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thepenultimateword · 2 years

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Eyeteeth Part Four

I gotta say, this is probably one of my favorite stories I've written on tumblr. Thank you to the person who requested part one. When I first started writing, I wasn't sure I could fulfill the request, but soon enough I was completely in love with it.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

CW: Gore, death, killing, destruction

Civilian smashed spine-first into the barstools, toppling two down on top of them with a bruising clang that was immediately lost in the cacophony of screaming people and breaking stone. They coughed on the flakes of drywall raining down from the blasted wall, blinking white flecks from their lashes.

As they slowly lifted their head, the crumpled frame of their glasses slid askew down their nose, a cracked lense on the right and an entirely missing one on the left leaving them half-blind. Yet, even squinting, the mess of rubble and terror around them was crystal clear.

The little diner, a warm, bustling place only seconds ago, was no more. One wall was completely destroyed, covering the ground in broken brick and shattered glass. The force of the blast had split the U-shaped countertop into several pieces, only a single chunk left intact. They should be grateful one of those massive slabs hadn’t landed on top of them. The thought came dazedly as Civilian stared numbly at the limp and bleeding figure pinned in front of them.

“What a dismal little place,” croaked a masculine voice, deep and grating like the very mountains scraping together. "Is this where people go for respite these days?"

Civilian cranked their neck toward the sound, but one glimpse into those coal-black eyes, and they wished they hadn't. Invisible fire flooded their nervous system, burning their insides to hot, nauseating jelly and reducing them to a shuddering heap against the gritty tile.

Yet, as soon as the pain passed, they dared look again--they weren't getting out of this by cowering-- but this time more carefully.

The man--if he even could be called such looking so barely human--hovered a couple feet in the air, toes pointed downward, the blackened ends of his paper white feet just shy of brushing the destruction. He wore a tattered white robe that hung limp and oversized on his skeletal form. Somehow the ill fit came across more disturbing than ridiculous. Darkness spread through his veins, as if they were filled with tar instead of blood, and subsequently, the deep hollows of his cheeks were colored charcoal instead of pink. And those eyes...

Civilian was careful not to meet them directly this time, but they seemed almost crossed out, violent black slashes cutting through them and inking the irises dark before continuing upward and bleeding across his shorn scalp.

An ancient. And a corrupted one at that.

The amount of ancient sorcerers that still existed was in the hundreds, many of them stretched thin by infinite existence. They craved power like a parched man thirsted for water. A yearning to fill the empty parts of them that could never be satiated. At least that was what the books said. The rune bracelet had only been a precaution, a barrier to shield Hero's magery from bigger fish, but never in any of Civilian's dreams had they thought they might see one of those ancients face to face.

Wait. Hero. Where was hero?

Civilian's eyes skimmed the room rapidly until they spied the shock of red hair peeking out from the rubble a few feet away. They weren't moving.

Civilian crawled forward, the muscles in their limbs screaming at being used so soon after such a vicious attack. It didn't matter. Even if it left Civilian permanently damaged, it didn't matter. They needed to reach Hero.

They clawed at the floor, ignoring the glass chunks embedding in their palms as they dragged against the weight on their back. A couple more desperate pulls forward, and the barstools slowly shifted, landing on floor instead of flesh.

Civilian yearned to catch their breath, just that small effort had them winded and agonized, but stopping wasn't an option.

"Where are they?" the ancient said, almost a sort of raspy sing-song. "I can feel their presence. I can hear their blood. It sings to me."

Civilian reached Hero's arm, grasping the child's shoulder with one trembling hand.

"H-Hero."

Why was their voice so small? Was the growing terror in the chest blocking off their throat? Their chest shuddered a little as they summed up another attempt. "Hero."

They struggled into an upright position and pulled at them with as much force as their weak muscles would allow, cradling the top half of their body in their lap. No response.

Civilian's fingers slid numbly along their throat, searching for a pulse. When they steady, thud, thud, thud beat against their fingertips, they almost fell back in relief. Alright. Hero was alright. Now for the other panicked question: where was Villain?

"Oh, what providence. You found them."

Civilian's head shot up, barely dodging the ancient's direct gaze before they could recollapse into another helpless pile of pain. They fixed their eyes on an ugly black splotch in the middle of their forehead, like a rot spot in a piece of fruit. They clutched hero tighter, leaning over their body to shield them from view.

"You can't have them," Civilian croaked.

The ancient sucked in a long breath of air, nostrils flaring. "Hm. Mortal. What could you use them for? Their blood is little more than water for the likes of you."

"They're mine." Civilian wasn't sure what they were saying, but it slipped out anyway.

The ancient stiffened.

"How dare you," they whispered under the breath, as if taking a moment to taste the offense. Then louder, "How dare you! A mortal laying claim against ancient right?"

The light bulbs popped over head, a shower of sparks sprinkling the air for a matter of seconds before the entire diner was bathed in darkness. Those still conscious screamed again.

A cold chill, like a set of longer, icy fingers curling around their esophagus, clutched Civilian's throat, holding their next breath captive.

Civilian squeaked. Tears sprung to their eyes as they struggled to force the breath out their mouth but could not. What an idiot they were. They dreamed of adventure, of daring fights, and brilliant scholarship in the face of death. They thought they were so important and brilliant helping a real life hero, but when it came down to it they were simply a librarian. An insignificant mortal just like the ancient said. They felt better about their averageness by butting into matters that had nothing to do with them, but that didn't magically make them a hero.

They were going to die.

A deep growl ripped the air, feral, guttural, and loud enough to make Civilian's ears pound. A flash of bottle green streaked across the dark, and all at once the breath burst out of Civilian's throat.

They gagged, coughing so violently they might actually puke. After several seconds, they wiped a string of saliva on their sleeve and squinted in the little bit of light streaming in from the streetlamps at the scene in front of them.

Villain clung to the ancients front, claws sunk into their shoulders and teeth sunk deep into their jugular. Tarry blood burbled from the wound, staining Villain's lips and gushing down the front of the ancient's white robes.

The ancient's mouth gaped, seemingly in pain, but then, in a moment, an explosion of power burst out of them, accented with a high pitched shriek similar to a kettle boiling over.

Civilian closed their eyes against the new wave of flying dust and rubble. When they opened them next, Villain was on the ground.

"You insignificant fleabag!" the ancient cried, choking and gurgling on blood.

Civilian almost cried out, but Villain was back on their feet quicker than they could form the sounds. Their eyes glowed strangely, as if in direct contrast to the shadowed curtain the ancient pulled over all of them.

The ancient stretched forth their hand, but Villain was already crouched to the floor before the invisible wave of destruction punched a smoking hole through the back wall. Then they were several feet in the air when the next blow, blasted the title to smithereens.

Premonitory ability, Civilian thought in awe.

Villain was on the ancient once again, claws raking down their belly,. They pulled them from the sky like a stubborn star, pinning them against the floor with a sharp crack of breaking floor.

"Their eyes!" Civilian heard themself shriek. "Take their eyes!"

Without hesitation, Villain clawed up the ancient's chest and, stretching their jaws wide, scraped those long fiamora eyeteeth across their face.

The ancient wailed with the same tone of the howling wind. But this time no explosion of power protected them. Ancient mages used to concentrate their power and life force into one part of their body, an efficient way to channel power if not a significant Achilles heel. The corruption around this particular ancient's eyes had given Civilian a pretty good guess as to what part of their body they preferred casting with. Not that it would hold them back permanently. They were still a magically blooded being.

"Now their head!" Civilian cried next. "They can't die unless you take their head."

Villain did more than that.

Civilian buried their head into Hero's body, wishing they could block out the wet tearing of flesh and the crunch of breaking bones.

A heavy silence drew thick over the building.

Civilian peered up, glasses barely hanging to the end of their nose by this point. A gory, clawed hand stretched out in front of them. They slowly raised their eyes to Villain's face. Their front was absolutely soaked in gore, and Hero's concealing enchantment had worn off, leaving the pair of menacing saberteeth jutting over the lip and glistening with blood.

Civlian swallowed the bout of nausea tossing their stomach and gathering hero closer against them, accepted the offered hand with trembling fingers.

Villain immediately pulled them close. Their tail wrapped tight around their thigh and their other clawed hand braced around the back of their neck, clasping both Civilian and Hero against them.

"I'm sorry," they said licking Civilian's grimy hair a couple times before pressing a careful kiss to their head, "I'm sorry. I had to let them see you. It was the only way I saw that ended with all of us alive."

Understanding slowly seeped through Civilian's skull. Villain had waited to attack. They waited until the ancient was distracted with something else. With Civilian.

Civilian body racked violently. They heard heavy sobbing, but they didn't realize it was their own until Villain's clawed finger wiped away the hot tears blurring their vision, leaving a long streak of chilly ancient blood along their cheekbone.

"I needed to keep you safe," Villain said, almost a plea. "Both of you."

They knew, didn't they? They knew exactly what Civilian felt toward them in this moment. And that knowledge was almost more painful than the ancient's attacks.

***

"All tucked in," Villain said.

They were waiting in the living room when Civilian came out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in a clean university sweatshirt and pair of sweats. Their spare pair of glasses were a little too tight and pressed uncomfortably into their temples, but they were just glad they could see clearly again.

Civlian stared at Villain for several long moments, imprinting this clean, wet-haired version of them across the last gory memory. They had always known what fiamora could do; they'd written an extensive chapter on bloodshed, both hunting and territorial rights, in their thesis. But it was very different seeing it in person.

Those fangs did not have the potential to kill. They did kill.

Maybe they stared to long because Villain said quietly, "Civilian?"

Civilian jolted to attention. "Right. Thank you. Did they wake up at all?"

Villain shook their head, twisting the hem of their borrowed t-shirt and flinching when their claws made little holes. "No. But they will. If they weren't, I would feel it."

Civilian nodded.

It had not seemed a good idea to bring Hero home to their family unconscious and covered in building dust. It wouldn't have only exposed Hero's crime-stopping stint but could have also brought up a heap of troubling questions as to why Hero had been with Civilian in the first place. There was also Villain in the mix, making things even more complicated. In the end, they'd come to Civilian's apartment. Villain had cleaned up first, seeing as they were covered in blood, and Civlian had sat shuddering in the kitchen with Hero spread awkwardly across their tabletop. Once Villain returned, they'd quickly slipped off to the bathroom themself, hoping the hot water and some clean clothes would kick their nerves straight.

They still felt on the point of breaking down, but at least they could look Villain straight in the face again. They could recite to themselves all the things they loved about them. Bottle-green eyes, wild untamable hair, fluffy ears, gorgeous, sharp eyetee--

Civilian stopped short as they remembered those teeth taking out the ancient's eyes in one bite. Instead, they focused on Villain's outfit. Also sweats, but topped with an oversized t-shirt with a brightly colored bookshelf printed across the front and captioned LIBRARY SQUAD. A leftover from the book club Civilian had tried and failed to create at the school a couple years ago. Also, since there was no tailored opening in the pants, Villain had stuffed their tail down one leg, and it thrashed against the fabric every so often like an uncomfortable snake. Civilian couldn't help but smile a little. It was sort of funny seeing Villain dressed so casually, in Civilian's own clothes no less. It was intimate and warm, and Civilian probably would have liked it much better if it wasn't just following a near-death experience.

Villain smiled cautiously in return. "Um, I figured you'd want them somewhere comfortable, so I put them in your room. Is that alright?"

"In my room?" Civilian repeated numbly. Stupid. Of course. It wasn't like they owned another bed. "Ah. Yes. Of course. I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

If they could even sleep at all. They didn't know if they could get that ancient inhuman body and ghastly eyes out of their head. Just like fiamora, they knew these things existed, but...how did they go on knowing they could come in at any moment and kill them all in eyeblink?

Villain's claws brushed Civilian's elbow, green eyes flicking up to meet theirs. "Would you...like some company?"

Civilian's heart pounded faster. Villain was dangerous. They knew it more than ever. But...did that actually change how they felt about them?

They shoved the scent of blood and the sound of crunching bone to the back of their mind.

"Sure."

Villain nodded evenly, but the relief in their expression was almost palpable. "Do you have a first aid kit, I think we're both a little more beat up than planned."

"Heh." Civilian rubbed their sore palms together. "Just a moment."

They went off the kitchen to retrieve the little tin box under the sink, a tray of ice cubes, and a box of ziplock bags. When they returned, Villain was sitting crisis cross at the center of their couch, watching the door anxiously for Civilian's return.

"Come here," Civilian said, sitting across from them and shaking a few ice cubes into a ziplock bag. Villain leaned in a little, and Civilian held the bag gently to a large purple bruise forming across Villain's brow bone.

Keeping their head bent into Civilian's touch, Villain popped open the first aid tin and fished out an ointment tube and bandages. They dolloped a drop of syrup scented ointment across their fingers and gently massaged it into Civilian's free hand, careful not to nick them with the sharp points of their claws. When they finished off with some bandages, Civilian switched the hand holding the ice pack, and let them treat the other hand as well.

"You're very frightened of me now, aren't you?" Villain said, peeling back the wrapper on a bandaid and pressed the clean cotton middle to a particularly nasty slice on the heel of Civilian's hand.

Civilian felt sick.

"It was a frightening experience," they said slowly. "I...I don't think you did anything wrong... I'm just a little shaken."

It wasn't as if Villain was the only one with a part to play in this death either.

"I'm the one who told you what to do."

Maybe that was what bothered them most of all. Not the bloodshed itself, but that they had been capable of directing it. Wasn't it wrong to hurt someone? Was it wrong that they had known how to do it? Maybe they were studying the wrong things.

"Civilian," Villain said, maybe hearing the sickness in their tone. "You were only protecting yourself. Protecting everyone. Hero. Those people. Me."

Civilian swallowed hard on a lump of emotion forcing its way into the open.

Villain continued. "That thing was out for blood. You know more than I do about people like that. Tell me honestly, do you think we could have reasoned with him?"

"No." Their voice croaked pathetically. "He would have killed Hero no matter what. As well as anyone who got in his way."

"And you stood up to him anyway." Villain stroked their arm up and down soothingly.

"Only because Hero... They were going to..." They took a deep breath. "Villain, if that kid died, I don't know what I would do."

"And me?"

Those green eyes seemed to pin them to spot, making it hard for Civilian to breathe.

"I haven't known you that long," Civilian said quickly, ducking their head toward their lap.

"I know," Villain said. "I don't expect you to be as dedicated to me as you are Hero. But out of curiosity..."

Civilian thought about it a minute. Imagined how they'd feel tonight if Villain hadn't survived their fight with the ancient. If they weren't safe and sound across from now.

'"I would be very upset. For a very long time. In fact, I'm not sure if I'd ever get over it."

Silence.

Civilian flicked their gaze back up to Villain to see the fiamora staring at them, mouth parted, beautiful eyes wide.

"That deep?" they murmured.

Civilian flushed a little, shoving at their spectacles even though they were already firmly in place. "Apparently."

Villain was just a name a few months ago. A faceless fiamora to build tactics against, but now they were a person. Civilian's person. And they'd protected Civilian with their life.

Civilian leaned in closer, eyeing Villain's fangs carefully, mentally measuring a safe spot to aim for. Then they pressed a gentle kiss to Villain's lips.

They pulled back just a little to see Villain's expression, but no sooner did they catch the violent twitch of Villain's ears and the fiamora was tangling their claws in their hair and pulling them in a second time.

The flat of Villain's right fang skimmed their lips, sending a shiver down Civilian's spine, but Villain was very careful, never letting the points touch them. Of course, a creature with such deadly teeth would know how to maneuver them.

When the kiss ended, Civilian found themself somehow leaning against the arm of their couch, Villain sprawled comfortably on top of them. The ice pack lay forgotten and melting on the floor.

"Um." Villain shifted a little, resting their head against Civilian's chest. "Is this ok?"

Civilian nodded. They actually felt safer this way. If only their face wasn't so traitorously warm right now.

"W-why don't you tell me about these ancient things. I know about fiamora ancients, but I didn't know it was possible for a human to become one."

"Was that a stutter?" Civilian said.

"What? No. A catch in my throat."

"You're nervous too." Civilian had no idea why that was so satisfying.

"Of course I am, you're so close. N-now tell me the lore."

Civilian grinned. "It's thought that every mage has the potential to reach immortality through a natural increase of their power over time. Unlike fiamora, human mages are naturally inclined to a shorter lifespan, so they have to reach a level of power where their magic is strong enough to keep their body from declining. It's like they flip a switch in their natural make up that turns everything more permanent. Usually, this would be a sign of purity, the hard work taken to naturally develop one's magic, but many corrupted ancients received immortality by forcefully consuming the power of other mages. However, once they consume another mage's power, they must keep consuming it. Another's magic is like a drug, and they become addicted. Back in the day, there were sacrificial rituals of young mages to corrupt ones. In fact, there was one city that was so culturally influenced that--"

They stopped short with a loud gasp.

"What?" Villain said, cupping their longer eyetooth and raising their head a little to look Civilian's chest up and down, as if worried they might have knicked them with a fang point.

"My book." Civilian threw their head back against the arm rest with a long groan. "I left it in the diner. Do you think it's alright?"

Villain sighed in relief and snuggled back in. "Is that all?"

"'Is that all?'" Civilian repeated furiously. "Do you know how valuable--"

"Shhh," Villain said, wrapping their arms tightly around Civilian's waist. "I know. I'll go look for it in the morning. But for now, keep talking."

Civilian pouted a moment, but eventually, they fell back into their explanation. They stopped every once in a while, thinking that Villain might have been bored to sleep, but then the fiamora would pipe in with a question or a simple, "What else?"

Each time, Civilian warmed inside and went on, talking and talking until their eyes were too heavy to keep open and words felt like sludge in their mouth.

The night's bad images faded to the fringes of their mind, and they drifted softly into sleep.

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @last-ditch-entry @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany

#civilian x villain #villain x civilian #heroes and villains #writing snippet #hero x villain #creative writing #villain #heroes and villains community #human x monster #superheroes and villains #monster x protagonist

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azzurra-astra · 1 year

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Mariner CH.2 ⭐️⭐️

Pechna, the diminutive seaside city she called home, was a colorful stone, brick, and wood layered catacomb, with the one eyesore of modern decay every couple of blocks. In the old downtown, relic activity held steadfast, street pockets held mini-sub markets offering floral arrangements of every kind. Now, with the incoming hurricane, they prioritized vending emergency containers of prepared hot staple foods such as soups, sandwiches, baked breads. Others offered sweet treats, while produce stands and fresh catches warranted a different kind of crowd. People swarmed the counters and forced the staff behind them to work even harder to supply the demand, and outdoor seating was gobbled up by moving masses of color.

Inland, the elevated plains expressed the slow but distinct bloom of the city’s modernization, neighborhoods and modernized shopping centers ruled the higher grounds. Pechna itself was relatively modest compared to the nearest neighboring city, Tulautte. Being a coastal city, it left very little in a way of funds towards improvements with the constant storm repair. However, when not battered by the brutal gale force winds and elevated sea water, Pechna was peaceful with a moderate population, hospitable residents, and a flourishing, expressive culture.

Sal received a few looks for her wet attire in her tiring walk back to the house. Hers, although blended in with the neighbors, was still relevantly easy to pick out with it's pea soup green paint, white window slats, and obnoxious teal door. Like the rest, it was narrow with no fancy yard trimmings, virtually no backyard, and two stories.

She barely made it up the sloped path and onto the short porch, her hand hitting the push-down handle like a brick and shoving the door open. A rush of cool air hit, causing her to dip in relief as the day was already smoggy from the humidity and heat. She chose not to announce her return, showing her back on the living room in favor of the step up onto the cool tiled kitchen floor, venturing to drop herself into the hard wood seat at the dining table adjacent to it, eyes studying the grain in the table out of exhaustion while rays of early afternoon sun spilled in to the front of the house. Delayed footsteps told her one of her older brothers was alerted by the front door shutting, judging by the lanky and overly tall stature from the corner of her eye as he closed in through the kitchen, it was Grant.

"Woah," he commented quietly at her condition. "what happened to you?"

He sounded amused, but legitimately concerned. She finally tilted her head to face him after a beat, seeing he was wearing a white tank top and basic black jersey shorts. A plate full of crumbs in hand, possibly from lunch.

"Rogue wave." She lied, taking a napkin from the table to wipe her forehead.

“I was cleaning up some debris from the storm yesterday and the wind picked up, just....." She gestured with her hand over her head in order to catch her breath. "Slammed into me. My hands are sore from the netting, it was heavy and full of dead crap."

That wasn't a complete lie, but she left out the merman creature part for all extensive purposes.

"Damn, you okay? Want me to get you a drink?"

"Nahh...." She panted. "I'm only going to sit a spell, then get a shower. Where's Ray Romano?"

She referred to her eldest brother, Diederik, as her eyes searched the layout.

"He's on a job, left about twenty minutes after you did. I've been prepping for this interview I got coming up with a few streamers later today."

"I'm probably going to... Just get a nap once I'm out..." She leaned her full weight on the table, neglecting the barren state of her insides.

"I thought you had classes today?" Grant propped his hip on the counter, arms still slack at his sides, bare feet crossed.

"I do, but there's no real time constraint today. Major things are at the end of the week." She sighed, rubbing at her temple.

Grant frowned as he observed his younger sister. He may have been a dolt, but above all else he knew his sister too well when it came to her character, having spent the most time with her as kids. They were only four years apart after all, Diederik was older than him by six. The vibes she put off told him she was scared of something, it had to be have been more dire than a wave.

"...You sure you're okay?" He pressed, his voice low with concern.

"I'm fine, Grant. Like I said, after having to move all that trash and getting hit by that wave then walking through foot traffic with the heat, I'm toast. I'm also really damn hungry but I don't want to eat till I'm clean."

"Okay, you bathe, I make steak and eggs for us, sound like a deal?"

"I thought you just ate?" She raised a brow at him, looking to the plate he deposited on the counter.

"That was from breakfast. I came down to eat." He snorted.

"Jesus, Christ." She finally had to laugh at that, but it was short lived, shallow.

〰️〰️〰️

A hot shower was surreal, it did little to calm her nerves. Understandably shaken to her core, she almost felt afraid to be alone, staring beneath the thin sheet of water pouring from her head down at the drain. Her good nature controlled her fear, which is what gave way to her helping that thing more than taking photos of it and trying to draw what would surely be fatal attention from the public. It almost upset her, thinking on what would've happened if she did beckon for other people. It would've been so furious, so terrified, likely hauled away as an experiment and fated never to see the ocean again. The notoriety she would've gotten would for certain be overwhelming and frightening, turning her family upside down, never having privacy again. The introverted spectrum she possessed being driven mad at the mere theoretical scenario. It would've been bad all the way around and she refused to let that happen. Part of her begged to never see the merman again for her peace of mind, but that nugget of human wonder tickled her thoughts.... Would she ever see him once more?

Her hand twisted the shower knob, killing the water flow. Her body felt almost gelatinous because of her low blood sugar, it was scary to move, like she needed to support herself while getting out to dry off. A knock on the bathroom door made her yelp.

"Sorry!"

It was Grant.

“You almost done? Food is ready."

"It's alright! ... Y-yeah, I'm done. I'll be down soon." She sighed, scrubbing her hair dry.

〰️〰️〰️

Her body conflicted with the ”I'm not hungry" vibe her brain was sending out. She was indeed hungry, and it showed when she consumed the eggs in record time, driven by a need to replace the nutrients lost from the morning and feast on protein. As soon as she took a bite of steak, it was as if she became ravenous. In fact she even cleared her plate faster than her brother, not a commonly achieved feat. It didn't help that her brother was fixated on studying her tired eyes, his chewing like that of a sloth. Her jumpiness just wasn't normal for her, she looked unsettled all the way around.

"Someone...." He swallowed, "hurt you, didn't they?" fork raised in her direction slowly.

A cut of meat fell from her fork as he spoke up. "Grant, no. God--what makes you think that?"

She was genuinely irritated he kept pressing the matter.

"Because, Sal, you're never so freaked about anything. You are literally the most mellow-- borderline boring -- and dry humored woman I've ever known." He debated calmly.

"I'm the only woman you've ever known."

"C'mon, will you just stuff it?" He rolled his eyes. “I'm serious. You don't expect me to believe you're that shaken up over a damn wave."

She finally raised herself into a straighter sitting position. "I don't know, have you ever been nearly dragged out to sea before? That's what happened."

"Okay, you didn't highlight that part. Did nobody help you?"

Relief. It crept down her spine, as to why she wasn't sure. "No, but there was nobody there. Besides, it wasn't that strong, I got out just fine."

"If you hit your damn head on a reef you wouldn't be 'just fine.'" He finally took another bite of food, agitated she'd lied to him.

"Yeah well that didn't happen, so let it go." She said dismissively. "It's almost 2, what time was your meeting?"

"Half hour." He shook his head. "Just get some sleep, like an hour or something. You need it. Also, Diederik is hearing about what happened."

"Have at it, I'm 28, I'm an adult." She snorted.

"Yeah well you're not acting like it because you're defensive about failing at being cautious. Seriously, Sal." He stood with his empty plate, taking it to the sink.

"I'll just be more vigilant next time." She sluggishly followed suit, waiting till he cleared the space before depositing her own.

"I hope so, I don't need to get a call from the coast guard."

