#associates was actually supposed to be a one shot fic but then I saw this prompt after writing the first one and felt the need to continue

[robininthelabyrinth]

First time submitting prompts, fairly new follower. Love your writing!

NHS and LWJ friendship. Subtle and maybe people other than their big brothers don't see it and it shocks people when they find out. Mostly Canon compliant?

Associates - Part 3 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2

In the end, it was Lan Wangji who went to get Wei Wuxian, rather than wait patiently for him to return of his own free will as he had originally intended.

It had been Nie Huaisang’s idea, after nearly a year of Wei Wuxian travelling – they’d never actually pursued the jealousy idea he’d initially suggested on account of it being a terrible idea, Lan Wangji’s temporary moment of insanity in even considering it aside. It had come up seemingly apropos of nothing, one day when the two of them were working together in Lan Wangji’s study, Lan Wangji filling out the paperwork in his graceful handwriting as Nie Huaisang flittered around solving problems – he preferred pacing as he thought, which perhaps explained his reluctance to work on documents despite his beautiful calligraphy, and all the marching around made him, in some moments, look remarkably like his elder brother, something Lan Wangji deliberately refrained from ever mentioning.

“You need to go pick him up,” Nie Huaisang had suddenly said, in between planning out the next discussion conference and explaining why a seemingly minor dispute regarding shifting the boundary line near the Yuncheng Bao sect by a single li could have catastrophic consequences for the Jin sect’s long-term stability. “I know you’re afraid of giving the impression that you’re trapping him and restraining his freedom, but that’s your problem, not his. He wants to be asked.”

“Does he?” Lan Wangji had asked, finishing the sentence he was on and putting down the brush. Some things took priority above night-fishing rights near a contained Waterborne Abyss, no matter the new head of the Laoling Qin sect might think.

“Mm, yes. He’s been taking a lot of night hunts in the immediate vicinity of Gusu, close but never too close…Lan Zhan, he’s hinting that he wants you to chase him.”

“Pride?”

“A bit, maybe? Mostly I think it was his position in Yunmeng Jiang, where the former Sect Leader Jiang wanted him and Madame Yu didn’t, so his status was always that slightest bit uncertain. Here and now, he wants to know that he’s really welcome…don’t give me that look! He knows he’s welcome, you’ve made that clear, but making you be the one to ask is just another way to ensure that it’s actually true.”

And so Lan Wangji had gone to where he’d heard that Wei Wuxian was night-hunting, flying down on Bichen when he saw him walking with Lil’ Apple along a mountain path – he called his name, and Wei Wuxian had turned and smiled…

Wei Wuxian had come back with him.

More than that – he’d kissed him, he’d said he was staying with him, he’d agreed to marry him, to live their life together from then on.

They were officially engaged now, the auspicious date having been selected, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling having demanded roles on the side of the bride – Wei Wuxian briefly protested being the bride, then realized that he was marrying into the Lan sect and promptly reversed course, announcing that he wanted all the trappings of being a bride, excluding the dress – and life was very, very good.

Unfortunately, a couple of weeks was about as long as the cultivation world could hold off on needing its Chief Cultivator to be more than part time – he’d done a lot of the work in the mornings while Wei Wuxian was still asleep or when he was busy, and of course he had the system of delegation that Nie Huaisang had constructed for him and naturally Nie Huaisang himself helping out through his letters – and regretfully, Lan Wangji had had to return his full focus to his duties.

At first, it didn’t mark that much of a change: Wei Wuxian would bring projects of his own and they would work side by side, Lan Wangji already accustomed to the presence of another through all the work he’d done with Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji insisted that Wei Wuxian go out regularly with the juniors for night-hunts even if he himself could not. It all seemed fine, except only that Lan Wangji had the distinct feeling that he was missing something important.

It was only when the first big issue came up – a serious dispute between two small sects – that Lan Wangji realized what that was.

He sent a message to the Unclean Realm and waited.

Nie Huaisang arrived at the Cloud Recesses at the exact time one might expect if Nie Huaisang had received the message and left at once at top speed, accounting for the relatively slow pace he had when flying as a result of his mediocre cultivation.

Letter still crushed in his hand, he swept into the jingshi in his usual manner, all high drama and flash, wailing, “Lan Zhan! You betrayed me! You, of all people! My oldest friend!”

Lan Wangji, who had been expecting this, rolled his eyes.

Wei Wuxian, sitting in the desk he’d claimed as his own, looked up, startled. “Nie Huaisang?”

“Oh, hi, Wei Wuxian, congratulations on your engagement, has Lan Zhan shown you the present I sent? Probably not, he never does – Lan Zhan! Don’t think I’m letting you distract me with Wei Wuxian! You answer for this right away!”

He waved the crumbled letter at Lan Wangji.

“There is nothing to explain,” Lan Wangji said. “I requested your assistance in my capacity as Chief Cultivator.”

“You called me a spineless, gutless coward!”

Wei Wuxian made a choking sound.

“I sought to accurately characterize your recent behavior,” Lan Wangji said, and noted that Wei Wuxian’s choking noises got worse, although he did not actually appear to be in need of air. “Do you object?”

(There was something about Nie Huaisang’s company that reminded Lan Wangji irresistibly of being a child again, he had found, and it was only recently that he had begun to remember that as a child he had once had a tendency to bite. A pleasant rediscovery, even if the sharpness of his teeth were now expressed via paper and ink rather than through physical attacks.)

“You were the one who took a month off,” Nie Huaisang complained, a blatant lie given that Lan Wangji had been on partial duty for no more than two weeks, but dropped into his usual place at Lan Wangji’s side obediently enough. “Lan Zhaaaaaaan, don’t make me do work –”

Lan Wangji was going to say something about how it wasn’t like Nie Huaisang was doing any less work by doing his part in the Unclean Realm rather than being physically present in Gusu for consultations, he was just doing it less efficiently, but that was when Wei Wuxian coughed into his hand.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said, with too much formality, but Nie Huaisang waved his hands at him querulously, clearly disapproving, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Ah – Nie Huaisang. Since when do you call Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan? I thought you called him Lan-er-gongzi?”

“Oh, no, it’s been Lan Zhan since I was – what, seven or so?” Nie Huaisang said. “I wasn’t joking about him being my oldest friend, you know. We were just fighting back then, when you came for the lectures.”

Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly and turned to look at Lan Wangji, who nodded in confirmation.

They’d failed each other rather thoroughly back then, neither one being there for the other when they could have been. Nie Huaisang had not been wrong to observed that simply because he had always been free and open with his affections, Lan Wangji had assumed they would always be there to be resumed at a later time, without any need for maintenance – playing hot and cold, offering and receiving comfort and support at certain times, totally distant at others…it wasn’t until much later, when Lan Wangji emerged from seclusion, that he had needed Nie Huaisang again, and realized what he’d lost in the blank and disinterested glance of the boy he’d once thought of as his friend, who now seemed to visit the Cloud Recesses only in search of his elder brother.

They’d spoken in those intervening years, but it had always been light, superficial. Lan Wangji could have reached out a hand at that time, sought to resume their relationship, but he was consumed with his own grief, his own troubles, and out of respect for the face of his sect he had refused to share them; perhaps if he had, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have done what he had done, would have relied upon him instead.

Perhaps things would have been very different.

It wasn’t until he’d finally swallowed his pride to ask Nie Huaisang for help with the overwhelming work of being Lan sect leader and Chief Cultivator both that they had broken through that distance once more. It had been difficult at first, readjusting their long-lost patterns to their adult behaviors, but they had slowly but surely fallen into a comfortable dynamic that suited them both.

“I had no idea,” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You spend much time together?”

“Nie-xiong assists me in my duties,” Lan Wangji interjected before Nie Huaisang could spout something stupid about eloping, as he was sometimes wont to do. “He has been critical in ensuring that I am not overwhelmed.”

Wei Wuxian mouthed ‘Nie-xiong’, but what he said was, “You, Lan Zhan? Overwhelmed?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My brother went into seclusion,” he explained. “As sect heir, I became responsible for the duties of sect leader of the Lan sect, and I had also accepted the post of Chief Cultivator.”

“And he didn’t have anyone else to help, so he came to me,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully, ignoring how Wei Wuxian’s eye twitched. “I hope you don’t mind. It was very convenient a trade: I know plenty of things about being a sect leader – more than you’d think, I swear! – and Lan Wangji, as Chief Cultivator, can help me whenever someone tries to make something out of that awful business last year.”

There had been a few unfortunate sequelae to those events. Nie Huaisang’s role had never been officially confirmed, but somehow word had gotten out regardless and sects throughout the cultivation world were looking at Nie Huaisang in suspicion – less out of concern for Jin Guangyao, although there were a few that had especially benefited from his rule that were disappointed, than with an eye towards the future. The wise ones were afraid of his patience and planning, but far more were simply greedy, looking for a chance to finally uproot the notorious Headshaker now that his best protection, his brother’s two sworn brothers, were not there to defend him.

As he had promised, Lan Wangji had defied any attempts by others to do anything of that sort.

As he had promised, he would not change his mind or withdraw his support, no matter what Wei Wuxian said.

His shoulders tensed as Wei Wuxian looked over at him, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to need to talk to Jiang Cheng,” he remarked, seemingly unrelatedly, and then said, “Well, I trust Lan Zhan’s judgment.”

Nie Huaisang had covered his face with his fan and was looking over it at Wei Wuxian. “You do? And here I thought you didn’t associate with evil…”

“Those are from Lan Zhan’s sect rules, not mine,” Wei Wuxian declared. “If he doesn’t judge you to be evil, who am I to say otherwise?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

“We should talk more, sometime,” Wei Wuxian continued. “And hey, Nie-xiong, I don’t know if you still collect those books –”

“Oh, of course, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said enthusiastically. “Though you don’t need to ask for them from me. Lan Zhan’s built up quite a collection over the years.”

Lan Wangji sighed, even as Wei Wuxian spun to look at him with a predatory look in his eyes, not unlike a sighthound that had just fixed on its prey. “You do?”

“Nie-xiong has gifted me with many art pieces over the years,” Lan Wangji admitted. His ears felt as though they were on fire; they were undoubtedly red. “You may peruse them at your leisure.”

“At our leisure,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his eyes deeply intent. “I can’t wait to see what spring books you like best, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji averted his eyes, feeling hot.

Nie Huaisang giggled and snapped his fan shut. “You don’t want to see the art I sent, Wei-xiong, trust me,” he cackled. “You want to see the pieces. Just ask!”

Wei Wuxian grinned and shook his head. “I think that’s a private discussion! Anyway, I’m going to go talk to Jiang Cheng – you two work on your Chief Cultivator stuff.”

“Your insight would be welcome,” Lan Wangji said, but Wei Wuxian waved a casual hand.

“Later, later,” he said breezily. “I don’t know either of those sects, I couldn’t possibly say anything intelligent – maybe next time you have a question. I look forward to working with you, Nie-xiong.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Lan Wangji watched them smile at each other – still a little wary, but both clearly willing to attempt a renewal of their own friendship, even after everything – and his heart felt light.

The only thing, he reflected, that would make this perfect would be if Lan Xichen came out of seclusion.

But with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang on the job, they’d be sure to figure out a way to do that soon enough.

He was sure of it.

#mdzs #lan wangji #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #associates #associates was actually supposed to be a one shot fic but then I saw this prompt after writing the first one and felt the need to continue #and here we are #ivydragon

[cas-kingdom]

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

1)

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

2)

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

3)

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

4)

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?” he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #witcher #witcher x reader #the witcher x reader #reader fic #daughter reader #daughter!reader #reader #jaskier #jaskier x reader #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x geralt #geralt x yennefer #jaskier x yennefer #yennefer x jaskier #yennefer x reader #yennefer of vengerberg x reader #julian alfred pankratz #mine #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #witcher fanfiction

[get-shiggy-with-it]

*°:⋆ₓₒCollab Masterlistₓₒ⋆:°*

Pairing: All Might x Gn!Dom!Reader (Theme for this month was sex work au!)

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+ this is a dark fic, both dubcon/noncon, straight up, forced submission, bit of mind break, dom/sub dynamics, sub!All Might, dominant All Might later in, dark All Might, violence against reader, bodily harm, face fucking, spanking (for Toshi), thigh riding (for Toshi), blackmail, minor mentions of blood, bondage/rope play, reader is gender neutral, no pronouns used

Summary: You work as a popular dominant for pro heroes who need to give up control once in awhile and Yagi Toshinori is one of your best clients. But when word gets out to the media about your involvement with pros, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Though you quickly discover All Might does not take kindly to anyone who threatens his reputation. 

It was all about the exchanging of power. 

About the relinquishing of control—about letting go and the freedom that came with it.  

And you?

You were just there to facilitate, to take over, to release all those bottled up years of stress that the camera’s weren’t supposed to see. 

But you did. 

You saw all of it. 

It was about trust too. Trust in you to give them what they need and trust in them to do exactly as you instructed. And most of all, trust that everything stayed confidential. That the things said through tears and whimpers and sighs were kept quiet. Trust that they would show you the same respect and privacy you showed them. 

You took these rules very seriously. They were the foundation your business was built on and it had earned you quite a lot of credibility. You prided yourself on it, as you should. Professionalism was key in your line of work. It made the clients feel a bit more comfortable—counteracted the sense of taboo that was usually associated with people like you. 

People in “your line of work,” was the common way of referencing it. But you preferred to be clear and upfront, not skirt around the edges as though your job was something shameful.

Language was important too. 

“Client,” “session,” etc...all added a buffering degree of separation for those you serviced. It was a crucial part of the balance which has allowed you to be so successful. They needed to be able to remove themselves from who they became once you were alone together. You’d learned that some amount of plausible deniability was key to achieving the complete relinquishing of authority. They had to be able to convince themselves after they’d walked away, that the crying, begging mess they’d become wasn’t who they really were—wasn’t actually a part of them, just something you’d done.

And by them, of course, you meant the heroes you served so dutifully. 

And by serve, you meant completely and utterly dominate. 

Contradictory to most common misconceptions, your job wasn’t always about sex—though it could be and was at time—but truly, it was about release. 

And above all, it was about power and who got to hold it. 

When that structure was broken—when the rules were strayed from—that’s when things got murky. But you were good at what you did, so luckily, that hadn’t been much of an issue. 

What more could one expect from someone whose services are sought out by the Symbol of Peace himself?

Hm. 

You really ought to get that put on your business cards. 

***

It was late when he came to you, though that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Occasional hero work coupled with a teaching schedule and numerous media appearances left one very little free time. Fortunately, you conducted most of your business during the small hours of the morning, so Yagi Toshinori showing up at your door as the clock ticked its way past two wasn’t a shock. 

You fell into the usual rhythm of things easily. 

Toshi was one of your newest, but most favorite clients. You came highly recommended from many of his coworkers, and after an initial meeting over drinks to discuss his needs, you struck up a routine that worked for the both of you. 

Of course he paid you handsomely for your time. 

Constantly being in the public eye, acting as an unwavering representation of hope for the future was tiring. You were more than happy to take the weight off his very broad shoulders for once. 

And bend him over your knee instead. 

“Five,” he panted, whimpers of thanks and your name spilling out around his loose tongue as your hand connected sharply with the meat of his ass again. 

You always asked to be called by name, no frilly titles to get in the way and complicate the dynamic. When they walked into your space, they set aside their hero personas and you afforded them the same intimacy. 

Names meant something. Names were power and so they mattered, particularly in this game you played together. Equality had to be achieved before domination. 

“Good boy Toshi, you’re doing so well,” you cooed and brought your palm down twice, watching the skin on the backs of his thighs bloom pink like sakura in the spring. 

“S-six, seven,” there was a wet spot forming under his mouth on the sheets and on your lap where his cock was bare and leaking. “Ah, please—harder!” 

You raised your brow as he turned his head to look at you with those teary, dark eyes and you could never resist a look like that. 

“You want it harder, why’s that?” you wound back and smacked roughly over the raised welts that made him hiss and sob. “Is this what you deserve for being so weak?”

He may have been thin now, skeletal compared to the face he showed the public, but you didn’t mind. He trusted you enough to let his guard down, and his weight was still thick and full across your legs. It was invigorating to see a man like All Might, reduced to this. Whatever pent up guilt he carried inside, you were here to help let it all out in the best way you knew how. 

“Yes!” Toshi cried and buried his face into the plush fabric of your comforter as you delivered the last three harsh blows of the punishment he paid you for. “Fuck yes, I’m weak and I’m a failure and I deserve this—!”

“That’s right, you’re a piss poor excuse for a hero and you haven’t earned your title,” you wrapped two thick locks of his hair around your hand and yanked hard till he craned his neck to face you. “What would the world say if they could see what a sobbing mess you are when no one’s looking?”

He opened his mouth to speak, hips twitching and grinding uselessly against your thigh. The second that plush pink tongue dipped past his lips, you were rearing back to spit straight between his teeth. 

Toshi’s face was always priceless in these moments. You’d almost be willing to do it for free if you only got to see the way his brows shot up and those red rimmed eyes blew so wide as you steeled yourself and looked him dead on. 

“Now, swallow like the little bitch I know you are.” 

And he did, of course he does, because behind your bedroom door Yagi Toshinori was your good boy. So you got to watch his throat bob as your spit slid down and he moaned so pretty at the awful things you said to him. 

Your palm kneaded against the red, raw flesh of his ass and you watched how he squirmed at the sting. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and expensive cologne. Your head was spinning from the smell alone and the high of the control you wielded over this man. His hands fisted hard in your bed sheets and you let him helplessly rut against you a few times before running your free hand up the graceful curve of his spine. 

“Oh, you really are so disgusting Toshi,” you mused as your nails dig into the planes of muscles to drag angry red lines over the skin. “Did you really get that hard from me slapping this tight little ass of yours?”

He groaned pathetically and nodded, not bothering to hide how his dick had been oozing obscene amounts of precum every time you etched a new welt on his skin. The blush that crept up his chest and painted his cheeks had spread between his legs too. The unfairly massive cock that Toshi sported was flushed a dark angry red at the tip and you couldn’t help but have mercy on him. 

Well, only a little bit. 

You weren’t here to be nice tonight, even if a part of you might have liked to be. 

“Do you want to cum, Toshi?” you asked, lacing your voice with the false sweetness you knew he loved. “Have you been aching for it all night?”

He keened, crying your name and rutting his hips harder against you. It sent a rush of warmth between your legs despite your better efforts to remain unaffected. This wasn’t about you, this was about ownership and his pleasure. 

“Mhmm,” his voice was little more than a rasp, “wanna cum so bad, please!”   

You laughed, but it was a cruel thing and you knew he could feel the rumble of it in his scarred chest. 

“You did so perfectly taking your punishment,” you raked your nails over the raised handprints again just to hear him cry out. “I suppose I’ll let you cum, but you’ll have to work for it.” 

Toshi’s breathing was ragged as you helped him up to straddle one of your legs. His swollen cock rested on the plushest part of your thigh, the tip nudging your hip and drawing choked gasps from the man towering above you. 

He stared down at you, confused when you didn’t move to stroke him. 

“Go on, then,” you smiled up at him, resting your weight on your palms so you could lean back and watch the show. “I said you’d have to work for it, didn’t I?”

You punctuated your question with a bounce of your knee that rocked his length against the fabric of your pants. It didn’t take long for him to catch on, eyes squeezing shut against the waves of shame and embarrassment that just made it so much hotter as he slowly began to ride your thigh. 

He might be paying you to be ruthless, but Toshi was kind to a fault from what you’ve learned of him and he ke[t most of his massive weight held on the balls of his feet so you weren’t crushed below him. Under any other circumstances, you might have actually enjoyed that quite a bit, but his face—cherry red with spit-slicked lips held parted with the force of his pants—was enough for now. 

His cock was so heavy you almost couldn’t believe it was real. You nearly didn’t the first time he’d stripped for you, but even just the drag of it through your clothes was delectable. It was so long and thick you needed both hands to wrap fully around it, and he gushed like a fucking gieser when you got him under your metaphorical boot. 

With every rock of his bony hips, his length was forced up against the curve of your stomach and he whined at the glistening strands of slick that connected his tip to you.   

“Come on, Toshi,” you clicked your tongue disappointedly at him, letting a hand fall to the puckered skin at his waist, squeezing harshly. “I know you can do better than that.”

He was beyond words now, you could tell by the way his jaw was loose and his teeth clacked with every thrust, but he did gasp out a long, high pitched moan that made up for it. The speed of his humping increased, becoming erratic as he hunched on the bed, hands beside yours. He loomed over you but anyone could tell just by the composed, serene smile playing at your lips—and the absolutely wrecked noises spilling from Toshi—just which one of you was really in control. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” 

You knew he liked it when you spewed filth to him right before he boiled over and you were more than willing to oblige. 

“You’re gonna cum like a fucking teenager humping his pillow, isn’t that right?” you snarled the words up at him and he really did cry then, big fat tears dripping down onto your shirt. “All Might, the number one hero is gonna cum all over my lap like the slut he is.”

He nods frantically. You know his balls were tensing up as he sobbed and spluttered—completely ruined. Just the way he needed to be. 

“Then cum.” 

You finally wrapped your fist just around his aching tip and he exploded into your palm. Rope after rope of sticky, white release coated your arm and dripped onto the bed. He kept grinding his hips, working himself through the climax, cock still pulsing and leaking in your grip. You didn’t mind the mess. 

He always tipped a bit extra if he left stains anyway. 

Such a gentleman.

When the last wave of his orgasm had petered out, Toshi collapsed to the side with his face buried in your pillow and his long legs still strewn across your lap. He didn’t usually ask for much in the realm of aftercare, preferring that you cleaned him and let him rest for a bit before he suited up and rushed off into the night. 

You gave him a minute before you got up to wet a warm cloth in the sink. He looked so destroyed, you couldn’t help but admire your handiwork. As you palm his ass once more, fingers spreading him so his pink hole was on display, you slipped your phone silently from your pocket, and snapped a few shots of the nasty red hand marks and smears of cum as he groaned deeply at the touch. 

His voice was lower as he grunted and you could tell he’s coming out of the subspace you’d thrust him into hours before. Quickly you slid the device smoothly away before lifting his legs from you and settling them gently on the bed to work on tidying up your mess. 

You didn’t feel particularly good about keeping this kind of collateral, but as much power as you hold in the four walls of your bedroom, you were frustratingly weak once you left them. These men you worked with, while generally professional, were also top heroes. Top heroes who really didn’t want their embarrassing private lives getting out. Top heroes who thrived off reputation and who would willingly throw you under the bus in a second to protect that. 

You liked Yagi Toshinori. 

But you didn’t know him. 

Smacking someone’s ass or stroking their cock every few weeks didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. 

So you kept your personal insurance that would be there should one of your clientele decide to forsake you in favor of their public image. And you would never use it unless you absolutely had too. 

After all, this was about trust and power and the exchange of those two things. Or at least it was supposed to be. Trust was quite a subjective thing. 

The general citizenry trusted All Might to protect them against the growing evil in Japan’s underground. But behind the scenes, you knew his failing health had caused him to seek you out as the intense guilt of his lie came crashing down on him.

Toshi trusted you to relieve his pain and indulge in his degrading fantasies, and you hadn’t failed him yet. 

But your trust was not easily bought, and none of your customers ever paid much mind to whether your perceived belief in them was genuine. 

After so many glimpses into the messes of pro-heroes personal lives, you knew you’d have to be your own protector. Hence, the photos remained in a locked folder hidden away as you sat yourself down next to the dozing hero and wiped away as much evidence of your meeting as you could. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly, lathing the warm cloth between his legs and softening length. 

“Good, all things considered,” he responded, voice returned to it’s normal, deep baritone. 

“I sincerely hope you won’t have to do much sitting tomorrow,” you quipped and it earned you a chuckle. 

“I’ll manage.” 

You rolled him gently and finished clearing the rest of his spend from the flat expanse of his stomach. Toshi mumbled his thanks and you gave his thigh a friendly squeeze before retreating from the room to shower and change yourself. 

