to Sam and Dean. “Anyway, she fell asleep in my arms watching Dirty Dancing and I knew that I wanted that to happen again, as many times as I could get it to happen.”

“And when did it, uh, get fun?” Dean asked, a suggestive twitch to his eyebrows.

You looked to Jody, not sure if she wanted to answer such an invasive question. She chuckled. “Soon as I came to grips with the fact that I wanted it to get fun.”

Dean seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding. “Okay, so… now that we know about y’all, no more lying and making excuses to come to South Da-fuckin’-kota, right? From now on, just say ‘I miss my girlfriend and I wanna go get laid’ and you can borrow one of the Letters’ cars. Okay?”

You nodded. You pressed your lips to Jody’s cheek. “How long ‘til you can take me home, baby?”

“I’m on call ‘til 3am, but I can do a patrol over near the house, take lunch.” Her tone was suggestive and it made you bite your lip.

“It’s gonna need to be a long lunch. This one’s been sexually frustrated for weeks.” Dean chuckled.

“Thank you so much, dude. Jerk.”

“Just callin’ it how I see it.” Dean picked up his snacks and ripped open a Snickers bar with his teeth. “Come on, Sam. Let’s let the ladies have their together time.”

Sam shook his head as Dean walked out. “I’m happy for you. You deserve it.” He smiled and followed his brother out of the office.

You turned to Jody with a smile and squeezed her hand. “Why’d you do that? You didn’t want them to know.”

“But you did.” She pulled her hand from yours and turned flush with you, fingers moving to curl around your hips. “The only pain I want you to endure for me, honey, is the good kind.” She leaned forward and scraped her teeth against your neck. You let out a breathy moan and wrapped your arms around her. “Come on. Take me to lunch.” You pressed your lips to hers and grabbed your coats, before following her out to her truck.

“The girls in?” You asked, sliding as close to her as you could.

She smirked. “Nope. Some music festival in Colorado. I can make you scream as loud as I want.”

You shuddered at the thought. “I know you’re supposed to uphold the law, baby, but maybe lean on that pedal a bit.” You requested before leaning back to bask in your current situation.

“Patience.” She scolded, but you noticed a definite increase in the truck’s velocity.

Hunters- @mrswhozeewhatsis, @adoptdontshoppets, @letsby, @spnskinnyballs

Everything tags- @heyitscam99

#cassie writes stuff #spn #skinnyballscards #reader-insert #femslash #jody mills #jody/reader

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sealegs2414blankpages · 7 years

Text

Nature’s Beauty

Pairing: Sugakookie

Rating: PG

Genre: Fluff?

Word Count: 3020

This was thanks to a random prompt that I saw on twitter. AU: Yoongi loves to portray the beauty of the nature and maybe Jungkook is the most beautiful thing in the world

Darkness. That was what Min Yoongi’s eyes were supposed to be seeing. The back of his eyelids should essentially be in view, his tired head gently lying against a plush pillow soon to lull him to sleep in the comfort of the warm blanket buffering out the chilly winter winds that beat against his window trying to get through any crack or crevice it could permeate. Winter. Yoongi hated the cold. The two didn’t mix however, with winter brought a side of nature that he loved the capture. A fresh blanket of snow untouched by man in the wee hours of the morning, the sparkle of sunshine being reflected off the pure white covering every surface, leaving nothing untouched. Yes, that was a moment of beauty. One that Yoongi enjoyed capturing despite how the cold in the air chilled his bones.

Moments of nature’s beauty, he was always finding them. Whether it was something as common as such a snowy scene everyone fantasized about but never wanted to wade through or as simple as a birds nest in a tree, mama bird dropping a wriggling worm into her baby’s salivating helpless mouth. He saw it in all kinds of places and some people even gave him strange looks for. Beauty was beauty. It didn’t have to be grand or remarkable nor stunning at first glance. Beauty is beauty.

Jeon Jungkook is beauty.

Jeon Jungkook is nature at it’s finest.