〰️〰️〰️

Grant's muffled voice slithered it's way along the upstairs hall, making it difficult for her to gain any rest. There was a little bit of guilt treading around for being crass with him, knowing he was only concerned for her well being. Rolling on her aide, her hand tugging the sheet over her shoulder further, she heaved a sigh. Her head was heavy, feeling the subtle throb in her temple from failing to fully drift off, and her eyes felt hot. Hopefully she wasn't getting sick and it was just her being drained. Her classes would have to wait, she needed sleep, to set her mind at ease and banish her encounter with the easing thought that it was only a one time thing. Lingering on it set forth a fast thudding in her chest, the more it set in stone that she witnessed a creature originally thought to be mythology. Even though it was only a matter of hours, Sal grew tired and fretful of the ongoing internal battle with regarding the entire thing as a positive or negative experience. Frankly it held more negative qualities, recollecting the tales of sirens being man eaters. Perhaps he was the same? He did try to maul her, after all.....

Ugh! Enough!!!

She thrust her leg out in frustration, sending her blanket bunching at her hip, reaching atop her night stand for her phone and ear buds a short ways over. She needed something other than mundane house ambient to relax, and no, nothing invoking thoughts of mythical monsters.

Not right now.

〰️〰️〰️

Grant's brow raised at the subdued creak of the front door, reclining in his chair, arms shakily stretching overhead. His interview ended two hours ago, but he'd chosen thereafter to edit an episode, planning to upload later in the evening.

"Diederik?" He called out.

"Yeah."

Brows flitting once, he stood, feeling it best to get away from the computer for a while. He discarded his headphones on the bed, gate stiff while he navigated furniture to exit into the upstairs corridor. He took a step towards the staircase a short ways away, then stopped. While he hadn't heard a peep from his sister's room in a long time, he was partially inclined to check on her.

Hngh.... Maybe not the best idea.

If he woke her up opening her door, a cloud of guilt would hang over him for a good bit. He continued downstairs, seeing his brother was raiding the fridge for orange juice.

"So, Sal had an eventful day." He sighed once he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh?" The scruffy man stopped, glass raised to his face, scratching his scalp, the wavy, short brown hair on his head tussling from the action.

"She was picking up more crap on the beach and a wave hit her, nearly dragged her out." The younger of the two settled in the archway.

Diederik's brows slowly ascended and the glass gradually found it's way to the counter. "Wow, what the hell.... Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's jumpy though. She got a shower and I got her food, she's upstairs sleeping."

He scowled, sighing through his nose with the rock of his head.

"See, this is why I told her it was a bad idea to do that by herself. God. I'll check on her after she wakes up," he paused, eyes widening. "did you phone mom?"

"No..." His younger brother suddenly wore a puzzled look. "Should I have?"

"No, and thank God you didn't. I don't need her flying here and acting like we left her out at sea. I try telling myself she cares but I think it's just her being nosy."

"Glad to see we agree there." Grant ran a hand through his own dark hair. "Uh... Dinner ideas?"

"Did you not go out to grab something? I asked you that like, five times this morning, Grant. I had three fucking stops today."

"I'm sorry, I forgot." He grumbled, tracking his brother across the kitchen as he opened the fridge to fish through items.

"Dude, you literally revolve around food... Aw Jesus, just get dressed, the stores are gonna close up soon because of the storm. They already shut down the beach." He pulled a small plastic Parmesan container from the shelf, checking it's contents critically.

"I am dre-- wait, storm?"

"... There's another massive storm coming, they announced it like, six days ago....? Y'know... For prepping?" He set the container on the counter, looking up. “Yes, we got hit with shit already but that was just an appetizer…”

His shoulders sagged when Grant sheepishly shook his head.

"... It's because of your damn gaming. Also no, looking like a shut-in doesn't qualify as dressed."

"At least I don't preen, I got a job asshole."

"Well this is what normal, working adults look like. Me especially because I have to walk into strangers' houses."

Wordlessly, Grant rolled his eyes and trotted upstairs to at the very least get a clean T-shirt on.

"I expect you not get pizza this time! That’s not gonna feed us for a week!”

〰️〰️〰️

The sky was a brilliant array of oranges and reds, casting an alien glow across the room for Sal to awaken in. Somehow did she manage to get some sleep, thankfully dreamless and hard. Her skin was cool to the touch, rolling in her sheets while she worked her tongue to dislodge the sourness from her mouth, cringing. Part of her wondered if she slept all night, but a quick glance at her clock cancelled that out.

Body aching dully, she forced herself to sit up, weight propped on a hand as she sleepily looked about the room. Her head no longer hurt, granted it was now heavy from too much sleep. She took note things were eerily silent in the house, earphones having fallen to hang from neck in her sleep, curious if her brother had left or if Diederik returned and they both departed. Rarely did that happen unless they were going out for a drink with friends. Inhaling slowly, she sat up on her bed, searched for a pair of loose jersey shorts and slipped them on as she rocked to her feet. Her mind had rewired itself to focus on important things during her nap, like her classes, she hoped it'd stay that way and that no more anxiety would plague her. Descending into the main body of the house, she looked about, seeing nobody was present, though she failed to check either of the other bedrooms on her way down. Whatever the case was, her first instinct was to grab her laptop and step down into the living room, small and angular as it was. The couch sat oddly away from the rest of the pieces— a thing that always bothered her —settled in the window nook. One could appreciate the effect it got with the sunlight streaming through over the back of it, but procrastination led it to sit alone from a loveseat and coffee table. Her shin pressed to the cushion, she paused her drop onto the couch, she needed something to drink.

Something hot, like cocoa.

"Dammit," she commented to herself, laptop flopped in her would-be-warm place before she trudged across the house.

A cup of milk in the microwave later, her head raised at a door opening upstairs, one of her brothers was home after all. Her head peered the border of the archway, seeing it was her eldest brother descending.

"Hey..." She raised a hand, greeting quietly.

"Oh," his expression looked more lively upon seeing her. "You feeling better? Grant told me what happened."

"Yeah, making myself some hot chocolate, I have things I need to finish. Speaking of, where is he?" She shrugged, disappearing from view till he rounded the corner.

"I sent him out to get dinner, he's still out. That was like, an hour ago. Sometimes I wonder how the hell he's capable of feeding himself." He moved past her to occupy a chair at the table.

"Pizza and Chef-Nasty-Shit." She joked, watching her mug rotate beyond the microwave door.

"God..." He pinched the bridge of his nose for a second. "I should've just stayed in my work clothes and gone out to get something, I'm hungry."

"Hold out a little faith, also for future reference, he works well when given lists, I find...."

"Pft... By the way, they shut down the beach, saw it in my way home." He wrapped his knuckles rhythmically on the table top.

For some reason the disappointment that followed his words confused her. She was aware of the offshore hurricane headed for them, while officials couldn't fully assess the extent of it's power, they expected a good amount of damage and rising water levels to occur. This dragged her mind back to the merman, and she was starting to realize that this wasn't going away as quickly as she would've liked.

"Well, that's understandable because of the storm." She shrugged her shoulders, taking a glance past him to the windows facing the street, it was nearing nightfall.

"It'll also be a well deserved gap in the aftermath of things...."

His tone was almost fatherly compared to Grant, who's was more a concerned sibling, she knew he didn't want her heading back to the beach for some time because of her 'near-death experience.' Thanks to their actual father and his drama, Diederik had to be the dad in the family for his siblings and it cost him a lot of his childhood, which Sal would forever feel bad for. She knew for a fact that in their youth, her and Grant were not the easiest to care for. Not that they were poorly mannered, but adventurous, and in that sense they were disobedient about staying within visual boundaries. He became stricter over time, foolish to say that it didn't have merit, and when he reached his teen years he was more responsible than most adults, though by then the pair were nearing the end of their nonsense stages.

"I'll give it a while before I go back." She concluded, hearing the microwave ping.

"I'd like to think so," He nodded slowly. "Having nearly drowned, the ocean is probably the last place you need to be."

"You have no idea..." She sighed, opening the cabinet above, shoving aside tea boxes and reaching for a can of cocoa powder.

#Azzurra writes #Pechna is similar visually to Samoa

0 notes

in-ky · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

#negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith #au!negan #the walking dead #twd smut #twd negan

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laurafett · 3 years

Text

Unfamiliar Fruit

PART ONE

Friends to lovers, sex pollen Boba Fett x f reader

Words: 10k

- You and Boba are guests in a palace on a different planet. The King serves you some strange food, with the intetion of doing both of you a favour -

No mentions of pronouns, hair or skin color, sexuality. Also, let’s pretend that there is underwear in space. Minors, do NOT interact!!

Warnings: smut, fluff, age gap (reader is 18+), mentions of food and eating, masturbation (m and f), comlink sex, pain due to sex pollen, slight voice kink

______________________________________________________________

Why did you always let yourself get dragged into some bantha shit like this? You were dirty, sweaty and smelled like the inside of a Tauntaun. Boba told you this was going to be a short hunt for which he needed your help. Just one bounty he would have to hunt and collect. He said it would take about two or three days. Yeah, no shit. You were sitting on this Marker forsaken planet for almost two weeks now because Boba found some new connections for his business on Tatooine.

He didn't want you to get into trouble so you had to stay in Slave I almost every day. You had no clean clothes, the water tank for the shower was already empty and soon you would be out of food too.

You sat in this tiny, dirty ship while the bounty hunter probably was living in a big, glamorous palace at the other side of the town. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, letting out a sight as you tried to find a comfortable position in the pilots seat. This was where you spent most of your days, sitting in the cockpit while looking out of the big window in front of you.

It was a green planet, with lots of trees and fields of grasses. It was a welcome sight after spending so much time on Tatooine. The air here was cool and fresh, but it was not exactly cold. The small forests shielded the ship from the sun, so that it always had a comfortable temperature in the ship. At least that was something nice about your current location.

Another nice thing was there was a river which’s stream led behind the big city walls. On some particular hot days, you used the water there to cool down your body. You watched how the water disappeared as soon as it reached the high built bricks that were put there to shield the town and the people there from any kind of intruders.

You couldn't see much of the city because the ship was stationed some miles away from it. You guessed it was old, from the way the walls looked. In all your days here you never saw a person leaving or entering through the massive wooden doors. It made you wonder if the town was really so big to have everything they needed, so no one ever had to leave this place.

Tearing your eyes away from the mysterious town in front of you, you looked into the sky. Only a few more hours before the sun would start to set and you would have another silent night all by yourself.

If you were on Tatooine you would have spent time with Fennec during your sleepless nights, her never seeming to sleep much as well. But no, you were here. And you were bored to death. There wasn't even anything to read on Boba’s ship, so you had no other option other than to sit around and keep staring holes into the air.

Right when you were about to get lost in some thoughts again, your datapad received a message from your absent partner. Your back straightened and you leaned forward to read it.

“We will leave soon, only one or two more days.

They invited you for dinner tonight as well,

you also get a proper quarter to sleep in.

Be here before the sun sets.

Take the ship with you, there is a place near the palace

where you can land it. Be careful.”

You almost started crying at the thought of a real bed and real food waiting for you. “Thank the Maker.”, you mumbled to yourself before you checked that everything on the ship was secured so nothing would break during your flight. It didn't take long for you to start the ship and fly directly in the direction of the big castle-like building.

Only five minutes later you landed the ship near the palace and some people were already coming out of the ancient building. You grabbed your blaster before leaving the ship and walked towards the other people. They greeted you by bowing in front of you. Eyebrows lifted in surprise, you looked back down at them.

There was an older man with brown skin and dark hair, some strands already whitening. His mouth was almost hidden by a big, long beard that went down to his throat, but you were able to make out a small smile on his lips. He wore a purple robe, so long that the end of it was covering the ground behind him. Some golden chains covered his chest and he wore rings on almost every finger.

He was in the company of four young women, covered in light yellow cloaks. You were able to see their faces, all of them smiling at you. Each one seemingly more beautiful than the others. Now you could understand why Boba spent so much time here.

“You must be the partner of the great Boba Fett.” The man in front of you began speaking, “We are glad to have you here. All our guests get only the best. We’ve prepared your quarters for the night and one of my maids will show you the way so you can refresh yourself before dinner.”

The old man pointed at a young woman with curly hair, who was smiling at you.

“Thank you, that's really nice.” was all you could say in your current state of surprise.

“Nothing to thank us for. We made a really good deal with your partner so it is a pleasure for us to have you here.” The man nodded slowly and you gave him a weak smile. These people were way too friendly to make a deal with Boba. You hoped he would explain this to you when you see him.

“Follow me, I will show you your room.” The young woman said and waved her hand for you to follow her.

The palace was gigantic. Many statues and old art were all over the place. The statues were made out of white stone, portraying people you didn't know, probably warriors. Strong bodies, perfectly chiseled into different kinds of material, telling a story you've never heard before. Paintings covered the high walls, showing many faces. Some of them looked like normal citizens like farmers, children, or the whole families portraits. Others picturing royals, queens and kings, princes and princesses.

The two of you walked through an uncountable amount of rooms and corridors. And after almost ten minutes of walking the woman turned around, looking at you. She opened the doors on your left and your eyes widened in shock. The room they prepared for you was bigger than any house you had ever lived in. It was filled with old furniture, a gigantic bed, a big balcony and a probably enormous bathroom behind a closed door. The maid walked into the room with you being directly behind her. She went over to a large closet and opened it to reveal that it was full of beautiful clothes made out of the best material in the galaxy. One of your hands rose to touch the silky fabric of one of the dresses.

“These are for you to wear. We asked your partner for your size and I hope there is something that fits in here. If not, feel free to tell me and we will get you something else.” You slowly nodded while looking through the amount of different clothes. “The King wants you to wear anything you feel comfortable in but would be happy if you would wear something more festive for dinner.” You looked over to her and she smiled at you again.

“Dinner will be ready in about two hours. Feel free to use the bathroom and clean yourself up.” She slowly made her way to the door, “And if you need anything, please let me know and we will be happy to help you.”

“Thank you.” was all you could say before she left the room.

Now being on your own, you slowly walked through the chambers, trying to take in every detail. The walls were a light rosé and sky blue curtains hung beside the windows. All the furniture was made out of dark wood. A small glass table stood in the corner of the room with some books on top. The bed was covered in white sheets and pillows and was large enough to allow 4 people, maybe even more, to sleep comfortably.

You walked out onto the balcony and gasped. You had a great view over the whole city. It wasn't the biggest you have ever seen, but definitely one of the most beautiful ones. Everything looked more like a big garden than a place where people lived. Old, small houses were blooming like mushrooms between a field of grass. Many fields covered the space underneath the palace.

People stood in front of their houses, talking to each other. Children were playing hide and seek, laughing so loud even you could hear it. The lights were turned on in almost every house and you could see some farmers bringing the harvest they collected over the day into the warmth of their homes. This place was really beautiful.

And now, as the sun slowly started to set, it looked even more aesthetically pleasing. You looked down into the court of the palace and saw Boba. He was taking a walk with the man you talked to when you arrived. Hopefully he would tell you what this was all about as soon as you had some alone time with him.

After standing and watching the city for some more moments, you went back inside and into the bathroom. Just as you thought it was just as big as everything else. Covered in white tiles, a marble bathtub, a shower beside and a big sink with a mirror and any kind of makeup you could think of. You never really used something like this, but maybe tonight was a good night to try it.

You stripped out of your dirty clothes and quickly got into the shower. The warm water ran down your body and you couldn't help yourself but moan at the relaxing feeling. After cleaning yourself completely, you just had to stay under the warm water for just a bit longer.When you finally had enough, you turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. With one hand you grabbed one of the soft towels, wrapping it around your body.

Entering the bedroom once more you walked over to the big closet and searched through it. You opened one of the drawers, instantly moving back in surprise. It was full of some of the most expensive and beautiful lingerie you have ever seen. Did Boba tell them to get those for you? Curiously you looked through them, soon realizing that all of them were exactly your size. How could he know what size you wore? But before you were able to think much further, your eyes caught a glimpse of a beautiful, dark green lace set.

You pulled it out of the drawer, taking the time to really look over it. It was gorgeous. Without thinking too much, you dried your body and tried on the underwear. You weren't insecure about your body or anything, but you were still afraid that it might not look as good as you imagined. With small steps you walked in front of the big mirror beside the closet and looked at your figure. Holy shit. You looked fucking hot. The bra fitted perfectly around your breasts and you were able to see through it a little bit. The panties wrapped themselves around your ass without covering too much. You were speechless. How could've Boba guessed your size so perfectly?

Before putting on more clothes you went back into the bathroom to do your hair and make up. And while doing that your thoughts started to wander.

You always had a thing for Boba. From the day you agreed to work with him to this current moment. The both of you met while searching for a bounty. He got attacked by several men at the same time and you hopped in to help him. He was impressed, to say at least. You joked about saving his life and how he would owe you something.

The bounty hunter was almost speechless at that moment. You weren't afraid of him. You knew who he was, but you weren't afraid, not in the slightest. He was almost sure he could like you until it turned out that both of you were going after the same bounty. Boba tried to tell you that you had no right to go after this man and that he would kill you if you still tried to, but the only thing you said was:”Are you afraid of losing, old man?”

And that is how it started. You were able to catch the first bounty. Boba was angry about it, but he would never tell that he was almost as much impressed by your fighting and hunting skills. Those games continued for weeks. Every time you met each other on a planet, searching for a bounty, you made a contest out of it.

He would never admit it, but he loved it. He loved to see you getting lost in your hunting instincts and trying to get whoever you were looking for. He loved seeing you fight, you were much stronger than you looked. But mostly he loved to see your euphoric smile when you showed him the bounty you just caught. Of course he would never admit that to you, but he loved spending this time with you.

But things got more stressful on Tatooine and he had to stay there for a certain amount of time, dealing with his business. You two didn't see each other anymore and it drove both of you crazy. You listened to every conversation about Boba to find out where he was right now, secretly hoping to see him again as soon as possible.

Until one day, you received a message from the King of the Underworld himself. He said that he would need more good bounty hunters in his palace and offered you a job at his side. Obviously, you couldn't say no, so the next day you made your way to the palace to start working with him and his right hand Fennec.

The three of you got along pretty well and work seemed to be as easy as never before. The only thing disturbing the good climate you had in the palace was the never ending tension between you and Boba. You didn't know what exactly the reason was for this undeniable tension, but it drove you mad. You were attracted to him, there was no point in denying that. But you also knew that he saw you as a coworker, maybe a friend. There were other things going through his head than what was going on between the two of you. You were also sure that you just imagined all the small hints which could possibly be a sign for him returning your feelings.

Until Fennec decided to confront you. She asked you why you didn't already tell him, that it was already really obvious. You didn't know what to say and tried to deny your feelings. The only reaction she showed to your very bad lie was a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I can't wait until you both realize that each of you returns the feelings for the other one.” was the last thing she said before she walked away and it still haunted you to this day.

Your eyes were glued to the mirror in front of you while you were trying to do your eyeliner. Finally finished, you looked at yourself. Even though you didn't use makeup on a regular basis, it looked really good. Happy with your hair and makeup, you went back to the closet.

Your eyes scanned every single piece of clothing in there. What would be something acceptable to wear while having dinner with a King? One of the dresses caught your eye, but before you were able to pull it out of the closet the door to your room got opened.

Eyes widened in shock, you looked at Boba who stood in the doorway. You couldn't see it but his eyes scanned your almost naked body. He didn't even realize it but his breathing stopped as soon as he saw you. You looked absolutely stunning. Only when his eyes met yours through his visor, he realized that he was staring at you. He snapped out of his thoughts and turned around, trying to get his breathing under control.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to see if everything is alright and tell you that dinner is ready in about half an hour.” he spoke with a raspy voice.

“Okay, alright. I will be there.” You looked at his back while speaking.

Without another word Boba went out of the room and closed the door behind him. He walked down the corridor with large steps. The picture of you, just standing there in the probably hottest set of lingerie he ever saw, was burned into his mind. They asked him for your size, yes, but he never thought they would pick out something like this for you. Maker, he needed to cool down.

Entering his room, he sat down on the white sheets of his bed. Seeing you like this was completely new for him and he couldn't deny the fact that his trousers got tighter when he had scanned the length of your body. He knew you for a good amount of time now, but most of the time he had enough self-control to not imagine you in this certain kind of way. But this time, he couldn't help himself.

Pictures of your body laying underneath him flooded his mind. He wondered if the sounds you made were just as beautiful as you? Would your lips feel as soft as they look? Would you taste like- Kriff. His eyes snapped open and he let out a deep sigh. At this point, he was rock hard just by thinking of you. He needed to stop.

He knew that someone as beautiful as you and also younger than him would never share the same feelings as him. You were able to have any person you wanted, why would you choose him? He thought back when you first arrived at his palace.

The way the people eyed you. Hundreds of hungry eyes stared at you. He still remembered how glad he was that he wore his helmet, so no one could see his jealous expression. Only when you walked up to him and started talking to him, the people stopped staring at you. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was to pull you onto his lap and show everyone that you belonged to him and if anyone dared to lay a hand on you, they would have to deal with Boba himself.

But you weren't his. You belonged to no one, you told him more than once. And he understood what you meant by saying this and he respected you, more than anyone else. But he still found himself alone at night, wishing you were by his side.

A knock on the door ripped him out of his daydreams.

“I just wanted to tell you that food is ready in five minutes.” A voice said through the door. After that it got silent again. Trying to get you out of his head he stood up and made his way into the dining hall. This is going to be a long night.

You stood in silence for a minute after Boba left your room. You noticed his staring, but you weren't sure if it was just because you were in your underwear or if he really thought you were attractive.

Thinking about it for a second, you decided to try your luck today. If it turned out that he wasn't interested, you could finally live in peace again. But if he was, then you were going to have a very good night.

The bounty hunter was already sitting at the table when you entered the large dinner room. You saw how his helmet turned in your direction but you couldn't see any reaction from his side. And again, Boba was very happy to wear that stupid helmet. You looked stunning. Your body was covered by a silky black dress with thin straps. It went down to your legs and hugged all your curves perfectly. He swallowed hard, almost sure everyone could hear it.

With a nervous look, you settled down in the seat beside him. You looked at his black visor and he nodded slightly. Before you could say anything the King, as you learned for the maid, stood up and began to speak.

“Tonight we want to honor our guests, the great Boba Fett and his beautiful partner. Our kingdom was able to make a deal from which we all are going to profit from and which will keep us all safe.” He raised his glass in your direction. “We hope you enjoy your meal and now, let the festivities begin.”

He brought his glass to his lips and drank one sip, before everyone else joined in.

Two big doors swung open and the staff brought in the food. You almost couldn't believe your eyes. So many different kinds of food, mostly things you didn't even know. Your stomach started rumbling at the sight of all the different courses. With wide eyes, you looked at Boba once more. He didn't notice because he was in the middle of taking off his helmet. You were about to stop him, but it was already too late. He never let his enemies or business partners see his face, but by the reaction of the other people in this room it wasn't the first time they saw him. He turned his face to you and mustered you with a confused look.

“What's the matter?” His eyes fixed on yours while he was trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“Nothing. Don’t worry.” You shook your head slightly.

Bringing your eyes back to the food in front of you, you couldn't stop yourself from starting to eat. So many different vegetables and fruits. All the different variations and sauces. You moaned when the first piece of food found its way into your mouth. This was the best feeling you've ever experienced.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Boba watched you and a small smile tugged at his lips as he saw your satisfied expression when you finally started eating.

Without even trying to hold back you ate as much food as you could. Each dish was better than the other and you were almost overwhelmed at all the different choices.

You were still eating even after all the others finished their meal, but you didn't care. You had no good food in weeks and to be completely honest, the food on Tatooine wasn't the best either.

Shoving the last piece of food into your mouth you fell back into your seat, holding your tummy. You were stuffed, to say the least.

“Finished already? Don't you want to lick the plates of all the others clean too?” Boba smirked at your exhausted figure, bringing his glass to his lips.

You gave him a playful annoyed look, but couldn't hold back your laugh. The corners of his mouth raised around the glass.

Before you were able to reply something the other man beside you started talking to you. You were so caught up in getting food inside your stomach that you didn't even talk to anyone in here. So you gladly interacted in the conversation the other man tried to build up.

Turns out this planet was one of the only ones which stayed completely out of the war that happened some years ago; which was impressive because almost no planet was able to stay out of those kinds of politics. But this was the reason why everything here was so old. They never had to rebuild anything because nothing ever got destroyed. Maybe by accident on occasion but never due to war. The people who lived here had one of the oldest environmental systems in the galaxy, which is the reason why you didn't recognize most of the food. It's local and you are not able to get it on any different planets. You wondered if Boba made a deal about some kind of spices, but he was more than a spice smuggler. That would make no sense.

Suddenly, in the middle of the conversation, someone came up behind you and sat a new plate in front of you. On it was a fruit, you also didn't recognize. It had thick skin and was bright yellow. You looked around and saw that Boba and you were the only one with this kind of food on their plates. With a confused look you turned your head to him but he just shrugged his shoulders, signaling you that he also had no idea what kind of fruit that was.

“We decided to give you some of our rarest food on the planet. It is hard to grow and actually is the only fruit we sometimes sell to other planets. But after everything you will be doing for us, I think you deserve to get a taste.”, the King spoke and looked at the two of you. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination but all the other people in the room looked at you with a smirk on their face. As if they knew something you didn't.

There was no room left in your stomach, you were full. But after everything the man said, you didn't want to be rude, so you took your fork and tried a small piece of the yellow food in front of you.

Before you even started chewing it, you tasted how sweet it was. Too sweet. You grimaced at the overwhelming taste. It was like nothing you ever tasted before. It gave your tongue a tingling sensation but also made it numb at the same time. The juice that squished out of it when you bit it, immediately ran down your throat. You desperately tried to hold back a cough. With one big gulp, you swallowed the piece of fruit and laid your fork back down.

Side-eyeing Boba, you saw that he wasn't impressed by the taste either. Just now you realized that all eyes in the room were laid on the two of you, waiting for your reaction.