He’d be gone by the time you got out, notification of payment on your phone and a sizable tip left on your dresser as a parting gift. 

And as long as Yagi Toshinori was just as good a boy on the outside as he was here, then the world would never need to know what their Symbol of Peace got up behind your closed doors. 

***

“All Might! Mister All Might, sir!” 

The grating voice of that shithead reporter echoed through the speakers of your headphones over and over again. Your hand shook as the train stuttered to a halt and a wave of passengers burst out onto the platform. 

“All Might, are the rumors true!?” 

Your stomach sank as the reporter shouted your name above the ruckus of microphones and camera flashes and roaring bodies. Their voice was like chalk on your tongue, dry and cracked and clamoring to know whether the Symbol of Peace was involved with the recently revealed ‘seedy’ and ‘scandalous’ sex ring between yourself and multiple top ranking heroes. 

You’d been out having a relaxing lunch with friends in the city when everyone’s phones blew up. It wasn’t that you hid the general details of your job, but by the looks on their faces were enough to make your face burn. The judgement was clear—what you did was abhorrent, disgusting and by extension, so were you. Reporters had caught you on camera with a certain second ranking pro and very quickly deduced exactly who you were and what services you offered. 

The tabloids took it and ran, dragging your reputation behind them. 

Call after call and text, dms on your social media pages, all from news outlets requesting interviews or quotes or hero fans calling you a ‘shameless whore’ for going after pros—hell death threats had even begun to fill your inboxes. 

Hero fans really were ride or die, you supposed, although the ‘die’ in that scenario seemed to refer more to you than themselves. They would never believe their precious big boy crush had ever associated with the likes of you, had ever willingly kneeled for you—had ever enjoyed it. 

They couldn’t understand the things you did, all they saw was some false emasculation.   

And if it came out that Toshinori had any contact with you, his career would be ruined. 

You had hoped from the little you’d learned about him in your sessions, that he’d simply deny knowing you existed at all. That he’d have mercy on you, treat you like the thousand helpless civilians he pulled from burning buildings or whatever the hell heroes did these days. 

But you’d been right before to say that you didn’t know Toshi. 

And now you certainly didn’t like him either. 

“Are you one of the pros involved?” the reporter hounded again as All Might’s massive form panned into frame. 

“As your Symbol of Peace, I certainly do not partake in such degenerate behavior,” his words rang out, deep and resonating. “I would never associate with someone who’s actions border on criminal.” 

The dark, soulless pits he called eyes stared mockingly from your tiny screen as his signature laugh reverberated through your ears along with the train’s clacking breaks. You ripped the headphones from your ears and closed out of the app, ducking your head and pushing towards the door. Everyone’s eyes were drilling into you, worming deep under your skin and making you squirm like so many of those heroes had done on your silk sheets. 

Rationally, you were aware not many people would have seen the story yet. Tabloid trash took a day or two to disseminate into the general social media outlets and for people to take notice. Your friends only knew because your name stuck out to them, but you were hardly recognizable in your typical citizen attire. Even still. 

Your life, your work, all of it was on display. 

And he’d called you a degenerate. 

The infallible All Might had taken your name and tossed it in the guttered, likened you to a villain and single handedly destroyed everything you’d built in the process. 

Years of effort and crawling your way up the ranks of society all for nothing.  

All so some washed up hero could keep his fantasy of success going for just a little longer. Toshi trusted you with his secrets, his weakness, his body, and you’d defended that at every turn. The only thing he had to do was pay a small fee for your time and discretion. 

But no amount of money could fix your toppled character. Nothing could reverse your place as a disgusting slut in the eyes of literal millions of people. 

Bold of Yagi Toshinori to underestimate you so thoroughly, to think that you’d sit back in the rubble as he rescued cats and little kids and lived his delusion of perfection.

This was about trust and power. 

When those lines were crossed, that’s when things got messy. 

And you’d make sure to leave so big a mess, Toshi would never dream of coming back from it. 

***

Your apartment building was thankfully free of any press when you arrived home. It had been a few days since All Might instigated your public slander, but the mass media hadn’t managed to track you down after you went into a short period of hiding. 

You needed time to let all your other clients involved in the scandal play their cards. 

There would be no use in condemning one just to have them warn the rest of their equally impending doom. That way you could be assured they’d all come crashing down with you. Especially the blonde poster boy of hero society himself. 

His would be the sweetest fall. 

It had been long enough now that you could start compiling. You locked the door behind you, shrugging off your coat and settling on the couch. The plush cushions sank as you fell back, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your contacts. Toshi was there, two red and blue hearts on either side of his name. You pulled up his text thread. 

You’d thought about going public of course. 

Of course you had.

Your entire career had been trashed, you’d been shamed by the number one hero himself and your personal life was blasted over social media. 

But you were human, so you were weak. 

And you had liked Toshi. 

Well, you hated him now—a deeply dark, burning resentment—but before that, he’d been so sweet to you in a way that most were not. Respectful and nice and you were unused to it. So, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to eradicate his credibility in the same outright manner. 

No, you had decided you’d give him a chance.

Because you were better than him. 

A chance to atone, come clean, apologize the way you’re sure he would if his public image wasn’t so goddamn important to him. So you didn’t reach out to any of the media outlets that had been hounding your socials for the past week, and didn't offer them the inside scoop quite yet. Instead, you stared at the handsome contact photo of your hero client and slowly typed him up a message he couldn’t ignore. 

It was short and sweet, polite but firm. You acknowledged he most certainly did not want to speak with you—in fact, you weren’t very inclined to speak with him ever again either—but you happened to be in possession of some fairly compromising photographic evidence of your time together. And if that evidence were ever to, say, end up in the pocket of the exact scandal rag that sent voice clips of All Might all but denouncing you as a whore to the nation, well. Things would certainly not end well for him. 

But, you were nothing if not professional. 

He knew that. 

You never wanted to use these, but he had forced your hand. Of course you were more than willing to work out a deal with him. 

He was your favorite client after all. 

In any case, he knew how to reach you, and he had a generous 48 hours to give you an answer to your proposition. 

Oh and you were kind enough to provide a little snapshot of just exactly the type of evidence you meant. 

Your thumb hovered over the little blue arrow to send. The phone clacked against your nails as it shook in your grip, slick from sweat and frayed nerves. You couldn’t quite tell if you were anxious or angry or some awful combination of the two, but your heart was in your throat as you shut your eyes and pressed send. 

There was no going back, and if this all came tumbling to the ground, you promised yourself that you would shatter gracefully. 

Letting the screen go dim, you stared in silence at the small check mark confirming the message had been delivered and your fate sealed. You pulled yourself to your feet and made your way to the bedroom. 

He’d get back to you soon, or maybe he wouldn’t. You couldn’t know for sure whether or not Toshi would simply ignore your texts and be blindsided when the deadline passed and you destroyed him all over again in a far less enjoyable manner than you used to. But whatever the case, it was out of your hands for now. 

With aching feet and tired eyes, you stripped slowly and stumbled towards the bathroom. Turning the water to just below scalding, you did your best to scrub away any pesky remaining guilt that clung to you in a thin, suffocating film. 

You told yourself that there was no other choice. That you would have found another way if there was one. That this was how business often went. You had seen it before when you first entered in the field of sex work and you’d see it again. So you scrubbed yourself raw and let all your doubts trickle down the drain. 

Tonight, you would sleep restlessly, but it was a fair enough burden to carry for your honor. 

You were foolish to believe the cost of revenge wouldn’t bear a heftier price. 

***

You woke slowly, trapped momentarily in the strange limbo between sleep and consciousness that fooled you into thinking the strange tightness at your wrists was nothing more than a leftover side effect of a dream. 

The reality was so much worse.

It wasn’t until you felt the blunt, radiating sting of knuckles backhanded against your cheek that the haze of sleep fell away, and you could truly appreciate the scene before you. 

Which was to say, you could take the opportunity to scream before Yagi Toshinori’s fingers were shoved down your throat to muffle the noise. He was large, shirt seams full to bursting, and sporting an expression you’d never seen before. His eyes, while always dark, were like holes now and they filled you with an unfamiliar sense of dread. 

He’d called you a villain before, and now he was looking at you like one too. 

“Oh no,” Toshi hissed. His voice was impossibly deep, reverberating against your ribs painfully, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you.” 

One quick bout of struggling made it very apparent he didn’t want you moving either as your wrists had been bound behind your back and your ankles were similarly immobilized. The fingers in your mouth pressed hard on your tongue, his thumb pushing below your chin to make you choke and splutter. 

“You really let all that power get to your head, didn’t you?” Toshi’s voice was buzzing in your ears and mingling with the pain in your jaw. He put one massive knee on the mattress and hooked his fingers behind your teeth, forcing you to sit up from the bed.

You could feel your face burn as he looked down at you, drool slipping passed your lips and coating his fingers. The straining bulge in his pants looked even bigger than you remembered now that he was no longer the slip of a man you’d come to know as Yagi Toshinori. 

No this was All Might, the Symbol of Peace. 

And you got the feeling that whatever was about to happen, it was not going to be peaceful for you.  

He had you tied and trussed like a piece of meat, and he would treat you like one. You’d seen this before, you’d tied these knots—he’d been where you were now, but he’d asked for it. The loss of control was never something you’d delighted in on a good day, and now the rising pressure in your chest and the sensation of walls closing had panic coursing through you.  

“Did you really think that I’d come back here willing to grovel at your feet?” he jeered, the trademark smile on his face more snarl than grin. 

He shook your jaw violently in his grasp, listening to the joints pop as they tried to stretch around his thick fingers. Your name left his mouth in a mock coo, just as you had done to him so many nights before. “Remember, you might get to call me a bitch but it’s only because I let you.”

Your hands trembled violently against the bonds which tore the delicate skin and rubbed it raw. Toshi’s free hand traveled along his thigh to rub himself through his pants, his knuckles brushing your nose as he bucked into his palm. 

“But now you’ve stepped out of line,” he mused and clicked his tongue as though you were a student who’d done poorly on his latest exam. “And I’m going to make sure that whore mouth of yours never utters my fucking name again.” 

Eyes wide with horror, you watched as Toshi’s fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his slacks until his cock had sprung free, monstrous in length and girth, dripping onto your forehead. 

You’d seen it before, but it seemed bigger now. So big that you’d never been able to take it, and Toshi had been staunchly against you ever trying lest he quite literally split you in two. But any kindness he’d shown you before was clearly off the table. His fingers pumped in and out of your throat as if preparing you somehow to take the stretch. It wouldn’t help. You knew that. He knew that. 

Toshinori smiled as he removed his fingers in favor of digging the spit slicked digits into the joints of your jaw, ensuring you wouldn’t bite down on him as he pressed the spongy tip to your lips. The panic that had set in—making your blood rush and your limbs shake—was constricting your chest and the pressure of Toshi’s dick pushing past your teeth made your breathing even more erratic. 

You whimpered loudly, trying to wrench your head away as the strong salt and musk flavor of his pre cum spread across your tongue, but that only made him thrust forward harder. His length quickly hit resistance back of your throat as you gagged and tears burned at the corners of your eyes. 

The ache in your jaw was already unbearable and your bottom lip was being rubbed raw by warm spit and the friction of Toshi roughly fighting to sink his dick fully into your mouth. 

“Mm, that’s it,” he groaned as you inadvertently licked over his tip, trying to force him away. “You look so much better like this.” 

He ran a falsely sweet hand across your cheek, collecting the stream of tears and using the moisture to slick the rest of his length. Your chest heaved in a mixture of gags and increasingly violent sobbing. You were stretched painfully wide as he rolled his hips again, pushing the thickest bit of his cock into your mouth and forcing your teeth to dig painfully into your upper lip. With the next thrust, he was able to sink another excruciating inch deep into your throat. Blood rushed from where you bit yourself and caused crimson streaks to form as Toshi fucked slowly into your mouth. 

Your mind was slipping. 

You’d had so little time to process the encounter, so instead your brain had secluded most of your consciousness into a precious little box, away from the intense burning in your throat as Toshi finally sank all of his innumerable inches completely into you. Your throat bulged and protested, tightening in an attempt to force him out. 

It only made him moan loudly and dig his fingers into your hair. 

“See?” he huffed, pulling out at an agonizing pace only to ram his length in roughly to the hilt. “I’d never lie to my public, you really are just as much of a slut as they say you are.” 

You shrieked around his cock, though it was muffled so badly by the lack of air and the wet slap of his constant thrusting that no one but you could hear the screaming in your own head. The pain was unbearable, this awful friction burning sensation that had your stomach churning and your chest wracked with stifled cries. Your bound legs kicked and your fingers grasped useless at the sheets as Toshi fucked your mouth reckless abandon. 

Time blurred along with your vision, whether from the lack of oxygen or the tears you weren’t sure. 

And most horrifyingly of all, was the pleasure that grew as your mind drowned the pain in darkness. You felt as though you were floating, disgusted but euphoric and the slide of him against your lips became delicious. Heat rose in you and built between your legs accompanied by a distant and unfamiliar ache to please, to be touched, to taste him, to obey.

You wondered if this was how he felt when you forced his mouth on you. If he slid into this strange space where your mind was a separate entity and the only thing that mattered was the pain and the pleasure and the release. 

Because somehow, in the midst of your struggle and revulsion, he’d made this strange, incorporeal part of you enjoy this. 

All the fight had drained out of you, letting your jaw hang slack and your tongue flick up to catch his tip on every backstroke. Your eyes flitted up to look at him through the haze of tears and sweat, hoping strangely that he’d be pleased with you. And the groan you earned yourself was delectable. 

You gave in, then. Let yourself be swept away by the rushing of blood in your ears and the rhythm of Toshi tearing you apart.  

At some point, you could distantly feel his thrusts becoming more erratic, turning into a rough grinding in your mouth. 

You couldn’t even taste it when he came, his cock was too obscenely deep in your neck, but the warmth of it burned your bleeding throat and filled your belly with a hot finality. 

You weren’t even afforded the dignity of spitting his seed onto the floor where it belonged, ignoring the searing voice in your head that revealed in being rewarded with his essence. 

When Toshi finally pulled out and tucked himself away, your head fell limply to your chest. A series of violent coughs erupted from you as a thick, viscous mixture of blood and spit and cum dripped from your tongue. 

Those impossibly large hands gripped your chin once again, forcing you to look up into those piercing black eyes. 

“Now, you’re never going to speak about me again,” he wasn’t asking but you glared up at him as his hand fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone. 

The device was comically small in those hands of his as he aimed it at your ruined face and snapped a picture—the flash blinding you while he reached around and roughly undid the knotted rope keeping you in place. 

“Because if you do, I’ll make sure those reporters know everything I said about you was nothing but the truth.” 

The loudest part of you wanted to scream, to punch and bite and tell him it wasn’t. That you were a professional, with self-respect and dignity and you were good and your job, but— 

But when you opened your sore and aching jaw to shout, nothing came out. 

No sound, no yell, no words. 

Just this awful rasp that made your throat feel like pins were sticking into the abused flesh. 

“Well, looks like I might not need this after all,” Toshi dangled the phone in front of your face before pocketing it once again. “Looks like you won’t be saying much of anything for a good long while.”

And then Yagi Toshinori left. 

He turned on his heel and walked out as you toppled off the bed behind him, trying so hard to scream despite the pain and the ripping in your chest—whether they were curses or cries for him to stay, you weren’t sure.  

But there was nothing either way. 

So you sat and screamed in silent agony at his retreating form until the sound of a door slamming rang out through your home. 

It seemed that in all your years of playing this game, you’d finally been toppled off your tightrope. 

Because you were good at your job, so you knew. It was all about the exchange of power, and yours had just been thoroughly stripped away. 

#all might x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori x reader #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw blackmail #dark all might #dark yagi toshinori #mha smut #all might smut #mha x reader #mha fanfic #bee.writes

[lovetorn]

secret santa — chains!au [dream]

Dream x Fem!Reader Chains!AU — original fic here

Chains!AU masterlist

Summary: Secret Santa with the OT4. 

Warnings: as always, a lot of swearing, & some steamy sections but nothing too hot. 

Word Count: 3.6k+

A/N: AHHH ITS FINALLY HERE!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! AND HAPPY HANUKKAH TO ANYONE WHO CELEBRATES IT!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND LOVE THIS AS MUCH AS I DO!!!

The letter from Technoblade was extremely vague. He had ordered for a meeting as soon as possible and seeing as it was a week until Christmas, his employees dreaded the occasion. 

Y/n, George, Sapnap and Dream dragged their feet towards the entrance of Techno’s mansion. The vast white house took up most of one’s eye line, with the building’s tall white pillars signalling the importance of the man who lived there. Sapnap wore a permanent pout on the journey there and continued to do so until the group stood in the elegant ballroom in the middle bottom floor of the mansion. 

“If we get yelled at, I’m leaving.” George threw Sapnap a bored look, silently telling him to shut up as the last of their associates entered. Techno was nowhere to be seen, as usual, but the anticipation—dread—of knowing the situation, had Dream on edge. He was more snappy than normal and he wore a hard expression that not even Y/n could crack. 

“It’s Christmas, what the fuck could he possibly want?” Dream spat, crossing his arms over his chest. Y/n peered at him and placed her hand on his bicep. The touch made Dream snap his head towards her, his eyes slightly softening at the sight of her. “Sorry.”

Y/n shook her head, “It’s okay to be angry.” Dream dragged the side of his mouth between his teeth in annoyance. The sound of someone clearing their throat caused the room to fall silent. 

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here this close to Christmas.” Techno’s deep voice bounced off the walls. The statement made George, Sapnap and Dream nod exaggeratedly. 

“I suppose I’ll get on with it then; I’ve decided to host a Secret Santa for Techno Industries this year!” At the sound of nothing life-threatening, Dream’s eyes widened. His head on a swivel, he looked at Y/n and then the boys. His mouth had fallen open and the outline of a smile began forming on his cheeks. The rare sight of Dream grinning in Techno’s presence was satisfying; who would’ve guessed something as trivial as Secret Santa would break his streak of sternness during in these meetings. 

“I have already picked out your partners, so check your phones for the person you’ll be buying for,” It was exceptionally out of character for Techno to be so joyful, but perhaps the holiday season had brought his spirits up. “Have a great evening, everybody! Happy Christmas! And Happy Hanukkah for those who celebrate it!” 

The high-pitched dings of phone notifications prompted everybody to check them. Fishing her phone from her purse, Y/n looked at the screen, Sapnap. A smile broke out across her face as she looked around the group. 

She met George’s gaze, who also wore a grin. Looking at Dream and then Sapnap, she realised they were all beaming. She furrowed her eyebrows quickly when all four of them were eyeing each other, knowing something was up.

“Tell me, Y/n, did you happen to get someone in this group?” Sapnap asked, his smile growing even more when she nodded. “I did too,” Dream said, followed by George, “Yeah same.” 

“Guys! We got each other! Almost looks like it was rigged.” Sapnap‘s eyebrows raised whilst a smirk etched its way on his face. 

George eyeballed him, “Sapnap, how did you know this was even happening? Anyway, that defeats the entire purpose of secret Santa in the first place. How did you even manage to do this?” Sapnap scrunched his face up, “So many questions and no answers! A magician never reveals his secrets. Plus, nobody actually cares, Georgie; get a life.” 

A look of confusion and irritation crossed George’s face as he threw his hands up. Dream stifled a laugh with his fist and Y/n smiled softly, not wanting to annoy George further. 

“Anywho… who got me?”

y/n, i need your help.  idk what to buy dream.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she received the messages from Sapnap. She set down the bowl she held in the kitchen of the team’s penthouse apartment in San Diego and picked up her phone to respond. 

your problem. 

Reading her text, Sapnap groaned out loud and falsely cried; he knew if he was loud enough, somebody would come to his aid. He sat on his bed in his room, the clock ticking mockingly in the background. He spun around to scowl at it before he was startled by Dream—wrong person!

“What’s wrong now, Snapmap?” Dream asked. The younger boy stilled and turned back to see the older boy standing in the doorway. “N-Nothing!”

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, “Has this got to do with the present thing?” Sapnap nodded stiffly. The breeze from the open window drifted through the room and Sapnap begged for something outside to distract Dream. 

“Well, I can probably help you, who have you got?” Dream walked to the bed where Sapnap sat. “George?” His answer sounded more like a question as Dream’s face scrunched in confusion. Sapnap’s paranoid essence told Dream not to push any further, but he found the situation at hand funnier than it should've been. 

“I’ve got George.” Sapnap reddened and shot up from his spot. “I gotta go.” 

Dream watched his friend rush out of the room, a lopsided smile made its way onto his face. He glanced out of the window, the birds flying past distracting him for a moment before he snorted a laugh and made his way downstairs. 

—

“I fucked it, he knows I don’t have George, because he does!” Sapnap rambled to Y/n quietly in the kitchen. Y/n tried her best not to giggle at his panic and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Sapnap. Clay’s not smart enough to figure it out himself.” 

“Hey!” Sapnap’s eyes widened at the sound of Dream’s voice and threw his hand up at Y/n before he exited. 

“What’s this about me not being smart?” Dream sounded hurt, but the grin on his face told otherwise. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Really?” “Mhmm.”

Dream folded his lips between his teeth as he approached Y/n from his place in the doorway. “Something tells me, you’re lying.” 

Y/n shook her head as Dream’s hands ran over her hips. She bit down on her bottom lip as his face inched closer to hers. “You wouldn’t lie to me, Y/n? Would you?” The girl shook her head, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Dream’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes shifted from her eyes to her lips. 

“I need you to help me decide what to get George.” Y/n stepped back from Dream’s grip and groaned. “Seriously?” 

Dream lent over, his hands on his knees as he laughed. Y/n joined in with his cackles, swiftly moving around the kitchen to tend to the beeping oven. The tantalising aroma of fresh cookies filled the small space and Dream’s eyes lit up. “Cookies?” 

His jaw fell open at the sight of the sweets before he hurried towards the hot tray that sat on the counter. The chocolatey biscuits sat untouched, and Dream hovered over them, the steam heating his face. 

“They’re hot!” Y/n’s statement was ignored by him as he reached out to pluck a cookie off of the tray. Dream quickly retracted his hand as his fingertips brushed the hot metal. “Fuck!” 

He cradled his hand in his other as he turned towards Y/n, pouting. “You know for a man in your line of work, I'd expect you to be less of a pussy.”

Dream’s frown deepened as he held his fingers out to her, “Help me!” Y/n threw her head backwards in exasperation, fighting back a smile. “Fine.” 

Y/n had bought and finished Sapnap’s Secret Santa present. She held it out at arm’s length to admire her wrapping and moved to place it in her closet to hide it. She was just about to shove it behind her shoe rack when a voice made her jump.

“Hey,” Dream popped his head into Y/n’s room. She smiled at him and closed the closet doors without properly hiding Sapnap’s present. “Hi.” 

“I’ve got something for you,” He said, rounding his arm from behind his back. He held a small, red gift bag and the sight made Y/n gasp. 

“I didn’t know we were doing presents, Clay.” Her eyes filled with tears at the sentiment and for not thinking about buying Dream a present. “We weren’t, but I saw this and had to get it for you.” 

Dream guided Y/n to sit on her bed. He handed her the bag and waited for her to open it, jabbing his fingers in her sides in an attempt to hurry the process.

“Stop poking me, I’m opening it.” She laughed, pulling a black box from the bag. Y/n’s eyes widened as she glanced at Dream, who sat with his thumbnail in his mouth. He let out a nervous laugh before Y/n opened the box. 

A small gold pendant with faint engravings of an animal sat within the velvet, the chain hidden under the material. Y/n tilted her head as she brought it closer to her face, tears blurring her vision. “It’s a lion; it symbolises strength, and you are the strongest woman I know, Y/n. You mean the absolute world to me, you know that?” 

Y/n nodded, lolling her head the rest on Dream’s shoulder “—plus, I’m a Leo, so it’s fitting.” Y/n shoved his shoulder. “It’s gorgeous.” 