Jeon Jungkook, with his sun-kissed skin, bright innocent yet excited and passionate dark eyes, the curve of his slender nose, and the tips of those ears turning pink at the simplest of comments, his firm, lean figure with a height that only seemed to keep growing, raven black silky locks that bounced with so much fluff it made you just want to run your fingers through it forever, those long, muscular legs, athletic thighs, slender yet thick taunting you to touch… Jeon Jungkook was perfect. Even in his flaws he was perfect. Those subtle scars on his face felt like they were strategically placed in such a way that could they even be called scars? No, this creature was one of nature’s finest works of art.

Which would explain why in the middle of the night when Yoongi’s head should be resting on his pillow, it was leaning over a sketch pad, fingers gripping his pencil, strong, gentle and determined strokes to capture that beauty of nature that couldn’t seem to escape Yoongi’s mind. It had grown into a habit. The artist would be eating lunch, glance out the window to see a random person crossing the street with a basketball in hand. Next thing you know, his mind had gone to Jungkook’s form as he shot the ball into the hoop just the other day. His hands were scrambling for his supplies, pencil to paper and Jungkook’s toned thighs were being drawn in a flash. This occurred in the middle of his college classes. At work on his breaks, in the morning in the middle of brushing his teeth. An obsession? Perhaps.

How to stop?

A question that Yoongi had asked himself on multiple occasions but it never seemed to work. Seeing the young man on more than one occasion only reinforced things. They went to the same university, different departments but that surprisingly didn’t mean much. In fact, Yoongi found himself coming across the boy more often than some of the kids who had the same major as him. It was almost uncanny how it happened but he didn’t put much stock into it. Why? Yoongi wanted to enjoy such beauty, revel in it, bask in the light that was Jeon Jungkook. The boy brought him so much more inspiration than he’d like to admit even to himself. If his professors hadn’t praised him more than a few times then the artist could shrug off just how much of an effect that Jungkook had on him.

This was supposed to relate to winter right? It did. He did. Winter brought out layers upon layers of clothes. Where most people just looked like sacks of potatoes, that boy managed to do the impossible. Coats that should be blobs, scarves that should be frumpy and hats that should muss up your hair did the exact opposite to Jungkook. Where was he buying his clothes because no matter how big the coat, ugly the scarf, or big the hat, it looked anything but hideous on the boy. Jungkook looked fashionable and utterly adorable. Scarves didn’t seem to be something he cared for but on those extremely cold days he might just don one and that changed Yoongi’s day. It was bad enough with the kid wore beanies but the rare moments he had a scarf on just made him look more adorable than a Siberian husky pup in a basket with a bright red bow around it’s neck.

Yoongi’s hand moved all over his sketch pad page, slowly but surely another drawing of Jeon Jungkook was appearing. A winter themed one of the boy in the same bright red scarf he had seen him in earlier this morning. He had been exhaling deliberately to see his breath come out in puffs of smoke as he walked. Where as others tried to hurry to class and stay as snuggled behind their scarves as possible, he was casually walking, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes following his puffs of smoke. The two had crossed paths, both inevitably going to class in opposite directions.

Glancing over at the clock, 4:54 AM, a sigh escaped chapped lips. It was really getting late. He wasn’t one to sleep a lot as it was but considering he needed to be awake in about two in a half hours. Bed is where his tired yet inspired head should be. Min Yoongi was Min Yoongi and his current masterpiece claimed his attention once more.

With how many sketches of the same male were scattered about his studio, or corner of his apartment he deemed his studio, you’d think that the two were lovers or at the very least good friends. That was not the case. Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook had never spoken. Not even a single word. In fact, Jeon Jungkook probably didn’t even know Min Yoongi existed. The only reason that Yoongi even knows the kid’s name is by chance someone had called it out when Yoongi had been within earshot.