“It-” You began, clearing your raspy voice before continuing, “It tastes delicious, really. Amazing, different taste.” It was a lie and anyone smart enough would have realized but it seemed like the people didn't notice. They started smiling, bringing their attention to their own desserts.

Boba looked at you in a way that said 'You are a terrible liar.', but you didn't care as long as everyone was happy.

“I'm very glad to hear that and now eat up. We wouldn't want to waste anything of this delicate fruit.” You sent a death look into the direction of the king, but your partner nudged your side with his elbow.

“Eat up. You don't want to be rude, do you?” Your death glare wandered directly to Boba and he smirked at you. Cocky bastard.

With a disgusted look on your face you took the fork again and started eating the fruit.

Soon it was much later in the evening but you didn't notice the passage of time because you were actually having some nice conversations with the people from the city. You talked about the wars, the way this planet stayed out of them, the story of how you became a bounty hunter and joined Boba.

Your eyes wandered into the direction of said bounty hunter more than once that night. Sure, he wasn't someone to talk much, especially about his feelings, but you couldn't deny the feeling of disappointment that he didn't even acknowledge the way you looked tonight. The small amount of hope in you wasn't strong, but it was surely gone by now. Forcing your eyes away from him, you started listening to the story one of the women in front of you was currently telling.

Boba didn't feel well. It wasn't the amount of strangers around him or the fact that he probably ate too much, no. It was the fact that you turned heads in this room. From more than just one or two people.

But well, he couldn't blame them. Your body looked like art in the dress you were wearing. He asked himself what the reason was, for your choice of looks tonight. Did you want to impress someone? Boba knew you had your fair amount of affairs. It had been revealed after you two along with Fennec drank too much spotchka one night and talked about your sex lives. He still didn't know how that happened.

Anyway, even though he knew you weren't his, he tried to keep everyone away from you that showed just the slightest bit of interest in you. He knew it wasn't fair, but he couldn't stand the thought of someone else touching you. Was this the reason you were dressed like this? Did you want to hook up with someone from the palace?

He shook his head. He had no reason to think about your intimate relationships with others; he had no right to judge or decide over your choices. But the more he let his mind wander, more thoughts of you popped up in his head. And one of the thoughts was the picture of you in your underwear. Again.

Suddenly, he felt hot. Not in the way he felt when he was angry or embarrassed, but actually hot. So hot that he started sweating. He looked around to find a reason why the temperature suddenly had changed in here but it seemed like no one else noticed. He tried to adjust himself in the chair. It felt like his armor got two sizes smaller and he wasn't able to breathe. Different parts of his body began to tingle and he was sure he would pass out. His body quickly raised from his seat, to get out of the room but the second he stood, he couldn’t move due to the feeling of dizziness that held him. Boba stood there for a second before he made his way out of the dinner hall.

Your eyes fell on his quickly moving body and the way the look on his face seemed alarmed. Something told you to follow him. Without excusing yourself, you left your seat and made your way up to him. Before he was able to leave the room, you reached for his arm and stopped him. He turned to you, his eyes wide in shock.

“Boba, are you alright? You look terrible.” The look on your face was concerned and you glanced at him through your lashes. He stared at you, not without noticing how his eyes started to wander over your body.

“I- umm...” He stopped his rambling when he felt a painful sting in his lower belly, his erection forming in his pants. What was wrong with him?

“Kriff.” was all he said, looking around to see if anyone was staring at the two of you. Luckily no one seemed to care about the fact that the two of you were standing away from the table.

Without thinking, Boba grabbed your waist and pulled you a little closer to him. You were so surprised. You couldn't think of anything to say. He lowered his head so his mouth was directly at your ear.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning, be ready. I'm going to bed now and you should too, Princess.” Not a second later, he released his grip on you and was gone.

Princess. The word rang through your ears. It was almost as if you could still feel his hands on you. A shiver ran down your shine when you thought about his breath hitting your sweaty neck. Lost in your thoughts you still looked at the door he left through.

A sharp pain in your stomach shook you out of your trance. You flinched at the feeling, wondering what that was. But a moment later, you felt a burning heat in your core and the feeling spread through your whole body. You grew even hotter than before. Maybe Boba was right. You should go to bed.

It was harder than you thought to find your way back to your quarters. The fact that your legs got weaker with every step and the slightly dizzy feeling in your head wasn't helping either. You stumbled through the corridors, hoping to soon find your stupid room. Who needs a palace that big anyway?

After some more minutes, you were sure you finally arrived. About to open the door to your room, you heard a strange sound coming from a chamber down the hall. You stayed still, to see if it wasn't just your head trying to trick you.

“Dank Farrik!”

Even though your whole body was aching at this point, you followed the sound. A loud groan came out of one room and you realized it was Boba. A little bit faster than before, or at least as fast as you were able to go, you went to the door the sound was coming from. Your mind clouded from the heat and pain taking over your body as you knocked.

“Boba?” Your voice was weak and raspy as if you had been screaming for hours straight. Nothing happened, so you tried again. “Are you alright? I heard some noise-”, a sore, deep voice cut you of.

“I'm... I'm alright.” A sore, deep voice cut you off. On the other side of the door, the man struggled to speak. His throat felt so dry as if he had wandered through the dunes of Tatooine for days without a single drop of water. Every part of his body arched and he panted, not being able to breath properly.

When he entered his room some moments ago, he got rid of his armor, tossing it carelessly onto the floor and falling down onto the bed. He didn't feel dizzy anymore but there was pain, almost as bad as in the sarlacc, flowing through his body and especially into his abandonment. He was hard, harder than ever before and it hurt. Scared of touching himself, of making the pain even worse, he just kept laying there, hoping that the pain would go away. No luck yet.

There was a white noise in your ears and you almost didn't hear what he said. His voice sounded so breathy; you were afraid he was hurt. You tried to steady yourself by holding on to the doorknob. You felt like you were about to pass out, but you still wanted to make sure that everything was alright.

“Are you s... sure? It doesn't sound like it.” It almost hurt to speak.

You heard a terrifying growl from the other side of the door.

“Fucking hell. I'm doing fine and now go to bed.” Boba shouted.

Too dizzy to be shocked or to show any reaction towards his tone you slowly made your way back to your quarters. Barely able to find the strength to push the door open, you almost fell into the room. The pain got even worse and couldn't hold your body up any longer. You felt your legs carry you across the room so you could collapse on the bed, groaning loudly as your body landed on the mattress. Your mind wasn’t able to form any kind of rational thought. The only thing you were aware of was the pain in your body and the growing wetness between your legs.

You had no idea what was going on, only realizing that you started to become incredibly needy. With all the force you could muster in the moment, you rubbed your thighs together to create even the smallest amount of friction. You almost started cringing when you felt how just wet you were. Maker, what was wrong with you?

The pressure from your thighs wasn't enough. Your panties were already soaked, even without anyone touching you. Slowly, you let one of your hands go between your legs. Your body jumped at the first light touch and an obscene moan left your mouth. Holding your other hand over your mouth, you carefully started to touch yourself.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on giving yourself some kind of pressure pleasure, but it didn't work. The pain was still there and it seemed like it wasn't about to leave any time soon. Starting to move your hand faster, to find your way to the desperately needed climax, you heard the sound of your wet cunt.

You’ve never been this wet. Especially without anyone touching you. Your thoughts drifted to Boba. Him calling you princess surely couldn't be the reason for the mess between your legs. You wanted to fuck him, but you weren't that affection starved. Or were you?

Thinking about your partner brought you closer to your own orgasm. Two of your fingers circled around your clit and started to become sloppy as you grew closer to your release. Your eyes stayed shut, trying to imagine something that would help you. You thought of Boba, sitting on his throne, legs wide and taking every inch of space in the big seat. The way he looked so dangerous, just by doing nothing then looking around the room. How often you thought about riding him in that position. You on top of him, his large hands on your hips. You would be completely naked for him while he still wore his armor, feeling the cold beskar against your heated skin. His body would tense underneath yours while he pounded into you, calling you his good girl.

You were so close, you could feel the familiar heat rising. Just one or two more seconds.

“Hey. Are you here? Can you hear me?” Your hand moved from your core as fast as possible. Shooting your eyes into the direction of the door, but it was still closed. A groan left your mouth. You were so close and the pain was still so present in your body, you were probably imagining things.

Just as you were about to continue, the voice rang through the room again. You tried to sit up, looking around, searching for the reason you were able to hear him.

“Are you mad at me? Dank- I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you.” Boba sounded like he was out of breath. Your eyes landed on the pile of clothes on the floor. Sure, your comlink. On shaky legs, you walked to your old clothes and took the small speaker from your belt.

You were afraid to say something. Did he hear you? You were embarrassed. He was your coworker and you just almost had an orgasm while thinking about him.

“Boba.” The only thing leaving your mouth, in a breathless voice, was his name. You weren't able to say more, afraid that he might sense what you just did.

The man in the other room was still laying on his bed. He didn't trust himself to stand up. His heavy breathing was the only sound around him. His fist clenched around the comlink, after he heard you speaking. Your voice sounded just as weak as his, you must feel the same reaction as he did.

Boba has been to a lot of planets and different cities, but this feeling was new to him. He knew what the cause for this was, probably. The fruit contained a certain type of pollen. He heard about them, about the stuff they do to the ones eating it. It was almost like an aphrodisiac, people would get desperate for any kind of sexual interaction, just to make the pain go away. And he also knew that the pain would fade much faster, if you would do something about it and even better, not by yourself.

The sound of you whispering his name through the speaker made his hips twitch. He would never act on the feelings he had right now, especially not with you. You were too important to him and he would never forgive himself if he lost you due to his needy brain and body. But he couldn't stop thinking about you. The fact that you felt the same exact pain he did in this moment, made it even worse.

“Are you... are you alright?” Your quiet voice cut through his thoughts. Maker, why did your voice have to sound so fucking desperate? He shuts his eyes close, trying to stay focused.

“Yes, I think so. What about you?”

“No. No, I think something is wrong with me.” Boba's eyes snapped open again when he heard you were crying. “I- I don't know why, but everything hurts. Kriff, it hurts so bad Boba. I don't know what to do.” By now your voice was almost unrecognizable, it was shaky and blurred from your crying.

The heart of the bounty hunter sank deep in his chest. He didn't want you to go through this. “Okay, try to calm down. You got this, try to ignore it.” He almost laughed at himself. There was no way to ignore it and he knew that.

“Are you kidding me? Try to ignore it? Boba, it feels like my whole body is on fire, I can't just pretend I don't feel that shit.” There was a hint of annoyance in your voice and he couldn't blame you. He was better at controlling his body in general and it was still hell for him. He couldn't even imagine how you felt. “You know what, I'm coming over, right now.”

“No!” He screamed the word into the communicator in his hand. With all his strength, he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. There was no way he would spend this time with you. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if you were with him.

“Boba, what the he-”

“I know what might help you.” His tone was low and calm, trying not to cross a line with what he was about to say. “You need to touch yourself.”

Your mouth fell open. Did... did he really just say that? You stayed silent, not knowing what to say. That was what you were already doing, touching yourself, but hearing him saying those words sent goosebumps all over your body.

“Before you start to protest, yes I know it sounds strange, but believe me, it will help you.” A moment of silence fell above you before he started to speak again. “Please. I don't want you to be in this terrible pain. Do... do it for me, please.”

You weren't able to stop the whine that left you after hearing his words. It was too much; this whole situation was too much for you. Your body was aching and you knew that your hands would never be able to sooth the pain and growing heat between your legs.

“Boba, I-” He cuts you off once again.

“S- stop saying my name like that, please. I will not be able to control myself if you keep doing that.” You felt even more heat rising in your body at his words. “Just... just try to do what I just told you.”

Without letting go of the comlink, you sneaked your hand under your dress once again and into your wet folds. You moaned at the feeling. There was a hiss, coming out of the speaker and you heard the man on the other end swearing.

“That's it. Just keep doing that.” Boba wasn't able to hold it back anymore, freeing his painful hard cock from his pants. It snapped up against his tummy and he threw his head back when the cold air hit his aching member.

“Boba.” This time you moaned his name on purpose and he really had to hold himself back from cumming right there and then, “I- I can't do this on my own, please.”

At this point you didn't care how desperate you sounded or if he could hear the sounds you were making. You needed something. You needed him.

The man heard you, very well, and it drove him crazy. He put his hand around his cock, slowly starting to pump it. It didn't feel good. He didn't like to masturbate in general, but with this burning need inside him and hearing you, touching yourself, it felt even worse. The urge to touch you has never been this strong, but he needed to keep it together. You only did that because you felt the pain this fruit caused, not because you were genuinely attracted to him.

Your fingers circled your clit, but it didn't feel like it was enough. Silent tears were still streaming down your face because you couldn't build up the friction you really needed. You whined in frustration.

Boba was sure he wouldn't last long if you kept making those sounds. Maker, what would he give to see you right now. Disheveled hair, your makeup probably all over your face, your hand between your legs and eyes closed. He was sure you looked like a goddess.

“Please, Boba. I need-” He had to stop you. He couldn't listen to you with that sweet, sweet voice of yours any longer.

“Alright, okay. Just do what I tell you.” The bounty hunter didn't believe what he was about to do. He has wanted you for so long and even though you weren't with him right now, he would savor every second of this.

“Just... umm...” He stopped himself and rasped his voice. He never had a problem with being talkative during sex. He actually really liked it but with you and especially in this situation, it felt different. “Bring your middle finger and your pointing finger to your clit and start rubbing it in circles. Not too fast, to build up some good pressure.” His grip around his cock tightened at the picture of you in his head.

You did as he told you and moaned, more at the words he spoke than to the actual feeling of pleasure. Never in your life have you been this turned on, not only because of the strange feeling in your body but also by the way Boba guided you through this. You could already feel the familiar heat growing in your lower stomach again. It wouldn't take long for you to finish.

He needed a moment to breath before he continued. Your moaning and whining made his dick twitch in his hand. His thumb collected the precum that already leaked and used it to start stroking himself again.

“Now use those two fingers, slide them inside of you and start fucking yourself.” His mind was clouded with pictures of you. The sounds you made rang in his ears and he wasn't able to hold his grunting back anymore.

The two of you listened to each other, touching yourselves. Both of you would lie if they said that this wasn't the hottest thing you’ve ever done. Feelings aside, the urge to feel one another and touch each other was so present and burning as never before, it was almost worse than the actual pain in your bodies.

Your back arched as you felt yourself getting close again, but you needed to hear his voice one more time. “Boba, I'm- I'm so close... I-” He was too and your words almost sent him over the edge, but he wanted to help you reach your climax first.

“It's alright, Princess. Just l- let go.” The hand around his cock sped up. His rapid pace was almost hurtful. “Imagine it’s someone else doing that to you. Imagine your fingers are someone else's, someone you wish was touching you right now.”

An incredibly loud sound left your mouth and you began to see stars. Your legs started to twitch and shake, while a loud white noise flooded your ears. Without thinking you started to scream. “You. Fuck, I wish it was you who was touching me right now, Boba.” You cummed hard. Your toes curled, your head pressing into the mattress underneath you. The hand inside of you stopped moving and started shaking, like every other part of your body.

As you laid there panting, you slowly came back to your senses. It was silent, but the pain in your body was still as present as before your orgasm. You groaned in frustration.

“It didn't help. Fuck, Boba. The pain is still there.” You whined but there was no reaction. The other side of the comlink was completely silent. Tears build themselves up and were about to escape your already burning eyes. You fucked up. You just told him you wished he would touch you.

“Shit!” You screamed and pressed your hands flat over your face. The tears started to stream down your face faster now as you started crying again. The pain and the embarrassment took over your brain, you never wanted to see him again. He would fire you, bring you back to the planet you came from and leave you there. You started sobbing and removed the hands from your face to place one of them over your mouth to muffle your pitiful cries.

You hated yourself right now. So much so that you would rather stay in this room forever than ever have to see his face again. The moment repeated itself in your head over and over again. You didn't notice when he broke the connection, but you knew that he probably did it after the last sentence you said.

New tears formed in the corner of your eyes, but before they were able to make their way down your face the door to your room got pushed open. Your head turned to the person standing in the doorway. It was Boba, wearing nothing but his black flight suit he always wore underneath his armor. You brought up your head and steadied yourself on your elbows.

“What are you-” The man was in front of you in a matter of seconds, looking down at your weak form. You slowly sat up and stared into his dark eyes.

“Was that what you said the truth?” His voice was even deeper in person. He looked exhausted, breathing unsteadily and sweating all over his face.

“Boba, I... I don't know-” One of his hands grabbed your chin roughly and tilted your head in his direction. Your heartbeat was going faster than before. It was hammering hard against your chest. You could feel it in every part of your body.

“Just tell me if you meant what you just said, or not. Because if you did, I will help you. I- I will touch you, just the way you need it, little one.” His eyes pierced into yours. His voice sounded calm but you could see that he was just as worked up as you. “And if not, I will leave you alone. I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do.”

It was almost as if you forgot how to breath. His words rang through your ears and for a second you believed you passed out and all of this was a dream. But the grip around your chin proved you wrong.

“I asked you a question.” He said in a more aggressive tone. The hand on your face tugged you slightly forward and only now you became aware of his hard erection, pressing against his pants. You swallowed loudly, looking back up into his eyes. A small smirk played around his lips.

“Like what you see?” The smirk on his face grew even wider when he saw your head nodding.

“Now tell me,” He brought his body down to yours to look directly into your face, “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to help you get rid of the pain?”

He paused for a second and brought his face closer to yours so both of your noses were touching.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Your breathing hitched in your lungs and you felt a hot sting going through your body, going straight to your cunt. Boba drew his face away from you, just a little bit, but you already wanted to protest. Your hands rose up and grabbed his broad shoulders.

“Yes.” It was nothing more than a silent breath but the words rang in his ears as if you screamed them. “Yes, I want you to touch me and make me feel good, I- Fuck, Boba. I want you so bad.”

Without wasting another second he crushed his lips onto yours and started kissing you. The kiss was heated, fast and passionate. Teeth clenched against teeth and tongues tried their best to taste the other person. His lips were softer than you expected, they were warm and inviting. A tingling feeling made its way to your chest and you realized you never wanted this to stop.

You felt like you were in heaven and even forgot about the pain for a second, but not for long. Boba's hands were holding your face, brought it even closer to his while you did the same with your hands around his neck.

His mouth pulled away from yours as he began to wander and kiss his way down your throat. He let both of his hands slide down your body, over your breasts until he rested them at your waist. Your body arched into his touch and a whimper escaped you. The man's lips twitched into a smile, feeling proud about the reaction of your body against his touches.

With one hand on your back, he slowly started to lay you down on the bed. His body was now hovering over you and you could feel the strong heat radiating from him. Every kiss he left on your bare skin was like a small flame burning its way into your mind.

When his lips reached your cleavage he stopped and looked up to you. You looked so beautiful, a sweating, panting mess underneath him. That's everything he ever dreamed of, maybe even more.

Both of his hands ran patiently down your sides until he got to your thighs. He reached for the hem of your dress and pulled it up a little bit. His hot mouth went down your clothed body, not once breaking the eye contact.

You shivered at the sight in front of you. Every part of you felt like it was electrified and you were sure you would explode if he wouldn't start properly touching you soon.

Boba went onto his knees in front of the bed, now pulling up your dress so that the hem of it lay just above your panties. His eyes fell to the soaked green material that still covered your heat.

“Look at you. If it wasn't for the fucking fruit, I would say that you are pretty desperate for me, little one.” A wide smirk covered his face and even more heat rose into yours.

“What has the fruit to do with-” But you were cut off by the feeling of one of his thick fingers sliding in between your wet folds. Your mouth fell open in a breathless moan and your head pushed back into the white covers. Only when you heard the man in front of you humming your head came back up only to see that the finger, which was between your legs just seconds ago, was now in his mouth. His eyes found yours while he licked his finger clean, pulling it back out with a small popping sound.

“You taste fucking delicious. Better than any food anyone’s ever served me.” He smiled at you. “Even better than I've imagined.”

Your eyes widened at his words. He imagined the way you tasted? The man in front of you was about to pull down your panties, but you stopped him. He looked at you with a confused expression.

“What do you mean with 'you imagined'? Have you thought about this before? About us?” The pain was buzzing through your body, but you needed to know.

His expression softened and a small smile appeared on his face. He planted a soft kiss on your knee before talking.

“Princess, are you serious? I've dreamed about this for so long, to finally have you. To feel, taste and hear you, everything. But right now,” His lips made their way up on your inner thigh, “is not the time to talk about this. Let me soothe your pain and afterwards, we can talk about everything. I promise. Right now, I just want to taste you.”

He reached your clothed cunt and pressed a kiss on to it. His fingers reached up to the waistband of your panties. Your legs were already shaking from watching him move. You were about to tell him not to tease you when a knock on the door cut through the thick tension hanging between the both of you.

A sigh left your lungs and you fell back into the sheets underneath you. This couldn't be real. You whined, tears swelling up in your eyes again.

Boba noticed and started rubbing his hands up and down your legs. “Hey, hey. Calm down. We don't have to answer.”

It stayed silent for a while, a relieved feeling washed over your body. Boba started kissing your inner thighs again and just before he reached the spot where you needed him the most, the knock disturbed you once again.

“Kriffing hell.” The bounty hunter muttered to himself and got up. With large steps he went to the door and opened it just enough so the other person could see his face.

It was one of the maids. She looked at Boba with an apologizing look.

“I'm sorry to disturb you but our communication system received a call from your palace on Tatooine. There is a woman, called Fennec Shand and she wants to talk to you. She didn't say what it was about but she said it is urgent.”

He wanted to scream, wanted to tear down the whole palace. No, not now. His head turned into your direction. You looked at him with dove eyes, still shimmering from your previous tears. He couldn't do that now, both of you still in the middle of the reaction from this fruit. He was in pain too, but he knew it was worse for you. Turning his head he looked back at the maid.

“The woman is waiting for you.” Boba sighed. He knew it was wrong but he needed to know what Fennec thought was so urgent.

“Give me a second, I will be right there.”, he said before closing the door.

The man turned around and looked at you once more. He didn't want to go. His deepest desire, finally so close to him and his duty as the King of the Underworld keeping him away from reaching it.

“I have to go.”

“What?” Your body shot up from it's laying spot in the bed. A hand reached out to him and clutched at his sleeve. “No. No, please. You can't leave me now.”

“I have to, but it won't take long, I promise.” Boba gabbed the back of your head and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He was about to turn around, but you still didn't let go of him.

“Boba, stop. Please I- it still hurts. I can't take this anymore.” He looked at you, bringing his hand to your cheek.

“You can do it and while I'm gone you’re going to touch yourself again, you hear me? Prepare your pretty, little cunt for me and when I come back, I will give you everything you need.” Not waiting for another response from you, he freed his arm from your grip and walked out of the room.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #smut #sex pollen #the mandolorian #the book of boba fett

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

I Need You | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Here’s another Mikaelson Brother’s fic. This time it’s a firefighter AU. I don’t know why I was so inspired but oh well, here it is anyway. Please do ignore the blatant plot holes and dropped plot points. I wrote this purely for the fluff so the rest doesn’t matter too much! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Until next time, all my love!

Description: The brothers are firefighters and they come back to the station after a long day only to find an unconscious woman in their fire station. It turns out she’s their mate and she's seconds from death. From there it’s pure fluff/smut. Honestly the plot of this is weak, I just wanted something majorly fluffy.

Pairing: Female!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! It’s not a full blown smut but it does get heated. It’s hella light smut. Honestly the warning should read something more like “inappropriate actions for on duty firefighters towards a civilian at the workplace”. Take into mind that I do not condone this behaviour outside of my fics but that they are soulmates and it’s all consensual! The other warning is angst. This is super graphic at the beginning but after that it gets better.

Word count: 7.3k

Tags: Angst, smut, fluff

P.S. This is only in the boys’ perspectives for like five nanoseconds, after that it’s completely in the reader’s

Tag list: @activist-af @corishirogane3

(Pictures not mine, mood board is!)

“Remind me, Elijah,” Klaus runs a hand through his hair, shaking some of the soot from his blonde hair, “why we decided to do this again?”

Elijah huffs indignantly, also shaking out his hair and shrugging the heavy coat off his shoulders. His hoodie underneath is soaked through with sweat and it follows the same path. Klaus already stands in just a t-shirt, the navy material glued to his skin.

“Don’t you remember, brother?” Kol hops out of the truck from behind the wheel, his bare chest exposed, spare the straps keeping the bottom half of his turnout gear on, a cheerful grin on his lips, “He wanted us to give back to the community. I believe his exact words were firefighters or soldiers.”

It’s true, Elijah had wanted them to do something meaningful with their lives. Well, with a fraction of their lives. He wanted them to be a family again and what better way to do that than to take on a career built on teamwork. Honestly, he had expected them to last maybe six months before quitting but now they were three years deep and he couldn’t see them going anywhere for a while. Somehow station 32 in small town Virginia had become a home base for them.

Elijah leans against the brick of the old fire station, closing his eyes for a moment, “just be happy I didn’t suggest doing both.”

“What makes you think I would follow you to war,” Klaus laughs but it’s hollow, the strain of the day settling over his bones.

They haven’t had a day this strenuous in months, sixteen calls in one day and it’s only eight. Human or not, that’s a lot of heavy lifting. Klaus would do anything for some sleep. He sags against the wall next to his brother. Despite the sleep tugging at his body he can’t seem to relax. Something is keeping his spine rigid, something he can’t quite place his mind on. Oh well.

Elijah chuckles, his eyes still shut, “you followed me here didn’t you? Face it, you needed this as much as I did.”