She carefully brought her hand to remove it from the box, her hands shaking. “Stop shaking,” Dream laughed, taking the necklace from her hands. “I’m sorry! I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t think I am too?” He uttered, unclasping the hook.

“Aw, you’re nervous?” Y/n whispered, a tearful grin on her face. Dream blushed whilst he nodded. “Now, turn around.”

Y/n did as she was told and lifted her hair up. The cold, thin chain rested against her skin, the small pendant falling on her collarbones. Before she released her hair, she felt Dream’s lips against the nape of her neck. Flushing, Y/n twisted her body so she was facing him again. 

She brought her arms up to wrap around his neck in a hug, Dream circling his around her torso. “Thank you,” She whispered. “I love it.” 

Dream sighed, nudging his nose against her ear, “I love you.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, her emotions in overdrive as she felt him peck her cheek. Y/n craned her head back so she could look into Dream’s. “I love you.” 

Dream softly smiled before he dipped his head to connect their lips in a kiss. Y/n hummed at the feeling, her fingers moving to toy with the hairs at the bottom of his neck. Dream pulled away quickly, only to press his mouth back against her’s, his hands lifting her shirt up. 

A deep groan came from the back of Dream’s throat as Y/n tugged on his hair, the sound making her smile into his mouth. Suddenly, a soft pinch pricked the skin of her waist as she yelped gently. “Stop laughing at me, baby.” 

This only made Y/n giggle harder as she pulled away from Dream, a pout upon his features. She tipped her head to the side, a mocking frown on her face. Dream huffed and attempted to untangle their limbs whilst fighting a smile. Y/n reached out to grasp his wrists, the action causing Dream to stop moving. 

He cocked an eyebrow at Y/n before she tugged at his wrists and brought his face back to hers. The closeness of their lips and the mingling of breath was euphoric as Y/n closed her eyes to kiss him again—before she was rudely interrupted. 

“Who’d you get for Secret Santa?” 

“Clay!” 

Sapnap, George, Y/n and Dream had taken refuge next to the food table, choosing to stand away from the cluster of other associates in the middle of the room. Sapnap had complained beforehand about interacting with them, and as a group, they had decided it was best for all of them not to mingle. Although, Y/n had left to greet her friend, Niki at the beginning of the night and was soon dragged back to the group by Sapnap. 

They had been waiting on Technoblade to start the exchange of gifts for an hour now. Growing bored, Sapnap elbowed George in the ribs sharply, a giggle escaping his lips at the sound of his friend in pain, “Fuck off, Sapnap.” 

Dream’s arm was thrown over Y/n’s shoulders, her body turned to fit into his side. She looked up at him, expecting to be met with the usual hard expression Dream wore during meetings with Techno, but instead, she admired the faint upturn of the corners of his mouth. 

Finally, Technoblade waltzed into the room, his red velvet suit glittering in the light of the vast chandeliers above. His blossom hair was pulled back into a plait at the back of his head, and his two unusually sharp bottom teeth were visible from where the group stood as they watched him smirk. Sapnap rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, earning a jab in the ribs from George. “Dickhead,” he uttered through closed teeth. 

Technoblade scanned his eyes over the small gathering of employees in front of him. Golden bells and feathery tinsel hung from the walls and the soft rhythm of festive music played at the back of the ballroom. Despite the joyous atmosphere, his face remained stoic as he cleared his throat. 

“Good evening, everyone.” 

—

The exchange of gifts soon began, everybody moving to the back corner of the ballroom to pick out their present. 

Y/n, Sapnap, George and Dream decided to go get their presents last. Once they had all picked out the present with their name on it, George pushed Y/n’s shoulder lightly.

“Ladies first.” Y/n rolled her eyes and reached into the green bag. Her fingers wrapped around a brick-shaped item, the form oddly familiar as she lifted it out. The wrapped walkie talkie sat delicately in her grip. Y/n’s face lit up as she peeled the red paper away. 

“Oh my god…” 

“Dream told me you needed a new one since Schlatt destroyed your last one, so ta-da~!” George wore a silly grin as he watched Y/n admire the shiny, new walkie talkie. “I love it, thank you, Georgie.”

She brought him into a hug, her tight embrace showing George how grateful she actually was—he knew her time with Schlatt was traumatic, so he wanted to assure her that they were always there, more so when she was alone; even if that was in the form of a walkie talkie. 

“It’s my turn!” Sapnap laughed. He snatched the small wrapped box from the floor next to him. His face lit up as his fingers quickly moved to tear away at the wrapping paper. George furrowed his eyebrows at the oddly shaped gift and glanced at Dream who shook his head. They both turned to look at Y/n who gazed at Sapnap, meeting eyes again when they came to the realisation that it was she who bought the present. 

Sapnap pulled out a stack of red and white cards tied together with a green bow. He laughed in disbelief at the sight of the colours of his favourite fast-food restaurant. 

“Chick-Fil-A gift cards?” He beamed, his gaze scanning over his friends before Y/n raised her hand. “Y/n! I love you! Thank you!”

He stepped forward to wrap his arm around her shoulder in a half-hug. Y/n did the same, whispering a quick, ‘no problem’ to him. 

Dream narrowed his eyes at Sapnap, who’s smile only grew bigger. “Calm down, green boy, why do you hate me?”

“Ok, I’m next.” Dream announced, ignoring the question. He moved his growing hair out of his eyes as he brought the wrapped box in front of him. 

“You should’ve gotten him some hair clippers for that mop,” Y/n laughed, shoving Dream while he fake laughed and grimaced. Sapnap barked out a laugh and encouraged Dream to open the present. “Chill out.” 

Sapnap rolled his eyes and watched as Dream ripped the paper off, a smirk playing at his lips. “Oh look! Hair clippers!” 

The group burst into hysterics at the sight of the box that did, in fact, contain hair clippers. “I hate you guys.” 

“Be grateful, Dreamy! I paid good money for those.” Sapnap exclaimed, his laughs making it difficult to understand him. “While you're at it, shave that disgusting beard shit you’ve got going on, it’s gross.” 

“It’s hardly a beard. You’re just jealous because you can’t grow one as good as me,” Dream teased, earning a scoff from Sapnap, “That’s bullshit.” 

Dream gave Sapnap a bemused look and stepped forward to wrap his arm around his neck in a headlock. “You’re such a fuckin’ idiot.” 

Sapnap’s giggles attracted the attention of surrounding members, their laughter joining in with the group of four when they saw what was going on. 

“Well, unlike Sapnap, I actually got you a good present, George.” Dream said, releasing the youngest from the headlock. George peered down at the large red and green gift bag he held. 

“Ok…” He reached into the bag but stopped when his face scrunched up. Dream snorted out a laugh, his wheeze making it hard for everyone to keep a straight face. “Dream, what the fuck is this?” 

Dream’s laughs only intensified when George pulled a singular piece of wet spaghetti. Y/n laughed out loud with a puzzled expression, and Sapnap slapped his knee with tears in his eyes. 

“Oh no! Did I put the wrong present in the bag?” Dream struggled to breathe through his cackles. George genuinely seemed hurt as he pouted, his head dropping towards the floor. 

“NO! No, George, I’m kidding—here,” Dream moved to pull something from his back pocket. George lifted his head and his frown was immediately replaced with a look of shock when Dream dropped a gold compass in his palm. George was unable to form a coherent sentence as he gazed at Dream, his eyes becoming watery. “How?”

“I contacted your dad, actually, and he was more than happy to send it over.” Dream said, happily accepting George's hug when he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Sapnap glanced at Y/n, confused until George noticed.  

“It was my Grandad’s compass. He took this everywhere he went during the war. I thought it was gone forever when he died.” Sapanp’s eyebrows raised and his jaw fell, “Woah.” 

“Y/n helped me.” Dream admitted, motioning his hand to her as she waved. 

“Y/n.” George moved to hug the girl next, his tears falling onto her shoulder. She exhaled a laugh and brought her hand to the back of his head, “It was no problem, honestly. I know how much it means to you.” 

George pulled back, wiping at his cheeks, suddenly very embarrassed at making a scene. “Sorry guys.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Georgie, it’s a sentimental gift, we understand,” Sapnap said, patting his friend’s back. “But why wasn’t I a part of this?”

Tugging on Dream’s sleeve, Y/n pulled him back inside his bedroom. “I’ve got a present for you.” 

“Uh—we gotta be downstairs in like 5 minutes,” Dream laughed, the tips of his ears reddening as he jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “No! Not that type of present, get your head out of the gutter.” 

Dream continued to giggle, even when Y/n sat him down on his bed. “Close your eyes.” 

Y/n rushed to his wardrobe to reach up and grab the long, flat box that laid on the middle shelf. She placed it in his lap and then resumed to sit next to him. At the feeling of something on his thighs, Dream opened his eyes. He gave her a pointed look and continued to open the box.

His brought his hand to tuck his hair behind his ear as he reached inside the side of the box. His movement froze when he felt the object and turned to face Y/n. She only laughed as he continued to drag it out of the cardboard. Dream gapped at the feeling of smooth ceramic under his fingers. “Baby..” 

“I told you I was going to get you a new one, so I did,” Y/n spoke softly, her voice like honey to him. Dream furrowed his brows and Y/n brought her thumb to smooth out the creases, “Don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles.” 

That elicited a giggle out of Dream. He placed it on his duvet on the other side of him and turned back towards Y/n. “You didn’t need to do this.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, slapping him lightly on the bicep, “Shut up, yes I did. I promised.” Dream shook his head, returning his gaze to the mask. 

“I love you, so much. You have no idea.” Y/n squinted one eye and she tilted her head, “I’m pretty sure I have an idea.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dream questioned, placing the mask and the box on the floor before he pushed Y/n backwards on the bed. She nodded, moving her hands to his shoulders as he hovered over her. 

“I know because I love you so much more,” Dream pulled his head back, looking at her in bewilderment. “No chance.” And when he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, a scream interrupted them.

“Close your fucking door! Gross!” 

“Fuck off, Sapnap!” 

#dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #in chains for you drabble collection #dream imagines #dream x reader #chains!au #dream team imagine

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] In The Blue

Juudai adjusted the fit of the blue uniform and wished that he could chuck it into the  nearest trashcan.  He hated how it felt on him - far too clean, just a smidge too tight, especially around his neck, and he kept getting the feeling if he tried to relax, the uniform would just force him to stand up straight all by itself.

How in the world had he ended up in Obelisk Blue?  Not that he had really cared too much about what dorm he'd end up in, but he'd sort of assumed it would be Red or Yellow.  Everything he'd ever heard told him that there were two ways to get into the Blue dorm - if you went to the associated high school or if you got promoted from one of the lower dorms.  But he hadn't done either one.  He wasn't supposed to be here.

And yet here he was. 

Maybe because I beat Chronos-sensei?  That was the only thing he could think of.  Sometimes he could see the teacher giving him a very measuring look when he thought Juudai wasn't looking.  He didn't know what else to call it.

With a deep sigh he flung himself on the bed, wincing as the uniform once again rubbed him the wrong way.  The bed was way too soft, too.  He rested his head on his folded arms and sighed.  I kinda wish I hadn't if this is what it got me.

Juudai wondered if he could take a nap or if someone would come in there to wake him up right when he didn't want to be.  He couldn't sleep in class - the other Blues poked him whenever he closed his eyes for more than a few minutes.  They didn't like him being there as much as he didn't like being there, but they refused to let him bring them down.

He stifled a yawn again.  Maybe he'd head down to the Red dorm to talk to Shou.  Shou might even let him take a nap there!  Wouldn't it have been awesome if he'd been assigned there?  He could sleep whenever he wanted.  He'd been told quite firmly that he couldn't let his grades drop below a certain level - they wouldn't put him down in Red, oh, no.  He would be expelled.

That had to be Chronos-sensei's doing too.  Juudai wondered if he should go and ask him why he wanted him in Blue so badly.

No.  He'd probably find out, and Juudai wasn't all that certain if he wanted to.

Just as he slid off the bed and started for the door, a firm knock sounded.  Juudai sighed; just what he'd expected.  He wondered who it might be, and headed to find out.

The person who stood there he sort of knew, because the other first year Blues told him about some of the older Blues.  This was Marufuji Ryou, the Kaiser of the school. 

"Yuuki Juudai?"  Kaiser asked, one eyebrow quirked.  Juudai nodded, more than a little confused.  "May I come in?"

"Uh, sure,"  Juudai said, taking a step back.  "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Actually, I'm here to do something for you."  The Kaiser observed Juudai.  He wore his uniform as if it were the regal garb of a king, not some sort of prison meant to incapacitate him.  Juudai wondered if he could ever learn to wear his uniform like that.  "Chronos-sensei assigned me to be your - teacher, of sorts."  Juudai thought he saw the faintest hint of a lip curl but it wasn't there enough for him to be sure.

He had a very bright reaction to that, of course.  "Huh?"

"You are not the usual sort of Blue student we have,"  Kaiser pointed out.  "Therefore, you need someone to make sure you fit into the Blue dorm."

Fitting in was the very last thing that Juudai wanted to do.  He wrinkled his nose and shook his head.  "I'd rather go to the Red dorm.  That looks pretty cool."  And maybe he'd not have all those people staring at him even when he wasn't dueling.  He expected them to watch when he dueled.  He didn't want them staring at any other time. 

"I'm afraid that's not an option."  Kaiser shook his head.  "Chronos-sensei informed me that he pulled a few strings to have you in our dorm, out of respect for your skills.  I saw that you defeated him.  That's very rare.  He even used one of his best monsters against you and you still did."

Juudai wanted to be proud of that.  He just couldn't bring himself to be, not since it had landed him here.  "So that means I can't ever leave?"

Kaiser shook his head quietly once more.  Juudai dropped down onto his too-soft bed and groaned.  He thought he'd be happy here in Duel Academia, dueling all the best.  He'd never cared about what dorm he might be in, but now that he was in the best dorm, it didn't feel right.  Like the world twisted out of its proper course. 

"It isn't that bad being an Obelisk Blue,"  Kaiser tried to point out.  "I can show you the benefits."

Juudai wondered if he were trying to sound kinder.  He wasn't sure of how successful Kaiser was at it.  But at lest he tried.  Juudai looked over at him.

"The food's good?"  He suggested.  It was kind of rich and he wasn't sure if he liked it all, but it was good.  Kaiser chuckled softly.

"So I have noticed."  He gestured for Juudai to get up.  "But I can show you other places round here, and things to do."

Juudai pulled himself to his feet.  If he couldn't go hang out in Red, at least he could have some company, and he had herd about how skilled at dueling Kaiser was.  Maybe if they hung out for a while, he'd be able to duel him?  Worth a try.

And it gave him something to look forward to.

The End

Notes: SilvorMoon and I worked out some of the details here, such as Ryou being Juudai’s “mentor”. I am making the most evil giggling noises!

Also, getting caught up on my GX Month 2021 fics. What I have planned for day #13 might take me a bit, so I have no idea of when it’ll be ready. But hopefully before the end of the week!

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #gxmonth2021 #yuuki juudai #marufuji ryou

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what songs do you associate with your fave glee characters/ships? besides what they actually sang on the show :P or what do you wish they couldve covered?

also i was just scrolling thru your blog then it was suddenly hi, degrassi! i always get excited when i remember im not the only gleek that also watches degrassi lol

Oh this is such a fun question, thank you!

Before I answer: Degrassi, yes! Degreassi is actually sort of what got me into Glee, weirdly enough. When Glee was first airing I didn’t watch it, but I watched Degrassi Next Class a few years ago, and then one day I saw Glee recommended to me on Netflix, and I thought “You know what? Glee seems sort of like Degrassi, I might like it. Maybe I should give it a shot.” So I did, and  now here we are lol. So, thanks Degrassi!

Anyway, on to your question! I listen to music nearly constantly, but I don’t usually just hear a song and get reminded of a specific character or ship, or imagine how it would sound if a certain character covered it. That being said, I do have some associations, most of them a result of fanfiction or playlists that have been made for a specific ship/fic/whatever. So, here we go!

Paper Rings by Taylor Swift. This is just a Klaine song, I don’t think there’s an argument here, right? The box scene? It’s Klaine.

Dying in LA by Panic! at the Disco. I would commit a felony if it meant I could listen to Darren Criss sing this song. It’s a Blaine song. It’s just such a good song and I can imagine how well Blaine would sing it in my head and I need it.

Literally any of Rihanna’s songs I associate with Blaine. I made a post about it once. On that note, I associate pretty much anything by Katy Perry or P!nk with him, too.

Grace Kelly by MIKA. This is a Kurt song. One day it occurred to me that Kurt should have covered MIKA, and I could absolutely see him doing this one.

Porcelain by Marianas Trench. Obviously this is Kurt (also Klaine, but more specifically Kurt), if not for the name alone. But also @blangstydays​ has talked about it a bit, and I even made it into a gif set! Go easy on me though, I just started learning to make gifs so there’s lots of room for improvement.

Bad Habit by Ben Platt. This is both Klaine and Kurtbastian to me. Klaine because of the “sing to me instead” lyric and @heartsmadeofbooks​ fic (which I still have not read and yet I still have this association, so good job Laura), and Kurtbastian because @20xbetterthanu​ has it in their playlist for AWIT and @blangstydays​ has it in their playlist for IWOAK.

A Drop In The Ocean by Ron Pope. This will never not be a Kurtbastian song, because A Change In The Weather by cacophonylights exists.

Ever After by Marianas Trench. This is a Kurtbastian song. @porcelain-nightbird made me an amazing Kurtbastian playlist as a gift that includes this song, they made a gif set for my birthday with lyrics, and oh, the lyrics, I just... yeah. This song is amazing, and it is Kurtbastian. Here’s a post with some more thoughts on that, prompted by an ask @gorgxoxus​ sent to @porcelain-nightbird​.

Every Breath You Take by The Police. This was supposed to be a Kurtbastian duet and I will die mad about it. There’s even a clip of Grant Gustin singing it!

Collide (acoustic) by Howie Day. Another song in the Kurtbastian playlist @porcelain-nightbird​ made for me. I knew about the song before but had kind of forgotten about it, but now that I’ve been reminded I will always have that association.

I also have some associations based specifically on my own writing. I’ll leave them under a cut, though :)

The Hazards of Love by The Decemberists. Is choosing an entire album cheating? I have decided that no, it is not. But, in particular, The Hazards of Love 1, 2, 3, 4, and Won’t Want For Love, I associate all of these with Klaine because of a series I’m writing. The series isn’t even Klaine friendly a lot of the time (though some of it is...? It’s confusing lol don’t ask), but it will always be associated with Klaine for me now.

Don’t Miss Me? by Marianas Trench. This is a Klaine song for me, again because I used a lyric for a fic title.

California Gurls by Katy Perry. Klaine, because it’s Katy Perry, but also because of a lyric I used for one of my fic titles.

Dance, Dance by Fall Out Boy. This is Klaine. I used a lyric as a fic title, again. Titles are hard. Lyrics are easy.

Lost? by Coldplay. Klaine, same as above.

What A Catch, Donnie by Fall Out Boy. This is specifically a Blaine song, and it’s because I had him sing it in one of my fics. Surprisingly there’s something on this list that isn’t a title for one of my fics!

Mr. Brightside by The Killers. This will forever be a Kurtbastian song for me because, yet again, I used a lyric from it as the title for the first Kurtbastian fic I ever wrote. This is probably the strongest association I have (from my own writing).

Echoes of You by Marianas Trench. Kurtbastian. Do I have to explain why at this point?

#wow okay so I guess I'm not rambling in the tags of this post because I tried to do but then ran out of room for tags whoops #ask #mine #angelhummel #glee #klaine #kurtbastian #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #sebastian smythe #porcelain-nightbird #20xbetterthanu #blangstydays #gorgxoxus #heartsmadeofbooks #fanfiction #fic rec #acitw #awit #stmi #iwoak #thol #dsymm #tmbsitw #idwtfhyvs #enl #noaom #music #marianas trench #fall out boy

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fic interview tag

tagged by @feeisamarshmallow and @peralta-guaranteed! thank you guys, finally had time for this now :)

name: johanna/amyscascadingtabs on tumblr and ao3!

fandoms that I write for: right now only b99. through time it’s also been harry potter, with brief adventures (like a few works each, mostly unpublished) in skam, shadowhunters, glee and carmilla i think

two-shot: uhh i mostly either do one-shots or even longer. i suppose your light, it follows me in darkness is an unintentional two-shot right now because i had a third chapter planned but guys, the inspiration is GONE, like i cannot find it _anywhere_ and yeah. i’m ashamed because i genuinely never drop things like that but i guess we’ll see.

most popular multichapter: i don’t have a lot of them (but one more is coming!!) but i’ll walk through hell with you is my biggest one and it was a big part of my life during an otherwise pretty terrible time for me and it’s just. very dear to me :’)

if we count oneshot collections (which we’re probably not) then i just saw that i just care about being with you has 1100 kudos which is insaaane. 🥺

actual Worst Part about Writing: ooohh. i don’t know. when the inspiration just won’t come. when every line just sounds wrong. when something doesn’t do as well as you’d hoped for and you have to give up on ideas. also dialogue tags, euphemisms for genitals, realising you’ve used that one word a ton of times and having to change it, remembering you have to add in touches of scenery and having to go back... it has its downs. or just when you realise you’re not happy with something and you have to rewrite it, it always annoys me (probably because i outline so much before that once i write it i want it to be Perfect)

how you choose your titles: i’m a song lyric gal, i used to have a whole document with possible ones that i updated but i haven’t used it in a while now! but usually song lyrics because.. i just like being able to associate music with writing anyway? i’ve always collected lyrics i like anyway so to be able to use them is a nice extra bonus!

do you outline? YES. like a crazy person if it’s a longer fic. okay, not a crazy person, but i sketch out all the scenes i want and before i write a scene, i sketch that out in even smaller steps, and before i write dialogue i usually write that one down first too. basically i really hate getting stuck and so i have to write down everything first in order to avoid it.

if anyone is curious this is an example of a basic outline for me, for the third part of the little that i know, i’ll tell to you. i usually copy that into the document i’m writing in and then i make it into even more detail and delete as i write it “properly”. i don’t know if any of that made sense haha but there you go, bonus insight into my brain and my first ideas!

i also always write down random ideas for later bits so i don’t forget them later!

ideas I probably won't get to but it would be nice: that third chapter of the miscarriage fic? lol. i don't know, but i'm definitely stressing about my fic exchange fics! otherwise i don't really have a lot of ideas i'm thinking about right now. we'll see what happens after season 8!

best writing habits: can i say my outlining? it helps me massively and just makes it that much easier for me because then i can enjoy the actual process without feeling like i’m getting stuck – i can get the ideas down without them having to sound “good” and i can later just write without worrying about getting stuck!! and also i'm pretty good at writing on my phone on trains and buses, which was a lot more useful when i actually used public transport daily, but hey. god i genuinely miss having 40 minutes of train commuting time to write on my phone sometimes, lol. 

spicy opinions: i agree with the ones that tagged me! but, hmm, i can’t really think of something else.. i have one thing which is going to seem like a callout but really isn’t meant to be, haha. anyway, uhm, i don’t like reading characters being outright self-deprecating about their own bodies, like calling themselves fat in negative ways. that can get me down a lot sometimes to be honest. but each to their own, i’m aware this is a bit of a personal issue for me. 

tagging: not sure who has/hasn’t been tagged right now... but i’d be interested in what @amydancepants-peralta, @b99peraltiago and @letsperaltiago​ has to say!

#johanna talks writing #tag games

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5AM - Finn Shelby x Reader

Requested by @violetsdicaprio “Okay so, can I request a Finn Shelby fic where he uses the prompt “you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.” Maybe Season 4 when Changretta is there and he has ordered an attack on the reader maybe because she found out something, like she overheard something in a bar?” Hope you enjoy it love xx

We run into a dark room, And we spasm to the sounds

You shouldn’t even have been at that bar in the first place, You should have been at a Shelby family meeting (something which you had been introduced to a few months ago, when Finn and yourself had gotten engaged,), but for the first time, you blew it off. That was what bugged you afterwards, and if you could communicate with your past self, you would scream not to agree to a night out with your sister and her husband. But you did. You were excited, not having seen your sister since she found out she was pregnant several weeks ago, due to clashed schedules, and a hell of a lot of work commitments - because working at the Shelby Company wasn’t your typical nine to five job -  you had yet to congratulate her in person. Finn was supposed to be accompanying you, but he had said he couldn’t at the last minute, saying Polly had insisted he was at the meeting (and wasn’t best pleased that you weren’t going to be there, either).