Haggard eyes, dark, dark circles under them, was the norm for Yoongi. Today was no exception. Shoulders slumping slightly, due to fatigue he made his way across campus at the pace of a turtle. Shuffling his feet, Yoongi kept his eyes on the ground, too lazy and tired to raise his eyes more than enough to navigate around nearby people. Shifting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, he trudged along not caring much if he missed the beginning of his first class, Humanities. An easy A class that was taken purely for the fact that even in college you had to have credits for elective classes. The portfolio under his arm, was being held with a slackening grip. Yoongi’s eyes were fluttering, struggling to stay open even as he was moving. Another night of no sleep thanks to a boy who didn’t even know his name. Perhaps an obsession was right. However, Yoongi only thought of it as, an obsession to the beauty of nature. He fully admitted that he had one.

The camera that his father had given to him when he had turned 12 was hanging around his neck, swinging along and pulling down on the back of Yoongi’s neck harder than normal. In fact, it wasn’t any harder than normal but even one step to the brunette felt like he had weights tied to his ankles. Sluggish was an understatement. Skipping might have been a better idea, but deadlines are deadlines and projects were due. Thus being upright with two feet pretty firmly on the ground one second to very clearly knocked out from under him and his tailbone hitting an extremely cold and hard pavement wasn’t a surprise. For all the brunette knew it was his own fault.

Curses flew softly out of his lips, his portfolio had been dropped and papers went in just about every direction. Tufts of hair peeking out of his black beanie, Yoongi grumbled about the pain in his bum while slowly attempting to get up. It was an automatic reaction to tune out apologetic people who kept saying sorry over and over. “So sorry, let me help you.” The words barely registered to the brunette, who went about slowly picking up he sketches. That was until he heard a gasp. That wasn’t generally something you heard after someone knocked into you and asked to help you. Finally, bringing his eyes towards the person he couldn’t be bothered with just two seconds ago it hit him like a semi-truck with roadkill.

Jeon Jungkook.

In front of Yoongi, nature’s number one specimen of beauty. In front of Yoongi, more than one sketch of said specimen of beauty. In front of Yoongi, Jeon Jungkook holding one of his sketches. Those bright eyes, glancing at the other sketches also of random body parts, unmistakably Jungkook’s. As awkward as this situation should be, the elder’s hands were already reaching for the camera around his neck and snapping a picture of Jungkook’s shocked and awed expression in it’s rawest form. Another snapshot of beauty that Yoongi could never resist recording.

Blinking away the remaining stars in front of Jungkook’s eyes, he looked over at Yoongi who was currently on his knees staring at him through a lens. “Really?” He asked incredulously. Lowering the camera, Yoongi had at least the sense to apologize even if his expression wasn’t showing any sort of embarrassment or remorse. With a shrug of his shoulders, “Sorry, habit.” The other boy shook his head and proceeded to pick up the mess he had created.

Yoongi was waiting, waiting with bated breath for the words that he would inevitably be forced to follow. The rejection of his work while being asked to stop using the other without permission. However, it never came. The two cleaned up the rest of the mess in silence. Yoongi had felt like he was peered at more than once but every time he snuck a glance Jungkook certainly wasn’t looking at anything other than his task. Oddly, this made him nervous. His stomach was performing all kinds of acrobatics and he couldn’t understand why. In no way did he need to feel so disgruntled from a to be expected rejection. “You’re drawings are really good, Yoongi-sshi… Like really really good.” Jungkook said as he handed over the rest of the sketches he had collected.

With his mind in jumbles, he didn’t know how to speak. In fact, Yoongi’s lips formed multiple words but nothing came out for several seconds. “Y-yoongi-sshi?” Probably the dumbest thing that he could have said but there i was. The other nodded with a chuckle, “Yes, Yoongi-sshi..That is you’re name isn’t?” One blink, two, three. That was all that he could do, as he continued to crouch on the ground holding his portfolio that now had all his sketches safely back inside where they belonged. “How do you know? Me?”

“I’d say that your signature is on your drawings but while that’s true it’s also a lie.” The answer that was received only proved to confuse the sleep deprived man more. Jungkook stood up and offered his hand to the still squatting man in front of him. That snapped him out of his haze and he rose to his feet, with the help of Jungkook’s hand. Not bothering with a reply, Yoongi raised a brow. Scratching the nape of his neck while, his eyes shifted away from the other, downcast almost as if he was nervous, he continued. “Um, yeah..uh Hoseok hyung pointed you out.” With fingers twitching, they tapped the underside of his portfolio. Another moment that he wanted to capture on paper. It would forever leave his fingers smudged with the charcoal colored supplies he uses but it was worth it. “Hoseok hyung? Ah, he has a big mouth.”