Klaus doesn’t speak, he just hums his agreement, something entirely unlike him but brought on from the exhaustion. His shoulders remain tight, his muscles stiff. The air feels like it's buzzing lightly, charged with something he doesn’t have enough energy to think about.

Kol laughs through his own fatigue, stretching his arms behind him, ignoring the way his bones click slightly, “I, for one, need a shower. I smell like flames and I hate it. I suggest you two do the same,” he turns from his slumped brothers, “I can smell you from here.”

Elijah pulls himself from the wall, rolling his shoulders and peeling his eyes open, “come on, Niklaus, you can take a nap for a few hours. I doubt the rest of the night will be eventful, half the town should be asleep by now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two brothers catch up with Kol easily, grabbing their discarded gear on the way and heading towards the locker room. Kol is the first to step through the door, adamant on jumping in the shower before his brothers take all the hot water like they usually do, when he stops suddenly, all of his senses on high alert. Something is wrong, terribly so. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, catching the faintest hint of sweetness, like vanilla and oranges, mingled with something sharper. Something too familiar.

“Kol, what are you-” Elijah doesn’t get to finish his thought.

“Blood,” Klaus pushes past both of them, his eyebrows furrowed, “I smell blood. Someone’s here.”

Kol nods and steps further into the room, directly followed by Klaus and Elijah. As they push forward, towards the showers, the scent of fresh blood intensifies. So does the vanilla citrus perfume, magnifying and tangling around each brother. The room is electrified because of it, drawing them quicker to the heart of the locker room. The distinct sound of three heartbeats fills the room, each one louder than the last. Thump, thump, thump.

When they turn the corner they freeze, each heart skipping a beat in the same moment. There, in the middle of the showers, is an unconscious woman. A naked, unconscious woman slumped over in a pool of her own blood. Her body is battered, more blue and black than any other color. Who knew a vampire's blood could turn as cold as theirs is right now?

“Fuck,” Kol’s voice is the first to break the tension, dropping to his knees with a dull thud, his heart strings snapping violently in his chest, “fuck!”

Klaus is in front of her in a flash, his teeth ripping into his wrist without a second thought. Kol turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s no way he can watch this. The sweet smell wraps around him, taunting him almost. The overwhelming sense of loss wraps around him like a noose, his throat closing harshly. Why now, why like this?

“Is that,” Elijah, too, sinks to the ground, his hands splayed against the concrete, his eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of him, “is that who I think it is?”

His muscles tighten, an indescribable pain rippling through his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning. No, like he’s burning alive. Fuck, it feels like both at the same time. He wants to scream but no sounds are surfacing. This can’t be happening!

Kol’s voice is sharp and cracked, too many emotions to decipher leaking into his words, “yeah, it’s her. It’s our mate.”

Klaus presses his bleeding wrist to her mouth hard, tears streaming freely down his face. He couldn’t care less about how he looks, not right now. Not when it feels like someone is ripping his heart straight from his chest.

“Come on, love. Wake up. I need you! Wake up!”

* * * * * *

“Wake up. I need you! Wake up!”

You tear your eyes open suddenly, bright lights flooding your senses. You gasp as you regain consciousness, something that you realize too late is a mistake. Your mouth is filled with a thick, hot substance, one much too metallic and familiar for your liking, that you inhale by accident. It fills your lungs quickly, your chest burning, and you roll over, hacking up mouthfuls of the disgusting fluid. It feels like your entire body is engulfed in flames. Like you’re dying twice.

The concrete is freezing against your fiery arms and, when it finally blurs into focus, you realize it’s also covered in a deep red liquid. You run your tongue over your mouth, the tang making your eyes widen. Your heart stutters as you finally come to an understanding. Blood. The floor is covered in blood. Your blood. This time you vomit, and almost scream when you see it matches the liquid around you.

“Shit,” a voice sounds from behind you as a pair of hands slides over your back, startling you further into the sticky redness, “holy shit you’re awake. Oh thank god!”

You flinch away from the hands, turning too quickly to face whoever it is behind you. Mistake number two. The walls start spinning around you and you have to grasp the wet stone beneath you and close your eyes for a moment. When you finally open them again you’re met with a pair of warm, brown eyes. Your heart stutters again, but you don’t have time to wonder why you don’t feel as afraid this time.

“Who are you? What the hell is going on?” you run your eyes over him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “I don’t- where am I?”

Each of your senses are on high alert, your heart beating so loud you’re afraid it’s going to jump out of your chest, as you allow yourself to finally take in your surroundings. You're in a shower room of sorts, with rows of lockers on your one side and the tiled rows of shower stalls on the other. The smell of fresh blood hits you full force and you almost vomit again. You suck in a deep breath, ignoring the burning in your lungs as you try to force the feeling away. Your eyes catch some writing on the wall; Station 32. You look back to the man in front of you, zeroing in on his navy t-shirt with the same logo.

What the hell are you doing at a fire station?

He shifts closer to you and you stiffen. A pained expression laces across his face and your chest stings, worse than it did when you were coughing up the blood. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again there’s a sheen of tears. You swallow thickly, your own tears forming at the sight of his. What on earth is happening?

He sits back on his knees and runs a red hand through his blonde hair, maring the light strands with blood. You tense further at the sight. For some reason you want to stop him from spreading more of the blood over him. He’s already kneeling in a puddle of it, and his arms are soaked, painted in a cruel crimson. Even his t-shirt is drenched. You grind your teeth together, your jaw clenching harshly. He places both his hands on the floor and takes another few inches towards you.

His movements are slow as if not to startle you, “hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now. I’m Klaus, I’m a firefighter here. You’re at station 32, Lexington, Virginia.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, making what you can only assume is a strong british accent even stronger. Your heart tugs harshly when he speaks, begging you to move closer to him. You wrap your arms around yourself, ignoring the increasingly sticky feeling over your entire body. You can’t stop a few tears from slipping down your cheeks.

“How did I get here?”

A new voice, one just as accented and gravelly, pulls your attention from Klaus, “we aren’t sure, darling. We just got back ourselves. Gave us quite a shock, actually. How much do you remember?”

Your eyes wander around the blonde and land on two more men, two brunettes. You lock eyes with each of them, your heat racing once more. You suck in a breath at the wave of emotions that hit you. Sadness, confusion, longing, comfort. Love. It all hits you at once and you have to close your eyes before the room starts spinning again. When you open them again, they’re closer. Far enough to keep you from tensing, settled next to Klaus.

You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed. One of the men, the one with dark brown hair cut close to his head and concerned brown eyes, notices and wastes no time pulling the t-shirt from his chest and settling it on your knees. It’s warm and a touch damp but you don’t mind, gratefully shuffling it over your head and passing him a grateful nod. It lands mid thigh, circling you in a heady wood scent. Your cheeks flame as you try not to lean down and smell it directly. When you look back at him his eyes are glinting.

“I’m not sure,” you press your palms against your eyes and immediately regret it, the stickiness now smeared on your cheeks and eyelids, “I don’t remember much. Only bits and pieces from this morning but nothing after that. Wait, is that normal? God, why can’t I remember anything!”

All of a sudden you’re panicking and the room begins shrinking, at least it feels like it is. You can’t breathe, your lungs constricting painfully. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Was there ever enough? You’re racking your mind for any little thing that you can remember but it’s pointless, you’re going too fast and your mind can’t make sense of anything you’re seeing. You see a sink, one covered in blood. You see teeth. No, you see fangs. You smell the forest, one heavy with pine trees. None of it makes sense!

You claw maniacally at your chest, trying to suck in enough air to clear the fog in your head. Nothing is helping, your body is on fire and sticky and you just want to scream until it all makes sense. The shirt feels three sizes too small and you want to tear it over your head. Just before you can, though, you’re pulled onto someone's lap, someone who smells like pure water, and you can finally suck in a proper breath. The flames that were lapping your skin slowly start to fade, giving over to a cool sensation that soothes your achy bones.

“Deep breaths, love,” Klaus’ voice washes over you like a lullaby, his hands rubbing down your back, “that’s good, just like that. We’re going to figure this out but for now you just have to breathe. You’re safe now, I promise you that. We can start with an easy one, what’s your name?”

You sink into his chest more easily than you would like to admit. His arms circle you tighter, his head resting on yours in an entirely unprofessional way but you don’t care. You’ve never felt this kind of need before. You’re afraid that if you leave his arms now then the flames will come back.

“Y/n,” you murmur into his shoulder, “my name is y/n.”

A pair of hands rub over your shoulders, drawing you into them slightly on instinct, “darling, I know you’re scared but we need to see if you’re seriously hurt. We found you in a lot of blood,” whoever is speaking his voice is rough and he has to stop to clear his throat, muttering a curse under his breath, “do you think you can let us check you over?”

When he brings up the blood, it’s all you can smell again, and you scramble from Klaus’ arms, narrowly making it before you’re vomiting again. This time you don’t puke up any blood, thank god. Just bile, which isn’t much better. The metallic scent is all around you and it’s all you can do to hang your head and suck in as much air as possible. You feel so dizzy it physically hurts.

“Shit, Elijah we gotta get this cleaned up. It’s only making it worse. C’mere love,” you’re pulled into the warm chest of a man you’ve yet to interact with.

You lock eyes with the last man, losing your breath at his honey brown eyes. He smiles softly and you feel your cheeks go hot. You bring your hands to your lips quickly, all too aware of how close you are to this man and the fact that you were just throwing up and are soaked through with blood. You blink back a few tears, embarrassment streaming through you. You glance down at his chest which is now covered in your blood. The man furrows his brows, shaking his head lightly. You can almost hear his thoughts; don’t worry.

Elijah, the man who gave you his shirt, nods at Klaus, standing quickly, “you two take her to the captain’s bathroom, it’s nicer anyway and more private. I’m not expecting anyone else tonight but I’d rather them not see her like this,” he turns, locking eyes with you, his rough tone softening drastically, “baby, are you okay if they help you clean this blood off? They’re not going to hurt you, we just need to get you cleaned up and warm to make sure you don’t go back into shock.”

The word baby rings through your head, hitting you directly in the chest. Tendrils of warmth unfurl through your body and you find yourself nodding to everything he says. Elijah sags, relief taking over his body. It doesn’t last long though, the tension filling his frame as he looks back around the room.

“Kol,” the man under you tenses, “take her upstairs now. Niklaus, do you mind helping me with this? It’s-” Elijah looks at you again for a moment before he has to look away, “It’s going to take two people.”

Klaus stares at you longingly, the pained look back in his eyes. It makes you want to pull him into your arms, blood or no blood, and hold him. You tense at the thought. Where did that come from?

He looks at you a moment longer before crawling over to and running one of his stained hands over your cheek. He leans down and kisses the top of your head, rubbing his cheek against your matted hair. Sparks dance down your spine at the simple touch, lighting your body like a christmas tree. Too many emotions surface again, confusion and longing being the top contenders.

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can, love,” he whispers to you before standing himself and addressing Elijah, “yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Elijah nods at Klaus, his shoulders sagging slightly, probably out of relief again. Looking around one last time it’s obvious the job is going to take some major man-power. Thankfully the blood is contained mostly to the showers, but even so it’s coating almost every surface from there on. Looking at it makes you chest heavy again but before you can lose it Kol stands, pulling you up with him.

He holds you easily, bringing you level with Klaus and Elijah. Elijah strides over to you, taking your face in his hands. Your heart pounds mercilessly at his touch. It takes all your willpower not to jump into his arms and curl around his bare chest. You try not to stare at his taut muscles. Now is definitely not the time to let lust join the myriad of emotions running through you. Even as you force your eyes away, though, your body ignites and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs around Kol. Fucking hell, what is going on?

Kol’s arms tense suddenly and when you peak back at him, his eyes are shades darker. You swallow thickly, trying not to think too much about the heated look in his eyes. Or how much you don’t want him to stop looking at you like that. You peer back at Elijah, who holds a similar expression. You have to suck in a breath, the room temperature instantly raising ten degrees.

Elijah leans his forehead against yours, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones gently, “Kol’s going to take you upstairs now, okay baby? He’ll take care of you, help you wash some of this off. You’re in control here, alright? No one else is going to hurt you.”

You nod lightly, your forehead rubbing against his, “okay, Eli.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and presses a hard kiss to your head before releasing you. Kol shuffles you further up his body, drawing your attention to him. He grins at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and so warm. He sighs quietly, sinking his cheek into your touch, his eyes losing some of the tension.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.”

You lower your hand, choosing now to wrap your arms around his shoulders instead. His muscles under your fingertips are glorious, warm and firm. When you rest your face against his shoulder, you breathe in the faintest hints of nutmeg and flames. It’s absolutely intoxicating. His shoulder is hot against your cheek and you finally give into your cravings to curl your body around his, wrapping your legs tightly around his torso and clinging to him for dear life. He holds you against him with everything he has, taking the steps two at a time.

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until you feel him enter a separate room, one much smaller than the locker room you were previously in. You’re greeted with a spectacular sight; a spacious bathroom with a wall of showerheads and the biggest clawfoot tub you’ve ever seen. You almost jump from his arms at how badly you want to get in it.

He sets you down on a vast countertop, the cool marble biting into your bottom. You shiver lightly, a warm blush spreading down your neck and chest. He places his arms on either side of you, staring at you with a mixture of tenderness and caution. You have to will yourself to keep looking into his eyes and not at the way his arms flex from how he’s leaning. God, where did all these wanton feelings come from?

“Okay, darling, where are we going from here? What do you need me to do?” his accent is fuller due to the acoustics in the bathroom and you nearly keel over from how hard it slams through your body, tugging at every nerve south of your belly button.

“Um,” you clear your throat lightly, swallowing the sudden scratchiness, “do you think there’s a toothbrush anywhere around here?”

Kol grins knowingly, leaning down and opening a drawer next to your thigh. The heat rolling off his body rushes into your legs and when he resurfaces with a new toothbrush and a cheeky smile you’re practically panting.

“Thanks.”

You brush your teeth quickly, making sure to scrub the remnants of the past thirty minutes or so from your mouth. It instantly makes you feel a little better, knowing you can speak to Kol without your breath being a biohazard. You set the toothbrush down, looking back to him appreciatively.

Kol cups your chin gently, spreading heat like butter through your bones,“Do you think you can stand? If you can, I can wait outside while you get cleaned up. You can take as much time as you need, darling. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Your heart pounds quickly at his suggestion, your throat closing painfully. You don’t want him to leave you alone, even if he is just outside the door. You don’t know how to ask him to stay, though, and you don’t want to cross any boundaries. You’re so damn conflicted that your chest aches.

“Okay.”

He nods, his eyes a touch less bright than they were a few moments ago, and he backs away hesitantly. You use all your energy to push yourself off the counter, using it to keep yourself upright when your feet touch the floor. Your legs feel like jelly and you wonder for a moment if you have any bones. You shake your head lightly, scolding yourself. Don’t be stupid, y/n, of course you have bones. However, when you go to take a step towards the bathtub you almost revoke the sentiment. Your legs crumple around you, bringing you to a pile on the floor.

“Fuck,” Kol is next to you in no time at all, his hands rushing over your legs, most likely checking for damage, “I knew that was going to happen I don’t know why I let you do that, darling. I was trying to give you space. Are you okay? Elijah and Klaus are going to kill me.”

He mutters the last part under his breath but you still catch it, “it’s not your fault, I was trying not to bother you. I thought I could make it to the tub, at least, and then figure the rest out from there. I, uh,” you scrub your hands over your face, covering your eyes with your palms, “I didn’t want to be a burden, more than I already am I mean.”

A few more tears slip past your guard, tracking lines through the dried blood on your cheeks. You swallow a sob before it can make any noise, your shoulders shaking slightly from the cold tiles underneath you. You’re utterly exhausted. You wish you could just click your heels and go home. The only problem is that something tells you that you’d only end up here again if you could do that.

“No,” Kol’s voice is low and strained, “no, darling, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his hot, nutmeg chest, “you’re not a burden to me. Or Elijah or Klaus. You’re a surprise and not an unwelcome one. If you need me to stay, hell, if you want me to stay I will. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”

You peer up at him, clinging to his toned chest like you’re afraid it’ll vanish from underneath you, “please get this blood off of me, Kol. I can’t do it, I can’t even hold myself up. I need you.”

His eyes darken again, the honeyed brown turning a darker chocolate color, “you have me, darling, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he leans down and brushes his nose against yours, “never ever.”

A tiny giggle bubbles in your chest and it feels like freedom. It feels like falling asleep on the beach and hiking through the mountains and every good thing you’ve ever experienced. Kol’s eyes light up and he bites back a grin before doing it again, pulling a flood of giggles from you. Soon you're throwing your arms around him, laughing your head off for no reason at all, him joining you in the madness. You can’t stop and you don’t want to. You need this, you need him. It frightens you how intensely you feel connected to him already but you push the fear away for the time being.

“Okay, okay,” Kol scoops you against him and stands, “enough of that, love, time for a bath.”

That effectively puts an end to your giggling, your body igniting at the thought of taking a bath with this second coming of adonis. You swallow the lump in your throat, this time caused by the rippling of his taut muscles against you. The t-shirt you’re wearing feels see through suddenly, the thin layer between your core and his stomach doing little to quell the heat seeping from the crack between your thighs.

You dig your fingers into his shoulders a little harder than you mean to, pulling a soft grunt from him, one that you can feel in your own chest, “bath. Okay.”

Your cheeks flame at your idiotic response. Bath. Okay. What the hell was that?

He walks to the tub and sets you gently on the floor of it, the porcelain ice against your flesh. He turns, his back facing you as he pulls his suspenders off. You admire the fluid movement of his muscles as he steps out of his stained turnout gear, leaving him in a pair of grey sweatpants. His back is toned like a greek god’s and you would like nothing more in this moment than to know what it feels like to dig your nails into it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to air the wanton out of your system. Don’t be a hussy, y/n. He turns back to you and your face flushes when he catches your lingering stare.

He hooks his fingers in his sweatpants and your breath catches in your throat. He lifts his eyebrow, silently asking if it’s okay for him to continue. Your mouth feels dry, your head is spinning. Slowly you nod, your eyes glued to his. He smirks lighty, an action so doused in sex that almost has you pulling Elijah’s t-shirt from your body and falling at his feet. You hold your breath as he pulls the sweatpants from his body and your heart almost falls out of your chest when they reveal a pair of grey plaid boxers. What were you expecting? Your subconscious taunts you mercilessly.

He steps into the bathtub behind you, kneeling and grabbing the showerhead on the way down. The heat rolling off of him seems to have increased, wrapping around you and daring you to melt into him. You want to, so badly you do, but you remain upright, your hands on the side of the tub, leaving rusty smudges on the crisp, white edges.

Kol leans forward, his mouth right next to your ear sending shivers straight to your core when he speaks, “darling, I’m going to need to take this off,” his fingers tease the tops of your thighs, curling around the hem of the t-shirt, “may I do that?”

He presses his face against your neck, laying a few soft kisses to the skin under your jaw. You roll your head back onto his shoulder, savouring his affection and warmth for a moment without overthinking it.

You nod against his skin, “yes, Kol.”

You can feel the breath he takes against your back and then, when he releases it, against your neck. He takes his time, his fingers gently skimming your sides as he gathers the fabric up and over your head. You raise your arms to make it easier for him, gasping gently as cool air rolls over your exposed breasts. He tosses Elijah’s t-shirt to the side, running his hands down your back and planting another kiss to your uncovered shoulder.

You know you should feel ashamed for being this naked with a man you just met but you physically can’t bring yourself to feel any of it. All you know is that you’re comfortable and that his hands on your skin feel like genuine magic.

“Okay, I’m going to turn the water on now,” he rubs his nose down the back of your neck, “let me know if it’s too hot or anything.”

Your eyes prickle at how sweet he is, how gentle he is with you. He definitely doesn’t look like the gentle type, all tall, dark, and broody, but the way he’s acting proves otherwise. You nod your head, leaning your chin on the edge of the tub. He starts the water, a plume of steam instantly clouding the bathroom. The first stream to hit you is heavenly and you can’t help but close your eyes.

“Is that okay, darling?”

You hum quietly, “it’s perfect.”

You let the water lull you into a daze, picturing the stream turning red as the water rolls off you and down the drain. It’s mesmerizing, the warmth of the water combined with Kol’s heady scent. When he touches you, though, it’s like a crescendo of feeling. His fingers run over your back, no doubt washing away the events of this evening, but all you can think about is how perfect his hands feel against your bare skin.

Everywhere he touches blazes to life. You feel like putty in his hands, willing to mold however he needs you to. When his fingers glide down your sides your body reacts without warning, your back arching against his chest. You can feel his chest rumble under your back more than you can hear it. His large hands span your back easily, spreading over your ribcage, his thumbs gently grazing your breasts. You suck in a harsh breath, clenching your teeth to keep his name in your mouth. It’s begging to be said though. Said, screamed, praised. Anything. Fuck it.

“Kol,” you breathe, reaching back to grasp at his forearms for stability, “more.”

The growl that rips from his chest is unexpected but it lights every fibre of your being alive. He pulls you hard against his solid chest, falling against the back of the tub and shifting you so you’re perfectly centered on his lap. A flare of pleasure flashes up your spine when you land on something hot and hard. You hiss at the thin layer of clothing between you and Kol.

His lips find your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sending even more heat pooling in your core, “as you wish, darling.”

Your hands fall away as his hands cover your breasts, his thumbs skillfully sliding over your hard nipples. This time you don’t whisper his name, you moan it. Loudly. Every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, you see stars. You see the whole damn galaxy. His lips find your shoulder, biting down gently but hard enough to pull a string of incoherent praise from your lips.

His chest rumbles with every noise you make and the ball of heat between your legs grows brighter. You rock your hips against his, trying to build some much needed friction. The noise you pull from him is the epitome of heaven and it hits you right in the chest. It compels you to keep grinding your core against him harder, taking every sound he offers up and matching it with one of your own. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, rolling your head onto his shoulder as the anticipation sings through your body.

Your senses are flooded, your hearing muffled by the running water and your blood pumping through your ears, which is probably why you don’t hear the door open and someone step into the bathroom. It’s only when a pair of lips attaches to the base of your neck do you peel your eyes open. You meet Klaus’ stare with a gasp, just as Kol pinches your nipples harder than all the times before.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, tearing through your nerves without warning and rendering you to pieces. All the while Klaus takes your arm, placing tantalizing, open mouth kisses down your skin. When you finally come down from the climax, your muscles are layered with a sweet exhaustion. Kol nuzzles against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Fuck, darling,” he nips at your shoulder and your skin zings lightly, “you have no idea how much I needed that.”

Your eyes meet Klaus’ and your cheeks flame from the intensity of his stare, “I didn’t do anything, you did it all.”

You want to look away from Klaus, you want to feel some inkling of shame, but you can’t. All you want is to do is hook your arm around his neck and bring him closer to you. Your body craves his and it’s all you can do to not melt into his palm when he cups your cheek.

“That’s the point, love,” Klaus runs his thumb over your skin, “he just wanted to touch you.”

Kol hums his agreement into your flesh, his lips still glued to you.

“Do you want to touch me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, your eyes widening as soon as you register what you just said.

In less than a second, the brown eyes staring into your turn a dark coal color. The skin around Klaus’ eyes turns a deep purple. Your breath hitches at this side of him, a deep longing settling in your chest the longer you stare into his eyes. He's ethereal and entirely unhuman but you can’t even think about that. You want him so bad it stings. He has to shut his eyes for a few moments and when he opens them again his eyes are back to normal, if not a touch darker.

When he speaks his voice is gravelly, “I need to.”

You swallow hard, forcing the words out before you have time to lose your nerve, “come here then.”

Klaus’ eyes widen before he stands abruptly, shoving his own jogging pants down his legs before stepping into the other side of the tub. Kol lets you go as Klaus settles against the porcelain. As soon as he’s comfortable he wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest. Your legs end up on either side of him, much like how you were with Kol, your core pressed against the hardest part of him.

His crisp scent folds around you and sucks you deeper against him until your chest to chest, your breasts pressing into his firm chest. His arms settle around your back, his palms splayed over your spine. Your flesh buzzes from the contact, goosebumps rising when he traces lazy circles with his fingertips. You meet his eyes again and involuntarily clench your thighs around his hips. He’s looking at you like you’re the only girl he’s ever laid eyes on. Like he’s in the presence of a goddess and that he would gladly lay his life down for you.

Your eyes draw down to the tattoo on his chest, an image of birds in flight, and you run your fingers over it gently. He sucks in a breath when you touch him, closing his eyes and leaning back against the edge of the tub. Something about his reaction spurs you on. If that’s what your fingers can do, what can your mouth do? You lean down, gently attaching your lips to his collarbone and tugging his skin into your mouth.

He jolts up when you bite down lightly, jostling you further onto his lap and sending waves of heat rolling over your body, “fuck,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you impossibly closer to him, “love, you have no idea how good that feels.”

You pull back slightly, your mouth still against his skin as your eyes bore into his, “show me.”

His chest rumbles under your lips before he pulls your head back gently and slams his lips against your throat. He sucks your skin into his mouth and, for the second time tonight, you see stars. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, lacing your fingers through his blonde hair. You tug him closer to you, crossing your ankles behind his back. You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours.

He bites down, his teeth scraping pleasure into every nerve, and you pull at his soft hair, praises falling mindlessly from your lips, “Klaus.”

A second pair of hands glides over your back, “darling, let me wash your hair. I can feel Elijah getting restless. Unless you want three men in this tub with you, I need to finish getting you cleaned up.”