And so, that was how you had found yourself in your current situation, irritated at Finn after yet another argument,  tired from work, with the swollen ankles that came from the precariously high heels you insisted on wearing. You were nursing your second glass of a rather strong whiskey, standing and waiting for your sister, who was never on time, as scatterbrained as she was. You half had zoned out looking around at the people in the bar, laughing and dancing to jazz music. You looked at a young couple, smiling at each other, positively lost in each other’s eyes, and wondered just when Finn and you had lost that childhood sweetheart innocence.

You were half in another world, until you heard the utterance of ‘Shelby’ behind you, in a thick accent that sounded rather suspiciously Italian. 

Of a copy of Morrissey , Or the blues of the Deep South

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You barely even moved whilst you tried to listen to what the men were saying. They probably didn’t expect for anyone associated with the Shelby’s to be here, in this bar several miles away from Watery Lane, a place that was nowhere near where the Peaky boys patrolled, with their guns that gleamed in the light of the streetlamps, that inspired fear in others, but a feeling of safety in you. They were speaking English, surely a way for them to fit in more with the scenery around you, to not arise any suspicion, but you’d know that accent anywhere. It had been drilled into you, practically, and as one of the men said Luca in a low tone, you knew it was the Changretta’s sat behind you. You should have ran then, sprinted away, never looked back. But you stayed, swirling your drink in your glass, watching the intoxicating amber liquid go round and round and round.

And the drugs will only hide it

“You are being stupid, Luca.” A man’s voice spoke harshly.

That fucking name Luca. The name of the man who had so ruthlessly and callously ordered his men to kill your future brother-in-law only weeks ago. He had had no thought about Esme, a woman who you loved like a sister, or John’s seven children, or his youngest brother who was slowly being forced to take John himself’s role, a role that distorted Finn so quickly it was like you had woke up one morning next to a completely different man. No, Luca Changretta hadn’t thought of any of this, and you would be happy to see him put to a stop.

The feeling never really goes “Attacking them in their own home? It is suicide, my boy.” The words he spoke were so filled with meaning that you half froze in your chair. You were sure that their was only one family that they could be talking about.

“I guess we will see tonight, if you are correct. But it was not so difficult to kill the last one, now was it?” A gloating voice, one that must have been Luca spoke, and it was all you could do to not turn around in your seat and punch him for his words. 

Your hand shook slightly, as you placed the glass down on the counter again, picking up your bag from where it had been, and slipping from your seat, a poor attempt to look casual, pushing through the doors into the cold early January air, your breath fogging in front of you, as your heart beat so violently and loudly that you heard it in your ears.

You had to warn them. At any moment Luca’s men could be at their door. You squeezed your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to picture it, not to think of Finn, because if you thought of Finn you would panic, and you couldn’t, not right now. You pulled off your high heels, feet hitting the frosted cobblestones, as you made to begin to run. You barely made it a few meters, before you heard the click behind you, the calm, cool voice.

And we won’t find love, at the bottom of a glassy hole. 

“Y/N Shelby! A pleasure to finally meet you.”

You turned, raising your hands slightly, to see Luca, standing alone, smoking a cigarette, his eyes calculating and humourous, locked with your own. He looked so casual, that to anyone else, it would look as if you two were just having a conversation, albeit one at gunpoint, the gun you could see now, aimed directly at your abdomen. If he shot it, it would guarantee a rather slow, horrifically painful, death for you.

“Y/N L/N, actually.” You snapped, your mind whirring, telling you to keep him talking, until you could figure out some fucking way to get out of this. You could feel the cool metal of your own gun, strapped to your thigh, but there was no way you could grab it without him realising.

And you don't know what you've got until it's gone

“Ah yes, you haven’t quite sealed the deal yet, have you?” He exhaled the smoke from his cigarette, as he walked closer to you, until he was only half a metre away, and you could smell the smoke. “When is the wedding?”

“We’re not going to have one of you keep killing off my guest list.” You spoke sardonically, trying not to seem as deathly afraid as you were. To Tommy, or Arthur, or even Finn, this wouldn’t be a big deal, you thought. They’d have plans for this sort of thing, but this was your first time being held at gun point. You wondered if it was the sort of thing you got a cake for at Shelby Limited, like normal companies did for an achievement.

He laughed, though his eyes didn’t express any emotion.

“You’re a funny girl, Miss L/N. It’s a shame, really, that I have to do this.” He gestured towards the gun. “But, needs must. You overheard my conversation, didn’t you?”

He stepped even closer, and you were almost sure you could hit him with the element of surprise, hit his gun from his hands. But your shaking hands betrayed that thought. What if it didn’t work? What then?

And you don't know who to love until you're lost

“You really do have to be fucking stupid if you don’t think that Tommy won’t have preempted any of the shit you plan to pull.” You spat, lowering your hands a tiny fraction. He didn’t notice.

“He seems rather distracted lately, doesn’t he? And anyone in Birmingham can tell you about the... ah, what should we call them? Cracks that are beginning to show in the Shelby family.”

“Perhaps he is distracted because your family murdered his fucking wife, Changretta.” Your hands were now barely raised, but he was distracted, each of your staring into the others eyes - fear and anger versus power and arrogance.

“As he killed my father.”

“This is nothing to do with me. Just let me go, okay?”

“You have already ruined my plans. Someone will have already found your boyfriend, I assume, and he and the rest of the Shelby’s will be on their way here.”

“So go. You know you can’t win against them. Not tonight.” Your heart was thrumming in your ears so loudly everything felt almost quiet in comparison.

And you don't know how to feel until the moment's passed

“But I can take something from them. Your time is up, Miss Shelby.”

“Y/N?” You heard a yell, an almost terrified one, but it was at least a street away. Finn would never get here in time.

Changretta turned his head towards the noise, and you took that moment, grabbing the gun in his hands, trying to wrestle it out of them, desperately. There was a bang and then there was silence, and the gun slipped from between your fingers, clattered to the floor. Your eyes regarded Changretta with shock, as your knees began to buckle, and you landed onto the cold hard cobbles, hands trying to find what was wrong.

“I’m sorry I had to do this.” For a second, you almost thought he sounded genuinely sad. “But your family took something from me. Now, I must take everything from them.”

“Y/N!” The voice was louder now, and you turned, to see a group of men at the top of the street - Finn amongst them. They came too late.

I wish you'd live like you're made of glass

You turned back to Changretta , but he had already gone, disappeared into the shadows.

It only felt like seconds before Finn was in front of you, and you had raised a shaky hand to point the direction where Luca Changretta had gone, directing the rest of the Blinders with him. Soon, the way it had always been, it was just the two of you. Finn and Y/N.

His eyes scanned you for injuries, before they landed on your abdomen, the dim streetlights enough to see the scarlet liquid on your dress, spreading across the cobblestones. It was too much, for such a small person, you thought. You weren’t shocked, as you saw it, you knew as soon as the gun went off you were hit, and now you could feel the metal bullet, lodged somewhere inside you, feel the pain that extended to your fingers and toes.

“No.” He said quietly, his eyes locking with yours. “No.”

“Finn-“ Your hands reaches out to cup his face, the blood on them leaving marks on his cheeks, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel his warmth. You were so cold. So fucking cold.

“I need an ambulance.” He roared, looking towards the pub where you had been only ten minutes before, where several people were looking out at the scene. “Right fucking now!”

They weren’t ones to ignore a Shelby, and so they dissapearwd from the window. You knew it would do no good. You knew you-

And we've got work in the morning, But it's nearly 5 a.m.

“I’m going to die Finn.” Your eyes were filled with tears, as were his, as he tried to press your wound, ripping off his jacket, holding it against your abdomen.

“No you’re not. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He repeated like a mantra, his voice shaky and cracking at every word.

Finn knew death. He had seen what felt like a hundred people die, had been the cause of several, and he knew from the look in your eyes, the paleness of your skin, that this was the end. Somewhere, deep down, he knew you were going to die, right there, on this rainy street, cold, and scared. He knew he could do nothing about it.

“It’s okay, Finny.” You said gently, hands still caressing his face. “You’re here. That’s all I need.”

“Don’t die on me now, yeah? Please.” That word, filled with so much emotion, as he almost begged you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we argued ... tonight. I just ...” You trailed off, your mind not really working, not letting you find the words. God, it hurt so fucking much. In the distance, you thought you heard the ambulance.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

You nodded, leaning up against the wall behind you, feeling the cold start to set into your bones. The world felt almost fuzzy. You looked up, into the night sky. The pollution in Birmingham never allowed for stars in the sky, but you wished you could see them, right now.

You felt your eyes become heavier, like someone was weighing them down with pennies.

Is this really what we envisioned?

“Love you.” You mumbled, looking back to Finn. He was crying freely now, and you wanted to wipe away the tears, but it felt like you had forgotten how to move.

“Come on, the ambulance is almost here. Just a few more minutes.”

You shook your head, a tiny movement. You smiled at the boy, the boy who had made the last five years of your life bearable, who was your first, and last, love. You thought about the house you were planning on buying together, and the crib that you one day were going to have, and the honey suckle in the garden.

And you closed your eyes.

We won't be 21 again

#finne shelby x reader #finn shelby headcanons #finn shelby imagines #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby #finn shelby angst #peakysource #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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Young Love and Other Surprising Things | Ao3.

When everyone heard that Andrew and Lorenzo were soulmates, the entire school had assumed that it was a joke. They show everyone fairly quickly that it is not a joke.

This is my ‘Soulmates AU’ square for @shadowhunterbingo and it was also written for the @malecdiscordserver’s fic crawl.

Lorenzo and Andrew being soulmates was all anyone could talk about. The pair had bonded the Friday before the weekend and they’d become the talk of the school overnight. Mostly because no one could believe it. No one could see Andrew, handsome football player Andrew, with someone as stuck up as Lorenzo.

Most when they’d first heard about it had assumed it was a joke but Andrew assured everyone quickly that it was anything but. They were actually soulmates and that made it all the more unbelievable.

Why in the world would the fates have paired them together? Some had started to speculate almost instantly that it would be a broken bond - something that happened often enough for it to be plausible but when the pair had returned to school on Monday morning, they’d seemed anything but broken.

Lorenzo walked into school with Andrew at his side, clutching his book bag and blushing as the pair stopped near the hallway where they’d split up. No one had ever seen a look on Lorenzo’s face like they’d seen that morning.

Lorenzo was aggravating to nearly everyone. He thought he was better than everyone else and he was smart enough that it might have been true, which only made his arrogance even more infuriating. Lorenzo didn’t have any friends and he never seemed to want any, finding them all too beneath him. He’d sit and read big complicated books during lunch, seeming to find his own presence all very enjoyable. He hardly even looked at any of his classmates without a look of disdain present on his face - until now that was, when everyone saw him look at Andrew. A soft blush was across his cheeks as he stared up at the taller more composed teenager, an expression on his face as if he was awestruck.

They exchanged a few words, mostly unheard by all the people that were standing around blatantly gawking at them and then, Andrew ducked in and pressed a kiss to Lorenzo’s cheek. The man blushed intensely, his eyes instantly falling to the ground, embarrassed.

The expression on Lorenzo’s face only seemed to make Andrew grin. He reached out and tipped Lorenzo’s face up to his and as if he couldn’t help himself after seeing how Lorenzo reacted, he leaned in to press his lips against the man’s own.

A moment later, the bell rang. Lorenzo turned to make his way up stairs to his first class, his cheeks still bright red. Andrew turned to make his way into the gym and everyone else stood around gaping at where they’d been standing.

One thing was clear. Andrew hadn’t been lying. It wasn’t a joke. Andrew Underhill and Lorenzo Rey were certainly a thing now.

.

At his lunch period that day, Andrew sat surrounded by his friends, listening to them go on about how they couldn’t understand how Andrew could possibly be into Lorenzo, soulmates or not. Andrew himself took it all in stride and his friends seemed smart enough not to outright insult Lorenzo, so Andrew didn’t quite seem to mind but when his friends kept going on, Andrew finally smirked and murmured, “He’s not that bad.” A phrase that instantly aroused his entire circle of friends in laughter, disbelief and a couple knowing grimaces.

“We don’t need to hear about your sex life, Underhill,” Jace snapped, rolling his eyes in overplayed annoyance. His soulmate under his arm, Clary, laughed as she hit his chest softly.

“I don’t have a sex life yet,” Andrew snapped back. After a moment, he kept speaking, “-but he’s not bad at kissing.”

Instantly, the table erupted again and regardless of how many people seemed to try to change the topic, the conversation kept coming back to Lorenzo and Andrew, not that Andrew quite seemed to mind.

Andrew was happy. He was proud that Lorenzo was his soulmate and regardless of if his friends were grimacing or laughing, he was happy to talk about his soulmate. Lorenzo, not unlike the rest of the school, was all Andrew could think about anyway.

.

Lorenzo didn’t have his lunch period until an hour later. He sat in the corner of the cafeteria, sitting by himself completely by choice. He was leaning over his notebook, writing the rough draft of an essay that was due next week, occasionally taking a moment to stop and take the bite of an apple as he thought.

He was only a few minutes into lunch when a shadow fell across his paper. When he looked up, Andrew was there, grinning.

Lorenzo couldn’t help but smile back, completely against his own free will. “What are you doing here?” He asked, dropping his pen instantly, his essay forgotten about. He was smart enough to know that he’d get nothing done with Andrew there. “You’re supposed to be in class.”

Andrew dropped into the seat across from Lorenzo. “I know but I wanted to come see you," he replied simply.

Lorenzo pressed his lips as if he was displeased but his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “You’re going to get into trouble,” he murmured.

Andrew instantly waved Lorenzo off. “No, of course not besides, it would be worth it to come see you.”

Lorenzo blushed and Andrew instantly looked pleased at the sight of it. “You’re going to come over tonight, right?” He posed, reaching out to pluck Lorenzo’s apple off the table to take a bite.

“I have an exam tomorrow. I have to study.” Lorenzo said. It was not the first time he was informing Andrew of this and it would not be the last.

“I’ll help you study!” Andrew insisted instantly, also not for the first time.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, “You said that you’d help me study this weekend.”

“And I did,” Andrew shot back.

“You helped me study for a few minutes and then we ended up kissing.”

“I said I'd helped you study and I did,” Andrew replied deadpan.

Lorenzo looked down to his paper, clearly trying to hide the amused smile on his face.

“So... you’ll come over?” Andrew asked again.

Lorenzo huffed softly but at last, he nodded. “I really do have to study!” He said as he looked up to watch Andrew rise to his feet. “I mean it. If you kiss me, I’m going to leave. I’m not failing because of you.”

Andrew nodded but the playful smirk on his lips didn’t disappear. “You’ve never failed a test in your life,” he said as he made his way around the table, moving to press a kiss to Lorenzo’s cheek.

Instantly, Lorenzo was blushing like he had that morning, a look Andrew seemed to bring about on his face quite often. “And I’m not starting now,” he murmured halfheartedly.

Andrew chuckled and leaned in to press another kiss to Lorenzo’s cheek before he was turning and starting to head out of the cafeteria, hopefully to go back to his class before he really got into trouble. “You couldn’t fail if you tried.”

Before Lorenzo could even respond, Andrew had completely turned and darted out of the cafeteria, leaving Lorenzo alone once again, smiling down at his half finished essay that he couldn’t even remember the topic of anymore.

Needless to say, when he and Andrew met that night, Lorenzo did very little studying. Still, nearly a week later, he was told he’d received an A. No one was surprised, least of all Andrew.

.

Everyone learned fairly quickly that Lorenzo was much less insufferable around Andrew. Everyone had been incredibly unsure when Andrew had started bringing Lorenzo with him around their group of friends. Even Lorenzo himself had looked like he wasn’t sure if Andrew was worth associating with all of these other people but slowly, they got used to each other.

Lorenzo still had his quirks. He’d still say things that went way over the heads of everyone else. He still never quite liked all the things Andrew and his friends did but they all at least learned to tolerate each other, for the most part.

Lorenzo had some issues with Alec’s soulmate that he didn’t quite seem willing to get over but he was still polite when he had to be, for Andrew’s sake. It became a common occurrence to see Lorenzo at their football games, looking proud when it had seemed that Andrew had done something good and trying not to look bored when he wasn’t doing anything.

Lorenzo didn’t really like sports but Andrew did. So, he went to their games and if he read a book during the downtime, Andrew never really seemed to mind. It was after one of those first few games that Lorenzo went to that Andrew approached him, still wearing his uniform, covered in a thin layer of dirt and sweat, his hair a mess on top of his head.

Lorenzo had to admit that he looked rather adorable like that and that was maybe why he let Andrew take his hand so easily and drag him behind the bleachers, into the dark where no one would see them unless they really looked.

Lorenzo laughed breathlessly as Andrew pushed him against the cold metal, holding Lorenzo by the sides of Andrew’s football jacket that he’d been wearing the whole game. Lorenzo was anything but surprised when his laugh was cut off by Andrew’s lips on his own, kissing him with all the adrenaline he’d built up throughout the game.

Andrew’s hand slipped under Lorenzo’s shirt, his nails gently scraping against Lorenzo’s skin as their kiss turned a little feverish, though Lorenzo wouldn’t quite say that was his fault.

Lorenzo tipped his head up further, his hands clutching Andrew’s damp uniform as he strained his neck to let the taller man kiss him with a better angle. A month ago, Lorenzo would have never thought he’d be here, kissing his handsome soulmate in a place where someone could so easily find them but now, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, especially when one of Andrew’s hands came up to gently grip Lorenzo’s hair, tugging softly and forcing a moan out of Lorenzo’s lips.

They kissed passionately for another few long moments before Andrew pulled away, suddenly lifting Lorenzo’s slender body until he was holding him against the wall at Andrew’s eye level.

Lorenzo wrapped his legs around Andrew’s hips to hold himself up, laughing softly as Andrew suddenly ducked forward again, kissing him just a touch more desperately than a moment before.

Andrew’s hips rutted into Lorenzo’s and instantly, Lorenzo broke away from the kiss and tipped his head back, clenching his hands in Andrew’s hair as he let out a soft broken moan. Andrew wasted no time ducking forward, biting gently at the smooth space between Lorenzo’s neck and his shoulder, alternating between sucking and nibbling softly.

Lorenzo had never kissed anyone the way he was kissing Andrew. He’d never shared anything but brief kisses with other people but even considering he’d never done this with anyone else before, he didn’t imagine anyone could manage to make him feel the way Andrew did. Everywhere Andrew touched him lit Lorenzo’s skin on fire, leaving him shivering and arching into the touch, desperate for Andrew to do it again.

They probably would have gone a lot farther than either of them would have wanted to, had they been thinking rationally and not had every thought in their heads drowned out by the feeling of the other’s touch, but they broke away as the sudden sound of someone slamming on the metal of the bleaches broke through the air.

“Underhill, come on!” Jace groaned, his voice loud and aggravated.

Instantly, Lorenzo blushed and Andrew had the decency to look a little sheepish as he lowered Lorenzo to the ground. “Whoops,” he whispered, unable to keep the small grin from breaking across his face.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, trying to straighten out his shirt and his hair before they walked out and made it even more obvious what they’d been doing, as if anyone could not know. “You don’t have to act like you’re not pleased,” Lorenzo grumbled.

Andrew looked up at him, making a small attempt to fix his own clothes as he shrugged. “What’s wrong with being proud of my soulmate?” Andrew asked innocently.

Again, Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “Being proud we were caught making out is a little different than being proud of me-”

Andrew scoffed and Lorenzo felt a small smile coming across his own face as Andrew insisted, “Nonsense! I’m proud of our love and that’s all!”

Lorenzo looked up and quirked an eyebrow, “Love?” He asked teasingly.

Instantly, Andrew flushed. It was expected that soulmates loved each other but still, they’d only been bonded for a few weeks and they certainly hadn’t said they loved each other yet. Andrew shrugged softly, frowning. “Well, I mean-” He fumbled for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say what was coming out of his mouth or not. “I uh- I love you,” Andrew mumbled, his words trailing off as if he thought saying them as quietly as possible might stop Lorenzo from reacting poorly.

Lorenzo’s hands tightened on his book bag, a soft expression coming across his face. As if he could ever be upset hearing something like that come out of Andrew’s lips. “I love you too,” Lorenzo whispered.

It took a moment for Andrew to seem to process what Lorenzo had said but when he did, a smile came across his face once again. He brushed back his curly, messy hair and reached for Lorenzo’s hand before he seemed to change his mind and wrapped his arm around Lorenzo entirely.

Andrew ducked in and pressed a warm kiss to Lorenzo’s head, his lips at just the perfect height to do so. “I love you too,” he murmured, as if he hadn’t been the one to say it first. Maybe, he was just looking for any excuse to say it again and Lorenzo couldn’t quite be upset with him for that.

“You already said that,” Lorenzo mumbled finally as Andrew led him out of the bleachers into the warm sunlight, where Andrew’s teammates stood, some smirking over at them, some rolling their eyes as they emerged.

“Finally,” Jace yelled, seeming to be the one orchestrating this assault on them. “We’re going out to eat, if you two had enough time to spare between sucking each other’s face off.”

Lorenzo blushed but a small smile came across his lips too. There was something nice about everyone knowing they were together, Lorenzo supposed, even if it was incredibly embarrassing.

Andrew looked down to him for a moment, seeming to consider it. “I think we’re a bit busy,” he concluded, which made Jace groan again and caused the rest of the group to erupt in laughter.

“I’m hungry,” Lorenzo murmured.

“Never mind, we’ll make time,” Andrew amended as he tugged Lorenzo towards the rest of the team. In the small cafe they found themselves in later, Lorenzo found himself smushed into Andrew’s lap in a booth, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck as they shared a smoothie and some pie that Jace had decided he’d also share with them.

Kissing was nice but as Lorenzo curled into Andrew’s neck, feeling the man’s laughter vibrating through his skin, he thought that this was pretty nice too. Besides, they’d always have time for kissing later.

#reyhill #shadowhunters #soulmates au #high school au #lorenzo rey #Andrew Underhill

[thejolexgroupchat]

Hi! Love all the fics you guys write :) could you guys do one where Jo and Alex were together before Alex even started his intern year? Like idk they met somehow while Jo was in college & Alex was in led school and started dating. Everyone tries to hook up with Alex but he’s got this super secret girlfriend that everyone makes fun of him for. They could still have a large age gap or they could be like a year or two apart. Basically, I just want to see Alex holding out for Jo and being super proud & showing her off when she gets into the residency program.

the one where they met in med school - part one

So... we absolutely LOVED this prompt, took it and ran with it. This originally was supposed to be a one-shot, but it kind of grew out of control and became what it is now.

This fic was written by @iamtrebleclefstories (Leya), @doc-pickles (Nina), and tumblr-less Nat

                                                           ———

                                                       (July 2006)

“Hey! I miss you,” Jo smiled as she talked into the phone. “How was your first week as an intern?”

“Honestly? It sucked. But it was also amazing. I don’t know if that makes sense,” Alex replied, shrugging although he knew she couldn’t see him. “And for the record, I miss you more.”

“That’s impossible. You’re so busy you don’t even have time to miss me,” Jo chuckled. “Me on them other hand? My life revolves around school and studying. Studying isn’t as fun without you around. I miss our study dates.”

“I do too,” Alex sighed. He really did miss her. A lot. All the time. He’d only been living in Seattle for a month and it was definitely a challenge. He really didn’t know how he was going to make it through the next year without her. “But at least you have Lexie there. You’re not completely alone.”

“Yeah you’ve got a point,” Jo hummed. “But Lexie doesn’t do all the things for me that you do, if you know what I mean.”