It actually made a lot of sense, Hoseok was a friend of Yoongi’s. They had a class or two together, along with a few projects, phone numbers had been exchanged even a few days of hanging outside of university grounds. However, Yoongi was more of a loner and once he got wrapped up in a new work or in this case a new-found mark of beauty, he was practically unreachable unless you were cup noodles or coffee. Neither of which Hoseok was. The younger male had a lot of energy, a lot more than Yoongi did and sometimes he found him draining. He was bright and colorful, it didn’t surprise the elder that Hoseok made all kinds of friends let alone another bright creature.

Rosy cheeks and ears were upon Jungkook and Yoongi couldn’t be sure if this was due to the cold that kept creeping deeper and deeper into his bones the longer the two stood in the middle of a corridor that wasn’t shielded by any buildings or pillars. Or was it due to something else? Rubbing his tired eyes, Yoongi attempted to wipe away what he wanted to see only to realize what he wanted to see was indeed what he was seeing. Pink was painting Jungkook’s cheeks, how could anyone pass up such a perfect canvas. Yes, Jungkook was like the perfect canvas in front of him that he could paint anything on and it was just the right material that every stroke would display with such startling clarity and beauty that it would take the breath out of even the most unappreciative passerby.

Realizing that Yoongi was staring at the kid, he coughed and looked down at his watch. “Shit…looks like I’ll be missing that class. I knew I should have just stayed in bed.” He was grumbling to himself. Readjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, Yoongi looked back at Jungkook and decided to end this awkward chitchat they were having, despite his artist eye jumping with every type of joy a kid on a sugar-high could have. “Look, I have to get going but I’ll stop taking pictures of you and uh doing some light doodling or whatnot.” Did he just say doodling? Wow, okay, it was seriously time for Min Yoongi to get into bed and sleep for 12 hours if not more. Doodling really? Internally the older boy was kicking himself for sounded beyond lame.

Pink thin lips turned up in a smile that showed a hint of two white front teeth. Jungkook’s eyes were sparkling with amusement and it only made Yoongi shift his feet in embarrassment. “Light doodling, huh?” The taller clucked. Glancing down at the Timberland's in front of him, Yoongi shrugged. “Okay, a few sketches.” Silently he was thanking god that Jungkook would never see his studio, otherwise he’d be in some deep shit. Few sketches, what kind of hole was his mouth digging him.

“I don’t think you realize how long I’ve noticed you.” Jungkook wasn’t speaking softly, but clear and deliberately making Yoongi quite uncomfortable. If this kid had noticed as he was indicating that he had why had he never come forward. Why hadn’t he told him to stop ages ago. Why did he let him make a fool of himself. All Yoongi wanted right now was to go curl up in some dark hole far, far away from this flawless creature. “Uh…I guess not. Like I said, I’ve got things to do and yeah, g-gonna get going now.” Taking a step back, Yoongi was ready to flee. A quick retreat was generally the safest and he had stayed for much too long.

“Coffee. You look like you could use some if you’re planning on staying up. Let’s get some. I’d like to see your work too.” Persistent. Did Yoongi say that Jeon Jungkook was flawless? He had a flaw, persistence was it. Good lord, just how damn persistent was the kid going to be. Did he get off on making Yoongi ridiculously embarrassed? Maybe he did. Problem was Yoongi needed to stay awake. At least for today. To do that he really did need coffee. Coffee and company. Two things of which someone was offering him.