Your heart pounds at the thought of Elijah in the bath with you, his large body pressed against yours. You can practically smell his pine scent in the air, clinging to your skin. You bite your lip. You want to moan his name and he isn’t even in the room. You shake the thought from your mind, leaning into Kol’s hands.

Klaus kisses up your neck, peppering your jaw and cheeks with pecks before pulling you to lay against his chest. You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion that’s been building flood your system. Kol soaks your hair, the warm water pouring down your shoulders as you press your face into Klaus’ neck. His hands draw lazily up and down your sides as Kol massages shampoo against your scalp. You mewl at his touch and cling to Klaus. You could stay in the moment forever, it’s absolutely blissful.

Just as Kol is rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the door to the bathroom opens revealing a shirtless Elijah. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. In his hand is a large towel. His eyes zero in on you from across the room and, though you can’t see them clearly, you can tell they’re dark. Your head goes fuzzy as your eyes draw down his sculpted chest, lingering on his rippled stomach. You meet his eyes again and give into your instincts, reaching your arms out for him.

“Eli,” you call out to him, “I need you.”

You stand on wobbly feet, bearing everything to him. You don’t care, you just want to be in his arms. You haven’t had a chance to touch him yet and your body is screaming at you to get as close to him as humanly possible. Even more than humanly possible. Elijah closes the space between the two of you in seconds, wrapping the towel around you before pulling you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms circling his neck.

He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, “I need you too, baby.”

You slip your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands mindlessly. He leans into your touch and your heart soars. He hikes you further up your body, leaning his face against your shoulder. You run your hands over his shoulders, sighing when the tension leaves his muscles.

“I’m going to go sleep for a few hours,” Elijah mumbles into your shoulder but his words aren’t aimed at you, “do you think the two of you will be okay until then.”

Klaus waves his hand dismissively and Kol nods, still draped lazily over the edge of the tub, “yeah, yeah, go, we’ll be fine brother.”

Wait, what?

Did you hear that right? Brother. Your entire body sets on fire. They’re all related. Well, there’s the shame you were missing at least. You push against Elijah’s chest, forcing him to meet your eyes. When he sees your expression his brows pull together, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“Baby-”

“You’re all brothers?” you breathe, your face burning, “brothers? What on earth is going on?”

He stares into your eyes for a moment before laughing, turning with you in his arms and starting towards the door. You lock eyes with Klaus and Kol over Elijah’s shoulder. They, too, are laughing without a care. Kol tosses you a wink just as Elijah carries you into the hallway.

You circle your arms around his shoulders again, “Lijah this is crazy. Explain. Please.”

He pulls you through another door, exposing you to a comfortable looking bed. Just looking at it sends sleep pooling in your limbs. He sets you in the middle of it before climbing on after you. He pushes you backwards and you fall into a pile of pillows, the towel long forgotten as he crawls on top of you. Your body flares with something hot as he holds himself on his forearms, his hot chest grazing yours with every breath he takes. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you despite your still unanswered questions.

“Lijah,” you whine as his lips find your neck, arching into his touch like two magnets connecting, “I need answers.”

Elijah’s teeth scrape at your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips. You’re so tired but the want that swirls in your core demands anything but sleep. You grip his shoulders, digging your fingers into his firm muscles. You pull his hips closer to yours, rolling against him desperately. You press your head into the pillows, exposing as much of your neck as you can to him.

He pulls away and you have to swallow your protests. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with the same dark eyes you saw from Klaus, only now they’re accented by a pair of sharp looking fangs. You suck in a deep breath, reaching up to cup Elijah’s jaw.

“I know, baby,” he rubs his face into your hand, “I’ll give you all the answers you need and more but first I need you. I have waited a thousand years for you and now that I have you I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go yet. Please, baby, let me have you.”

His words wrap around you, every part of your being, and sink into your core. A wave of longing hits you again, and something else that you’re not ready to explore. It makes your heart warm and your body crave every inch of his. You already knew your answer before he asked. You’ve known since you woke up to the three of them.

Maybe you even knew before that.

You pull his face to yours, capturing his lips with your own, “you already have me. I’m yours.”

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downywrites · 3 years

Text

I feel bad for my radio silence, so please have the draft lol

Skeppy finds that there is a way to tame beasts without ever drawing his sword.

Skeppy was not fond of the nether. It was hot. It was humid and dry, all in the wrong places. The piglins were rude to him, the hoglins were wild and liked to cause him all kinds of trouble, and the netherrack burned his skin whenever he touched it. He had no kind of interest in the area, he really didn’t.

And yet, he found himself floundering in the vastness of the nearest nether fortress. The almost-black bricks were refreshingly cold under his hands, a breath of fresh air within the stuffy stratosphere of the nether. He glanced bemusedly at his compass, the usually faithful tool rendered completely useless by the biome. “Prime, where the hell is the exit of this damn place?” The sounds of zombie piglins groaning in the background echoed through the halls, making him shiver. “Ugh, just get me out of here already…” The diamond-encrusted hybrid’s feet made slight screeching noises as he scrabbled for a good grip on the tile. He tried his best to ignore them. “Come on, come on…” As he weaved through familiar hallways and rooms, his impatience bubbled at the top of his throat, begging to be let out. His tail lashed impatiently as he walked. After a few more minutes of searching, he threw his hands up in the air in annoyance, making a few confused piglins grunt and turn to look at each other. “Are you serious? Just get me out of here, Primedamnit!”

He growled under his breath, exposing a few filed down teeth as he did. In the back of his mind, he hoped he didn’t make the piglins angry. Slamming his eyes shut, he tuned into the air around him, trying to sense any sort of familiar substances around him. ‘If I can’t get out of here, at the very least, I’m taking some loot with me.” The vibrations of gold armor around him squealed loudly, but he ignored it for the sake of finding some diamonds or some larger portions of treasure. The heat of the fortress pressed down on the hybrid. “Is there anything nearby, or did I get into this mess for literally nothing?” Opening his eyes to glare at the piglins, he scowled at the floor he walked on, stomping wildly like a child having a tantrum. As he walked, he continued to tune in, clinging onto the idea he had in mind. ‘If there is nothing in the whole of this place, I might as well just go and troll someone by telling them to come to these coordinates.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘That would be funny to see.’ Before he could continue on his train of thought, a large ping made him gasp. Blueberry colored eyes widened at the sheer mass of diamonds and gold directly below him. “Holy shit!” Kneeling down to touch the floor, the vibrations of the valuables had him shaking with excitement. “Jackpot!” He ruffled through his bag, careful not to drop anything as he did so. He wasn’t one to leave anything around, not when there are piglins nearby. Within moments, he had made a hole in the floor, the small area inside dark and black as pitch. “Well, here goes nothing.”

He sincerely regretted the way he entered the cave or riches. Like the intelligent, mature human being he was, he had left his bag just barely out of reach, his pickaxe inside of it. And, in a similarly benevolent and logical fashion, Skeppy had immediately tried to escape the hole with his entire torso already in it to grab the item. Ironically enough, the world had it out for him. Why? He certainly didn’t know. But whatever karmic god he had pissed off was really, really mad at him that day. Because when he reached out to grab it, the whole of the ceiling crumbled, taking him down with it. In short, he was not having a good day. A small sigh escaped his lips, rubbing his head from where he had smacked it on the floor a little. “Ow. Jeez, why does everything hate me so much?” The whining noise of gold and the gentle pinging of diamonds surrounded him. His eyes gazed upwards at the small cascade of light above him from his endeavor. “Fuck, how am I supposed to get back up?” His eyes darted over the shadows of riches untold, drinking in the glitter of blue and yellow in the soft, barely visible light. “Hmph.” Crossing his arms and pouting, he rested against a firm chunk of nether brick, gold clinking around him as he did. “Guess I’ll just rest for a bit. It’s not like some fuck’s gonna get me here.” As if the gods themselves had it out for him one last time, the sound of valuables clinking to the floor startled him back to his feet. Legs wobbling from the effort and the sheer waves of fear he felt rippling through his body, he got into the best fighting stance he could and turned to face the source of the noise. The shimmering lights shifted in from of him, like a tide of danger forming to wash him and his ignorance away. Once again, the back of his mind informed him that perhaps he should have listened to the others when they said not to try anything stupid. ‘Then again, who would I be if I didn’t do anything stupid? Isn’t that my defining characteristic?’

That was the defining thought in the front of his mind when the shadow growled, white eyes slowing and casting a beam of light directly at his trembling form. Not exactly the best way to start off a fight, he would say. His knuckles gleamed back at the creature, sending light bouncing off of its scales. It snarled, a loud, guttural noise that threatened to take him down without a single point of contact with the beast. “W-would you believe me if I said that I didn’t mean to come down here?” Heated breath, even warmer than the outside air in the nether’s outdoors, buffeted his face and forced him to dig into the ground as much as he could just to stay standing. The shape shifted into the light, glimmering scales morphing into an identifiable (and distinctly terrifying) muzzle shape above him. Little diamonds skittered on the floor as it moved. Tiny little pinpricks of glitter and noise danced in his eardrums through the cacophony of screeching rocks and piglin shrieks and the musty, dank breath of death looking above him. Eyes struggling to focus on the the looming shadow that was beginning to block out the little light he had, he yelled up to the creature in panic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t fucking kill m-” An even louder growl hummed through the air. It opened its maw, nether vines and natural substances writhing like snakes on its face and horns. “Language.” If this were any other situation, Skeppy would have laughed. ‘It languaged me? A gigantic nether mob that is trying to kill me LANGUAGED ME?’ Unfortunately for him, he had no time to laugh as a large claw came down, large sinewy fingers extended outwards toward him. With a rather unmanly shriek, he vaulted himself onto a mountain of gold coins, running up it as well as he could. He spluttered as a few coins somehow found their way into his mouth, metallic taste staying in his mouth for several moments longer that they should have. All the while, the claws reaching out for him continued to swipe at his form. The wind from its movements blew into his face, causing him to take a step back. “Woah, woah- AGH!” The foothold below him shifted like dunes in the desert. With a small exclamation, he fell onto his butt, eyes wide with fear. A beam of light fell upon his form, a low, guttural growl singing through the air. “You have trespassed. And you broke my ceiling. You will pay.” Its low voice reginited the pit of fear that was currently planting its roots into his stomach. He scuttled back, shaking his head no. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, p-promise!”

A large claw encapsulated him, tight and rough around him. The diamond hybrid scrabbled and squirmed in his grip, spouting fear-fueled insults and small, very fake reasons for breaking and entering, literally. A single squeeze to his midsection made his voice freeze and choke up in his throat. “Silence.” A white-eyes glare sent him reeling. ‘Too bright!’ “You have caused me problems.” Another squeeze made the bright light look like a vignette for a moment. Unable to speak, he scrabbled even more at the scales on the claw that held him, trying to find a soft spot to prod. A snarl rippled through the air, the vines on its muzzle swaying from side to side dangerously. “You will pay for your crimes-” A small, almost comically high-pitched yelp escaped the dragon-like creature. The grasp on his torso lessened. With it, came extra clarity on what he was doing exactly. There, right at the smallest spot where the underside of its wrist and lower palm melded into one, was a barely noticeable irregularity. Without knowing it, Skeppy had scribbled his nails over it. He raised a single eyebrow, unable to censor the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “You’re..ticklish? I big, strong creature of the nether.. Is ticklish?”

A series of sputtered, rumbling words didn’t help the creature’s case. “No, that’s not.. No. It’s not that, it’s sensitive. I swear on the bastions, do not- ACK!” Skeppy dug his nails back into the spot, giggling at the noise he got in return. “Aha, take that!” A frustrated, chuckly laugh made his very bones vibrate. “You know what, forget it. I’m going to put you down, and you...leave. Just leave. Do not mess with me anymore, got it?” He nodded in agreement. ‘I am so not going to let this slide. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? I die?’ The air wooshed around him, the only indication that he was moving downwards beside the glaring beams of light flicking around the area. As his feet touched the ground, he squirmed out of its grasp impatiently. “I can get down by myself, thank you. And,” he pointed up at the creature with a grin, “I’d like to see your face. Do you have a human form or something? And like, a light? I promise I won’t take any of your stuff for myself if you do.” The sound of scales scraping against metal made him wince. “Are you really making a demand out of me? Badboyhalo, the great demon of the Nether?” He sharply retorted, “Well, I can certainly say I have something, saying that I have blackmail on you right now! How would everyone react to word that you are ticklish?”

A sigh, much smaller than the other vocalizations from the beast, echoed through the room. “Fine, then.” Skeppy craned his neck to look at the shadowy shape, desire to watch the beast transform outweighing he dangers of doing so. However, all too soon, it was over. It didn’t take long for a shape to climb out of the scales they had shed, shaking off a few pieces of extra skin and ragged things he wasn’t quite able to make out. With a stretch of their back, a pair of wings, ragged and sharp in all the right places, flapped outwards from behind him. As they came closer, it was more and more obvious that the person was not human. From the red-tipped horns pointing upwards from their head, to the obviously inhuman pair of bat-demonic wings, all the way down to their lower back, which sported an appendage that was reminiscent of one of his friend’s old card decks full of angels and hell-demons of long ago. The flat, spade like appendage sported the same color scheme as their horns, pitch at the base and a shade of maroon crimson, quite like blood, at the tip. It gave their body a form that certainly reminded him of the towering creature that loomed above him minutes before. Their white, glowing eyes had not changed either.

They stopped a few feet away from him.

“Happy now?” Skeppy hesitated for a moment, confused, before remembering it was just him in the room. “Ah, sorry, you look really...cool! And yeah, it’s all good. Thanks for not, clobbering me, I guess?’ Looking straight into the demon’s eyes, he learned, was a bit of a challenge. They were double his height, and certainly didn’t look like they cared much about changing it. They scoffed, but it didn’t seem to be an insult, more of a normal, reflexive reaction. “It’s fine. Are you going to go now?” Skeppy pondered that for a moment. “Perhaps, but...I wanted to know something- no, two things.” They leaned in closer, eyes narrowing in a look unrecognizable to him. Perhaps irritation? “First thing, what’s your gender and your name? And second…” He looked at him dead in the eyes, gaze unwavering, even though the glare that seemed to burn in his retinas tingled a bit on his face. “Do you get a lot of affection, as the ‘great demon of the nether’?” Putting air quotes around the title made the demon look the slightest bit annoyed at the gem, but he didn’t care much at all about it. “I am male. And my name's Badboyhalo, if you didn’t hear earlier.” He balked slightly at the last question. “Affection...What do you mean by that?”

A small gasp of shock ripped from his throat, but he tried to play it off with a cough. A questioning eyebrow dispelled that idea quickly. “Is it something rude? Did I say something wrong?” Badboyhalo growled lowly. “If you made me say something bad, I will not hesitate to send you back where you came from with a tapestry shredded on your back.” The gem hybrid winced at the imagery that flashed to mind. He flailed his arms a little, shaking his head vehemently. “No, no! I’m just a little…worried for you, is all.” A scoff. “Worried? For me? And not for you? You have a lot of nerves for a strider-rider.”

#Lee!bad #Ler!skeppy #Dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #tickle fic #sort of there’s not that much tickling rn lol #I’ll connect the queue thing once I update this #Downywrites #Downy writes

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gallickingun · 4 years

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could i request 48 with bakugo? i really love how you write him and i love your writing in general 🥰

a/n: you are so kind, thank you so much! my heart is in a fluffy place today so here is some sweet stuff!! well, it ends sweet. beginning is angsty :)

DID I HEAR SOMEBODY SAY BOXER!BAKUGOU????

Prompt #48: I called you at 2am because I need you.

“Fuck,” Bakugou brushes the heels of his hands over his eyes, one completely swollen shut and the other weeping uncontrollably. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, bloody fingertips smearing over his screen. Another string of expletives tumble from his lips before he can find your name in his contacts.

He can’t help but note the time on his phone - 2:37 am.

“Please pick up,” Bakugou swallows the growing lump in his throat, “C’mon, pl-oh, hey.”

Your voice rings out on the other end of the receiver, gravelly from sleep but he can’t even notice because he’s just so thankful that you’re awake now.

His voice cracks when he speaks next, “C-Can you...shit, can you come pick me up?”

You rattle something off, not even asking where he’s at because you already know. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to pry his backside up off the concrete after a particularly difficult match. But, he has always had his main rule - no hospitals.

He hears the telltale beep of your side of the line cutting out and the nerves roll off of his shoulders in waves. He sinks further down the sidewalk, the brick scraping his already raw skin, but his adrenaline is pumping too hot for him to feel much of it.

When you arrive, less than a half hour later, he’s snoring against the wall of the alleyway, a garbage bin not too far away. You shake your head and step forward, smacking him on the back of the head to wake him up, “Alright, sunshine, time to go. Can you walk?”

“Oi, for Christ’s sake,” Bakugou rubs at the tender skin at the back of his head, “I could have a head injury, you bitch!”

You point your finger in his face, the tip of your nail grazing his bloody nose, “Call me a bitch one more time, Katsuki, and I will leave your ass in the street. They can pick you up tomorrow with the rest of the trash.”

Bakugou wants to snarl, wants to snap and bite at your finger, smarting off to you with some retort, but instead he keeps his mouth shut, shrinking back so you’ll leave him alone. He’s not in the mood to argue, not now. He’s already lost one fight tonight, and he doesn’t really feel like losing another.

Besides, the last argument the two of you had didn’t exactly go his way.

You help him up, lacing his arm over the length of your shoulders. He’s sticky with blood, but still warm to the touch. You help him hobble into your SUV, opening the trunk for him to climb in. You’ve lined the back with a sheet and plastic tablecloth so your car won’t be obscenely dirty after this, and your meticulousness makes him chuckle.

“Feel like a dog,” he mutters, dragging his legs up into the vehicle.

You toss his bag in next, grazing his bruised thigh as it skids to the other side of the trunk. Bakugou’s eyes go wide and he digs his hands into the sheet underneath him instead of mouthing off like he wants to. The last thing he needs is you tossing him out of the back of your car at high speed.

“You are a dog,” you answer.

The next thing he knows, you’re slamming the trunk and making your way to the driver’s seat. Something in him wants to speak, wants to say thank you or how have you been? However, when you turn up the music and the familiar piercing sound of hard rock hits his eardrums, he knows better than to say anything. Instead, Bakugou leans his head back against your window and dozes in and out of sleep.

He’s shaken awake by the slamming of your door, the soles of your boots stomping against the concrete of your garage. The trunk door opens and he squints his eyes against the bright LED light attached to the ceiling. He swallows, snatching his bag as he swings his legs over the bumper. It hurts, and his face must show it because you step closer.

He waves you away, insistent on dragging his own ass inside. You take a stride backward and watch as he struggles to stand upright. His knees give out and a string of curse words part his lips but before he can crumble to the ground, you’re underneath him, catching his body in your arms. You lift him up as much as you can, thankful he’s shed the flashy costume in favor of a signature black tank top and cargo pants. It’s much lighter and not nearly as bulky.

The two of you hobble over the threshold and towards the bathroom. It takes a few minutes because he’s slow and heavy in your hands, but eventually you make it.

“Get in the tub,” you instruct, turning on the water. You disappear into the hallway to grab a few towels and the first aid supplies, which gives him enough time to try and slip out of his tank.

When you return, he’s got his elbows stuck in his shirt, unable to yank it over the top of his head. You sigh, “You’re hopeless, you idiot.”

You snag his shirt and tug it over his head, having to extend your arms all the way given his height. Bakugou hisses as the tank sticks to a particular wound, the crusted blood on his shirt the only thing keeping it plugged. You ball up the fabric at the hem and give it a final tug, tossing it in the sink once it’s peeled from his body.

“God, what kind of guy did you fight?” You examine the cut which is now seeping blood, crimson dripping down the contours of his obliques. Bakugou peers down at you, a grimace ever present on his face, “Fuckin’ crazy ass. Fingernails were knives, super strength and shit.”

You shake your head and huff out a laugh, “Do you need help?”

The word ‘yes’ never leaves his mouth, but the wounded look in his eyes tells you all that you need to know. You unbutton his pants and drag the cargos slowly down his legs, careful not to reopen any major wounds. You do notice a few scrapes and gashes on his thighs and calves, making you wince at the sight. He steps out of the pants, the sensation of the cool tile welcome against his hot feet.

You’ll never get over the way his sweat smells - or rather, doesn’t smell. The scent radiating off of him reminds you of a campfire, of a summer evening spent in front of a set of flames, making s’mores and laughing with friends. His quirk seems to have nothing but upsides - not only is he both offensively and defensively a force of nature, but it also gives him a sweet aroma that deters the stench of salty sweat in favor of sugary nitroglycerin.

Bakugou kicks off his underwear, facing away from you, and you’re able to drink in his full form - he’s been taller than six foot since the last you could remember and it would seem he’s filled out even more in the past couple of months than when you last saw him. Even when he’s bruised and battered, he’s still beautiful, that much you know.

As he winces and his eyes close, you take the time to look over his shattered body. He’s got blooming purple and blue bruises all over his torso, little red cuts to offset the color range. Even still, the solid way he’s build, muscle and sinew wrapped around dense bones, makes your heart turn in your chest.

Bakugou breaks you from your trance as he steps into the bathtub, wincing and gasping as the water hits his open wounds. He sinks down to his neck in the bath water, the bubbles doing just enough to hide him from you.

“Damn,” he rolls his shoulders, swallowing the lump caught in his throat. He rolls his neck and his jugular pulses obviously, jaw muscles tensing under the pressure of his teeth as they grind together.

You drag the damp rag over the cut on his shoulder, trying to ignore the way his face screws up in pain. You sigh, “I think you’re gonna need stitches. Are you sure you don’t wan-”

“No hospitals,” he shakes his head, “you know what would happen.”

A growl rolls around in your throat but you swallow it, instead focusing on cleaning his wounds. Your cheeks heat from the closeness of his naked body, even though he’s submerged in bathwater and injured from head to toe. Bakugou has always been able to get you heated, no matter the situation.

“You can get your legs,” you tell him, wiping at his face with a new rag, staining the grey fabric red. Tears settle in the bottom of your eyelids, threatening to spill over the more you think about the situation he’s in. Despite the fact that he’s there completely out of his own volition, it still makes your heart wrench seeing him broken down like this.

The water is tinged a reddish brown when you’re done and he unplugs the bathtub. You hand him the towel before you get an eyeful of him, walking to stand in the doorway while he dries off.

“I set you some clothes on the back of the toilet,” you choke out the words, tilting your head to look up at the ceiling. He’s chuckling but it’s cut off by a grimace, “Still haven’t burned these yet?”

You kick your foot against the carpet in the hall, “Katsuki, just because you pissed me off doesn’t mean I’m not still your best friend.”

The words hurt as you say them, but you have to spit them out so they don’t die in your stomach. Being labeled as something so platonic has haunted you for decades now, ever since those playground days spent with the blonde, trying to pick up his mess and put back together those he’d hurt.

Bakugou makes the toilet seat shudder when he collapses on top of it, body hunched over from effort. He sighs, “I know you hate this.”

It’s his version of an apology, of words that he can’t ever seem to spit out right. It’s the exact reason you told him to leave you out of his irresponsible and illegal activities. Using quirks to fight was considered a heavy offense, landing some individuals life in prison. Katsuki learned to fight on the streets, and when he wasn’t accepted into U.A., he turned to underground fighting rings to satiate his need for justice and penance.

“You’re right,” you gulp, turning to crouch in front of him. You’re on your knees when you pull out the suture kit, “I do hate this. So why did you call me?”

His hand finds the fabric of your hoodie, curling around it to use as an anchor as you start to stitch up the particularly large gash on his rib cage. Bakugou grits his teeth, the answer coming out strained, “You’re all I have.”

Unfortunately, it’s the truth. Bakugou has become a rather recluse individual, relying on specific people rather than many. Deku earning a quirk and flying to the top of UA’s class was like a kick between the legs, something Bakugou wasn’t sure he could ever recover from. To watch his childhood rival rise on the charts, closing in on the other Pro Heroes until it appeared he would challenge even All Might in ranking, did nothing but tear down Bakugou’s confidence even more.

You noticed that he started to get involved in more reckless, high stake fights. He would call you, barely breathing, and beg you to take him home and put him back together. It helped that you had become a nurse while he was learning how to use his quirk to make money under the table.

And eventually you hit your limit.

“Katsuki, this has gone far enough!” you shouted, tears gathering in your eyes. You sighed, clenching your hands to fists, “It’s time to choose. I won’t be a part of this any longer.”

Bakugou growled, stepping forward even though he could only see you with one eye, the other swollen shut, “I don’t take orders from you!”

Your lower lip quivered and you threw the bloody stitches in the sink, your fingers worse for wear after patching him up so many times, “Eventually it’s just not worth it, Kacchan. Eventually it’s too much.”

“Maybe for a weakling like you,” he spits the words like venom, and you recoil as if they’ve stung, “but I’m strong enough to handle it.”

You nodded, nostrils flaring to keep yourself from giving away too much of your feelings on your face, “Then handle it by yourself.”

The memory alone brings the threat of tears to your eyes, heat gathering at your temples and making your forehead throb. You swallow the lump of emotion multiplying in your throat, begging your feelings to get out of the way so you can do this one thing, and then he can leave.

You’re sighing again, the sight of his swollen face making your whole body hurt, “God, doesn’t this get old?”

You wash his face with antiseptic before using a butterfly bandage to seal the wound on his face. The bruised eye will just have to heal with an ice pack and some pain medication, not much you can do so close to his dainty organs.

“All I know is my fists, you of all people should get that,” he snaps, voice teetering on the edge of patronizing. His hand flattens against your side, fingers curling around your ribs, “It’s been too long and I’m too far gone. It’s too late.”