Alex groaned, “Stop it. We’re way too far away from each other to do this. I need you so bad right now and I can’t have you and it sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Jo agreed. She couldn’t believe how far they’d come. She and Alex had been together for about 2 ½ years now. In all that time, they’d been attached at the hip. He was her best friend and she was his. It was odd not seeing him everyday. It was unnatural to sleep without him beside her at night like he’d been doing for years. “I have a week-long break next month though and I was thinking of coming to visit. I’ve saved up a bunch of money from tutoring undergrads.”

“Would it be bad of me to just keep you locked up in my apartment the whole time you’re here, because that sounds appealing,” Alex’s words sparked a string of laughter from Jo, making him sigh down the line. “I miss hearing your laugh and that makes me feel pathetic. It feels like I’m in one of those stupid rom coms you and Lexie forced me to watch all the time.” “We didn’t force you, you readily agreed to it, Karev,” Lexie’s voice echoed faintly in the background, Jo shushing her as the two bickered quietly. 

“Am I on speaker?” 

“Um… maybe?” Jo shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t see her through the phone. “You can’t possibly be embarrassed. Lexie has seen and heard worse from you.”

“I sure have,” Lexie yelled out from her spot across the room. “Keep going! Don’t let me stop you from being all mushy and talking about how much you miss Jo.”

Alex rolled his eyes, “Keep your comments to yourself, let me enjoy my girlfriend for a little while please.”

“So, tell me. Did you make any friends yet?” Jo asked. 

“What is this? Middle school?” Alex scoffed. “I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to become a surgeon. A kickass, rich, plastic surgeon.”

“Yes I’m sure between the scut work and the enemas you have plenty of time to dream about all the money you’re gonna make,” Jo giggled down the line. 

“Oh, you just wait. When you’re an intern I’m going to have you doing all my scut,” Alex warned playfully. “You’ll be sorry for making fun of my career aspirations.”

“I just can’t see you going into plastics,” Jo confessed, a large grin on her face. “Not that you wouldn’t be good at it, but I just don’t see it. Maybe general or ortho!”

“General? Wow I didn’t realize you thought so little of me,” Alex leaned back onto the brick wall behind him as he listened to the sounds of Jo’s quiet laughter. 

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with general,” Jo insisted. She groaned as she saw the time. The worst part about Alex moving across the country was the time difference. “I wish I could talk more, but I really have to get ready for bed. I will try to call you tomorrow evening.”

“I’m on-call tomorrow,” Alex revealed sadly. “I hate this. I went from going to bed next to you every night to struggling to even find some time during the day to talk.”

“I know,” Jo sighed. “I hate it, too. Of course I wish you were here, but I am so proud of you.  You’re living the dream right now, Alex. If that means I have to miss you for a little while, so be it.”

God, he really loved this woman. Alex smiled and clutched the phone tightly, “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Jo answered. It still made her heart beat quickly whenever she heard him say those words. He’d been the first person to ever say them to her and mean it. “Go kick some ass.”

“I will,” Alex chuckled. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.”

Alex hung up his phone and sighed as he walked back into the bar across the street from the hospital. He walked back up to the group of his fellow interns and ordered a beer, staring at his phone for a moment before finally putting it back in his pocket. 

“What’s up with you?” Yang asked. “You look all, mopey.” 

“It’s nothing,” Alex shook his head.

“No, she’s right. You look depressed,” Grey seconded. 

“I’m fine,” Alex took a swig of his beer. “I’m just a little homesick.”

“You know what will cheer you up? Getting laid. You see that girl over there,” Yang pointed to a woman across the bar with red hair and blue eyes. “She’s been eyeing you for a while now. I’m sure if you asked she’d say yes.”

“I don’t need to get laid,” Alex narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re uptight. Isn’t he Stevens?” Yang asked the woman he’d identified as Dr. Model. 

“He is,” Stevens nodded, laying her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I know we’ve only known each other for like a week, but this is the most disappointed and depressed that I’ve seen you. And that’s saying a lot, considering that we are surgical interns and basically slaves to the hospital.”

"I'm not depressed and I do not need to get laid," Alex grumbled, taking a swig of his beer. "If you must know, I was on the phone with my girlfriend."

"Evil Spawn has a girlfriend?" Cristina raised an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for a relationship type guy."

"Neither did I, but then I met her. So, just stop pestering and let me mope in peace."

"Wow. Karev has a heart," O'Malley chuckled and took a sip of his drink. "I didn't see that one coming."

“Oh screw you guys, why don’t you go get laid? Being so invested in someone else’s love life has gotta be a sign that you need to get some.”

                                                          ———

                                                   (August 2003)

“Hey! You’re Jo right?” 

Jo turned around to see a young woman with short brown hair and brown eyes smiling at her. Jo outstretched her hand, “Yes. I’m Jo. You’re Lexie, my lab partner right?”

“Yup!  It’s so nice to officially meet you,” Lexie shook Jo’s hand. 

She seemed like a sweet and perky person. The exact kind of person that Jo didn’t normally associate with. For the longest time, Jo didn’t have any friends or get attached to anyone. She had two friends the entirety of her undergrad and typically didn’t look to make any more. Jo supposed it would be nice to have someone, "It's nice to meet you, too."

                                              (September 2003)

"I can't believe you actually did that!" Jo exclaimed as she and Lexie walked down to the lab. "You became another one of Karev's conquests."

"Honestly, I don't even regret it," Lexie confessed, a large smile on her face. "There is a reason why Leah is so hung up on him. He knows what he's doing. You should go for it. Sleeping with him is like a right of passage or something."

"Ew, no way," Jo faked a gag. "He's an ass. I have much higher standards than Alex Karev."

They entered the lab to find the program's resident man-whore going over some samples. Jo had to admit, he was pretty hot. Alex Karev was cocky and charming and incredibly intelligent. He was always getting the highest grades and was every professor's favorite student. She was into him. But she'd never say it out loud.

"Hey, Lexie," Alex smirked as they walked over to their stations. He gave Jo a once over and looked at her with one of his signature crooked grins. "Hello Lexie's friend. You got a name?"

Jo considered staying quiet but finally decided to respond, "Jo Wilson."

"Nice, I like chicks with boys' names."

"Karev, " Lexie warned.

"What? I do. It's hot," Alex shrugged.

"Alex, stop sleeping with all the first years. It ruins them," Lexie admonished.

"I slept with you," Alex pointed out. 

"Yeah, and it's never going to happen again. Besides, Jo's my best friend," Lexie shrugged. "I'm protective of her."

                                                (October 2003)

“I told you I didn’t need you to follow me,” Jo grumbled. “I can take care of myself.”

"Calm down,  princess. There's no need to get your panties in a twist," Alex rolled his eyes at Jo who'd been yelling at him for the past few minutes. They'd been studying with a group of friends in the library when Jo decided to leave and Alex offered to walk her home. “I just don’t think you should be walking home alone with that fancy watch on your wrist that daddy probably gifted you. Can’t risk someone mugging the princess.” 

"Stop calling me princess!" Jo shouted, turning to face Alex as anger bubbled up inside of her. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself for a moment. "My mother left me at a fire station when I was two weeks old. I got bumped around foster homes until I was sixteen when I took matters into my own hands and started living out of a car. I parked it behind the gym of my high school so I could sneak in and use the showers before class. My home ec teacher--Ms. Schmidt--she’d let me do my laundry there for free. And yeah, I got into good schools because I worked my ass off. And when I walked across that stage at graduation, I didn’t have a cheering section filled with my richy-rich family. I had one person, Ms. Schmidt. That’s it. She’s the one who gave me this watch when I got into Med School. Her son works for the company.” 

Alex had the decency to look down at the ground ashamed. He walked up to the wall Jo was leaning against and stood beside her, “It is a nice watch.” 

“Thanks.” 

The next time they see each other, things are different. Understanding Jo’s background gave Alex a deeper appreciation for her work ethic. Even though they were in different years, Alex found himself seeking Jo out for projects and studying. Being around her made him want to be better. He wanted to excel in ways he hadn’t in the past. And that said a lot, considering he was already at the top of his class. 

So that’s why when he saw her sitting at the bar a couple weeks later, he decided to join her. They’d had an argument earlier in the day where some things were said. Alex walked up to the bar and grinned at the bartender, “A beer for me and another round for Hobo Jo. Let me guess… Thunderbird or is it straight paint thinner?” Alex looked back up at the bartender. “You got a little brown paper bag you can put that in?”

“Would you stop,” Jo sighed and looked at Alex. “I had no parents. I lived in my car. Yes I have trust issues, it comes with the territory.” 

“You need to stop acting like you’re the only person who ever had a crappy childhood,” Alex rolled his eyes slightly. 

“Oh yeah? How many foster homes did you get kicked out of before you moved into your car?” 

“Seventeen. And I didn’t live in my car. I went to juvie,” Alex took a sip of his drink. 

“Stop making fun of me,” Jo shook her head. 

“I’m not.” 

Jo’s face scrunched in interest, “Really?”

“And you’re actually lucky that your folks abandoned you. It means you didn’t have to watch your schizo mom go after your baby brother with a steak knife.” 

“Fine, fair,” Jo conceded. “But you never woke up in the middle of the night with junkies banging on your bedroom windshield, praying they’d get tired or bored before they put a rock through a window.”

“No, I didn’t,” Alex shook his head in response. “Because the junkie was my dad and he didn’t break windows, just fingers.” 

“Well, did you ever have foster parents that made you and nineteen other kids sleep on cots in the basement? Locking the doors, lights out, so that if you had to pee in the middle of the night, you had to use buckets they set up along the wall. Buckets you couldn’t see because if you turned the lights on, the bigger kids would hold you down and take those buckets and--” Jo’s voice cracked slightly.

Alex bowed his head in sadness, “God… no, never.” 

“Me neither,” Jo shrugged. “Saw it in a movie on cable.” 

Alex’s mouth twitched into a shocked grin as he let out a few chuckles, “How did you get cable in your car?”

“I don’t live in my car anymore, jerk,” Jo giggled lightly. 

Her story must’ve done the trick to break the ice because before they knew it, Jo and Alex were well on their way to becoming best of friends. They laughed and joked together for hours, even going as far as fake crying to get out of paying their tab. 

“You know, you’re not half bad, Karev,” Jo grinned as she and Alex walked out of the bar. She clutched the sides of Alex’s jacket which he had so kindly allowed her to borrow. “I actually had a lot of fun tonight.” 

“So did I, Wilson,” Alex smiled back at her. “What do you say we grab some tacos and eat them in the back of my truck?”

“Sounds great to me.”

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex au #grey's anatomy au #grey's anatomy fanfic #alex karev #jo wilson #jo x alex #jo karev #secret relationship #meredith grey #cristina yang #izzie stevens #george o'malley #miranda bailey #jolex forever #jolex endgame #grey's fanfic #grey's anatomy #i will go down with this ship #lexie grey #jolexie #jolexie friendship #med school #med school au #long distance relationship #long-term relationship #established relationship #time skips #flashbacks

[sierraraeck]

Cleansing (Pt.2)

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you are triggered by talk of sexual abuse and have not read how I have set up this fic, please do so. You can still read it without that content, just click here.

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: Spencer needs help dealing with his dealer. Both of them are required to take two weeks off and they decide to spend those two weeks together. Things get hot and messy and emotional. There’s a lot going on. Story nine.

Category: Some angst, some fluff, some steam, some smut.

Warnings: Cussing. Drugs. Mentions of drug abuse. Shots fired. Discussion of prior sexual abuse. Oral (both receiving), penetrative (unprotected), fingering, creampie.

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: This is my first time writing smut. Forgive me if it’s bad and I’d love to hear your feedback. Also, I know injuries don’t heal that fast but we are just going to ignore it. Big thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog for reading over and helping me with the smut section, I really appreciate it.

Side note: Somewhere in here I hit 50k words of fanfic.

“Let the two weeks commence,” I said, pressing play on the season premiere of ‘Sherlock’. I’d made the executive decision that we were going to stay inside as much as possible, and we were going to binge watch shows and have movie marathons. He made the executive decision that we were going to start with ‘Sherlock’.

I had practically moved into his apartment, my things stuffed into the corner underneath the tv. I brought everything I needed, plus an entire suitcase worth of new books for him to read since he wasn’t supposed to be doing much. The only reason anyone left his apartment was for me to go pick up food, or something else from my place that I decided we needed. I made sure to keep all of the walkways clear, and I watched him like a hawk every time he decided to move. Most of the time I scolded him and got whatever it was for him, but things like the bathroom and showering, those got more complicated.

He insisted that I go home and sleep at my place, but I was content on his couch. At night, things were the worst. It’s like I could feel his restlessness. He eventually fell asleep, but at around 2am every night, he was waking up from whatever terrifying dream decided to haunt him. I would go into his room and sit with him for a while, sometimes reading to him (he complained he felt childish but I knew he secretly liked it), and then, out of fear I would hurt him laying next to him and wouldn’t be close enough to him from the couch, I slept on the floor. Which he scolded me for every morning. But I didn’t mind. I’d slept on worse. I created a pillow fortress around the whole bed just in case he rolled off, which he informed me was ridiculous and he’d never done in his life, but I told him you can never be too sure.

Then there was that deal about the drugs.

We were both getting clean, and considering he was addicted to pain meds, he couldn’t take any pain meds. We had made a deal that every time one of us left the other’s sight, when they came back, we’d check them for drug use. I checked him for an injection site and he checked me for signs of power, and any other symptoms that were associated with the other’s drug. I felt my heart pull a little every time I looked over at him and saw him in that brace. I could tell he was trying so hard to keep it together, but the pain was getting to him.

“It’s okay, you know,” I told him.

“What?”

“To cry.”

“What are you talking about?” he said through a grimace.

“Or maybe scream, if that’s more your thing.” He looked at me expectantly, so I explained, “Besides the morning and the night, the pain is the worst at around four. It’s four right now. I know it’s not pleasant over there, and I’m just reminding you that it’s okay to let go.”

“You’ve been paying attention to when I’m in the most pain?”

“What else am I going to pay attention to?”

“The tv.”

“The tv is not nearly as interesting as you.”

“So my pain is interesting to you?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“You know that’s not what I meant. But if you must know, your general health and well-being is definitely a point of interest to me,” I fired back. He gave me a small smile.

I left to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, he checked me. It had been a few days (I honestly stopped keeping track) and I decided I’d keep things interesting.

I took off my sweatshirt and turned the pockets inside out. “As you can see, there are no drugs in here.” He nodded, seeming slightly confused as to why I needed to take my sweatshirt completely off to prove that. Next, I stripped off my sweatpants, leaving me in my bra and underwear. I turned those pockets inside out as well and repeated, “There are no drugs in here, either.”

His eyes seemed conflicted, flicking between my empty pockets, the tv, and my much-on-display body. I did a slow turn, and as I did, I drew attention to my lower half, explaining that I didn’t have any drugs stuffed in my panites.

When I turned back around to face him, I caught his eyes lingering on the delicate lace that shielded the last of myself from him. He looked up into my eyes, realizing I’d noticed him staring, and quickly shifted his gaze back to the tv. I put my sweatshirt back on, but in return removed my bra using the classic locker room trick. I held it up like it was an exhibit at a museum, ready for him to examine. “And finally, there are no drugs in here either.”

He followed the sight of my bra falling from my fingers all the way down to the floor, landing right next to my forgotten sweatpants. I strutted back over to the couch and sat down next to him, letting the knowledge that I was half as clothed as before set in. I pretended to turn my attention back to the tv, but I kept an eye on his reaction out of my peripheral. I had definitely accomplished my goal of distracting him from the pain.

I continued to tease him the next couple of days, getting a bit more bold as time went on, like making sure to ‘thoroughly check all of the alternative spots’ that one could inject themselves in besides the arm. The bolder I got, the more he slightly squirmed under my touch, even biting his lip once and having a shudder run through his body. I had to compose myself until I turned away, not wanting him to know how much pleasure I got from seeing how much of an effect I had on him.

After I had teased him for a few days, I decided I’d just toss a delicious idea I’d dreamt of out there and see what happened.

“So, today you get to test out ‘taking it easy’ without the brace on, huh?” I asked.

“Yep,” he responded.

“How’s the pain?”

“It’s better than it was a week and a half ago. I’m lucky that it was only a super minor fracture, and because I have been following all of the rules so strictly,” he cleared his throat and gave me a pointed look, “it is healing as fast as possible.”

“That is fantastic news. What do you plan on doing first as an unbraced man?”

“I don’t know, actually.”

“May I suggest a shower? The warm water will feel amazing,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he turned to head toward the bathroom.

I took a giddy deep breath, but tried to sound innocent when I asked, “Would you like any help?”

“Help with what?” He took a couple paces backwards so he could look at me.

“Just help. I’d hate for you to slip in the shower your first day out of the brace and not have anyone around to catch you…” I trailed off. His eyes got really wide and his demeanor changed to one of nervousness. Or was that excitement? I couldn’t quite tell.

He gulped but followed matter-of-factly with, “That is a good point...”

Was that a yes? What does that mean? Dammit that was a clever response.

Spencer walked back into the bathroom and turned on the water. I sat there, replaying his response over and over in my head trying to figure out what I should do.

It wasn’t long before I got my answer when he peeked his head out of the door and asked, “Well, are you going to come help me or not?”

Fuck yeah I’m going to help.

“Of course I am. I’m right behind you,” I said, already halfway to the bathroom. I stripped off my t-shirt and underwear (I sported only those two garments nowadays) and stepped into the bathroom. The room felt amazing, like being hugged with a warm blanket, the mirror already steamed over. Spencer was already in the shower. I took one deep breath and stepped around the curtain.

He was so perfect. He was facing the water and I watched the droplets collect on his back, then traced them as they ran all the way down it. I was still looking down when he turned around to face me. I was about to do a double take, shocked by his size, but he put a finger under my chin and lifted it up, forcing me to peel my eyes away and look into his own.

“Hi,” he said in a soft tone.

“Hi,” I replied. I felt frozen in place, drowning in his warm gaze, our only point of contact being just his finger under my chin. I wanted so badly to change that, but I had to remind myself to be gentle. Speaking of, I moved my eyes down his lips, his jaw, his neck, his chest, until I reached the scar on his right side. I slowly lifted my left hand and placed it just under the stitches they'd removed the day before. He shuddered just a little, and I quickly retracted my hand, worried I’d hurt him.

“I’m so sorry-”

“No. It’s okay,” he assured. He reached down and engulfed my hand in his, delicately placing it back on his body, right over the scar. “I trust you.”

I was so thankful that the water was running, otherwise he would have seen the small teardrops that fell from my eyes. I’d never heard more beautiful words come out of a more beautiful mouth, and those three meant the world to me.

“I would never hurt you,” I whispered.

He nodded. “I know.”

It was too much to hope that he’d missed my tears, because he cupped my face and gently swiped at the extra moisture collecting on my cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that … It’s just that I’ve never had anyone trust me the way you do,” I murmured.

How come I couldn’t go just one moment where I was supposed to be taking care of him and not have it turn into him comforting me?

I lightly danced my fingertips over his scar, and he found one of his own to trace his fingers over. I saw him eyeing it the other day, so it didn’t surprise me that out of all the scars on my body, this was the one he chose. It was one deep line that went right between my breasts. He leaned over and planted a single kiss right in the middle, sending a shudder down my spine. I sharply inhaled, and he ghosted his lips over me until they reached my own. I was captivated by how soft they were, how delicate he was being with me, as if I was the one who’d just been shot. He left me wanting more as he pulled away, but there were other things I had my heart set on helping him with.

For some reason, hair had always been one of the most attractive features to me. Spencer’s hair was like no others’, and I loved getting to thread my fingers through it whenever I could. I couldn’t resist reaching for his shampoo and globbing some on my hands.

“That’s too-”

“Shh,” I said. I had to reach up to get to his hair, but my hands moved with a mind of their own once they got going. I slowly watched more and more bubbles form in his hair as I massaged my hands around his head. He reached his own up, placing them on top of mine to aid in the process, causing me to giggle at the feeling. He removed my hands and I went to get my own shampoo, but I couldn’t help staring at the picturesque sight of him leaning his head back, closing his eyes, and letting the water rid his hair of the suds. I saw his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed, and couldn’t tear my eyes from his hands, methodically pushing his hair back from his face.

When he opened his eyes again, he almost smirked at the sight of me watching him. He put his hands on my shoulders, and turned me around so that I could no longer see him. He grabbed the loofah I left in there, added some body wash, and deliberately moved it in circular motions on my back. I felt him pause momentarily, probably studying the tattoo on my shoulder blade, but quickly continued. He switched places with me once he thought I was sufficiently scrubbed.

I felt the water beat down on my back as he wrapped his arms around me. I returned the embrace, both of our breathing hiccuping when his length rubbed against my folds. Neither of us dared to move, not sure if the other was willing to go farther. I put my head down on his chest, my lips leaving an open mouthed kiss on his collarbone in doing so. He rested his head down on top of mine, and we stood there in that embrace for what could have easily been forever. I got up on my tiptoes, forgetting that we were in a delicate situation, having to press my lips together before I reached his ear and whispered, “Let’s get you dried off.”

He reached around me to turn off the water and stepped out. I followed, grabbing the towel off the rack and looping it around him. I wrapped my own towel around me as Spencer turned to face me, stealing one more glance downwards before he could cover himself. We finished getting ready in silence, occasionally glancing over at the other.

We spent the rest of the night like that, hardly bothering to make small talk. Instead of watching tv, we decided we’d read prior to going to bed.

I don’t know about Spencer, but I couldn’t make it through a single page without having my mind drift back to him. I knew what I wanted, but my desire was strong enough to cloud my judgement, no longer allowing me to read him properly. I didn’t know exactly what he wanted, so I just sat there fantasizing about the shower and other fun places.

Finally, I’d had enough, getting out of the chair I was sitting in and moving toward the couch where Spencer was, leaving my book behind.

“How’s your book?” I asked.

“It’s good. How about yours?” he replied, not even looking away.

I ignored his question. “Is it descriptive?”

“Yes.” He looked up at me with slight confusion.

“That’s good. Being descriptive is a very good thing,” I said. I swung my leg over him, lowering myself down onto his lap.

He closed his book and put it on the end table next to us. There was a small question in his reply, “It is.”

“Do you think you could describe something to me?” I asked. I ran my hands down his clothed chest, toying with the waistband of his pajama pants. He swallowed, but didn’t protest.

“And what’s that?”

I smiled up at him as I started to slide his pants off him. “Is this okay?”

He only nodded in response, his eyes locked on my face. I pulled the remaining bit of underwear off, indulging in the growing erection I found underneath. I lightly stroked one finger down his length, tracing a protruding vein. He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes.

When I reached the base, I completely grasped him with one hand, pumping it up and down his shaft at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Describe this to me,” I said in a sultry whisper. His eyes flew open, telling me he didn’t think that was going to be possible. I put my other hand at the back of his neck and quickly swept him into a kiss. When I pulled away I added, “Just do your best.”

Besides the fact that I loved hearing his angelic voice, I wanted to give him a wide open, no shame invitation to express how he was feeling. I knew how awful it was to be in a situation where you felt like you couldn’t speak freely or tell someone what you wanted. This way, I could make sure he was comfortable with what I was doing and I could turn it into a little game where I could tease the hell outta him.

He nodded, face slightly pinched. “It’s, uh, good. Kind of slow.”

“Aw, you can do better than that,” I said playfully, “Tell it to me like you are reading it out of a detailed novel.”

I picked up the pace slightly for added encouragement.

“Um, you picked up the pace, but it was still too slow for my liking,” he gave me a questioning look and I gave him a single nod in approval. I started making zig-zag lines with my other hand that was previously on his neck, moving it slowly down his chest. His voice was strained but velvety when continuing, “You’re teasing me, which is fine for now, but I’m hoping that will change soon.”

I gave him a sly smile, finishing the path my other hand had been taking, reaching its destination onto his shaft, allowing it to help please him. “Keep going.”