“Fine but don’t call me Yoongi-sshi, it’s weird.” Turning away from Jungkook successfully, the other fell into step beside him in less than two strides. Damn those long toned legs that Yoongi liked so much. So much. So very much he might even have a small part of his desk designated for Jungkook’s thighs sketches and photographs. As if he’d ever admit to that though. “Okay, then…Hyung? Yoongi hyung, is that okay?” He questioned in such a hesitant and cute way that Yoongi found himself pulling his beanie further down over his ears and gaze looking off to the right. A heat had flushed his face, the smoothness in the voice that had said two simple words that so many could and did call Yoongi had brought about a reaction the shy older boy who was bad with words wanted to ignore.

“Yes.”

Jeon Jungkook was pure beauty in every embodiment of the word. It took less than a small conversation for Yoongi to confirm this. From the silky strands of his hair, sweetness of his voice, to the tips of his scuffed brown Timberland's that increased his handsomeness tenfold. There was no way that Min Yoongi would be able to stop sketching this gift of nature. The air around Jungkook was something else all together. While Yoongi wasn’t good with words and didn’t think he could ever fully explain just what Jeon Jungkook was to him, he knew he could express it through other means.

Art of expression was Min Yoongi.

The masterpiece is and would always be Jeon Jungkook.

Nature’s beauty beyond his lens.

#sealegs2414 blank pages #fanfic #fanfiction #Nature's Beauty #sugakookie #yoonkook #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #suga #jungkook #fluff

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flashfictionforpittance · 5 years

Text

Pact (VTMB):

Geight swung his sack into the air and released, letting the momentum carry it over the chain-link fence and listening to it whump onto the other side. The contents, long silent and mostly dead, piled up inside to shape the thing like a sleeping dog, hunched over against the cold. Geight scaled the fence, looped his lankiness over and let himself drop the two feet between his dangling feet and the ground. Being tall was useful for trespassing, not so much for the next part. He got on all fours, doubled over with his sack on his back, and crept as best he could toward the warehouse. It was your typical Spooky Hiding Place for The Damned (TM). Brutalist, concrete architecture with rusted equipment in the yard, long abandoned due to mass corruption from the men in charge and innumerable worker’s rights violations. How cliche.

Nearing one of the windows, Geight settled beneath it, dusted the gravel off his shins and picked up a rock. He opened the sack and wasted one of the (mostly) limp furballs on covering it up. The windows still protested at being smashed, albeit less so. After a tense few seconds Geight remained un-discovered, and eased his arm through the window to unlock it, then opened it and vaulted inside. It was pretty standard layout-wise. Concrete. Rusted conveyor belts just seething with tetanus. Abandoned hardhats scattered around the floor like migrating tortoises. Meh. The real drama was going to take place upstairs, not in this shithole, anyway. Not that Geight was going to get to participate. At least, not directly.

He made his way over to the vent that was ingrained in a nearby wall, and helpfully signposted with an “X” sprayed above it. He eased the panel off, realising as he did so that his wrist was bleeding real good, all over his last clean shirt. Must’ve nicked it on the window. Shit. He hadn’t even noticed. He dithered a bit, waiting for the wound to close like he was waiting to use a public restroom, and was too polite to knock and ask who the hell could be taking so long to finish crying in the stalls. It was about as fun.

It was even less fun in the vents. Imagine trying to fit a ruler (with a limp beanie baby taped at its middle) all the way inside one of those hamster tube mazes, and you get the idea. Lost of hard angles, hella dust, air close enough to make your lungs start drooling, and lubricated with sweat. Geight felt like a baby giraffe trying to navigate an anaconda’s birth canal. His arms protested as he hauled himself up to each new level, and he wondered how literally anyone else could’ve managed this without his freakish height to help them. Didn’t make it any less shitty or painful, but Geight tried his best to ignore it. After all, he might not be the strongest, but could you imagine him trying to fight his way up here? No chance.

As far as fledgling vampires went, Geight was probably the least lucky. He was a Tremere, which basically meant a good sneaker, crappy fighter, and that his clanmates were all witchy hippies who wrote poetry in their spare time and shunned their gangly protege. He’d also said some unsavoury things to his sire on the matter, which hadn’t done him any favours, but fuck em. Maybe that’s why he’d picked up this job. The Tremere stood to benefit from this deal, and to suffer if Geight did his job, serving a few just desserts (his inability to eat desserts being another sore topic), while he’d find himself under the wing of a new step-sire. Hopefully.