You’re sliding forward now and he can feel your thighs settle atop his so he grasps you on either side, keeping you anchored to him as you work at his face. He has a few spots near his hairline and jaw that need to be stitched back together and you focus all of your attention on them, pushing away the reality that he’s holding you just the way you like, just the way you want.

You’ve imagined him holding you like this too many times to count. You always wanted to feel his hands on your body, keeping you enraptured in his presence, eyes glued in on your face while you sit in silence. Even if there were no conversation to be had, you would have been happy to find solace in his touch.

“S’never too late, Kacchan.”

The sound of you calling him by the name you used when you were small, when you were always chasing after him, it’s intoxicating. He swears he could get off on your voice alone - the way your lips curl around his name, how his chest tightens when you’re this close. The blood pumping in his veins is so loud he’s sure you can hear it thudding under his skin.

Bakugou tilts his head, looking up at you with his one good eye, hands falling to your thighs, “I’m sorry.”

An audible gasp parts your lips and you immediately blush, hating yourself for your outburst. It is rare for him to speak those words, to let loose the threads of honesty that haunt his mind. His face looks so open, so bare - eyes blown wide and jaw hanging open just slightly so you can see the pink of his tongue.

“Kacchan,” you shake your head, tears resurfacing as raw emotion claws at your chest like an enraged beast. You tie off his suture and drop your hands to his shoulders, thumbs brushing over the dense muscles connecting his neck to his throat, “Don’t.”

“All you ever wanted me to do was to be sorry and now that I’m saying it, you’re telling me ‘don’t’?” Bakugou’s voice rises with every word, his fingertips biting into the fleshy parts of your hips. He grinds his teeth together and his nostrils flare as he attempts to tame the fiery outburst that sits on his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a raging fury.

Your lower lip wobbles and he surprises you by brushing the pad of his thumb over the fullest part of your lip, effectively stealing your breath. He is being kind, gentle even, something you have not seen from him in quite some time. This is the Katsuki you know, this is the Katsuki you cherish.

There has always been something between you and Bakugou, ever since the two of you could figure out that you had emotions, but were competent enough to know how to hide them. He bottles himself up until he’s ready to explode, and you feel too much but your fear reigns you in and keeps you quiet. Neither of you spoke about it, although everyone around you could feel it, could see it.

Maybe that’s why you snapped at him all those months ago, telling him to choose. Maybe you wanted him to choose you so you could surge forward and kiss the breath out of him. But then he pushed you away, sidelined you as if you meant nothing to him; almost as if abusing his body and breaking his spirit was more important than you and the bond you shared.

“I-I’ve been so fucking lonely since you left.” Bakugou runs his fingertips down your jaw until he’s got your neck in his grasp, fingers spread out without issue over your throat. The tips of his fingers tickle the nape of your neck and you want to fall into him, to let him take you alive and never let you go. He could do away with you and you’re sure you’d still say thank you, still beg him to do it again.

Bakugou swallows and his throat bobs, but you snap out of your stupor to shake your head to fire back at him, “I didn’t leave, you chose fighting over our friendship.”

“Quit bullshitting yourself,” he growls, voice grating against his throat. You’ve never heard him so raw and real, so emotional. Bakugou grits his teeth together just long enough for your eyes to track the way his jaw muscles clench, “You wanted a confession out of me that night. You wanted something I couldn’t give you. And now you’re upset about it.”

And yet, the way that his hands hold you gingerly and warmth seeps into his carmine irises makes you think that he doesn’t believe what he’s saying, or rather what he’s denying. You roll your lips together, trying to rid yourself of some of the tension building up in your body. His eyes track the motion and it gives way to even more of his inner honesty to be put on display.

“Kacchan, I-”

Bakugou surges forward and kisses you square on the mouth, a bruising action that is over as soon as it’s started.

He pulls away, breathing heavy as his one healthy eye struggles to stay open at the sensation of your lips. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks but you can’t notice because your eyes won’t even open. Your jaw is unhinged, mouth parted while you try to absorb what just happened.

“K-Kacchan,” you whisper, your voice too close to wanton.

His breath stutters over your lips, both hands on your face to hold you in place as he breathes you in. Bakugou’s hands are hot, warm against your cheeks, that familiar sweet scent making your head dizzy. You’ve missed the comforting smell, the reminder that he is close, within an arm’s reach. Other’s describe the scent as burnt sugar, but to you it’s a warm caramel, a familiar haze that makes you feel at home.

The both of you open your eyes at the same time, time moving slow as your irises meet. Your palms drift to his chest, knees shifting just enough so your hips brush his groin. Bakugou grunts, eyes dropping to your lips as his waist rolls upward to meet yours, “Fuck.”

A moment of hesitation passes between the two of you before you clash together in a searing kiss. His lips slot between yours as his hands drift into your hair, holding you close to him while he makes quick work of your mouth. Bakugou, even battered and tired, is skilled at knowing when to tug your lips and when to soothe you with his tongue. It’s as if he can read your mind, making moves you didn’t know you wanted him to make before your mind can catch up with your body.

“Kacchan,” you whine into his mouth as he sucks on your lower lip, digging his teeth into the sensitive flesh. One of his hands drifts to your hips, fingers digging into your backside as best he can from this angle.

He groans, “Love it when you call me that, shi-baby, say it again.”

You echo the name repeatedly, feeling the desperation in him grow with each syllable. He’s probably opened one of his wounds with the way his muscles are tensing but he couldn’t care less. All he’s thinking about is the way you taste, the way you feel. Your mouth is warm and gentle in comparison to his raging power, the desire to overwhelm you like an opponent sits in his belly, a fire being stoked with every motion. The touch of your hands in his hair is grounding to an extent; reminding him that he’s here, with you, and it’s not just a dream.

Eventually you have to part long enough to breathe, but he starts down the path of your throat, open-mouthed kisses leaving a patch of warmth behind. It’s as if he’s unable to let you go now that he’s had a taste of you. You whine, digging your hands into his shoulders while he works at your skin.

“I should’ve picked you,” he murmurs against your collarbone. He sucks a small hickey into the thin skin before nudging his nose over your jugular, “I-I should’ve made the right choice.”

You’re gasping for breath, the sheer force of his kisses from earlier still leaving you wanting. You look down at him, eyes blown wide and lips bruised from use, and you know that he’s telling the truth. There’s something in his irises that he can’t hide - a certain vulnerability you’re sure he’s only shown to you.

“Suki, I-” You swallow the hesitant lump in your throat, every word you’ve had pent up in your lungs for the past few months begging to be freed. Bakugou shakes his head and kisses you again, mouth silencing you before you can let out something too honest. He has to tell you the truth first; he’s been sitting on it for months, percolating with it and allowing it to eat him alive.

“I fucked up, okay? I get that.” Bakugou nuzzles his nose against yours, keeping his eyes closed because otherwise he knows he won’t be able to finish his sentences. “You scared me shitless, and I screwed everything up. I know that now. And I’m sorry.”

You brush your hands through his hair, tugging gently to reassure him. He huffs against your neck, “I wanted to choose you, I swear.”

“I wanted you to pick me,” you exhale, and suddenly you are Atlas and the world is being lifted off of your shoulders when the truth is spoken. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes but you know that it’ll frustrate him if you start crying so you lean back to try and keep them at bay. After taking a short breath, you whisper, “But I’m sorry I ever made you choose. That wasn’t fair.”

He kisses the base of your throat, lips muffled against the skin, “I-I can’t promise you I’ll just quit. This is my life right now. But, I-”

“You can’t change for me,” you tug on the back of his head to get him to face you. “I know that now.”

You’re sure his irises have never been so soft, so pale; amber gazing up at you in awe of your words. His lips are parted and you take advantage of the moment to lean forward and take his mouth captive. You slip your tongue between his lips, mapping out the curves of his teeth and gums. You moan when he suckles on the tip of your tongue, biting down gently on the base, enough to make you squirm.

He peels back to press his forehead to yours, gasping for breath so his chest brushes against your torso. Bakugou notices the glassy look in your eyes, the way your mouth loses speed the longer he kisses you.

“C’mon,” he murmurs into the curvature of your neck, “let’s go to bed.”

You blink slowly, “B-But, Kacchan, I-”

“No buts, loser,” he picks you up and tosses you over his good shoulder. A quirk-laced slap to your backside makes you squeal, “Kacchan!”

Bakugou chuckles, spanking you again, but this time much lighter. He rubs his thumb over your thigh as he walks you to your room, the trek all too familiar, “You’re falling asleep while you’re kissing me, loser. It’s past four in the morning.”

It does not take long for you to fall asleep after he’s wrapped himself around you underneath the covers, ankles crossing beneath the blankets. His hand is in your hair and his ears perk at the sound of your gentle snoring, adoration making his mouth turn upward and his eyes shine. Bakugou buries his mouth in the crown of your hair, kisses dropped over your scalp like flowers planted in a garden.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, squeezing his good eye shut, the other throbbing in a dull rhythm.

Somehow those words are easier to say when you’re asleep.

---

a/n: well, that started off alright and then slowly digressed into... dumpster fire. but hey, what’re you gonna do! i bet you hoes thot you was gettin’ some spice, huh??

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#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki one shot #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bakugou katsuki fanfiction #bakugou katsuki boxer #boxer au #boxer bakugou #my writing #morgan writes bnha

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ronalddear · 3 years

Text

Bathroom.

hi again! This is another drabble/missing moment set during dh after the wedding. Again this is only my second time writing any fic so it's very amateur.

This was requested by @nuttybeardetective , and was inspired by this post of mine. Ron is vaguely prudish in this but seeing as this is only my second time writing, I don't think I'm ready to write full-on smut yet. hope you enjoy <3

WARNING: none except for language, because it's Ron ;)

WORDS: 1515

The dim cold ambience of Grimmauld Place did nothing to soothe the uneasiness of the wedding attack and Ron was utterly fed up. One week after their untimely arrival at the grim house enticed them to try and settle into their temporary 'home'. At least physically anyway, Harry was now occupying Sirius' room in reserved isolation and after another night of sleeping adjacent in the drawing-room, he and Hermione had wordlessly agreed upon sleeping in their respective rooms that they'd occupied during the summer before 5th year, with some unannounced hesitation on his part.

The minuscule amount of clothes he carried was unpacked, his worn toothbrush now stood in the cup designated on the 2nd story bathroom, opposite his bedroom. The kitchen table was now draped in Hermione's lists and notes of all sorts, a map of the Ministry adorning the centre. Yet Ron felt as if mentally he was still at the Burrow, packing the extra healing supplies from the bathroom cupboard or stood in the stuffy kitchen, duplicating his mother's kitchenware to stuff into his rucksack.

The immediate thought of the burrow made his stomach drop and his head spin. The forced confinement made him feel ill. It felt as if he was in deep quarantine and had no knowledge of the world outside. This scared him so intensely that his paranoia was at an all-time high after a week without family communication. Surely the whole Horcrux-hunting fiasco would last longer than a week? A couple months maybe? Could he go that long without his serene home, the sunny hillside near the refreshing pond, and his family, who were at risk of being imprisoned or killed because of their non-prejudiced beliefs?

His stomach dropped again and his shoulders sagged under the scorching heat of the water flowing across his frame. He discovered that hot water was helpful for him to relax, only temporarily of course but it was much better than the frigid water in the small shower the burrow housed or the short-lived heating charm that made him feel as if he was showering in lukewarm tea rather than a proper hot shower.

His only downside was that his creamy skin was almost brick red, yet somehow his freckles showed through like a common childhood disease that Hermione had mentioned getting in her early years. He could not remember the name. His hair laid flat on his head, a darker red when wet but now longer than a quiff, he ran his gangly fingers through it, sweeping it back but failing to contain a few stray pieces, which dangled near the curve of his cheek and tickled his ears.

Goosebumps spread across flesh the instant his heels touched the cool tile. The sudden temperature change brought about a shock and he scrambled for his towel to aid his chill. After hastily wrapping it around his waist, he clumsily aimed for his vest to wear until he got to the room so at least he wouldn't freeze to death. Vest in hand, the metal toothbrush cup clanged off the side of the counter, making a ruckus in its wake.

Vest now over his head and arms, bunched just under his chest. the cup was replaced to its original spot and a good few swears had escaped his breath. He bent across the counter to clear the mirror of the steam that emanated from the shower when he felt the slightest brush against his bareback.

"Shit!"

"Sorry!'

His hand frantically searched for his wand to provide defence but unless towels came with pockets then he was out of luck. Hermione's alarmed voice stabbed through the bathroom and the echo lingered for a bit, just enough until he processed that she was in front of him. Her eyebrows were raised and her mahogany eyes were wide after she jumped away from him suddenly.

"Um..Hi.” she started with a great inhale.

Ron's heart rate hadn't returned to normal and his mouth was agape at the sight of her so suddenly appearing in the bathroom. Where he was. Alone. Until she came in of course. So now it was just him and her. Alone. He suddenly became very aware that he had just come out of the shower and was revealing a particular amount of torso, which was probably solid red now with a litter of freckles that he didn't fancy too much himself.

"Uh hey?" he started, completely at a loss of how to conduct the situation, while he sheepishly smoothed down the vest along his stomach. She couldn't have come in here to discuss Horcruxes right? Actually, he wouldn't put it past her to do just that, to be honest.

"I uh.. well I came to shower and I realised that you were still in here, still are in here so.. but yeah your vest was rolled up a bit sorry, just wanted to.. uh fix it, yeah, sorry." she stumbled over her words a lot, something he'd never heard from Hermione but she seemed to speak extremely fast yet agonisingly slow and deliberate at the same time.

She was breathing in deeply again and his eyes fell to the stray tight curls that graced the nape of her neck which her haphazard-looking ponytail exposed. The bathroom was quite dim and the yellow glow from the dingy lights fell just barely on her dark skin. Skin. His eyes travelled a little further to see she was wearing a vest herself, no a camisole, he didn't know what it was but his gaze was hooked on the space between her shoulder and collarbone. He had the urge to touch it with his lips.

He quickly averted his eyes as to not embarrass himself but they glanced over her bare legs in moderately short cotton shorts and he sucked his breath in so hard he was now bent at a slight curve, stomach clenched and breath hitched. He was quickly overwhelmed at the intimacy the situation opposed. Hell, he couldn't believe he was describing an interaction with Hermione as intimate. His ears were on fire surely, he'd need an Aquamenti to put them out if he survived.

"Oh", his voice heightened toward the end and he internally cringed so hard he thought he was going to combust.

"Yeah", she whispered, her eyes were on his arms, his brain scars were fully displayed and swirled across his recently filled out arms.

"I thought you were using the bathroom near your room?" he spoke softly and slowly, drinking in the sight of her lips, which she was toying with impatiently, now flushed.

There was an urge to cover his arms but he resisted and tried to focus on a chipped tile near the door. He failed as soon as she spoke once more, her voice clearer this time and with, almost, determination?

"I think I like this one more." she spoke, referring to the bathroom seemingly but her eyes were nowhere but him.

She intentionally made eye contact and his heart dropped to his lower stomach, his chest unnaturally warm. Wasn't this room cold as shit before? He was smart enough to know that bathroom was the last bloody thing she was talking about but words failed and he was more than happy to let her steer the conversation.

"Can I ask why?', he managed, his mouth was dry and he was sure he's never wanted anything more than for her to touch him, anywhere, she could slap him if she wanted and he would relish her skin on his.

Their breaths were erratic now, you'd swear they'd run a marathon twice over. Her chest was rising and falling agonisingly slow. He was still bent a bit so he was leaning towards her and she seemed to have gotten closer since she jumped back earlier. When did that happen?

"It's a bit more spacious I think, prettier interior as well", she whispered, swallowing halfway in between and added in the last bit staring so far into his eyes that he swore she was probably seeing through his head.

Pretty. Did she just say pretty? He was pretty sure she said pretty. No one had called him that before and if she had just called him fucking pretty he was going to die on the spot. Her words kept repeating in his head, soft and intentional. His entire body was frozen and he knew that the ground wasn't cold enough to make his legs tremble the way they were now. She gazed up at him and he swore he saw a glint of satisfaction after his reaction.

"Right, well, I'll let you have it then..Enjoy.", he applauded himself in restaining his voice from wavering at the end.

She gave a small thanks and he started to walk towards the door, her to the shower. Her bare shoulder touched his elbow at the exact moment her eucalyptus shampoo wafted towards his nose and he swore he almost whimpered. Their eye contact was only broken by the door closing and Ron almost collapsing on the other side.

PLEASE REVIEW! <3

#my fic #fic rec #harry potter headcanon #hermone granger #ron weasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley defence squad #ron weasley appreciation #romione #romione fanfiction #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #hermione granger headcanon #the golden trio #this is really long again sorry I just love details #hope you enjoy

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127-mile · 3 years

Text

Tales from the front desk: Ten.

Pairing: Artist!Ten x reader.

Genre: Ghost, haunted hotel | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Non-explicit mentions of death, mention of loneliness. There is a scene where it looks like drugs are being used on the reader, but it is not drugs, just the hotel’s bad atmosphere.

Plot: The Neo hotel opened its door in the nineties, and if at first it was seen as a nice and cheap place to stay, it changed pretty quickly. As intriguing as the hotel is, I do not advice you to ask the locals about it, because they will react in a way you do not want to witness. Fortunately enough, it is easy to know what happened in these walls, what happened in some of the rooms, thanks to a little bird with eyes everywhere.

Meet Ten, the artist whose death is as mysterious as it is famous, he likes to wander around the hotel in search of a new muse.

Word count: +4.8k.

A/N: This is inspired by the fifth season of American Horror Story and the real Cecil hotel. More parts with different members will be posted. I already have 5 chapters ready to be written. Also, this part will be linked with Johnny’s part. Spoiler on the tile: the mafia leader.

"I must warn you," the receptionist says as soon as he steps inside the elevator. "the third floor is known to be a bit hectic, so you might want to change room, which is totally fine." this is not the idea settings you were expecting when you wanted to rent a permanent room at the Neo hotel, but you had no other choice. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"If you say so." he answers, and he cringes at the music playing in the background. He has a love-hate relationship with the way it echoes in the elevator, after so many years, it sounds just like fingernails on a blackboard. "After you." he says when the doors slide open, and you take a few steps forwards, and you wait, backpack hanging from your shoulders.

"This is the fourth door on the right." the receptionist carries the dufflebag and he stops in front of the right door. "I don't know if you have noticed, but the signals is really bad here, so I have to check if the landline is working in your room." he unlocks the door, and heads to the vintage looking phone.

The wallpaper is old, and it is peeling off in the corners, and from where you are standing at the door, you see a layer of dust on the small wooden desk and the dresser. This is probably not healthy to breathe so much dust, and mold, but this is the cheapest place you could find in such a short time.

"Alright, the phone is working," the man starts, turning on his heels to face you. He looks young, way too young to be working in this kind of hotel, when he could fit right in, in one of those fancy hotels. "do not hesitate to call me at the front desk is someone bothers you too much, I'll come right away."

"Do you think someone is going to bother me?" you ask, head tilted to the side and the man shrugs. "I do not know for sure, but the last occupants of this room had some problems with the neighbors. Nothing I could not handle, so do not worry about a thing." this is really not reassuring.

"I'll take my leave then, please enjoy your stay. The bar opens at 8pm, and the roomservice is available at any time of the day, or the night, just press the number 4 on the phone." you nod, and you push yourself away from the door to let the man steps into the common hallway. "Oh, by the way sir, can I ask you for a favor?" you ask suddenly, and the man nods.

"If someone comes in looking for me, could you please call me before sending them?" the man, Doyoung, as you can read on the badge he is wearing on his shirt narrows his eyes. "Are you trying to avoid someone? Are you in troubles?" this is not the conversation you want to have with a stranger, but this is also the only way you can be safe.

"Let's say there is a reason for me to be staying here, when I have a perfectly functional house." Doyoung hums, hands burried in the pockets of his pants. "I understand, and I will let you know. No one will come knock on your door without you being made aware of it, trust me."

"Thank you, sir." you answer, and he smiles politely before leaving. A few seconds later, you hear the creaky sound of the elevator's doors, but before you close the door, you hear him speak, and you wonder if he is talking to you.

"Could you stop following me, you know very well you are not allowed to go anywhere else than this very floor. You do not want me to call the man for the sixth floor to remind you of the rules, right?" you frown, who is he talking to in this patronizing voice? "Yes, that's what I thought. Stay away from me, and from the room 304."

You walk outside of the room when you hear his last words, but the hallway is empty, Doyoung is already inside the elevator and no one is here. Who was he talking to? Maybe to someone peeking from behind their room's door, you think.

You close the door, and do something you should never have done. You drop onto the bed, head falling onto the pillows which sends up a cloud of dust thick enough to make you cough. "Oh, fucking hell." you mumble, straightening up.

When you finally stop coughing, your lungs are burning in a very unpleasant way, and you need time to catch your breath.

After a minute or so, you lie down again, more delicately this time, and you grab your phone from the pocket of your jacket. Like Doyoung had say, there is no signal, and you can't find anything with a potential wifi password on the bedside table like in the other hotels you had the luck to stay in.

At least, you know you will not be bothered by calls, and threatening texts from the person you are running away from. This is a plus, but is getting sick because of the dust really worht the peace that it will bring you? You do not know, you need to weight the pros and cons before giving your final verdict.

After an hour, you realize that the television is not working, which means there is nothing to do in this place. Without internet, you can't scroll down social medials until you fall asleep, so you have to find something to do if you do not want to die from pure boredom.

You get up from the bed, and you open the room's door. You hear nothing but the gentle hum of the air con, so you decide to take the keys and lock behind you. Maybe you can visit the hotel before it gets dark, you do not really want to see thos creepy long hallways bathed in unnatural yellow light.

You wait in front of the elevator when you hear a noise. You can't pinpoint exactly what kind of noise it is, but it is eery. It is like a gargling sound, but muffled by something. This sound is soon followed by a loud thump against one of the many doors, but you do not have time to go and investigate as the elevator's door slide open in front of you.

Maybe it's for the best, you think.

If Doyoung said the neighbors are causing problems, you do not want to be part of it. You are here to hide, and calm down, not ot get into any sort of fights with strangers. You look at the buttons, wondering which floor you should go to, but your eyes stop on one particular button.

Roof.

You press it without a second thought, and you wait.

It seems like as you go up, the music only gets louder and louder, and by the time you are two floors before the roof, you have to put your hands over your ears to try and drown out the disturbing noise coming from the old sizzling speaker.

"This place is fucking hell on earth." you mutter as you finally step out of the elevator. You are not quite on the roof, but rather in front of a flight of stairs that lead to the actual roof. But now that you are here, in front of the stairs, you wonder if it was not a bad idea. Not because you are scared or anything, but because the roof is usually a part you can't access in an hotel. So what if it is locked?

"Fuck it." you have nothing to lose, so you climb the stairs, not daring to put your hand on the railing, you feel dirty enough by simply staying in your dusty room, you do not need more right now. There are more steps than what you would have thought, but it's fine.

And it is also worth it, because you see the chain and the padlock on the ground, and the door is left ajar, held open by what looks like a brick.

With the air con, you forgot how hot it is outside, how hard it is to breath in the stuffy air. But you stay on the roof, and you were not expecting anything, and yet, you are still disappointed in a way. There is nothing, absolutely nothing. Oh, yes, there a huge water barrels on the side, but that's about it.

You walk to the edge of the roof, and you watch as life goes on outside of the hotel. People are walking down the street, some look at the hotel in a curiosity you do not understand, others cross the road to avoid it like the plague. This is trange, but you do not question it, you are not from here, and you know nothing about the hotel, so this is not your place to comment.

"Sweetheart, please, do not add another body to this hotel, we are already crowded down there."

You turn around when you hear a man's voice, sweet like honey, and dripping with something you can't quite describe. "I was not planning on jumping." you answer, and he looks relieved. "May I join you, then?" you nod, it is not like you have other things to do, or somewhere else to be.

"So, what is a beautiful doll like you is doing in a place like the Neo hotel?" he asks, sitting down on the edge of the roof, so you take the opportunity to watch him. His side profile was definitely crafted by the gods, and his long black hair falls prettily on his face, covering his cat-like eyes.

"Enjoying summer?" he pats the space beside him, so you sit down, legs dangling in the air. "You must hate yourself quite a lot to spend your summer in this place. What happened, who hurt you?" it is a rhetorical question, you know it, but you still shrug. "I mean, you are here, so I guess I could return you the question."

"Touché." is all he answers, and you close your eyes. It feels nice to be here, even though you can't help but to think about the man next to you, a stranger who could potentially push you from the roof, straight to your death. "What did you mean when you talked about the body count of the hotel?" you suddenly ask.

"Do you know anything about the Neo hotel?" you shake your head, and he hums. "That's for the best then, do not worry that pretty little head of yours." you are intrigued, and you hate the fact that he is really not talking about it, that's mean, you think.

"I'm Ten, by the way."

You open your eyes, and you turn to face him, legs crossed. "Ten? Like the artist? Lee Ten?" he turns his head, eyes narrowed because of the sun, and the corners of his mouth curve into a smile. "You know him?"

"He was on the front page of every newspapers when he died, and everyone talked about it for a while." for some reason, he looks satisfied with your answer. "Did they find anything about the way he died?"

You watched a bunch of videos about the Ten case, mostly because it was weird when it happened, nothing could have predicted that the young and famous artist would suddenly die in such a mysterious way, and you were trying to avoid your homework at the time. "There are a few theories, but nothing was never actually proved."

"Theories? Fascinating! Tell me more, please?" you heave a sigh, this is not how you thought your first day would end up, but you are not mad about it, you guess it is better than to be locked inside your room.