“I’m inhaling, trying to focus really hard on forming coherent sentences,” he said, breathing starting to labor. I applied a bit more pressure. “I’ve decided to kiss you, needing something more to do with my lips than just talk.” He leaned toward me and kissed me, gasping as he did because I finally increased my pace to one that might be considered reasonable.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Ooh, that’s not part of the narrative,” I commented, my voice heavy with mischief, slowing back down.

“It is now,” he said through clenched teeth, giving me a look that begged me to speed back up. I had to smirk at his irises being swallowed up by the darkness expanding from his pupils. “You slowed down again, but I knew you would speed back up.”

I did as he said, watching his face in amusement as he started forming an idea.

“You kiss me,” and I did, “and you tug just a bit harder.”

Again, I followed his directions, allowing him to take some control back as long as he could continue giving them. Spencer smiled slightly to himself, finally picking up on how this little game of mine worked.

“I’m going to help you out of your shirt, then follow with my own,” he said. His nimble fingers brushed up under my shirt, the cold of his palms sending goosebumps up my warm sides. I put my arms up and he slipped the fabric easily over my head, leaving the piercing air to swarm my exposed body. Soon we were both topless and his gaze swept over my breasts. I could tell he was getting more excited as he continued on, but I decided I wanted some control back.

I pressed my lips to the base of his jaw as he pulled me flush against him, putting his own on the side of my neck. My hands resumed their previous position as I left a trail of small kisses along his jawline, in between them whispering, “Just keep focusing on those pretty sentences of yours.”

As I moved farther down his neck, he tilted his head back, allowing me more access. I kissed down the column of his throat, then his chest, planting one after the other, slightly sucking at each point. I paused to barely brush my lips against his scar before removing myself from his lap altogether, taking my hands along with me.

“For some reason you pulled away from me, but I want more. I want a lot more,” he said, staring into my eyes trying to read my ulterior motives. They became blatantly obvious when I sunk down to my knees. I pulled the rest of his clothes completely off him, tossing them to the side, Spencer walking me through it the whole way.

I looked up at him and flashed him a smile, saying, “Now, I don’t need you to be completely coherent for this, but I do want to hear how you are feeling, so don’t hold back any of the words, or sounds, that come to mind.”

I leaned over and just barely brushed my lips against his tip. Again, I purposely started out at a tantalizing pace, slowly taking him in inch by inch. I strained to keep my eyes on his, wanting to watch him writhe and unfold. He leaned his head back against the couch as his eyes fluttered shut.

I pulled off of him. “I just have one more request.”

“Anything,” he said in a haste, hardly waiting for me to finish my sentence. I had to smile at how eager he was to have me continue.

“I want you to look at me. I want to see your eyes all the way up until you can’t stand it anymore. I want to watch you fall over the edge,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

I resumed my slow pace, hands on his thighs, only allowing myself to use my mouth for now. I swirled my tongue around him as best I could, eventually just opting to trace it along one of his veins, applying extra pressure there. I finally reached the bottom, holding all of him in my mouth. Only then did I pick up the pace. His hands flew into my hair and he let out a low groan. The deep pitch of it was unexpected coming from him, and it sparked a flame inside my chest that spread throughout my whole body.

I hummed against him, only dragging out his groan. I allowed my hands to work whatever I couldn’t comfortably fit in my mouth at this pace. I started sucking harder, his member not too far behind me, as he let a string of curses roll off his tongue. I let him fall from me with a satisfying pop, giving him only a moment of reprieve before I pushed him over the edge. His mouth was hanging open and I caught his tongue in a messy kiss before returning my attention back to his cock.

He quickly caught me before I took him back in. “Don’t. If you do that I’m going to-”

“I know,” I assured slyly, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

I hesitated only for a moment, waiting to see if any more protests were headed my way. When I received none, I traced my tongue all the way down and back. I started intensely sucking at his tip when I had to remind him, “Remember, I want your eyes right here all the way until the last second.”

I took all of him back into my mouth, hollowing out my cheeks as I went. I was pumping up and down him as fast as I could, my hands following suit.

“Fuck, Aundreya,” he barely got out before I felt him pulse, being overpowered by the moan that followed. He was such a vision, letting all control go, spilling into my throat. I did my best to remember the taste before quickly swallowing, turning my attention to his face. As if he could get any prettier. His head was lulling back, mouth agape and eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy. I waited for his eyes to flutter back open and look at me before I slowly freed him from my mouth.

I stood up, drinking in every detail of his naked body sitting there in front of me. If he was the last thing I ever saw, I would die happy.

I turned around so that when I bent over, slipping my panties down my legs, he’d have a perfect view of my ass. I stepped out of them and tossed them his direction. It was my way of warning him about the pool collecting at my core, knowing he’d feel how wet they already were. He dropped them on the ground next to the rest of our neglected clothes, and I extended my hand out to him. He gladly accepted and I led him back to his bedroom.

I quickly went to shut the blinds and when I turned around, Spencer was right there. He lightly pinned me up against the wall with his already clammy hands on my shoulders. There had always been something about his salacious hands that made me excited, the way his large palms and long, thin fingers could completely control me, but didn't. How he could manhandle me but he respected me enough not to. Not like I’d particularly protest if he decided he wanted to.

He gave me a brief kiss before enveloping one of my breasts in his hand, the other in his mouth. He rolled his tongue over my hardened nipple and I arched my back toward him away from the cool wall, letting out a gasp. I was already quivering under his touch by the time he ran a finger through my folds. I must have been extra sensitive since I hadn’t had any intimate contact with anyone in almost five years.

I let out a shaky breath, and he released me from the wall, only to turn right back around and hold me down on the bed. I relinquished any control I might’ve once had in this situation, giving it all to him. He placed his hands on my inner thighs and lightly spread them apart. He took a moment to admire the pool waiting for him. He left open mouthed kisses along my inner thighs, getting dangerously close to where I really needed him. A small whimper left my throat. I wanted to be embarrassed about how sensitive I was and how easily he was unraveling me, but I couldn’t. The blissful feeling I got from every contact point radiated through my body, easily overcoming any embarrassment I could muster.

“Could I make you form coherent sentences right now?” he asked with a smug smile, knowing damn well what the answer was.

“Definitely not,” I breathed and he chuckled. He gave me a chaste kiss, immediately contrasted by running his tongue over my clit, licking up the excess moisture on the way. I involuntarily lifted my hips up, but he placed an arm over them, holding them down. He expertly sucked at my nerves, causing me to press my lips together and cling to the bedsheets for dear life. Then he abruptly stopped.

“That’s not fair. You wanted to hear everything I had to offer, and now it’s your turn. I don’t want to see you press your lips together again,” he purred, quietly but sternly. I nodded, unwilling to hear how pathetic my voice would have sounded had I responded.

He went right back to what he was doing, lapping over me a bit faster than before. I let another whimper escape me and he mumbled, “There. That’s more like it.”

Right after he’d finished talking, his tongue plunged into me. My hands moved, needing to touch him, one landing in his hair, the other on his cheek. His hands kept me from bucking my hips toward him like I wanted, so I settled for lightly tugging at his roots. This only encouraged him. He replaced his tongue with two fingers and my breathing hitched. His pace was excruciatingly slow, which I guess I deserved. My breathing became labored and the moment he picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside me, I emptied my lungs, a high pitched moan ripping through my torso. I was already so close to the edge and he wasn’t letting up. He must’ve been returning the favor from earlier.

“Spencer-” before I could get anything else out, he removed his fingers and held them up to my face. I took them in my mouth, ridding each one of my fluids. Just as quickly as they came, they left, pushing back into me. My hands moved under his jaw where he was adding extra friction, attempting to pull him away from me. He wasn’t about to let that happen, so he took each one of my hands in one of his and pinned them on either side of me, simultaneously allowing him to press down my legs with his arms. His tongue persisted on its way to finishing me, and I interlaced my fingers with his right as I came undone.

“Fuck! Oh my god, Spencer, fuck,” I spoke through moans. I hadn’t experienced anything like that, anything that strong before, and I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head. How would I survive him fully inside me? I desperately wanted to find out. He finally came up for air after placing one last delicate kiss on my clit. He crawled up the bed so he was looming over me, perfectly positioned at my entrance. I hooked my hand around his neck and pulled him down to me. I put my other hand right on his scar, asking, “How does this feel?”

“If I’m being honest, I completely forgot about it.”

I smiled knowing that I was making for a great distraction. “Good. Let’s keep it that way for a while.”

He nodded in agreement and reached over my head to a drawer. He pulled out a small package but I stopped him before he tore it open.

“We don’t have to,” I said.

He stopped quickly and looked at me, puzzled. “We don’t have to use one if you don’t want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’m covered,” I said. I’d been on birth control since I was fourteen, and once I joined the gang, they did everything in their power to make sure that none of their ‘special ladies’ ever got pregnant. I knew that there was absolutely no chance of that now, so there was really no reason to use one.

The remains of a question lingered on his face, but he placed it back in his drawer. We didn’t have to get into that right now.

He leaned back slightly to line himself up, then he slowly pushed into me, my only warning being the look he gave me right before. I gasped as he filled me to the hilt. He slowly rocked into me, letting me adjust. I circled my hips under him finding the best position as he rested his head in the crook of my neck. I could feel his hot breath in time with his shallow thrusts.

⚠️ Warning: below this is where the sexual abuse content starts

That’s when the flashbacks hit me.

We weren’t in Spencer’s room anymore, not even in his apartment. The walls morphed into those of concrete slightly stained with water, the rhythmic sound of droplets dripping into a puddle behind me. It was dark and cold, and I could feel the springs of the dirty mattress moving beneath me, the musty air blanketing the room. I went to find comfort in Spencer but he wasn’t there anymore. The body looming over me, pushing into me, breathing down my neck was not Spencer. Instead, I found a man with an all too familiar buzz cut, tattoos littering his neck, and those chilling grey eyes that matched the unforgiving scenery surrounding us. I started to panic. It was this man who’d drugged me and tossed me around to his friends before using me, who’d held me down and choked me into submission, and who left me bloody, bruised, and broken.

My breathing became shallow, vision blurring, and my heart rate rapidly increased.

“Stop,” I could barely hear myself, but Spencer got the message.

He quickly pulled out and was sitting on his knees, looking me over. “What? Are you okay, did I hurt you?”

He sounded alarmed, but I shook my head. “No, no. You were perfect. I just … I just had a moment.”

“A moment?” he asked, timid.

“A flashback,” I explained. Realization spread through his glorious features and he started to back away from me. “No, it’s okay,” I grabbed him before he could move any farther away from me, terrified that if he left me I would shatter, pulling him into a hug. I could feel the heat between us and the meager sweat that was clinging to our bodies. My breathing was still unsteady as I shook the images from my head. I breathed him in, the sweet smell of autumn and cinnamon reminding me that it was just Spencer.

He tentatively put his hands around me, returning the hug. He repeated in my ear, “You’re safe. I’ve got you. It’s just me. You’re safe.”

I nodded into his shoulder. I felt ashamed and overexposed, wanting to pull the sheets around me, but I was too paralyzed to even move. I didn’t want to make things worse and I certainly didn’t want to scare Spencer away, assuming I hadn’t already done that. I couldn’t bring myself to actually look at him, knowing the worry in his eyes would only fuel the guilt that threatened to drown me.

How many more moments with Spencer would be ruined? Why couldn’t I just leave my past behind and move on?

I reminded myself that what happened wasn’t my fault, but every time the memories were triggered, that’s how I felt.

I slowed my breathing until I had it under control. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

Spencer pulled away but only slightly so that he had a better view of my face. He looked astonished. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

“I know, it’s just that I want this, I want you, and of course my problems have to get in the way.”

“Don’t say that,” he said as I sat up a little, letting him cradle me in his arms. “We can take it slow.”

“I know, but I’m tired of taking it slow. I’m tired of not going after what I want because I’m scared. I'm tired of letting this get in the way,” I said, forcing myself to bite back the tears. He looked at me with as much sympathy as he could.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispered, concern swimming in his eyes.

I sat completely up and kissed him, letting my hands roam his body. He stayed perfectly still, careful not to do anything that would upset me. Without pulling away from the kiss, I gripped his hands from behind my back and placed them on my hips. He kept them there, unmoving, as my hands went to cup his face. I relocated my lips, planting a kiss on each of his sharp cheekbones.

“Close your eyes,” I told him, placing a gentle kiss on top of each eyelid. I pressed my forehead to his, letting our noses slightly rub against each other’s. “I want you.”

Spencer opened his eyes, looking right through me, making sure that this was what was truly going through my mind. He moved his hands from my hips, putting one on my lower back and the other behind my neck. He carefully laid me back down on his bed, moving back in between my legs. I wrapped them around his body trying to show him that it was okay, but I knew him better than that and he’d still be hesitant. Because he was nothing like those men.

I looked him straight in the eyes as I whispered, “I’m alright. I trust you.”

It was his turn to be on the teary-eyed end of this conversation. I brushed away his tears before they could fall and he promised me, “I would never hurt you.”

“I know.”

For the second time that day, he bent over and kissed the scar between my breasts. He looked up at me, eyes still glistening. “You are so strong.”

I didn’t feel strong and I wanted to break down, melt into nothing in his arms, but I forced myself to stay composed. I knew it was too much to ask of him but if there was one person on this planet that I could get over his hurdle with, it was Spencer Reid.

He looked at me expectantly. I took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.”

Slowly, even slower than before if that was possible, he pushed back into me. My head swam from the overwhelming mixture of emotions.

He gauged my reaction, and after a few moments, decided to start moving a little faster. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “I want you to take control.”

He was about to ask me something, probably if I was sure, but he thought better of it. “Please just tell me if you need me to stop. I don’t want you to push yourself past what you’re ready for.”

“I won’t. I’ll tell you if it gets to that,” I replied.

Soon enough, he started getting faster and faster, continually checking if I was okay. I wanted him to stop worrying about me, which I knew was impossible, but put my hands in his hair and pulled him down to my chest anyway. I took away his option of looking at me, and tugged at his beautiful, chaotic, wavy locks when he hit that spot just right. In doing so, I gave myself greater access to his neck and I took full advantage, biting and sucking at various spots. I could feel him every time he thrust into me and I moved to start lightly biting at his traps, trying to stifle my moans against his skin. He kept pushing deeper and deeper into me, and I scraped my nails all the way down his back. He grunted slightly at the stinging I was sure followed, but I was too busy paying attention to the fingers that were now circling my clit. I was close to my second orgasm, but I held out, wanting to wait for Spencer. In my efforts, I had to put my head back on the pillow, looking almost directly behind me. My nails found anything they could sink into, surly leaving marks down his sides and biceps. My breath quickened as my legs started to tremble. I licked my lips and bit my bottom one, trying to hold out for any sign that he would be right behind me. His thrusts finally became sloppy and he looked down at me, seeming to know that I was waiting for him.

“Let go,” he said, the sound of his voice the missing piece I’d been waiting for. My walls clenched around him and he emptied himself, our fluids mixing together inside me. My moans were on the brink of screams as he helped us both ride out the orgasms that washed over us. Once we had both returned to earth, he just stayed hovering over me, not making a move to pull out. I just looked up at his glowing figure, letting out a sigh of relief.

“What’s that for?” His tone was gentle.

“It’s just that you are the first person I have ever actually wanted to have sex with,” I said, the realization also hitting me.

His eyes got huge and he seemed astounded. “What?”

“Yeah,” I said, giving him a shy smile. “And you helped me through one of the biggest hurdles I have ever experienced.”

He mirrored my smile pulling out, and walked to his bathroom to get a towel. The same towel I’d dried off with earlier that day. Had it really only been this morning that I was showering with him?

He spread my legs again, wiping our mess off of me. When he was done, he just dropped the towel on the floor, mumbling something about picking it up in the morning, and came to lay down next to me. He rolled onto his side to face me and winced.

“Oh yeah. How is it?”

“Fine,” he said, struggling onto his back again.

“Wrong.”

“It is fine. I just can’t lay on that side of my body.”

Without another word, I got up from my side of the bed and walked around to his side. I laid down facing him, giving him the opportunity to roll onto his good side.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” I replied. I gazed at him dreamily, still not fully able to comprehend what had just happened.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want control,” he whispered after a while of silence.

“I don’t want control. I’m sick of being in control. I just want to let go. I want to not have to worry about the walls I’ve put up, knowing that there is someone I trust, someone other than myself, taking care of me for the moment. I mean, sometimes I don’t even think I’m doing a good job taking care of me,” I complained, and he nodded in understanding. “I know you’re the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean that you like being in control. I can tell that sometimes you feel like things in your life are just slipping away from you, and this is a place where you can try to counter that feeling.”

He just nodded, seeming almost embarrassed by that, but it was nothing to be ashamed of. We laid side by side just facing each other, Spencer’s hand tracing the curves of my body. He eventually broke pattern and traced along my collarbone and down to the scar he seemed to have a slight fascination with.

“It commemorates the end of an era for me. The end of the gang, and the last time I was ever taken advantage of,” I explained.

“You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” I took a shaky breath in and looked into his soft eyes. He knew in a general sense some of the things I’d been through, and he knew more than anyone else in my life, but I’d never told him in detail what happened. Actually, I’d never told anyone. This was something I kept closed up in the depths of my mind, but he’d already seen some of it, and I trusted him to see all of it. It might be nice, too, to not have to deal with everything alone for once. I rubbed my thumb into my palm as I started, “There was a group of men in the gang that targeted me, probably because I was young and naive. I didn’t know how gangs worked. The only thing I knew was that if you wanted to survive, you had to get to the top. The head of this clique was the right hand to Rafael, the leader of the entire gang, so angering him, refusing him, wasn’t an option. They were a messed up sort of protection system. They would come to my rescue out on the streets, only to turn back around and make me pay for it. They had me believing that I had no way out, that I would die without their protection. Plus, Rafael trusted this man with his life, so him and his buddies weren’t going anywhere. And neither was I. I had nowhere to go, so I did nothing. It’s not like Rafael was going to listen to me over him anyway. So when he passed me around to all of his friends like I was nothing more than a blunt, I didn’t fight them. I couldn’t. All fighting did was get me beat beforehand, and I figured that it was bad enough without their fists involved. After that, they would drug me and force me to …” I choked on the words and decided I’d skip over that part. I didn’t want to paint that image into his perfect memory and have him think of it every time he saw me. “Once things started going awry for the gang and we all knew we were going under soon, he and his friends got more frustrated which meant they needed an outlet more than ever. But because things were going to be over soon, I started fighting back harder than I ever had. On the night before the gang officially crumbled, he gave me this. He told me that I wasn’t going to be able to escape the sinking ship this time. I’d made it out of so many near-death experiences at that point, the Storefront Slaughterer, the house fire, gang conflicts, police conflicts, and imprisonment, unscathed, that he thought this would finally be the hill I died on. He sliced me open like the animals he hunted, hoping that I’d bleed out. For a while, this ruined me, everyday waking up and remembering everything that was associated with it,” I admitted. It made me feel like other men, good men like Spencer, would look at me and see that I was weak and broken, driving them away. He put it right in the center, which felt like he was destroying the center of my soul, draining the love straight out of my heart. “Sometimes it still does that, but I'm trying to get better. Every time I see it now, I remind myself that I survived,” I pressed his hand flat to my chest, allowing him to feel the rhythmic beating below, “that I do have a heart pumping blood through my veins, that I am only human, and that I am stronger because of it.”

He leaned in to kiss me and I faded into him, our hands still pressed against my bare chest. I was thankful he didn’t say anything, instead pulling me to him, beginning to fuse my broken pieces back together as he did so. He left a pile of moppy brown curls in my face and I reached my free hand up to play with the loose ones on the edges, not willing to risk losing the warmth of his hand on my chest by moving mine. I shifted onto my back and Spencer barely opened his eyes, wondering what I was doing. I guided his head onto my shoulder as he curled into me, both of us quickly falling asleep after the emotionally draining day.

End of the sexual abuse section. All other warnings still apply

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke up to find that neither of us changed position throughout the night, sleeping soundly with our hands still stacked over my heart. I moved my other hand from his hair, brushing my fingertips over his back, over his side, over his hip bone, ending with my hand resting on his lower stomach. We had both slept nude, the sheets a disaster around us. I didn’t even notice he was awake until I felt his hair streak across my body.

“Good morning,” he said, voice groggy.

“Good morning,” I responded through a yawn.

He sat up and I saw the red marks my nails left on his body. I caressed my fingertips over the sensitive spots and got up on my knees behind him, mumbling into his hair, “I hope I didn’t scrape you up too badly.”

He reached over his shoulders and guided my hands from his back over onto his chest. I crossed them over his body, embracing him from behind.

“No. I like them,” he said way too innocently. I smiled to myself and leaned around him to kiss his temple before I untangled myself from him.

We both got dressed (barely), and operated our day as usual. The mandatory two weeks was coming to a close soon, so we both absorbed as much of this peaceful alternate universe as we could. Hotch was right. We both desperately needed time off.

But there is no better way to end ‘vacation time’ than to be in a panic.

Ever since that night, we both slept together in his bed. I think we both really enjoyed having the safety and comfort of the other around as much as possible.

Sunday night before we were supposed to return to work on Monday, I woke up to an empty bed. I listened to see if I heard Spencer somewhere else in the apartment, and when I didn’t, I got up to check. I went to the bathroom, the kitchen, even his tiny balcony and he was nowhere to be found.

“Spencer?” I called out.

No response.

“Spencer!”

Where the hell is he?

My mind started to work frantically and I looked around for my phone. The adrenaline coursing through me made my hands shake as I dialed his number. I took a couple deep breaths, knowing that he was probably fine and would be back soon.

That thought changed when I heard a faint ringing in the background.

No, no, no, no.

I raced to where I heard the ringing, finding his phone left under a stack of papers on his desk. My mind went to the worst places of what could have happened, what could be happening. I quickly threw on my sweatshirt and slipped on a pair of shoes, and hurried out the door. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was thinking I’d do. It’s not like I could just wander the streets looking for him. I got about halfway down the stairs, practically running Spencer over.

“Aundreya! What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same question!” I retorted, exasperated.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to bother you with my restlessness. I just walked down to the street for some fresh air,” he replied. My mind was working 100 miles an hour so I couldn’t gauge how truthful that was.

“What the hell!’” I whacked his arm. “I was worried and you left your phone in the apartment.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I’d be back before you woke up,” he said. He sounded honest enough and I couldn’t think of anything else he’d be doing. Except…

“Show me your arms,” I demanded. He sighed but rolled up his sleeves. I examined his arms and then his eyes, looking for any sign of drug use. I forced him to empty his pockets, making sure he didn’t have any drugs still on him.

“I promise you that I was not taking dilaudid,” he said. I looked straight into his eyes, trying to detect any hint of a lie.

When I found none I said, “Alright. Let’s get back upstairs. We can still try and get another four hours of sleep before we have to wake up again to go to work.”

When we got back to his room, I was still shaking from the adrenaline. Luckily, the release from knowing that nothing had happened made me quite tired. He slipped into bed next to me.

“You know, I really enjoy work and the people we work with, but I have to say these last two weeks with you were amazing,” he murmured.

“I agree. I’m going to miss this,” I replied.

“Mhm.”

“No one can know about this.”

“I know. I don’t want them to.”

I squinted my eyes open. “I know we’d get into trouble, but why wouldn’t you want them to know?”

“I like this space we’ve created. I don’t want anyone else encroaching on it, tainting it. I like having this just be between you and me.”

You and me.

I liked the sound of that.

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid #aundreya chambers #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #behavioral analysis unit #bau #dr spencer reid #reid #dr spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x oc

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Eight

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: TW- Mention of past abuse. Smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Your day with Harry was nice. You got in and out of Walmart as soon as you could so you could get back home to love on each other. You lost track of how many times you made each other come. You weren’t sure what came over him, or what came over you really. Maybe you both were trying to get five days’ worth of pleasure in before your period came.