Geight was finally at the top floor. He ran his fingers over the “x” sprayed on the vent wall, marking where he was to wait with his bag of freshly deceased gofers like some middle ages fur salesman who didn’t have all the right connections yet. In the close air, they were getting ripe. That Brujah upstart better be legit.

Voices. Geight eased himself along to the grate a little ways ahead, through which the top floor of the warehouse flourished like it was an intricate diorama, and Geight the judgemental principle. It was A+ material. Though it was just an abandoned concrete cube last week, now it was straight out of a Nosferatu movie. Plush rugs languished at angles over the floor, supporting about a dozen wrought iron candelabras that stood as tall as the Toreador dipshit at the forefront, the light bouncing off his chiselled face. Toreador were the pretty boys. In a new age vampire movie, they were the femme fatales and tortured anti-heroes who possessed that otherworldly beauty that softens human defences better than any drug or hypnosis ever could. This guy was older, like an English teacher who was in his late thirties but was in good shape, sensitive, and made you blush when he complimented the crappy fanfiction you turned in instead of homework. Glasses. Wild hair combed and tamed but still obviously windswept. A black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, top button undone. He was a dish. It pissed Geight off to no end; the only thing he wanted more than to fuck a Toreador, was to be a Toreador.

Not to be upstaged, a second vampire presented herself on the red leather (the two words that pretty much defined the vampire aesthetic) couch behind him. Geight had heard of them. These guys were the actual Nosferatu vampires, named for the most famous one in recent history. They got this, plus an intricate underground network, the best sneaking abilities out of everybody, and being a priceless cornerstone of vampire society, in exchange for a face that looked like you’d taken a hammer to it then stitched it back together with your eyes closed. This one had horns and all, plus a face that was half collapsed into itself, and half swollen, so it looked like her head was being pushed to one side all the time. She compensated with an intricate henna around her face, which at the very least gave you an excuse to stare at her without being rude. She was laying into the Toreador. ‘Ya know there’s no way they’ll bring it, right?’ she rasped with the timbre of a cancer riddled chain-smoker. ‘even if they really do have the crypt-key, it’s not like they’ll just hand it over without a fight.’

The Toreador rubbed the space between his eyes, lifting his glasses with his thumb. Geight was pretty sure he didn’t need them. But if there was one thing vampires loved it was an aesthetic. ‘Listen to you,’ his husky voice alone made Geight hot under the collar. ‘is the artefact really all you can think about? It’s worthless. Even if the crypt still exists, it’s probably overrun with malevolent ghosts by now, half of which are probably from the first dozen treasure hunters who tried to clear the place out, and killed each other when they realised the stories of untold wealth were a total fabrication. The key is merely a symbol of trust, Vivian. I highly doubt that the wolves have any more inclination to use the damn thing than we do.’ Typical Toreador. Why use ten words when you can use forty? He was probably right, though. The key was worthless. All it symbolised was the werewolves’ desire to make peace, and share the territory. A desire shared by, let’s say, seventy percent of local kindred. The rest? Not so much.

Geight was impartial. He was just doing whatever he needed to get into a less shitty position. The Anarchs had made their offer, and the Tremere had made none at all. Easy choice. Still. The smell of those wolves as they shambled into view, it was putrid. They’d dressed up a little, black tie formal, sprayed on some knock off cologne, but they all still smelled like wet dog and dry piss to Geight. There were three of them, two young, one old who led the group, and who held an ornate wooden box in his hands, presenting it like the ring bearer at a wedding. Even the Toreador looked like he was struggling to maintain composure. ‘Ah, gentlemen. So glad you could make it. I understand this night is hardest for you. Needless to say, we deeply appreciate the dedication to our agreement.’