"Some people said he died of an accidental overdose, some said he killed himself, unable to deal with his sudden success. I watched a video of this girl who said he probably died because of the products he used to paint, that he inhaled too much of the fumes."

"And what do you think?" he asks, head tilted to the side. He looks amused by the conversation, but you think nothing of it. "I don't really know. He was young, wealthy, and I heard that he liked the attention, he liked knowing that people talked about him, so he probably found a way to die whilst remaining in everyone's head, and mouth."

"He did like to be the center of the attention." Ten comments, more to himself than to you. "Do you remember where he died?" you look up at the sky, and you try to think about this detail. You heard it thousands of times, but for some reason, you can't think of the name of the place. You can't even put a face on the name.

"It was in an hotel, I think?" he nods his head with vigor, his smile turns into a smirk. "Does the Neo hotel rings any bell?" you open your eyes wide, and you stand up so quickly that you miss tripping over your own foot. "Oh, take it easy sweetheart."

"He died here, in this hotel!" you exclaim, as Ten stands up too. "He did. At least now I know you are not here to investigate his death, which is a shame honestly. It's been a while since anyone came."

You should have known sooner something was fishy about this place! The name of the hotel did make something click inside of you, but in your haste to get away from home, you did not think about it more. You just thought it was a name you saw online while Johnny was looking for a place to stay during some random trip.

"Wait, how to you know people don't come investigate anymore?" he shrugs, and he walks towards the door. "Let's just say that I've been here for quite a while, and I notice when things change around here." you follow him, making sure the door is still ajar for whoever decided to keep it open.

"Is this why you are here?" you ask. "And is this why you chose this name? Are you some sort of creepy fanboy? You know, trying to be where your fantasy lover took his last breath, to be closer to him than anybody ever did?"

Ten chuckles, pressing on the elevator button. "What if I am?" you stay quiet, and you step in the elevator, Ten doing the same. "Which floor?" you press on the third and he smiles softly. "I see we are on the same floor, that's interesting."

You suddenly wonder if he is part of the troublesome neighbors Doyoung told you about. "Can I ask you something?" you have no time to think about it, you just nod. "Would you pose for me?" you frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean, pose?"

"I'm an artist, and I like to paint real people."

"You are really going all the way to be like the real Ten, uh?" the young man smile softly, but he does not answer. "But yes, I have nothing better to do, so paint me like one of your french girl." he laughs, and he leads you to his room's door, which is, the one where you heard the weird noises earlier.

"Are you alright?" he asks when he sees that you seem hesitant to take a step inside. "I- I, yes." you can't tell him what you heard, you do not want to make him angry, or uncomfortable and miss the opportunity to be a little more entertained until bedtime. "Come in!"

The room is bigger than yours, and on the walls, paintings are hung and a shiver rolls down your spine. Each painting has a different person on it, and it feels like they are watching you, they are scrutinize your every move. "What do you think? Pretty good, right?"

Yes, the paintings are incredible, and extremely realistic, but your pain is screaming at you to get the fuck out of Ten's room, and to not return, something is weighting down on your stomach when your eyes meet the ones of a man on the very first painting. "You are really talented, Ten."

Ten is beaming at the compliment, and he indicates a sofa on the back of the room, right in front of an easel. "Sit down, please. And be natural, there is nothing better than being natural." you nod, sitting down and ignoring the cloud of dust around you. He rummages through a drawer for his pain, brushes and a pencil to draw the sketch on the blank canvas.

"You are so beautiful, I could spend days looking at you." he says, not even taking his eyes off of his canvas. "You deserve to be forever on a canvas and admired by everyone." his voice is low, and you see in his face that he is focused on his task.

"How long have you been painting?" you ask, and you expect Ten to stay silent, but he hums. "My mother did not have time to take care of me, nor did she wanted it, so she used to give me paint, and old letters to keep me occupied while she was at work, or drinking with her friends. It was cheaper than a babysitter, so I started really young." not the ideal parenting, you think.

"Have you ever painted?" you try not to move, but it is hard when it feels like you are sinking deeper into the sofa. "I did, when I was in art class back in high school, but I was never good at it. I'm not an artistic person, I guess." Ten scoffs. "Art does not have to be good, or pretty to look at to be considered art. So of course you are an artist, no matter what you think. We all are artists in our own way."

This is a nice thought, and it could help a lot of people who are feeling discouraged. From the corner of your eye, you see a movement, but you do not say anything, you probably just saw a bug or something. But when it happens again, a shadow is looming over the wall, you jump off of the couch. "What the fuck was that?"

"What was what?" Ten asks, barely looking up from his canvas, he did not notice you getting up from the couch. "The shadow, I saw a shadow!" he laughs softly, putting his pencil down to stand up. "A shadow? This is only the two of us." he says, putting a hand on your cheek.

"Are you okay?" he tilts his head to the side, and you try to ignore how cold his hand is. "Why don't you lie down for a bit? You look ready to throw up." you feel dizzy, but you do not know if it's because of how hot it is in Ten's room, or because of his proximity.

He pushes you back down on the couch, and the way your back crushes against the back of the couch is enough to cut your breath short. "Close your eyes, my sweet little doll, you will feel batter later, I promise." he says, crouching down to face you. He slides his fingers on your face, and suddenly, you do not like his smile.

You want to say something, to get up and leave. You want to call Doyoung, to tell him everything, but you feel so so tired. Your eyelids are so heavy, you can barely keep eye contact with Ten. You do not want to fall asleep here, you are not comfortable, you hate this room.

"I want to go home." you say in a voice so low that Ten has to lean closer to hear it. "But this is home, sweetheart." you shake your head, no this is not home, home is where your husband is. "You said it yourself, you have a reason to be here, you had a reason to leave your house." he kisses your forehead gently. "This is your new home."

He stands up, and he opens his mouth again. "You will never have to run away ever again. You will be safe here, and never will you feel alone between these walls." Ten sits back down on his stool, and he looks at your like you are the eighth wonder of the world. "Sleep, sweetheart, everything will be better when you wake up."

You do not want it, but you close your eyes, and soon enough, you feel the arms of darkness embracing you tightly.

When you wake up, it is to a room bathed in sunlight and with a splitting headache.

You straighten up, trying to ignore the pain and how sore your body feels. You rub your eyes with the palm of your hands, and look around. You are in your bedroom, in the same clothes you came in and your phone is on the bedside table.

You remember falling asleep in Ten's room, and yet, you are here. What the fuck? Did you fall asleep yesterday, and dreamed of Ten and everything that happened after? You do not know, you are confused, but right now, you have better to do than to dwell on a potential dream.

You need some fucking aspirin.

You know you do not have any in yuor bag, so you stand up. Your vision becomes blurry, and your head is spinning, so you wait for a minute or so, and when you do not feel like you are going to pass out on the dirty carpet, you leave the room.

You try to be as quiet as possible, you do not want Ten to go out of his room, whether you actually met him or nit. Maybe he is not even real, you do not know shit right now.

The music in the elevator is too much, you should have taken the stairs, but you heave a sigh of relief when the doors slide open on the lobby.

Like the day before, it is empty, and Doyoung is standing behind the desk. He looks up when he hears the creak of the doors, and he smiles. "Good morning, how was your first night?" you stop in front of him. "Terrible. Awful."

His smile fades, and you feel bad for a second. "Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that. Did the neighbors bother you? I can go and talk to them, if you want." you shake your head. "Do you have aspirin? I have the worst headache ever." you mumble, and he nods before disappearing in the room behind the front desk.

He comes back with a small bottle of water, and two aspirins that he hands you. "You are my savior." he chuckles, and he watches you chug half of the bottle with the pills. "So, care to tell me what made your night so bad?"

"I had a really weird dream with a guy called Ten." he frowns at the mention of the young artist, so you tilt your head to the side. "Do you know him?" you really want him to tell him that no, he has no recall of a man called Ten in the hotel, you really want to believe that all of this was a dream.

"I actually do. Would you do me a favor?" when you nod, eyes narrowed, he opens his mouth again. "Can you go to the door, and try to leave the hotel? I know this sounds crazy, but I really need you to do it, without asking questions, I'll tell your everything later, I promise."

You do not know why, but you trust Doyoung with his gummy smile and his kind eyes, so you walk toward the front door, and you push it open.

But instead of seeing the street, hearing the traffic noise, you find yourself in one of the hotel's rooms. Not any room. Ten's room.

Ten is sitting on his stool, and his face and hair are covered in paint. When he sees you, his smile brigtens his face in a way you did not know was possible. "Sweetheart! What are you doing here so early? Already missing me?"

How is that even possible? You were trying to leave the hotel, how can you now be in a room, in the third floor? What the fuck is happening? "Look at that! I'm almost done." Ten grabs your wrist, and he makes you turn around to the easel.

You see yourself on the canvas, and it looks sor eal, you think that if you try to touch your face, you'll actually feel it. It is incredible, it is like looking at yourself in a mirror, but it is nothing but paint. "What do you think?" Ten is eager to know if you like the painting he spent so many hours working on.

"This is truly amazing." Ten's smile gets even bigger, and his eyes lit up, and you realize he has not let go of your wrist. "I'm glad you think so. From now on, you will always be with me."

You take a step back, but when you do, he only tightens his grip on your wrist, and it starts to hurt. "The hotel is greedy, you know, so I had to keep a part of you with me. I can't let the hotel have you entierly."

What he says make no sense, but you can't find it in yourself to ask him what he means. "I told you, you wouldn't have to run away anymore, and that you would never be alone either. There are so many people stuck in this hotel, you will forget what loneliness feels like." he sounds so excited, but you can't even pretend to be.

"Are you happy now, Ten?" you turn around when you hear Doyoung's voice. He is standing in the doorway, arms crossed against his chest, and his face is nothing but pure anger. "What is the point of keeping them here, you know very well they will refuse to see you after that, and you will be back to feeling lonely."

Ten shrugs, putting his brush down. "I do not care, I still have a part of them with me, these paintings are special. They are everything I have, and I will never be lonely, no matter if they decide to hide or not."

Ten finally lets go of your wrist, so you do not waste a second to join Doyoung. The man takes your hand in his, and he gently presses it. "Do you want to know something, Ten?" he asks, and the young man nods. "The reason why your favorite refuse to see you after you paint their portrait is simple. They are not hiding from you. I keep them away from you."

Ten's eyes open wide, and fill with tears. "What do you mean?" Doyoung's eery smile is back, and you do not like it, but you do not leave his side. He exhudes something comfortable. "You paint to avoid loneliness. But you deserve to be lonely. So as long as you will keep them here, I will keep them away from you. Be careful next time, I might just burn all of your little paintings, you deserve to feel trapped."

"You can't do that!" Ten yells, a sob threatening to leave his trembling lips, but a tear is already rolling down his cheek. "They are mine! They decided to be my muses, they have to stay with me!" Doyoung laughs, throwing his head back. "This hotel is mine, and will always be mine, I do whatever I want. And what I want, is for you to be as miserable as possible. You need to be punished. Loneliness is the punishment I chose for you."

"Come on darling, we have a lot of things to talk about, and I will also find you a better room because it seems like you are going to stay a little longer than planned." he leaves the bedroom and closes the door behind him. But you can still hear Ten's loud cries. "Do not worry, you'll never have to see Ten ever again, or at least until he decides to act like a normal human being again."

#nct #wayv #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios

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hyuneytoast · 3 years

Text

Stray Kid’s Cafes || OT8

Summary || Stray kids if they were to own cafes!

Genre || Fluffff

Word Count || 1.7k

Note || I wrote this at 2am. (And nervous as hell to post this) I thought it was a cute idea (cause my love fore cafes u know & longing to go to one but covid-) buuuuut... if you think it’s written poorly, my excuse: my half awaken mind and questioning sleep schedule. It’s also because I’m used to writing formally rather than this. Enjoy though ヽ(ヅ)ノ

⤑Bang Chan

Inside/Theme: Dark, moody, and very spacious. Plants in macrame and outlets everywhere. Grey concrete tables with chairs of dark wood and black iron. Either lofi or jazz plays in the background. Flooring patched with large black and white honeycomb tiles. Wood of deep and mysterious browns are made for walls. Glass pendants dangle from above. Perfect for relaxing or studying. Even more perfect to visit on rainy days.

Hours: 9am - 2am

Menu: Cinnamon rolls, espresso, frappes, omelets, sandwiches, croissants (plain or chocolate), salads, raspberry scones, hot chocolate

It’s like your presence just sparked something in Chan. You were a frequent customer, so not only Chan, but other employees recognize you. It just so happened that this day was the day Chan felt braver than others. When you went up to the counter and ordered a hot latte, it was the beginning of an endless exchangement of (cringey) pickup lines. And they were all based on coffee... “If you were coffee grounds, you'd be espresso 'cause you're so fine.” (oh dear god-) The both of you realizing you don’t have all the time in the world, you finish your order but Chan refuses you to pay with money. “Giving me your number sounds like a fairer trade.” And also, starting from this day, would always be some note or saying written on the cup sleeve of your coffee.

⤑Minho

Inside/Theme: Cat Cafe! Small white stools and square tables. Windows as the walls with window sills where cats sleep. Cat toys scattered everywhere. Mini houses with beds and staircases hung on the walls. Like an indoor cat community. In the center is a giant wooden structure in the shape of a tree for cats to climb. Each one has a name. You receive a free slice of cake if you remember each cat’s name. 50% of the treats on display are just for the cats. (And of course, every cat there is up for adoption!!)

Hours: 8am - 10pm

Menu: Shortcakes, blueberry muffins, fruit sandwiches, cookies, lattes (with latte art of cats ofc), mochas, bagels, banana bread.

Scenario || You find a cat wandering the streets and get a hold of it, calling the number displayed on its tags. You eventually return it to the cafe. As a thank you, Minho freely gives you a treat off the menu and a free session with the cats. You two make time fly with endless conversations of your guys love for cats and his opinion on why cats should rule over humans and the entire world. When you're at home later that night, it’s 2am. Turns out Minho saved your number when you called for the loose cat earlier because he sent you photos of his own 3 cats. Many photos. And one with him and a funny/weird filter.

⤑Changbin

Inside/Theme || Open and welcoming, very convenient. A cafe kiosk placed in a park, sheltered by the tall swaying trees and surrounded by the small patches of blossoms. The kiosk is made of tan wood, outlined and roofed with black. The cafe space has a stretched out wooden platform next to it. Above is a wooden frame wrapped in string lighting. Iron benches and long tables. The experience is even more enjoyable during spring.

Hours || 9am - 11pm

Menu || Iced tea, matcha crepe cakes, sandwiches, mocha bread rolls, raspberry lemonade, cappuccinos, ice cream (of many flavors).

Scenario || You should’ve known it was going to rain today. It’s like the huge grey clouds were trying to warn you through the whole morning. Before the pour, though, you strolled through the park and saw the cafe kiosk and let me tell you, those mocha bread rolls sounded good (especially on a chilly day). While sitting on the benches next to the cafe enjoying the mocha rolls, you feel the sky spitting on you and it only gets more aggressive. You look around and see everyone has an umbrella. Except you. Changbin invites you to wait out the rain inside his cafe kiosk (which you gladly accept). He also notices your joy from the mocha bread rolls and decides to show you how he makes it. It was messy (since your lack of baking skills were definitely no help), but fun for the both of you.

⤑Hyunjin

Inside/Theme || A neat and cozy atmosphere dipped in traveling dreams. Walls displayed with plants draping to its heart content and photos of sceneries and dogs (which Hyunjin gladly took and displayed himself). Low tables painted with faint hues of grey, placed against the walls. Linen lounges and small glass vases of baby breaths. Large windows with window sills lined with fuzzy pillows. Towards the back, a small staircase leading to a wooden platform holding up bookshelves.

Hours || 10am - 12am

Menu || Americanos, strawberry crepe cakes, savory crepes, honey toast, fruit tarts, fresh strawberry milk, paninis, strawberry mousse.

Scenario || You’re roaming the section where the bookshelves are. Hands drifting across the aligned books and head pondering what to read. You look next to your side, taking note of Hyunjin suddenly talking to you. He asks about your favorite genres to read. He also recommends you some of his favorite literature (which you eventually discover that majority of them are poems/stories of romance) and says it be fun to read them together, along with his treat of fresh strawberry milk. Reading sessions and strawberry milk became a weekly routine for the two of you.

⤑Jisung

Inside/Theme || Shelves of pastries for you to grab and put on a tray. Filled with an aroma of sweet coffee. Simple tables and benches made of deep browns. White counters tiled with a large honeycomb pattern. Walls are of a light grey. Next to windows are woven hanging chairs with cute cartoon animal characters. On the counter is a jar of stick props for photos ‘cause why not.

Hours || 9:30am - 10pm

Menu || Cheesecake (of many different flavors), chocolate cake, iced americanos, croissants, cake rolls, custard bread, cream puffs, egg tarts, tirimisu.

Scenario || You ordered a few slices of cheesecakes after asking Jisung which ones he recommended. It was quite obvious he loved cheesecake more than anything and of course you couldn’t order just one flavor! Along with the few cheesecakes, You also ordered an americano. After receiving your drink (and cheesecake), you found a small note taped on the cup: “If you want more cheesecake suggestions, ask me anytime!” Below was a doodle of a squirrel and his phone number. AND maybe... just maybe... You take a photo of your cheesecakes to show your friend and Jisung ends up photobombing half of the photos you took (with some of the props from the counter). And of course you don’t notice until your friend starts spamming you about the guy in the background.

⤑Felix

Inside/Theme || A video game cafe, sells mainly bubble tea. Very homey with couches and bean bag chairs. A few TVs hooked up to the Switch. Simple patterned rugs and walls of a faint blue. Cute cartoon stickers displayed on walls and concrete counters. White shelves of board games.

Hours || 8am - 11:30pm

Menu || Bubble tea, brownies, cookies (of many kinds), bubble waffles, banana pudding, toast (sweet & savory), pancakes.

Scenario || You enter the cafe when it’s empty. You order a treat of your choice and make your way to play the Switch. With no other customer around, Felix decides it won’t hurt to take an extra break and play with you. (To beat you in a game or more of Super Smash Bros to be specific.) 1 game turned into countless that you both even lost track of your scores. And perhaps he got too distracted and almost missed the growing line waiting at the counter. But! Weekly video game tournaments between the two of you became something to look forward to. And maybe the two of you decided to play UNO one day and boy did the game put the two of you in a pit of raging hell.

⤑Seungmin

Inside/Theme || A comforting, more on the minimalistic side cafe. White brick walls, light grey flooring, and high beamed ceilings. Black pendant lights hanging, painting the cafe in light hues of honey. Long high tables with tall iron stools. Small potted succulents aligned on the table. White marble counters and pastries displayed in glass cake stands.

Hours || 7:30am - 10:30pm

Menu || Lattes, croissant sandwiches, chocolate mousse dogs, crepes (sweet and savory), lemon poundcake, biscuits with peach jam, homemade soups.

Scenario || Lets just say your day has been extremely hectic. For a cure, a treat from your favorite cafe sounds like a good plan. Though, you end up entering the cafe five minutes after closing hours. Great. Seungmin, who is inside cleaning up one of the tables, notices (and also recognizes you’re the frequent customer he has gotten to be friends with over his shifts). He unlocks the door and happily lets you stay after hours. You have latte (which Seungmin actually draws a happy face on the cream) and a chocolate mousse dog while chatting with Seungmin. Thanks to Seungmin’s constant invitations, late orders and chats ended up becoming regular.

⤑Jeongin

Inside/Theme || Low platform seating and low round tables. Small jars of fairy lights and daisies. Background music is either lofi or indie. Walls of a comforting dark green and floors of dark wood. Framed cute doodles and warm signs decorate the walls. High ceilings with gold lamps hanging.

Hours || 7:30am - 9pm

Menu || Milk bread, milkshakes, taiyaki (with different fillings), taro crepe cakes, fruit tea with popping boba, soufflé pancakes.

Scenario || You know that broken or no internet connection running dinosaur game (if not look it up and it’ll literally change ur life.)? Well, you brought your laptop to study but surely a game or two won’t be a big deal. And maybe playing also lended time to mentally prepare yourself just to ask for the wifi password. When Jeongin came to serve your cake order (a taro crepe cake or any crepe cake is a must try in life), he places the plate next to you and begins to speak as he notices your screen (where you keep running into pterodactyls and failing). And no, he wasn’t giving you the wifi password. “Can I try?” Beating each other’s high scores, still no wifi, and chatting. That’s how the rest of the afternoon went. (With Jeongin taking a break every now and then to help the customers of course.)

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Daybreak (1/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go]

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

------

“And why not?” You ask, cheeks flushed and heart pounding in your chest. “Why not me?”

When he looks at you, there’s a certain kind of disregard in his eyes. The hazel twinkles like stars, you think. Bright yet so far away. He doesn’t answer you and turns away to nurse his drink instead.

His friends chortle and you pretend not to notice, but a burning humiliation creeps up your cheeks and you can’t discern if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment of so many eyes on you at once. In the periphery of your vision, you can see yourself in the clean reflection of the windowpane, darkened by night, speckled by stars.

There’s muted conversations and the clicking of dirty silverware on fake china, of beer cans falling over and clattering hollowly with the floor.

“I just want to understand you better.”

You can’t wrap your mind around why you’re trying so hard to talk to him. It shouldn’t matter, you shouldn’t care. That’s what you tell yourself, but your feet are erected in the ground like a permanent structure and they wont budge, no matter how many times you beg them to leave, leave, leave.

“Wolf’s been having a shit day. I’d recommend you get the fuck outta here before you give us a reason to make it any worse.”

Your resolve embodies itself in your shoulders. They stiffen with frustration, sturdy as an iceberg- then drops suddenly, melting away all at once like cold water running down your back.

The man throws another wayward amber glance in your direction, as if sizing you up for a fight. You would’ve laughed at his belligerence if you weren’t so sure he’d knock out your teeth.

“I’m sorry. I was getting ahead of myself.”

You can feel the stares of the other patrons on you back, but none of them sear you, hot and daring, as much as the pair before you. His glasses catch in the light, and for a brief second you see yourself again.

Desperate, and pathetic. Looking and looking.

Your legs unstick from the mosaic tiled floors, but they feel leaden. You don’t care though, as long as you can move you should go.

You let your legs carry you out of the restaurant, but it feels more like conscious dragging at this point. You think he watches you on the way out, and you wonder if you’ll regret any of this tomorrow.

A tinkering bell chime announces your re-entry to the crisp nighttime air, but the evening breeze does nothing to ease the pounding of your head or your heart. You take a few staggering steps away from the eatery and lean against the brick wall, appreciating the cool sensation washing over your burning cheeks.

The moon is bright and it irritates your eyes. A fist clenches at your side and you grit your teeth at the sting of nails pressing into the soft flesh of your palms. Pain shoots up your arm and you release your grip, but remain unable to get his shitty visage out of your mind.

Purple hair, hazel eyes, red blazer.

“Fuck…”

Your foot meets the wall and you hope that at least a bit of sediment will chip off but it does not yield.

Purple hair,

“Fuck.”

You kick the wall again, this time with more vigor.

Hazel eyes,

“Fuck!”

A puff of dust arises from the wall and you’re unsure of whether it’s from your shoe or the building, but you don’t really give a shit anymore.

Red. Blazer.

You feel your hand curl into a fist again, tight enough that your whole arm shakes with it. You can’t get it out of your head, and you hate that you can recite it from memory.

“FUCK!”

You reel your arm back and send it flying to the wall, itching for the crunch of knuckles, the bursting of skin, the trickle of blood.

But another hand stops you.

It catches your fist in a hand larger than yours, wrapping around it and easily encasing your hand in his.

You look up and expect to see those burning eyes again but are instead faced with a stranger, a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“That would’ve hurt.”

You don’t realize your vision is blurred until you try to make out his features. Your fist is still captured in his grip and when you move to pull it back, he hastily releases it with a blush on his pale features.

“Ah, sorry. I just grabbed you without thinking.”

He says this as you wipe away your tears with your sleeves, silently admonishing yourself for losing your temper in public and letting a stranger witness it, but he doesn’t comment on it.

He looms a beat longer than necessary and you wonder why until you feel yourself swaying back and forth.

You're not sure what to say to fill the silence, so you remain quiet. Luckily, he seems to take the hint and hops in.

“I’m Alex Go. From Eunjang High School.”

You think it sounds familiar. It might’ve been one of the schools that all the delinquents came from, but you couldn’t be sure.

“I’m (Y/n).”

You shift in place and cross your arms across your body, eyes trained on the concrete rippling below your heels, wondering if you should’ve opted for flats instead.

Alex furrows his brows at your guarded pose and chews on his lip, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Are you feeling okay? You were really going at the wall here, before.”

There’s a twinge in your heart at the hint of concern in his voice, and can’t help the snark that seeps into your response.

“Yeah. I’m tipsy and just got humiliated by some jackass, but other than that I’m cool.”

The slur is hard to ignore. Harder to ignore than the clicking of your heels against the sidewalk, harder to ignore than the hiking hem of your dress. You can almost swear you see Alex gulp, sweat beading at his temples in an earnest attempt to keep his eyes on your face. You think its cute, but opt out of telling him lest you give him a heart attack.

“O-oh, right…” He trails off, palming at the back of his neck. “Sorry to hear that.”

You slide your eyes down his tense body and watch how your shadows cross on the floor, dark and muted on the concrete. The moment of silence stretches into a minute, and you decide it’s time to retire for the night. You brush past him, a lopsided smile fixed on your face.

“Well, I should be going home now. It’s getting late and we’ve both got school tomorrow, don’t we?”