Right on cue, you got your period Monday morning. You were fully prepared, so no waking up to a crime scene or embarrassment. Your body felt tired from your day of being worked over repeatedly. Harry knew you were getting close to being ready for him. The fact you let him rub his tip against you, even if it was just your clit, made him so happy. He knew you wanted him badly.

You wore your hair down and wavy, and made sure to wear a scarf with your outfit. There was one love bite you had to put some makeup over to cover up, it was just too high up to cover. You felt like the makeup just made it more obvious, but your hair would cover the rest. If anything, you could just tell anyone who asked it was from your curling iron. A lame excuse, but a viable one.

When you walk out of the bathroom, you see Harry sitting up on his laptop. He was starting to edit the photos he took of your family.

“Can I get a peak?” You ask walking to him. He smiles at you and shows you his screen. “Oh, Harry they’re going to love these. I can’t believe these were taken in their living room.”

“Thanks babe. I’m excited to get these over to them.” He looks at the time on his computer and sighs. “I need to shower before I leave for work.” He gets up and stretches. “How’s aunt flow, she show up yet?”

“Yes.” You groan. He gives your lower stomach a little pat, and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Will I see you tonight?” He raises an eyebrow at you, as if you’ve offended him.

“Course.”

“Well, I didn’t know. We barely saw each other last week.”

“I’m caught up on a lot, won’t be as busy, love.”

“Alright. Well, we didn’t go grocery shopping yesterday.” You blush.

“Don’t know how we could’ve forgotten.” He says facetiously.

“I’d like to go to the gym after work, and then I can stop quickly to pick something up.”

“I can go grocery shoppin’.”

“You’d have time?”

“Sure. S’not a big deal, I know what we both like to eat.” He yawns.

You give him a little hug and a quick kiss in appreciation.

“Have a good day.” He says, patting your bum as you leave.

“You too!”

//

Around ten in the morning, Niall comes bursting into your office and closes the door behind him.

“They’re makin’ me the director!” You stand up and run into his arms. “And, and they’re makin’ you the associate director!” You both jump up and down giddy while hugging. He lets go of you and furrows his brows. “How dare you keep a secret like that from me.”

“They told me not to tell you! You have to apply for your position.”

“I know, but I’m sure to get it. And you! Congratulations!”

“Same to you! Can you believe they’re going to pay for grad school?”

“This is seriously the best place to work. I’m over the moon. We need to find a night to celebrate.”

“Yes yes yes! Hmm, I’m not really free this weekend, it’s my uncle’s Hanukkah party.”

“Is that Saturday?”

“Mhm.”

“How about Friday night? We could just do somethin’ simple.”

“Why don’t we have like a movie night or something? Been ages since we did something like that. We could have wine and junk food.”

“Ooo, I like that idea. How about Friday night then?”

“That should work, I can check with Harry.” You two hug again. You let go of him when you feel like you’re getting kicked in the stomach. “Shit.” You clutch at your stomach and walk over to your desk, and open the drawer where you keep ibuprofen.

“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.” He rolls his eyes.

“What? A girl can’t pop pills in her own office anymore?” He laughs.

“No, you and Sarah are on the same cycle.”

“Still? That’s funny.”

“Great, so Harry and I will be with two women who have their periods at the same time on Friday, wonderful.”

“Oh stop, should be done by then.”

“How about you and I go out for lunch today, as a little pre-celebration?”

“Love the way you think.”

//

You enjoy a good session at the gym. You did mostly weights standing up, and got on the treadmill for a quick run. You didn’t love working out on your period, but it helped with the cramps. It was starting to get really cold out, but you hated putting all of your warm clothes on after sweating. As you sat down to wipe your neck and chest with a small towel, you noticed a couple people looking at you. You had completely forgotten that with your hair up, and a loose tank top on, all of your love bites were visible. You tried to ignore it, but an older woman sat down next to you to change her shoes.

“You really shouldn’t let someone do that to you.” She says.

“Pardon?”

“Your neck.” She points to one of the marks. “I’ve seen you around here, I’ve seen you with those before, but never quite so dark.”

“Oh…Um, it was just from-“

“Those are not from a curling iron.” She scoffs. “My teenage daughter says the same thing to me. That looks borderline abusive honey.” You stand up, feeling a pit of rage come over you. This woman picked the wrong day to fuck with you.

“Excuse me, but my boyfriend is not abusive.” She stands up.

“Listen, if you don’t feel safe to speak up-“

“I’ve been abused before, so I think I would know the difference between someone intentionally trying to hurt me, and someone simply biting me.” You gather up all your things. “And I’ll have you know, I enjoy it, so why don’t you mind your own damn business. Worry about whoever your daughter is fucking, okay?”

You storm out of the gym, leaving the woman stunned. How dare a stranger come up to you like that, even if she meant well. You drove home, and couldn’t wait to change into some loose sweats, and see Harry. You smiled at the thought of him being in your apartment when you got there.

When you keyed in you smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen. You saw him at your stove, making some pasta and veggies.

“Hey babe.” You smile.

“Evenin’.” He smiles back. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

“How much I owe you for the groceries?” You ask, taking out your wallet. He scoffs. “Harry.”

“It wasn’t expensive, don’t worry about it.” You go to stand behind him and stick your hand in his back pocket, taking his wallet out. “Oi! What do you think you’re doin’?”

“I am putting some money in here.” You take forty dollars out of your wallet, and open his up.

“You don’t have to, and it wasn’t that much.”

“Harry, you are not…” Your voice trails off when you open his wallet. The picture of you Harry from your weekend away was in there. It was the one of you two laughing. “You had this made into a wallet size?” You look at him with loving eyes. His face was beat red.

“Um…yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hand his wallet back to him, and he shoves it into his pocket.

“Do you have more? I’d like one for mine too.”

“I could print one for you, yeah.” He coughs. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

“I’m just gonna go change.”

You peel off your sweaty clothes, and run over your body with a hot wash cloth quick. Then you throw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Harry squints at your shirt when you come out.

“What?”

“Are you seriously wearing a Jonas Brothers concert shirt?” You look down at yourself. You didn’t really think about what you had put on.

“Well…yeah. I saw them this summer when they came around for their Happiness Begins tour. It was amazing, the girls and I went. I hadn’t seen them since 2010. They really put on a good show.” You shrug, and sit down at the table where your plate of food was waiting for you.

“You really have a variety of music taste, don’t you?” He chuckles, sitting down as well.

“I guess so. We mostly went for nostalgic purposes. I was living, it was so much fun to actually get drunk at a Jonas Brothers concert.” You take a bite of food. “Mm, so good Harry, thank you.”

“So which one is your favorite?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone has a favorite brother, which one’s yours?” You point to Joe Jonas, who is in the middle of the shirt. “Which one’s he?”

“Joe.” You swoon.

“Why’s he your favorite?”

“He’s just a really good front man.” You shrug. “I also think he has a better voice than Nick, I mean, it’s like butter. I saw his group DNCE live a couple years ago, and they were so good. He sounds better by himself.” You laugh. “But I’m glad they’re back together. It like, gave me hope in a weird way.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah, when I heard they got back together it was one of the first time I felt overjoyed about something. And they all just looked so happy. It was a great way to start off 2019.”

“Sarah, Rachel, and Kate…you didn’t know of them from high school right?”

“Nope. Only met in college.”

“Do you have any friends from high school you still talk to?”

“A couple here and there. I have one childhood best friend that it’s easy to pick up with when we get together. I had a very small group of friends in high school. I sort of jumped around from different friend groups too. I didn’t really find my people until I went to college. What about you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some mates back home I’m still close with. Try to face time once in a while. I suppose that Lou and Niall are my best mates though.”

“Maybe after we get back from our trip we could find some time to go see Louis and Eleanor.” He gives you a half smile. “I can keep her preoccupied while the two of you catch up.” You giggle.

“She’s really not that bad, I just don’t like competin’ with people for attention.” Niall was right, Harry is a bit clingy. “But yeah, we could plan somethin’ for after we get back.”

//

Tuesday after work, you had your appointment with Dr. Mara. You had a lot to tell her.

“That’s wonderful news about your job!”

“Thanks, I’m so excited. I think I’ve narrowed it down to two different schools. If I can get this figured out soon, I could enroll for the spring semester.”

“How do you think your stress load will be? Adding something on like that?”

“Well, I’d really only be able to take one or two classes a semester. One school has these great eight week courses. I’m going to speak with my supervisor this week to see what she thinks.”

“What did Harry say when you told him?”

“He was over the moon! He said he was really proud of me, he even took me out to celebrate. He’s very supportive of my career.”

“That’s great. How long have you two been together now?”

“Four months now.” You smile. “It’s been amazing. Not all of it has been perfect, but nothing ever is. There’s so much that’s good between us.”

“Speaking of that, anything new with him you’d like to tell me?”

“Um…I had a trigger recently, a week or so ago.”

“I see, what happened?”

“I was…um…well…” You were used to talking to her about all of these things, but it always took you a minute to find the words. “I was pleasuring him, and my hair was up in this ponytail, and he, well, he yanked me by that hair and he did it a little too hard. And…”

“You saw Jake…” She frowns.

“Not so much that I saw him, but I had flashes to his hands pulling my hair harshly. I ended up biting down on Harry.”

“Did you tell him what happened?”

“Yes, he was very understanding. I was shaken up, but I was fine afterwards.”

“Anything happen since then?”

“No…I feel like I’m getting closer with him. I let him rub his tip against me.” You look away. “Only on my...well...you know, so not all over me, but it didn’t scare me.”

“That’s very good. Did he ask you to do this, or did you initiate?”

“I initiated. I’ve found myself wanting him more and more, but I’m still terrified. I mean, I didn’t even know him pulling my hair was going to trigger me like that. What if we’re doing it, and he jerks the wrong way, or hits too hard by accident?”

“You can think of these what ifs and keep scaring yourself, or you could do what you’ve been doing and just let things happen as they happen. You’ve made a tremendous amount of progress. The truth is, you may not know what’s going to set you off, but I think as long as you two talk it through together, you should be fine.”

“I just feel like talking the whole time takes the heat out of it. Is this okay? How does that feel? Doing alright?” You mimic his accent. “I love that he checks in with me, but I also don’t want him to feel like he’s going to hurt me.”

“Just tell him you’ll let him know if you don’t like something.”

“I do! But he still checks in with me, he gets this worried look on his face every time I make a sound he hasn’t heard before. I feel terrible. I’d rather he be more cautious and careful than not, but…” You sigh. She nods in understanding. “I think I just get frustrated because I just wish I could go back to the way I was before. When I’m with Harry, I feel that way, and then these things happen. And I know he’s frustrated too…”

“How can you tell?” You take the scarf away from around your neck. She gasps. “Christ, he isn’t hurting you is he?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. They look a lot worse than they feel.” You give a small laugh. “But I can tell he does it harder when he’s…trying not to show how frustrated he is. I think it’s a way for him to release some tension.”

“And you just let him do this? In such visible areas?”

“Well, I talked with him about it and he said he’d try to be more careful…he did say something interesting though.”

“Interesting how?”

“When we were talking about it, he said if he didn’t do it here.” You point to your neck. “Then how were other people supposed to know I had a boyfriend…”

“How did it make you feel when he said something like that to you?” Your cheeks heat up.

“Um…well, I sort of liked it. You don’t think it’s possessive do you?”

“Does he talk to you like that often?”

“Not really, once in a while he’ll say something sort of flirty in that context.”

“Hm.” She pauses, clearly thinking over what she’s going to say to you. “Have you and Harry ever discussed what you like or don’t like during sex?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at…”

“Kinks, has Harry ever talked to you about his kinks in the bedroom?”

“Not really…I mean the biting is definitely one of them.”

“That, the hair pulling.”

“He more so likes it when I pull his hair.”

“I think this is something you two should discuss. It seems he may be into some things…that may be a little more aggressive, which is fine, but you’ll sort of want to be prepared.”

“It’s not like he’s into BDSM Dr. Mara.”

“He could be. How do you know? You haven’t discussed it. He could easily be holding a lot back because he wants to make sure you’re alright.”

//

You drove home wrapping your head around everything Dr. Mara said. She could easily be right, all of the signs point to Harry being a little kinky…although you weren’t sure how to bring something like that up. You two usually just discovered what the other liked while you were doing it. But if you were going to have sex with him soon, you needed to know ahead of time what he might do to you.

Harry was watching TV when you walked in. He was wrapped in a blanket, laying down. He sat up when you came in. You walk over and kiss him on the cheek.

“Hi love. There’s some leftovers in the fridge.”

“Thanks, I’m not super hungry right now.” You yawn. You usually didn’t feel hungry after therapy. “Maybe later, but thanks for making something.”

“How was your session?” He asks, adjusting himself to lay his head in your lap. You run your hands through his soft hair.

“Good.”

“That’s it?” He looks up at you.

“She was, um, concerned about my neck.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure really.” You didn’t like lying to him, but you didn’t really feel like having the conversation in that moment. “She just pointed it out, a couple people have actually.” Harry sits up to look at you.

“What people?”

“This random woman at the gym last night…she usually goes around the same time. She was like you shouldn’t let someone do that to you, and all this other shit.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He puts a hand on your thigh.

“I don’t know…because I don’t want you to stop doing it. I like it.” You groan. “Just wish they were better accepted in society. I mean, it really is just a way to show affection.” You look at him for a moment. “Does anyone ever say anything to you?”

“Not really…you don’t bite me as hard as I bite you. It’s already healed up.” He reaches his thumb up to run over one of the spots on your neck. “Guess I should take a break from this spot.”

“Why do you like to bite so hard?”

“Don’t know really, I don’t think I realize how hard I’m doin’ it.” He shrugs. You squint at him, not really believing that’s the whole truth.

“I think you do realize. I can tell, depending on how hot and heavy we’re going at it.” Harry was starting to sweat. “It’s okay if you have a reason, I’m not mad…curious mostly.”

“You really wanna know?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“Turns me on when I see your skin turn that dark purple.” He says matter of factly.  

“Why?” You say blushing. He doesn’t answer at first. He runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry.” You smile and put a hand on his knee.

“I really don’t! Just somethin’ I like doin’. Can’t really explain it.”

“Do you think it’s an, um, territory thing? You said the other day, like, how would everyone know I had a boyfriend.”

“I was just jokin’ when I said that. I’m not a possessive guy.”

“I don’t think possession and territory mean the same thing in this instance. Like, you’re marking your territory so everyone knows they can’t have me.”

“That doesn’t sound possessive to you?”

“No? It’s not like you’re controlling me. Like, I think if you were possessive, like, oh! Like, over the weekend, if you were possessive, you either would have told Rachel to leave, or you would have stayed to hang out with us, and wouldn’t have allowed me to see my friend.”

“So, you’re okay with me marking my territory?” You felt your pulse rising. Earlier, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. But now that you two were talking about it, it did sort of turn you on.

“Yes.” He leans forward to kiss you, but you press your hands against him. “But, we need to cool it with how visible these are for a couple weeks. We see my family Saturday, and then a week after that we head to England. I am not meeting your mother with a giant, purple hickey on my neck, I’m just not.”

“Okay, but you’re gonna have to let me do it somewhere else then.”

“As long as it’s somewhere discrete, that’s fine with me.”

Harry’s shit eating grin grew over his face. He scoops you up, and carries you to the bedroom. You giggle as he puts you down on the bed.

“Take your clothes off.” He stands and waits for you to undress. You suddenly remember your period.

“Babe, I have to leave my underwear on. In fact, let me just put some shorts on.” You throw on a pair of cotton shorts. “Aunt Flow’s here, remember?” He nods yes.

He walks around your half-naked body. “Hmmm.” You feel goosebumps raise all over you.

Harry wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you in place as he sucks on the top of your left shoulder. You shiver as his teeth slowly sink into you, sucking the skin into his mouth. He lets go of it, and you hear a pop come from his lips. He moves to the back of your right shoulder blade, and does the same exact thing, leaving a nice purple bruise behind. A loud groan escapes. One of his hands slides down to your stomach, and you feel his smile against you.

“Feels that good, huh?”

“You know it does.” You say blushing.

“So I can keep going then?”

“Yes.”

“Lay down on the bed.” He watches you get on the bed as he takes his shirt off. He smirks at you. “Ass up, please.” You blush and flip over.

He climbs on top of you, and leaves gentle kisses on your shoulders and neck. His kisses move down your back, and takes the skin on your lower back just above your ass cheek between his teeth. You gasp as he bites down hard and sucks on the skin.

“Doin’ okay?”

“Yes.”

His hands reach your hips, and flips you over. He gazes at your body, not sure where he should start first.

“What are you going to do to me, Harry?” You seemed so innocent in this moment, it was a massive turn on for him.

“Just gonna kiss ya all over, you okay with that?” He coos. You nod your head yes.

He kisses you on the lips, and runs his thumb over one of the marks that already exists on your neck. He kisses down to your chest. He takes the skin just above your best between your teeth and sucks hard. Your hands grasp at the sheets. You didn’t realize you loved the sensation quite so much. Maybe it was just because it was Harry doing it, and you knew he liked it.

He sucked on both of your nipples pretty hard, and worked his way down your stomach. He nipped at the skin just above your hips, paying equal attention to each one. He spreads your legs, and sinks his teeth into your inner left thigh. Your breath hitches when you hear the popping noise as he lets go.

Harry looks up at you, and scans over your body. He’s extremely happy with his work. You had nice purple splotches all over your body. His lips were swollen and a shade of raspberry.

“What do you think?” He asks. You lean up on your elbows and scan over yourself. “Your body was the perfect canvas for my art.” You giggle at his joke.

“Well…I have to say, looks pretty good on me.” You lick your lips. You wished you didn’t have your period, you wanted his mouth back on you so bad.

You give him a devious smile. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“What?”

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles y/n fic #how yall doin

[too-much-sunshine]

Fangs for the Hospitality

Chapter 1

Summary: After Remus goes a bit too far during a family reunion bet, Roman finds himself alone and near freezing outside in an early winter storm. His car broke down, and he's in the middle of nowhere with no phone. He cant seem to catch a break. Deciding his life cant much worse, Roman decides to head into the woods looking for help. His luck may be turning when the man who opens the door is a lot more charming than he should be. His kids are fascinated by the new face appearing from the woods. And man this guy has some sharp teeth... Maybe Roman bit off a bit more than he can chew with this one.

A/N: My self-indulgent magic/vampire fic! Let me know if I need to tag something or you wanna be tagged!

Pairings: Familial DAM, Creavtivitwins, Eventual Roceit, Eventual Intrulogical

Warnings: (Done per chapter) Car trouble, mention of bets, gossip, mentions of bad family relations

Word Count: 1466

Read on AO3!

“God Dammit! No no nonono please! Don’t do this to me!” Roman whined at his car from behind the wheel from the driver's seat.

Despite his pleading, the car continued to sputter even louder than previously. Finally starting to slow down, leaving Roman no choice other than to pull his car off to the side of the road.

He continued to lament his plight to no one except the empty seat beside him, leaning over to place his forehead on the steering wheel.  At this point he couldn't even try to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks landing on his lap.

There was no one else on the empty, countryside road making it easy to do so.

“Why does this always happen to me!?” He whined as he turned the key finally giving the engine a much needed break. “I can’t do this anymore! The world hates meee!”

Earlier that day the passenger seat was filled by his overly excitable twin brother, Remus, on their way to the yearly family reunion. Roman has always hated these reunions with a burning passion. He only went because he was expected to at this point.

There was always too much expectation from everyone at the reunions. Since his family was quite well off they were the one to host every year. Inviting everyone to their too grand, too big victorian style home.

Remus, on the other hand, had always liked the family reunions. He too was asked those questions (well not the one about his career, they were all quite proud of him becoming a doctor. Specifically an obstetrician and gynecologist. Remus said it was because delivering babies was gross and dealing with people who have female reproductive systems health could be horrifying, but he can never deny how much he liked helping the people he did. He has a counter on his fridge of how many babies he has brought into the world and sometimes he even looks at it and smiles, not that Remus knew that Roman saw him do that.) but Remus let the other questions roll straight off his back in a way Roman never could.

He was holding on hope that this year, like every year, would be different. Maybe his mother would stop asking if he had chosen a more suitable career path like Remus. Maybe his grandmother would stop asking if he found a pretty girl yet. Maybe his grandfather would be anything more than dismissive toward him.   Maybe...maybe his dad might show up to this one.

Not to mention that they also just made him wildly uncomfortable. Too many people really. All those people being fake and backhanded. He alway felt like they were looking specifically at him as he walked by. Just a bad time for him all around.

Remus really liked the reunions because of the gossip and chaos of it all. Every year as soon as they arrived he would immediately go and find their cousin Remy to lay down the new hot tea about the family. Then after all that was settled they would place bets on who could get the most outrageous rumor started. Remy would typically win because of his talent for making such believable lies. Remus always went too far off the deep end and the family didn't usually believe what they were being told. Which was completely fair because “what do you mean Jill isn't here because she suddenly decided to take a trip to West Virginia to look for Mothman? Remus Jill is 89 years old. And who is Mothman?”

That stupid rumor game is what started this whole mess anyway. Roman always tried to stay out of it. He wasn't very good at the game, though he was a good actor he was very bad at lying. So for the past few years he'd skip out on playing. He'd just go to his corner, and wait for the night to be over.

This year Remus and Remy decided to up the ante as it were. There was going to be a whole $50 bill on the line this time (though that was trump change compared to how much money his family actually made). Remus is never one to back down from a challenge and though he's a doctor, he doesn't tend to think ahead of his actions all that well. Especially when he got a bit too excited. That being said, he really messed things up for Roman this time.

That stupid game had made everyones eyes turn to him for an explanation that he didn’t have. Forced him to run from the house and flee in his car without Remus behind him.

Roman didn't take time to dwell on the fact he was his brother's ride.

With his head still on the steering wheel he closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this one, so he continued to sit a wallow a bit. Maybe he’ll just wait a bit and his car will start back up…

~~~

Roman pulled the car into the last spot left open in the large parking lot outside of their parents mansion.

He pulled in between what looked to be his Aunt Clara and Uncle Jim's red corvette, and his Grandmother dark blue rolls-royce. He took extra care parking in between the two very expensive cars. Making sure to leave plenty of room around them and his own, significantly crappier car. He knew from experience that if he didn't leave the room he would be getting an earful later from said family members.

As he turned the key he let out a nervous breath looking over to Remus who was almost bouncing in his seat.

“You ready?” Roman asked with a slight smile. As much as he was worried to be here, he was glad his brother would have a good time.

“I can’t wait! I can’t wait to beat Remy's ass this year! I have such a good rumor that the whole family is going to believe for years to come. That 50 dollars is mine!” Remus smiled bright and pumped his fist in the air.

Roman couldn’t help but feel excited for him. Remus even seemed more excited now, if the bouncing and fidgeting said anything.

“I’m sure you’ll get it out of him one way or another. Come on, let's go.” Roman started for his car door when Remus’ arm shot out and stopped him. Roman looked back to Remus to see he had stopped bouncing, seeming somewhat sobered. Looking more serious, and to be contemplating something tilting his head back and forth. Then he finally spoke.

“Listen...I know this isn't your kind of thing since dad left... But I’m with you okay? Stick with me if you need to. Those old assholes don't know what they're talking about with you, okay?” Remus looked slightly shy as he spoke, not looking directly at Roman.

Still, Roman smiled softly at his twin, both a bit confused and touched. Remus didn't typically try and make Roman feel better; he wasn't very good with words. But he did appreciate the sentiment.

“Thank you Remus. I’ll try to enjoy myself. Might even try to leave my corner if I feel so inclined.” Roman smiled. “Maybe dable in a little bit conversion. Just try to keep your hijinks somewhat clean and manageable.”

“Well that's no fun!” And Remus was back to his normal self, seeming grateful for the topic change. “My only reason to be here is to cause chaos and you know it! Now let's go! There is supposed to be a really big storm coming and if we're lucky the snow will distract everyone from when I plan to steal the bust of great Aunt Kathy!” Remus cackled as he exited the car, way more excited then he should be for a man who admitted to planning theft.

Roman took the moment alone to take a stealing breath. He looked out the window at the huge family house where he grew up. It was much too big, too grand for children to grow up in. It didn't feel like home anymore. Looking back it never really did to Roman.

He hated coming here and he hated the feelings associated here. But if it makes Remus happy to come here together, and it keeps the rest of his family off his back, he’ll keep trying. A knock on the window made him jump out of his thoughts.

“You fucking ready!? I’m freezing my tits off out here ya know!” Remus shouted too loud for how close he was to the window.

“As I’ll ever be…” he muttered to himself, smiling a bit at Remus being Remus as he unbuckled his seatbelt and left the car.