The Nosferatu swept onto her feet and smiled. Even from up here Geight could see her fragmented teeth, like she’d been hit in the face with a goddamn train. But like all Nosferatu, she somehow maintained a regular level of diction. ‘Good to meet you,’ she presented her hand. ‘Name’s Viv, I’m here representin’ the Nosferatu.’ this was less of a polite gesture than a test. Even other kindred weren’t fans of touching the Nosferatu. Credit to him, the leader of the pack gripped Viv’s hand and shook it firmly, and did the same for the Toreador.

He spoke. His tone was flat. No sign of strain even on a full moon. He must have been older, with enough cycles behind him for this to be second nature. ‘And we appreciate the risk you both take in being here, Damian. I suppose the other clan leaders won’t be joining us? Oh, no,’ he raised a hand apologetically as the Toreador began to interrupt. ‘please, there’s no need to explain. The bloodshed between us has been too great to measure. Your fellows are right to be wary, even if they do agree with the pact. Hopefully, our violent history will soon be behind us.’

The Toreador, Damian, relaxed. ‘Yes, I agree. My apologies all the same, though. My cohort will surely understand their folly in time, when the hunters have been driven out of this fine city. However much we may have harmed each other, their influence is far more volatile. After all, we all share a common enemy, why not unite against it?’ It continued like this for about ten more minutes, and Geight’s brain switched off. They were just saying the same thing over and over to each other, each leader trying to make it sound a little more profound and a little more like his own idea. Viv was bored too. She’d gone back to lounging, eyes half closed. Maybe she was eyeing up one of the silent wolves? Who knew.

There’d been a flood of hunters in recent weeks. The Anarchs said it was because the Kindred and the Wolves were so concerned with fighting each other and scoring points, they’d let slip the masquerade. Geight reckoned they’d all been ratting each other out. Luring the enemy into harm’s way, making it harder to hide themselves when good old Churchy Mc ChristKnife came sniffing around. Maybe it was a bit of both. Anyway, this alliance would last about ten minutes even without Geight’s intervention. The second the hunters were gone, old wounds would re-open and suddenly nobody would have a reason to get along anymore. The Anarchs thought the same. That, and the Werewolves were too strong to play War and Peace with. When this alliance went tits up, the Kindred were as good as kibble. It wasn’t worth letting their guard down. So they said.

Raised voices in the warehouse. Geight woke up and peered through the grate. The box in the pack leader’s hands was open, Damian and Viv staring agawk at what was inside. Viv was scatting. ‘H-how did ya, t-that’s impossible! D-Damian, is it-’

Damian took a broad step back, pulling Viv with him. He cleared his throat. Without them in the way, Geight could see it clearly. A silver claw, as long as a bear’s, shining bright enough to make him wince from all the way up here. It seemed to have an engraving on it, but with the glint it was impossible to make out. There was something else about it, too. It scared the living shit out of Geight. Just looking at it made him feel like there was someone right behind him, poised and ready to sink their claws into his neck and pin him mercilessly to the ground as he was shredded, from his back all the way into his chest cavity. He kinda wanted to drop the gofers now. They were supposed to make the wolves frenzy, all bloody and all, send this whole thing down the tubes. But that feeling made him hesitate. He was shit scared for the first time since his embrace.

‘I didn’t think the legends were true,’ said Damian, regaining his composure. ‘the claw of an ancient wolf, an antediluvian if you’ll excuse our terminology. I thought they were all lost.’

Viv was aghast. She was pacing, grinding her decimated teeth. ‘This ain’t what we agreed on, guys. Like, it’s real nice, and all, but...like, where’s the crypt key? That’s what was agreed. How da we know this isn’t some trick to get us into your debt? Not ta throw dispersions or nothing.’

The pack leader closed the box and it was like the whole room sighed. The tension seeped out. The fear subsided. ‘The crypt key is a useless relic. It means nothing to the wolves, and as such, if we were to trade it for peace, this deal would mean nothing as well. But here,’ he pulled a rusted key from his pocket and tossed it to the floor where it tinked uselessly against the concrete. ‘We brought it nonetheless. This claw is of far more value to us. Countless wolves have died to protect it for generations. Take it as a symbol of our trust.’