~~~

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@primaveradoodles

#sanders sides #ts roman sanders #ts roman #ts remus sanders #ts remus #car trouble #mentions of bets #gossip #bad family relations #eventual roceit #roceit #eventual intrulogical #intrulogical #magic au #vampire au #sanders sides fanfiction #verys fic

[buckytheebarnes]

I associate you with Emma Frost AU, Frat AU, Supernatural AU, President’s Son AU, Mall AU, and Fluffy AU. Spill every secret you have. Please and thank you. 😈

(I also associate you with WinterSpider in general bc you’re my partner in crime lmfao)

ALSO I associate you with the 300k restaurant au fic I’m still waiting for.

good god so many to go into!!!! this answer will be a mess pls bare with  i’ll start with frat au — it was never even supposed to exist. i got back into reading fanfic during the pandemic and at a time when i felt particularly uninspired. i started reading and becoming obsessed with the winterspider ship and i found a discord server linked on one of the fics and so out of pure curiousity, i joined it. watching everyone throw out ideas and get so excited about fanfic invigorated me and i kept searching through ao3 for some sort of frat au for winterspider and nothing came up i started writing it, with no intention at all to post and i dropped a small line in the discord channel about it and someone was like wait what 👀👀👀 and then i was like maybe i should post it?? and then once i started posting i couldn’t stop writing it and now it’s too big for me to handle but also still so much fun! regarding secrets: i haven’t even gotten to the meat of the plot of that fic, i have so many things planned and i think that’s why i’m so intimidated to post the next chapter regarding emma frost fic, i had been reading comics involving her and i literally was like fuckkkk i need to fit her into a fic i need to fit her into a hs au. because i love hs aus. it was supposed to be a one shot but i discovered after writing three paragraphs that it could never be. secrets: there will be a oneshot only involving emma frost and tony stark after the actual fic is done.  president’s son au was birthed out of me desperately wanting a winterspider bodyguard au (would you believe no one has done that?) and also from watching the movies first daughter and chasing liberty on repeat.  with secrets: that prequel fic was never supposed to happen but my brain wouldn’t leave me alone. there is another oneshot and another 6 chapter fic that will be attached to it.  supernatural au exists because i have been rewatching the show. nothing too interesting to say there because i’m still trying to figure out where i’m going with that one. i guess a good spoiler or secret here would be that peter’s character is actually immortal in it. the mall au came to be because i saw a funny tumblr post that turned into a prompt and also because with the pandemic i just wanted to feel what it was like to be back in the mall so badly. i must admit i also just love name dropping all the stores in the mall. it’s my fave thing. a good secret i guess is that every single avenger or marvel character essentially works in the mall/has a relationship to it and i know exactly where they all fit. anyone who knows me knows that i’m obsessed with nick and norah’s infinite playlist, i needed somewhere that i could dump all the knowledge i have of that world. thats how the fluffy au happened. i also just wanted a scene where bucky was playing with a knife. the big secret is that even tho it’s a finished work on ao3, i’ve basically written a third chapter for it.

if you follow this blog and are wondering what thee FUCK i’m talking about here, u can check out my fanfic here

#winterspider #bucky barnes #peter parker #fanfiction

[vaguelyrotten]

Like a Lily in a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary:  Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter Nine

“Do you really think they’ll go hunting for those ingredients?” Jace asked a few hours later as their horses trotted steadily towards the entrance to Edom Forest.

“Well, I gave them direction, which is what they ultimately desire...and I plan on returning to the forest to collect what they’ve gathered once I have examined Alec again.” He’d sent the goblins on a search for the ingredients to make more of the healing paste. It wouldn’t wake those affected, but it would certainly help with the stiffness in their limbs when they finally awoke. Magnus was hoping to be prepared.

“I thought you said killing the king would break the spell.”

“Yes and no,” Magnus started with a sigh. “My father’s spell was the cause, but killing him was only part of the solution. Now that both parties involved in the spell are out of the way, hopefully I can get a better grasp on what the true cure will be. The magic of the contract will no longer cloud what I can see.” All in all, it made perfect sense. Magnus was just hoping that it was the truth.

“Well, if anyone can figure it out, it’s you. We knew that before; based on the way that Alec talked about you but after these past two days...any doubt that I may have had is gone.” He was silent for a moment — the only sound was the horses’ hooves clopping across the hard ground. “You’re good for Alec. There was a time before he left that we thought we were going to lose him.”

Magnus felt a chill run through him. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

Jace sighed and dropped his reins, letting Ghost follow Elias while he turned in the saddle to look Magnus in the eyes. “Robert and Maryse. They were hard on him. Harder than they ever were on the rest of us. They expected him to take over the family. Succeed where they couldn’t...There was a time there where he started to get cold and drift away. Honestly, getting accepted into Alicante University was the best thing that could have happened to him. He learned how to be Alec again.” Jace paused in thought, before turning to Magnus with a grin spread across his face. “Second best thing, that is. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“I know I’ve done a lot to help you all try to find a cure, but how can you say that?” Magnus asked quietly. “I barely know Alec.” Despite Magnus’ personal feelings about Alec, it was true that they had only actually met a handful of times.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jace replied happily. “Some people just fit, you know? Like me and my Simon - he’s a musician back in Idris. I knew that first time that we met that we were meant for each other. That’s what you and Alec are like. Sometimes he has a hard time talking about his feelings, but Izzy and I can tell.”

Magnus chose not to reply, instead mulling over Jace’s words in his head. He knew that he and Alec fit together like pieces of a puzzle. He’d known that since he’d first laid eyes on him. A man who had snuck past his wards and made Magnus’ magic buzz in a way that he’d never felt in the hundreds of years that he had been alive. He didn’t want to say soul mates, not out loud, at least, but what other answer could there be?

It was nearly dark by the time the horses passed through the treeline and plodded down the cobblestone road towards the Lightwood estate. Isabelle was waiting outside for them when they arrived, looking every bit the anxious sister waiting for word of their success or failure. “Oh, thank the Angel!” She explained, bounding over to Jace and pulling her brother into a tight hug before turning to do the same for Magnus. “I didn’t know how long it would take, but when you didn’t return last night I started to fear for the worst. Were you successful? Is the spell lifted?”

“We were successful,” Magnus started, his body tense and unused to hugs. “My father is dead. We can begin to truly look for a cure now. His magic would muddle what my magic is trying to tell me.”

“Not to mention Magnus sort of became king.” Jace added, jumping off Ghost’s back and beginning to loosen the mare’s girth.

“Sort of?” Isabelle asked, her eyes wide, with disbelief written in every line of her face.

“Yes.” Magnus answered, still a tad uncomfortable with the very prospect of that. “There is also that, but we can dwell on kingship later. Let us take another look at Alec and see what we can figure out now that my father’s spell is broken.”

He followed Isabelle into the house and up the stairs to the room that he was now starting to recognize as Alec’s, leaving Jace outside to finish taking care of his mare.

“Has there been any change?”

Isabelle shook her head. “He still hasn’t woken, but the paste has pretty much removed the stonelike texture in his skin. He looks less ill now; if only we could wake him.”

Magnus stepped closer and ran the back of his hand gently across Alec’s cheek. If he hadn’t known the full story, he would have guessed the man was simply sleeping...except that he was far too still.

He let a wave of familiar blue spill from his fingers and he closed his eyes, focusing on what his magic was telling him.

The wrongness that he associated with his father’s magic was gone. There wasn’t a trace lingering anywhere in Alec’s body. It was almost like Alec was now frozen in time, just waiting for his body to get a restart.

There had to be something that Magnus could try. Some sort of magical cure-all that he could try now that his father’s spell wasn’t interfering. Maybe a combination of magical plants that they hadn’t tried, maybe he could infuse them with a little bit of his own magic…

His mind grinded to a halt quickly as a realization struck him.

A magic amulet that had been made to help a human woman through a tough pregnancy so many years ago — one that he and Alec both had a connection to. A magic amulet that had recently come into his possession that had helped cure a dear friend from a curse…

He reached into his jacket pocket with a slight tremor in his hands. There was a very, very slim chance of this actually working, he knew that. It was too easy, but it was worth a shot. He’d try anything if there could be even the smallest chance it would bring Alec back to him.

He laid the amulet and Alec’s chest and took a deep breath before he crossed his hands and placed them over the figure of the serpent. He gave Isabelle a small smile before closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the deep well that was old sentient magic.

When he’d done this to heal Raphael, he’d nearly lost himself amidst the swirling void. Had it not been for Ragnor and Catarina’s grounding presence, he wasn’t sure if he ever would have found his way out. He didn’t have that now but he had Alec’s sister and brother and Alec himself counting on him. That would have to be enough.

He felt the questioning presence of the magic inside the amulet. What was he doing here again so soon? What more could he want?

Please, he begged it, please help him. Please help all of them. Innocent people don’t deserve to suffer because of the greed of a few.

The magic swirled around him in the void. He felt how it judged him and considered his request and he could only pray that it would accept. He’d told Alec that old magic artifacts tended to have a mind of their own and that was very much the case with this amulet. Please, I can’t lose him when I’ve only just found him.

There was a flash of coldness that made Magnus jump before the void around him filled with a pulsing warmth.

He let out a sigh of relief. That was both permission and acceptance.

Magnus poured what little magic he had recovered into the amulet and let the ancient magic do the rest.

He opened his eyes as Alec took a deep, gasping breath. Fond blue eyes met his and Magnus let out a sob. “Alexander.” He twisted his fingers gently in the man’s dark hair as his sister dove across the bed to pull him into a hug, tears welling up in her eyes.

Magnus snapped his fingers, ignoring the pain of his drained magic, and summoned a glass of water. He held it up to Alec’s lips and helped him take a few small sips.

“You did it,” Alec croaked, his voice scratchy and quiet from the illness. “You figured out a cure.”

“We figured out a cure,” Magnus replied with a smile. “You and me, your siblings… it takes a village to cure a village, I suppose.”

Alec tried to push himself into a sitting position and frowned as his limbs wouldn’t seem to work. “Hey,” Magnus said sternly, sliding his arm around Alec and helping him sit up. “You need to take it easy, Alec. You just woke up. Your body still needs to heal. It will take some time before your limbs feel up to moving.”

Jace walked into the room and froze in the doorway as he saw Alec awake and sitting up. “Alec! It worked!” He practically dove across the bed much like Isabelle had moments before and pushed her out of the way so that he could get to Alec.

“I hear you had a hand in that,” Alec whispered, his voice still rough and quiet.

“Magnus and I killed his father. Your boy is king now.”

Magnus winced as Alec turned to him with wide eyes. “King?”

“It’s a long story, my love, I’ll leave you to catch up with your siblings.” The sadness that flashed across Alec’s face didn’t escape him and Magnus removed his hand from Alec’s hair to turn his head gently and place a soft kiss on the man’s forehead. “None of that, I’ll be back shortly. I’ve got my father’s people, my people, looking for more of the ingredients for the salve so that we can make enough to begin to heal the rest of Idris. I just need to meet up with them and gather what they’ve collected. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He left Alec to the care of his siblings and made his way down the stairs and out the front door. Elias had long since left to return to wherever he went when he wasn’t with Magnus. The kelpie had given more time than he’d needed to a problem that had nothing to do with him because he and Magnus were close. Once this was all over, Magnus felt he owed him some sort of feast.

He knew that he could likely borrow Flame, Alec certainly wouldn’t care, but he figured that the short walk down the path to the edge of Edom Forest would do wonders to calm his nerves. He’d barely made it around the bend before a shadow passed behind him and he frowned, turning to see who had come up behind him. Something iron struck him across the head and Magnus had just enough time to process that his skin felt like it was burning before he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

----------

When he woke, it was to the morning sun shining brightly in his eyes. He groaned, throwing an arm over his face to block the light as he tried to think past the relentless headache pounding in his head. There was hard ground under his back, and he cursed himself for not finding a more comfortable place to sleep the night before. He tried to magic his throbbing headache away and swore when it didn’t instantly disappear.

Wait.

He shot up, looking around as the events from the previous night came rushing back to him. He’d cured Alec and gone to meet up with the goblins in the woods to get more ingredients to make the salve so that he could start curing the rest of the people of Idris. He’d never made it to the woods...he’d been attacked from behind.

He found himself in a cage. It was too small for him to move around much or stand up, and the bars were made of a heavy iron. It was the metal which prevented his magic use, which meant that he was as trapped as any normal human would have been. He grabbed a bar and gave it a tentative tug, wincing and recoiling as his skin burned from the touch.

“You won’t get out that way, creature. If those bars can hold an angry bear, they can certainly contain a skinny little whelp.” The woman who spoke was older than Alec and his siblings, with a stern face and harsh eyes. She was dressed in a neat black dress and plain shoes. Magnus rubbed the heaviness out of his eyes trying to get his vision to clear. “Frankly, I would have just dispatched you right then and there instead of bringing you back here. After what you did, you don’t deserve a trial.”

“What?” Magnus asked before he had a chance to stop the words from falling from his mouth. “What am I supposed to have done? I did nothing to deserve this.”

She scoffed, stepping a few feet closer with a disgusted look on her face. “Please. You know exactly what we’re talking about, you vile creature. You’re the one responsible for the stone sickness — what else could it be but disgusting magic?”

“What? I’m not the one responsible! What proof do you even have?”

“Other than the fact that you were seen around the Lightwood’s shortly after their eldest succumbed to the disease as well? How much longer before Maryse loses her other children?”

“I was leaving the Lightwoods because I’ve been trying to help them find a cure and we did. I healed Alexander last night!” He knew that protesting was a lost cause. He could see that she didn’t want to listen — didn’t want to believe him — but he wasn’t about to go down without a fight; not with Alec waiting for his return.

She snorted and shook her head in disbelief. “And why should we believe that? We’ve got stories about the horrible things that your people have done. Why would you help one of us?”

“Because I love Alec,” he started quietly, raising his voice ever so slightly before he continued. “And because innocent people don’t deserve to suffer. The stone sickness was caused by a pact between Valentine and the goblin king. The spell binding them together has been broken. I know how to heal the rest of your village. Please. Give me a chance.”

A raindrop hit Magnus’ face and the woman glanced towards the center of town where a large pyre was being built before turning her attention back to Magnus and giving him one last look. “Your execution will be held as soon as the weather clears. We can’t very well have a fire in the middle of a rainstorm.” She turned and walked back towards a large building at the end of the lane, her heels clicking against the cobblestones and echoing in the nearly empty town.

The pit of Magnus’ stomach dropped as he focused on the growing pile of logs in the center of the square. His heart started pounding as he watched two men haul another log over and add it to the pile.

Not this. Anything but this.

Magnus had been both too young and too traumatized to remember much from the day his mother died, but there are flashes from that time that occasionally haunt his nightmares. He remembered that they’d once lived in a cabin on the edge of the woods — halfway between his father’s camp in Edom Forest and the town of Idris where his mother was from.

His father did love his mother, in that weird way that only Asmodeus could, but the people of Idris showed no such love. Once Magnus had been born with his cat eyes and a shower of magic around him, she’d been forced out of town and had taken refuge in the rundown and abandoned house. While they wanted nothing to do with her or her monstrous child, she brought them exotic fruits that had long since been forgotten from deep in the goblin territory in Idris. They tolerated her occasional presence as long as she continued to provide them with the forbidden treats.

As Magnus grew, he spent most of his time playing in the woods either by himself or with others like him. He would accompany his mother into town on the rare occasion, but the humans would keep their children far away from him. He’d been too young to truly understand why at the time.

He still didn’t know why his mother and father had fallen out. He could remember his father screaming, the goblin king’s magic nearly suffocating him. It had been so heavy in the air, and he remembered his mother crying and begging. He remembered his father turning and walking away.

His mother sat there and cried for what felt like ages to his younger self. When the tears finally stopped, she gathered him up and took them home. Magnus had a vague sense that a few days passed before there was a knock on the door and his mother froze. He would never forget the look of terror that flashed quickly across her face. She’d instructed him to hide under the bed and to not make a sound. No matter what he saw or heard he was not to come out.

He’d done as she asked, hiding under their bed as far back as he could, and he watched as his mother answered the door and discussed something quietly with two of the mean-looking men from town. After that, everything had happened nearly too fast for young Magnus to follow. The two men grabbed his mother and dragged her from the house as she screamed and cried and begged them to let her go.

The door had thumped close behind them and the house had gone silent. He had done as she had asked, hiding under the bed until night fell and their little cottage began getting unnaturally dark before he had dared crawl out from his hiding place. He remembered calling out for his mother knowing that she wasn’t there.

He hadn’t known what to do. He had never been without his mother. Was she coming back? Was he supposed to wait for her?

He eventually grew tired of waiting and snuck out the front door, following the path into town that he and his mother had taken so many times before. He remembered seeing a large crowd gathered in the center of town — unusual as Idris had seemed nearly deserted any time they’d visited before — and their attention was focused on something tall and bright in the middle of the square.

He didn’t think he could get closer. There were far too many grown-ups in the way so Magnus had scaled the closed tree and had scrambled to the top for a closer look. From the top of the tree he could see it was a giant bonfire, bigger even than the one his father liked to dance around. And in the middle, tied to a post…

...was his mother.

Her skin was burnt and charred and looked like it was melting. She was screaming in pain, a sound Magnus hadn’t heard her make before. He still remembered the bright red of the dress she had on as it was consumed by the flame.

He had bolted out of the tree and into the woods towards his father’s camp.

He’d hold that image in his mind for the rest of his immortal life. It was his first lesson on the cruelty of humans.

Magnus, somewhere in his heart, had known it would come to this. If he didn’t meet his death at the hands of his father’s people, he was going to go the way some of the other half breeds had — stoned, burned, or drowned by the people of Idris.

And of course, of course, it was raining - because truly, it seemed like it was always raining in Idris. For once in his life, however, he could be grateful that he was soaking wet. The non-stop storms over the past few days were the only thing keeping them from tying him to the post they’d constructed in the center of town and lighting the pyre.

The past few days had been trying and Magnus just wanted it to be over. The people of Idris had mocked and shunned him. A few had looked at him in pity though they were few and far between. The iron in the bars that surrounded him was starting to hurt. His skin ached, his body ached, his magic wept.

He sighed, and pulled his knees up to his chest, relieved at least that they’d let him keep his clothes, even if they weren’t doing much to keep him warm and dry at the moment. The cage they’d pushed him in was uncomfortable enough. He didn’t need to add embarrassment to the list of problems he currently had.

A voice from behind him coughed politely, and he turned his head towards the sound out of instinct, only catching himself afterwards and wondering if that had been a good idea. “Excuse me — Magnus is it? Is it true you cured Alec Lightwood?” The man was young, about Alec’s age if Magnus had to guess, and blond. He was standing in the open doorway of the building closest to Magnus’ cage. A quick glance up at the sign told him that it was a bakery.

Magnus nodded, but turned his head back to glance at the looming pyre. “Yes, not that they’d believe me. It would be easy enough for them just to go to the Lightwood manor and check but that doesn’t matter. They have no leniency towards monsters.”

“Could you do it with the others who have fallen ill? Could you heal them too?”

“I did it once. I could do it again… unfortunately, I won’t get the chance. After I die, I doubt any of the others like me will be willing to risk their lives to help.”’

“But you could do it? If we could stop your execution?” The man asked, still leaning in the doorway of the bakery to keep out of the rain. The smell wafting out of the building made Magnus’ stomach rumble. When was the last time he’d eaten anything? It had been three days since he’d been in this stupid cage. He’d absolutely kill for some food right now.

He nodded, drawing his knees closer as he fought back a shiver from a gust of wind. “That was the plan,” he muttered as he buried his head in his arms. “Alec was just the test subject. If it worked for him, we were going to take it to everyone. Who do you know who fell ill?”

“My sister.”

“I hope you can find someone else to help her then.” There was no response to that and Magnus realized the man must have gone back inside. He shivered again as he bit back a sob.

He needed a miracle. Unfortunately, there were no miracles for people like him.

#shmb2021 #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic #like a lily in a flood

[theladysexpistol]

How about Guido mista for the character ask thing ✨

As a self-appointed high ranking member of the stinky man delegation I humbly accept this assignment

Favorite thing about them: what the FUCK you guys how am I supposed to answer this

Umm okay so I love his weird sense of style. Love his crop top. Love his tiger print pants. I love his boots that are socks/sandals in the manga.

I also love how his soul manifested into six tiny pixies that he has to now father. Like can u imagine that. Mistas soul said you need more responsibilities take care of these tiny children they’ll. Make u shoot better or something. Just feed them

I also also love his conspiracy theories and weird topics like god every time we got that it was just so funny.

I also love how go with the flow he is. Mista heard Bruno and Giorno say they’re betraying the boss and mista was really like “aight. We gonna get some money. Think I’ll make u make me a capo” a capo. Mista if u guys overthrow the boss you’re literally going to be rocketed to the top of the gang. Higher than a fucking capo

Bottom line I just can’t pick a favorite thing about Mista. My favorite thing about him is that he exists.

Least favorite thing about them: that he doesn’t exist outside of anime. I feel personally attacked by this

Favorite line: ahhhhhh a lot of them. Every time he insults somebody. My favorites are like, in the dub when he calls them fugly or called someone a “dick noodle”

My serious answer though is when he says Giorno feels more like his boss to him than Bruno does during the Ghiaccio fight. I think that was the moment I really went “oh shit” and realized how important giorno and mista’s relationship was going to be

brOTP: Giorno, Narancia, Trish (really everyone in the bucci gang but those three in particular)

OTP: I’m pretty chill with any mista ship, but I wouldn’t say I OTP any of them for mista. I have a jojo OC that I shipped with mista though and am actually writing a fic for 😬 yeah I really just fuckin said my mista OTP was a mista/oc pairing

nOTP: ship what you want y’all ✌️ and yanno what if it’s got mista in it you might as well tag me I like it all

Random headcanon: Mista is super touch-sensitive and touch-starved he consciously feels more comfortable when he can tangibly feel people there that’s why you see him with his arm around the other members of the gang a lot. (mostly Narancia and Fugo from what I remember but he starts doing it to giorno too)

Unpopular opinion: uhhh idk... the only mista takes I feel like I’ve disagreed with are ones about PHF which isn’t technically canon... but unpopular I guess I don’t think Mista’s characterization in PHF was ooc at all and in fact I really really liked it even the bonus chapter. Like it hurt a lot to have him literally threatening to kill Giorno, but I also really liked it.

Oh I know! Even though he shoots himself a lot I still think he’s a great shot. He’s done some amazing things with his bullets

Song I associate with them: well it has to be “Bang” by AJR. I already thought it was a cool song for him and then they started playing it on the radio every hour so now I’m like MISTA MISTA MISTA every time I hear it. Like the line where they go “I’m way too old to try so whatever” just feels so Mista to me

Favorite picture of them: believe me when I say I have A LOT

This fuckin smile. Gets me every time but the first time I saw it I think my heart flipped in my chest and I got physically flustered like he was flashing me this grin even though HE DOES NOT EXIST YOU DUMBASS??? WHY ARE YOU BLUSHING OVER A FICTIONAL MAN??

Anyway I really hope this wasn’t too rambly or all over the place it’s 12:30am and I fucking love Guido Mista

#bree loves #help ive fallen in love with the stinky gun man #bree watches jojo #i wish i had guido mista right now #asks for bree #guido mista #we are all feral for mista #stinky man delegation