Damian cleared his throat and took the box in shaking hands. ‘And your fury, should this pact be broken, no doubt? I see how this would be a more...appropriate gift.’

‘Indeed.’

Jesus. These guys were fucking legit. They were serious. Like, seriously serious. That bag of gofers suddenly felt like a lead weight shackled to Geight’s wrist. If he dropped it there wouldn’t just be a massacre in here, the whole city would be saturated in blood before sunrise. The stakes were sky high. And if he dropped the bag, who’s to say it wouldn’t drag Geight’s limp body down with it, into this powder keg he was flinging matches into? Nah. Fuck this. Let them have their alliance. If there was a chance he could avoid those claws, the sheer unstoppable power that flowed through that artefact and every stinking wolf it’d sired, there was no argument. He was out of here.

Viv took up the conversation. ‘Gotta admit, in all my years a tradin’, I never once saw an ancient claw get passed through the black market, let alone get handed over fa free. Or politics. Same thing, kinda. Either way it’s a hell ofa find.’

‘Vivian,’ tisked Damian. He addressed the wolves. ‘I thank you for your generosity. In exchange, the Camarilla offers an equal use of all of its resources, from the Nosferatu network to a seat at council meetings henceforth. And this,’ he produced a steel box out of nowhere, and flicked it open. Inside was a fat cylindrical block of stone, engravings all around the outside, significantly less impressive than the wolves’ offering. ‘the key to an ancient Vampire relic. And a reminder that our * ahem * less dignified practices are long behind us,’ he handed it over. ‘Shall we call the night a success, and adjourn? I imagine you’d all like to retire, considering,’

As the fuck did Geight. He started sliding back the way he’d come, wondering how he’d manage to drop down each level of vents without alerting the sharp eared wolves. He hauled as gently as he could, an hour’s worth of sweat helping him along, until he felt it. A shifting. He focused his mind, the way you do when you feel something climbing up your leg and have to decide if it’s a spider or a bit of lint. It slumped down his back trailed around the backs of his knees, lumpy and soft, and...

He banged his head against the wall trying to turn around. The vent seemed to shrink around him as he bent, stretched, and strained his body to get turned around, doing so just in time to see the hatch he’d been looking through open, and the bag of gofers empty through it, hovering in the air as if gripped by two invisible hands. The limp bodies flooded out, followed eventually by the light thudding and cracking as they landed among the meeting. There were shouts of confusion. Then of anger.

The pack leader’s voice rose among them, trembling, each syllable rumbling and threatening to fall into a guttural scream. ‘Get out! Run! Both of you! There’s no ti--aaaaaaaaigme!’ A sound like three bears, bigger and badder and more furious than any living creature known to man, roaring and screaming in agony rose up from the warehouse, echoing through the vents. It ricochet’d against the aluminium and rattled in Geight’s ears until they rang as if they too were screaming, and the sound of furniture, cloth, metal and flesh tearing were so close he almost feel the spray of blood against his own face. He clung to himself, watching the space above the vent as it closed, the sack flung carelessly across it. He trembled as a thin silhouette broke through the darkness, a grey blotch against the black. It squatted where Geight had been only a few seconds before, and as its pale face came into view, lacerated by the shadows of the vent, it pressed a finger against its lips, waved, and disappeared into a fine mist, trailing away and leaving only the smell of sulphur behind.

Geight lay in the vents until the roaring passed. It didn’t stop. It just moved until he could no longer hear it. Then he slid back down the vents, and out of the warehouse. He didn’t have to. But he didn’t want to see what’d happened. He already knew. The Anarchs had sent a backup. Someone to finish the job when he couldn’t. Another Tremere, too. That stung.

Geight flung himself over the fence like the garbage he was. He couldn’t go back to the Anarchs, not after what they’d done. He had no doubt, hundreds of Kindred were probably going to die before the night was out. The Camarilla might want him, with what he knew. Maybe. If they were still there tomorrow. For the time being, he just wanted to go home, find a dark spot to hide in, and forget about the sound of claws and teeth and shredding flesh. If he could, just for a little while.

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