You turn back to look at him, but all the sudden movements are too much for your slogging brain. A piece of your heel snags in the sidewalk and you stumble a bit before catching yourself, sending Alex into a frenzy. He’s at your side in a second, arms hovering around your shoulders and waist in case you take another tumble. He isn’t touching you, but the boy is like a damn radiator giving off all this heat.

So much for a suave exit.

“I uh,” He gives a half shrug and a shy grin. “I have late classes tomorrow. I can walk you, if you’d like?”

You look at him and only then does he realize how close he is to you. He makes the motion to back up, but a hand snakes out to snatch his sleeve, anchoring him in place.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

He gulps again, and this time you know it happened because you can see and hear it. His eyes are green and glassy. You can see the reflection of the world in them, and you like it.

“Alright,” He says, a bit breathily. “Lead the way, then.”

The entire way back was filled with light conversation, and Alex repeatedly asking if you wanted his shoes after you took off your heels.

You ask about his friends and learn about “Big Ben” Park, Gerard Jin, Eugene Gale and the enigma Gray Yeon.

He asks about your hobbies and learns of your prospects to become a world-renowned writer, or an Olympic wrestler.

When Alex laughs, you feel your lips curl up too and it’s like forgotten magic.

When you arrive at your humble apartment, all the unpleasant thoughts and memories of tonight, and many other nights before this one, have been placated.

“This is me.” You turn to face him, heels dangling from your fingers.

You know you must look deranged, lip color smeared from the drinks and eye makeup smudged from the tears earlier. But in the pale glow of the flickering, yellowed streetlights with Alex, you feel rejuvenated.

“Thanks for accompanying me, Alex Go.”

Alex smiles, a soft, charming blush on his cheeks and brushing over the light scar across his nose, not expecting you to use his full name.

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you made it back alright.”

He shuffles in place but doesn’t turn to walk away. You wonder if he has anything to say, and when he doesn’t speak, you decide you do.

“Alex?”

“Hm?”

You see his green eyes widen a bit before you’re enveloped in the pressed material of his school uniform, the stiff blue collar pressing into your face. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your head into his neck. He smells like freshly cut grass, and pine, and he’s warm compared to the autumn air.

He stutters, but doesn’t push you away, hands poised to return the gesture. You pull away before he can gather his wits about him.

“Thank you. Seriously.”

You press a gentle, chaste kiss on his cheek. A sign of hope, of hope to persevere. His skin feels good on your lips, and his hair tickles your nose. When you pull back, you fold both hands behind your back and give him a cheeky smile. You stand to admire how the scarlet blush creeping up his neck complements his fair skin and tender gaze. He reaches a hand up to hold his cheek, eyelashes fluttering.

“T-thank you…” he trails off, then pulls himself out of his reverie, catching his mistake.

“I mean-! You’re welcome! It wasn’t any hassle, really.”

You giggle and step back, admiring the gleam in his eyes and the subconscious quirk of his lip. Another step back, then a wave goodbye.

“I hope I’ll see you around, Alex Go.”

You slip back into your apartment without another word, the door clicking closed behind you.

Alex lingers, flustered, watching the spot you once stood. Under the moon illuminating the street, through the brush of reddening leaves, he lets out a breathy sigh.

He hopes so too.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum #wolf keum x reader #alex go #alex go x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #daybreak

66 notes · View notes

shibarirobot · 3 years

Text

Aizawa fic - CH1 - Entrapment

+18 only

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

I’m going to do my best to keep this fic as ambiguous as possible so anyone can enjoy it. The first few chapters will be tamer to build intruig, but make no mistake this is going to get SPICY. It’s not exactly a reader insert, but I’m going to stay away from describing my lead character, apart from quirk abilities, to make it easy for those that enjoy a reader insert to lose themselves in this fic.

That being said, this fic is centered around a villain who can manipulate electro magnetic frequencies, that’s pretty broad and I’m no science kid, but I’m fairly certain everything I have them do is plausable with this type of quirk, if you have any suggestions for how it could be used or if I have written something infactual to the ability feel free to message me or leave an anon. However, in a made up world of quirks and hot men, I’m not sure it really matters lol. Suspend your disbelief as they say.

Anyways, enjoy.

Four o’clock rolls by so slowly I can feel myself aging. I look down at my watch for the fifth time in the last three minutes and let out a huff. 3:57. No time to start getting anxious. I push even the word anxiety out of my brain and take another deep breath, closing my eyes. Distancing myself mentally from the hum of drunken bar thoughts. This time trying to calm my slightly lifted heart rate as it now feels like time has sped up exponentially, I realize I have no time to take a smoke or even go to the bathroom. It’s about to happen. I look at my watch again and feel the lump in my throat drop to my stomach as I swallow my insecurities and pull my hand up to my hip, skimming my thigh as I go. I can feel this too, the weapon at my waistband that has been pressing hard against my skin and keeping my back rigid as I try to level my breathing. I make eye contact with a tall man across the room from me, already nursing a beer before 4 pm and for a brief moment the air is still, latent energy pooling around me as I suck in another breath and force myself onto my feet. I magnetize my voice and push it into their brains as the stagnant energy from before comes crashing down in waves around me.

“Everybody on the floor! NOW!” I say it, but they feel it, they feel their brains being ripped in half by my voice. The splitting headache that I come to find familiar, comforting even, forced upon these self serving bystanders. The pulse behind my eyes reminds me I’m alive, if nothing more than in a physical sense I am still living. Ringing fills the air as I roar into them again, enjoying watching them all grip their temples and wobble as they start to lose their equilibrium. I’m effectively scrambling their brains and replacing what is left with my own force of will. “I… SAID… NOW!!!!” They drop to their knees, some flopping to the side, giving up fighting, they're all sheep. Fucking sheep that just do what they’re told. Fucking sheep that believe in heroes and laws, it’s all bullshit. Even these citizens know it, but they all fall in line anyways. Because it’s power that they obey. And right now, I have it.

I lock eyes with the man from before and he tries to move to the door, still wobbly on his feet. I smirk a little at his attempt. There’s always one. Always a fool that tries to play hero. He wants to... what? Call for help? Prove he’s not weak? Make up for his otherwise lackluster life? I don't even try to stop him. He barely makes it two feet before the rest of my crew shows up, a power type goon pushing the hero wannabe to the ground in a matter of seconds, the other, deadbolting the door. He never stood a chance and I chuckle to myself, grinning wildly now. I hear a groan from the ground next to my foot and look down, a woman is curled up on her side, one hand grasping desperately at the side of her head, the other gripping the material at her stomach with white knuckles. Her lips are pale and there is a cold sweat dripping down the side of her forehead, tears gathering at the corners of her big doe eyes. She’s honestly quite beautiful and it makes the terror in her eyes that much more satisfying when she looks up at me and whimpers a small, desperate, “Please.”

I stare down at her for a moment and absorb the painting before me. Such raw emotion. True pain. I laugh again, whole heartedly as a chorus of groans erupt from my captive audience, my screeches drilling a hole in their skulls. They don't even know what pain is and they fold at the waist and buckle at the knees, this is just a taste and they can hardly stomach it. While I'm laughing, I wrench my leg back and kick the woman in the stomach. Hard. My boots are steel plated and weighted, 15 pounds each, so I know it hurts. “Stupid bitch! Haha!” She screams, coughs, then hurls. Vomit mixing into her hair. I kick her again then lean down and grab her by the jaw, rubbing hard circles into her cheek as I yank her forward by the neck. Her eyes had been closed, but they snapped open when I did that, the vomit in her hair making it stick to her face. “You look so pretty when you beg, shame it will get you nothing here.” Dropping her head back to the hard, tile floor as I rise, looking down on her in disgust. I spit on her cheek from above and survey the room, all eyes are on me. She starts crying and I kick her one last time for good measure, for her distraction. “Whore.” It falls from my lips and I almost feel bad, but then I don't. I don't feel bad for these people, she would have thought the same thing about me and smiled to my face, not knowing who I am, what I’m capable of. She would have been comfortable in doing so to know her thoughts were private. They wouldn’t have been. I would have heard her, as I’ve heard countless others. I shake my anger away in the moment, getting back to business, now is not the time to let my emotions get the better of me.

Everyone was hearing me before, but now that I’m focused my voice is poignant, rumbling in the back of everyone’s minds like distant thunder. Like the booming voice of god. In this moment, I might as well be god. “Enough theatrics. If anyone moves I will LIQUIFY your brains, got it?!” There’s a prickle of anxious realization in the room as they all come to terms with the fact that I can do it and have a clear disregard for any of their well being. “Good. Now be darling little hostages and lay there in agony while the big mean bad guys rob the place, ‘kay?” My voice had lost the murderous quality it once had as I start to talk to them how an owner would to a new puppy. Lovingly, but condescending.

I now look back to my crew, all people I barely knew, hired hands to make my plan run smoothly, expendable, but crucial. I see they have sealed all exits and my muscle men are manning the door. Well, muscle people I should say. One is a hefty looking mutherfucker with steel brackets around his wrists and ankles. His muscles swell and retract like they're breathing, as if his muscle was an entirely different entity from his body. It’s mesmerizing and somewhat disturbing to watch. The other is a short, toned woman with a spiked, pink mohawk and a killer smile. Her teeth are sharp and platinum and she grins, chomping her jaw to herself. It makes a distinguishable ‘Clang Clang’ when her teeth lock into place with each other.

Knowing they have the hostage situation handled, I make my way to the back of the bar. There is a door in the corner and I reach for the handle as I approach, but a wave of hesitation hits me as I do, something tells me to move away from the door. With a quick dodge, I leap backwards as the door explodes, a fist appearing at the center of the explosion. A hero. Dammit. I was hoping to get this over with before we had a chance for interference. I ‘tsk’ my tongue and toss a scowl over my shoulder. What’s the point of a hired lookout if they don’t even tell you when the ops are coming? When I look behind me I see my lookout, the only person I hired on a quirk specific level, toppled over with a dart in their neck. Fuck. They were supposed to see around corners in the getaway. My eyes scramble around the room to see where it came from but there’s no one, just a small crack in the window where I assume the dart broke through. Someone on the roof.

Frustration overtakes me and I scream up at the ceiling. What’s the point of planning if I have to do everything myself anyways? The scream ruptures into everyone’s thoughts. The civilians. The heroes. The other villains. They all feel my wrath. I stand and kick the hero that had just blasted through the door and my plans in one fell swoop. I've seen him on tv, he’s getting pretty famous, some new chump that can balloon his fists. He really thought a physical quirk could beat me? He grunts then goes slack, some hero. The ones that never get hit can never handle it when they eventually do. I step past his body and again past the debris of the door. There’s a small room back here with metal shelves on each wall and one in the middle forming three neat rows, pilled with bricks of gold, artifacts and a computer on a table in the back. There’s another hole in the wall across from the door, seems as if this loser busted through both walls just for a shitty sneak attack. Easy escape though. Rolling my eyes, I march past the gold and the shinies and dig a flash drive out of my pocket, shoving it into the USB port, it immediately starts glowing red. I kick the chair to the side and lean down, tapping the keys furiously as I transfer file after file to my drive and delete them from the computer's hard drive. When I’m done, I pull the drive from the port, not worrying about ejecting the drive. It will just have to deal. I straighten my jacket and brush the hair out of my face, leisurely strolling back to the hole in the wall.

Something glints in the corner of my eye and my focus is shifted to a beautiful diamond necklace that has to be worth more money than I have ever seen in my entire life. I’m about to take another step when the urge to possess this object takes me over so abrasively I can't even think about ignoring it. My hand darts out to the necklace, making quick work of securing it around my neck. I slip a gold brick into my pocket as well, reveling in the thrill of theft. Unplanned theft that is.

Now that I’m satisfied with myself, I continue my trek to the hole across where the door used to be, leading to the alley, ready to make my one person escape only to be confronted face to face with glowing red eyes, barred behind shuttered goggles.

Thank you for reading my first chapter! I hope you have enjoyed it!

Maybe leave a like...? Just a thought XD

I will be updating this and adding it to AO3 as soon as I get an account (I’m on the waiting list). There will be a link availiable to my new AO3 and other content as soon as I have that ready. Thanks again!

CH2

#my hero academia #my hero x reader #mr aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #fan fic author #fan fic #eraser head #my hero fanfic #aizawa is so hot omg #villian #this is gonna be real spicy #bring milk

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poledancingdinos · 4 years

Text

What’s The Case?

Word count: 2260

Warnings: Canon typical violence, graphic description of murder scenes, death, mention of sexual assault and prostitution

If you see anything else worthy of a warning let me know

A/N: All right ladies and gents, this has been in the works for almost a month now, so I hope you enjoy. My beta isn’t a fandom gal, but she still graciously agreed to read this for me since it was more complex than my normal work, so she gets a loud whoop whoop for her help.

Masterlist

Soft buzzing echoed through the bedroom, the only light coming from the small screen which had lit up with an incoming call. The occupant of the bed stirred and groaned before sitting up with a start. He reached for his phone and answered with a husky voice, words slurring slightly from the lingering grogginess.

“Marshall”

“Homicide in the parking lot at the corner of Oakwood Avenue and Hill Street.”

“All right, I’m on my way.”

“Just a warning, this is a messy one.”

The line went dead, replaced by the high-pitched dial-tone. The large man threw his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the palms of his hands. He sighed, pushing himself up to walk towards his dresser.

***

The bell above the door chimed as Marshall walked into the empty coffee shop, shoulders scrunched forward in exhaustion. The detective had been visiting that shop weekly for years. He was a creature of habit and that habit, unfortunately, was to stop by on Saturday mornings having not actually been to sleep yet. He was either grabbing coffee to continue working on whatever case was open once he finally did get home or he was trying to look somewhat presentable for his visit with his daughter, Faye.

The shop was quaint, the sitting room only big enough for half a dozen tables. The smell of pine detergent lingered in the air from that morning’s cleaning, mixing with the scent of freshly ground coffee. The whole shop was decorated in a modern industrial design. There were visible air ducts across the ceiling, the floor was grey tile and the wall behind the counter was white, painted brick with a large chalkboard hanging in the center, detailing the menu.

***

Detective Walter Marshall raced around his barely furnished house collecting his badge, gun and car keys. He’d showered before falling into bed the previous evening, making for a quick departure. His stomach grumbled but he knew there was no point in checking the fridge for a snack since the only thing in it was a bottle of hot sauce and a half empty jug of orange juice.

The door slammed shut behind Marshall as he rushed down the concrete stairs leading to the driveway. He hoisted himself up into the cab, turning the key in the ignition. The truck roared to life and backed out into the night. The man’s stomach growled again as he drove by his usual coffee shop. He looked at the clock for the first time since the commissioner’s call. It was a few minutes past two in the morning meaning the shop wouldn’t be open for another few yours. He would just have to make do.

***

“Good morning,” a woman called from behind the counter. Her smile was as bright as ever and her tone sounded much more cheerful than what one would normally expect for five o’clock in the morning on a Saturday.

Walter stepped up to the wooden counter and handed over a ten-dollar bill to pay for his drink without saying a word. He leaned both palms against the counter as the young woman happily rung up his order, which she new by heart after serving him for nearly a year and gave him his change. She wore a curve hugging white t-shirt below a black apron with blue stitching, reading "Penny." Her chocolate hair was pulled back into a tight bun making it difficult to tell just how long it really was. To a stranger, the detective’s behavior would probably come off as rude or abrasive, but Penny knew better than to be intimidated by his grumpy exterior.

***

Marshall stepped down from his blue Ford pick-up truck onto the freshly paved asphalt of the vacant parking lot. Three patrol cars with flashing red and blue lights were positioned in a triangle pattern, connected by crime scene tape, a lamppost serving as the final corner of the square perimeter. It was a cold fall night in Minnesota, but all Marshall had on was a knit sweater over a thin short-sleeved shirt and a pair of old blue jeans.

The sound of police sirens grew louder in the quiet of the night as another squad car raced past on the adjacent street. A few uniformed officers were standing guard near the thin yellow barrier while others stood near the trunk of the police cruiser, talking with a pair of high school kids who were each holding a skateboard.

Marshall ducked under the tape and greeted the assistant coroner kneeling by the body. One of the uniformed officers approached the tall, bearded man from where he had been speaking with the youngsters.

“Detective Marshall,” the officer saluted.

“Officer Campbell,” Marshall nodded in acknowledgment before returning his gaze to the ground. “Were you first on the scene?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do we have an ID on the victim?” Marshall leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms.

“No, Sir. There was no purse or wallet near the body when we arrived. The kids said they didn’t touch anything, and I’m inclined to believe them based on how freaked out they are.”

“I’ll come talk to them in a minute,” Marshall answered, dismissing the officer.

“Yes, Sir.” The young man retreated to his original position.

***

“What’s the case this week, Detective?” she asked as she went about preparing Walter’s usual coffee order.

Marshall glanced around the shop making sure there were no customers who could overhear their conversation. She was the only person outside of the precinct that had ever convinced him to share case details. Still, he was careful not to do so when other people were within earshot and only talked about cases that were officially closed, never on-going investigations. His deep voice echoed in the empty shop as he spoke.

“DB found by a maid in a fleabag motel room. Female victim in her late twenties, naked on the bed, no purse, no ID, no cash, or other valuables in the room. Clerk at the front desk said the room was paid for in cash and there was no name given when she registered. She had bruising around her neck and petechial hemorrhaging near the eyes but no defensive wounds.”

The barista set a steaming cup of coffee down on the counter for Marshall to take, then walked to a small table next to the large front window with her own ceramic mug in hand. She sat on the black metal chair, gesturing for the large man to mirror her action. The chair was dwarfed by his wide thighs and torso, making it look like a children’s toy in comparison.

“All right, my first thought would be that she was most likely a prostitute who was strangled by either her pimp or one of her Johns,” Penny began, brows furrowed in concentration.

***

“Female victim in her early to mid twenties. Multiple defensive wounds on her hands and arms, her knuckles are cut open and her knees are bruised. She put up one hell of a fight,” the assistant coroner listed off what had been observed about the victim so far. “Average height, average build, brown hair… She’s going to be hard to ID.”

“She looks like she was dressed for a night out.” He was talking to himself more than to the other man as he took in the sight.

The poor woman lay on her stomach in a sizable pool of blood, dressed in what could only be qualified as a “little black dress” and strappy black pumps. One of her knees was raised making it possible to see the bruising that had started to form before her death. The defensive wounds were consistent with those of a trained fighter, not what one would expect for a young woman. One of her heels lay broken on the ground near the body. Her hair fell in perfect curls over her face, effectively concealing it from the detective’s view. Had it been visible, Walter was sure that he would have been able to see a full face of makeup.

“You thinking it was a robbery-gone-bad?” the man called from the ground.

The detective looked around without answering, trying to imagine how the Jane Doe would have wandered into the vacant lot so late at night. The lamppost on his left was burnt out and the one above the body was flickering on and off. The nearest bar was at least a 20-minute walk from their current location, and it was another 20 minutes to make it to the closest residential area. It was unlikely that any young woman would have chosen to walk alone through the dimly lit parking lot on her way home wearing those high heels, but it was not impossible.

***

“Not a bad assumption. What if I told you there was a fresh tan line of a wedding ring on her finger?”

The woman considered his statement for a moment, chewing unconsciously on her lower lip.

“Were there any clothes or any signs that the hotel room was actually lived in?”

The man leaned back against the cool metal, studying the woman as he took a large gulp of coffee. The natural light coming in from the morning sun did nothing to hide his disheveled curls or the dark circles under his eyes, which tainted his handsome face. Penny wished she could see him well rested and cleaned up for once.

“No clothes other than a matching set of expensive lingerie, a cocktail dress and a pair of heels. There were a few things knocked over in the room, possibly the result of a struggle or really vigorous sex, and the bed had definitely been used.”

“Doesn’t fully rule out robbery-gone-bad but it seems improbable since she would most likely not have had much to steal. Besides, if she was indeed married, then the husband is the first suspect.”

“That sounds like a saying you pulled from CSI or something,” he smirked, tilting his head to the side. He loved watching her work out the cases in her head. He teased her often, but in reality, he was very impressed by her natural instincts for crime solving.

“Well, it doesn’t make it any less true, even if I have seen every single episode of Vegas, Miami and New-York,” she joked. “Seriously, though, I think that she probably had her ring off to meet a lover or something. Husband caught on to what was going on, interrupted them and killed his wife after chasing off whoever she was with. The husband probably panicked choosing to take her purse and any other valuables to make it look like she was robbed.”

"You're getting way too good at this." The corners of his lips turned up into a slight smirk, deepening the crow’s feet that were beginning to appear.

"That's because you keep giving me easy cases. Anyone can guess that a naked prostitute was probably killed by a client or her boss and that a jealous husband could possibly kill his wife and/or her lover. You need to give more challenging cases."

Marshall made a face, showing his disagreement with her last statement.

"Come on, Detective. If I want to make it to the same place you are, I need to be the best and that means learning from the best," she pouted in a way that was not dissimilar to the look his teenage daughter gave him when she wanted something. Her flattery, however, was not going to change his mind.

"You'll see enough horrors every day when you graduate from the police academy, you don't need to spend your last weeks of freedom hearing about past ones as well."

***

The CSI team had finally arrived at the scene, so Marshall turned and walked over to the skateboarders, who were leaning against one of the patrol cars, to give them space to work. The teenagers stood up straighter as the large man strut towards them with his usual intimidating demeanor. The conversation was short, the detective not learning any new information from taking their statements. When they finished, Officer Campbell and his partner arranged for the two spooked boys to be driven home, their parents having already been informed of the unfortunate situation. He asked the other officers to canvass the area for a purse or wallet before returning to the other side of the tape.

"Fred, I'm going to need you to check for sexual assault."

The assistant coroner looked up at the source of the gruff voice.

"Yes, of course. I was just about to roll our Jane Doe, so you'll get a better idea of what her fatal wounds were."

Fred repositioned himself on the other side of the body before carefully turning over the lifeless woman. The color drained from Marshall’s already pale face, making him look ghostly. His heart began to pound against his rib cage and his breathing became unsteady. Over a dozen stab wounds sullied the woman’s abdomen and torso in addition to the defensive slashes across the rest of her body. The detective cursed under his breath and crouched near the woman's head, bracing himself against the shock that was overtaking him. He remained motionless, eyes wide, after the movement had caused some of the victim's hair to shift revealing her face. Marshall starred at her lacerated features for over a minute before snapping out of his trance.

“Penny,” Marshall whispered.

“Excuse me?” Fred answered, looking around the body, confused.

“Her name was Penny.”

#walter marshall #night hunter #nomis #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall fic #walter marshall fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #tw: death #tw: dead body

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spartanguard · 4 years

Text

untitled monster loving fic (1/?)

Summary: A mysterious event ten years ago left a number of people in Boston with unusual abilities and physical attributes...whether they like them or not. Killian Jones is one of them; so is Emma Swan. Are these things curses, or blessings? Will finding each other help them decide?

rated (eventual) M | 2.4k | AO3 coming at some point

A/N: So full credit for this idea goes to @thesschesthair and her ramblings on The Deep while watching The Boys. And since it’s spooky season, and monster f***ing is a thing, ideas started spinning and....this happened. I’m not sure where exactly it’s gonna go and ngl, I definitely borrowed a plot point from Static Shock, but...it’s here. (And there will eventually be some monster loving for real.)

The door rattled in the frame as Killian Jones slammed it shut; frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t shattered it, flimsy as it was. He’d probably do it yet one of these days, but not tonight—not when he was already making a beeline for the bathroom. He needed to get out of these stifling clothes once and for all.

Granted, all clothes did that to him, so this wasn’t a new occurrence, or born of any particular stress or lengthy day. He supposed he should be used to it after all these years, but not yet.

He tossed his jacket...somewhere, probably the sagging sofa, on his way across the flat, and kicked his shoes off equally haphazardly. There was no door for him to open to get into the restroom, and muscle memory told him where the switch was, filling the tiny space with dingy light. Only three of the four sockets above the vanity worked, and he’d been meaning to replace another burnt out bulb for...well, months. But less light meant it was harder to see the cracks in the ancient tile.

The one nice thing—the only nice thing—about this place was the tub; he probably could have afforded a slightly (very slightly) nicer apartment, but they only had stall showers, and he needed the tub. The squeaky knobs and the thud in the pipes as hot water poured out the faucet were familiar sounds.

He almost forgot to put the stopper in the drain, but managed to get it in there before losing too much; hot water was a precious commodity, considering the water heater was older than him. He wiped his hand dry on his threadbare jeans, wondering in passing why he bothered, but forgetting it.

Like he did every night, he took stock of himself in the age-spotted mirror. He supposed he was still what would be considered attractive, even if he mostly kept to himself nowadays. Dark hair, blue eyes, a bit of stubble; lean, muscular frame. The front he gave the world still looked like the man Milah fell in love with, before...everything. The shadows under his eyes and the weight of painful memories resting on his shoulders were more recent acquisitions, though.

His tshirt was mostly clean and in decent shape; like most of his clothes, he bought it second hand and it was a couple sizes too big. It had to be. He couldn’t stand the feel of anything touching his upper body—but at the same time, couldn’t be bare. Wouldn’t dare.

He wanted to tear it off, but first had to work off the mechanism that held his prosthetic left hand on. His fingers methodically knew what to do, even if the bit of webbing between them hindered his dexterity to some extent. Once it was off, he carefully set it on the counter—the only possession of his he treated with any sort of care—and then reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head.

For the first time all day, he found relief, and was able to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes at the sensation of finally breathing freely—partly to revel in it, and partly to avoid looking in the mirror. But then another breath made him twinge, recalling the hit he took to his side while working on the docks earlier, and he had to inspect it.

Sure enough, there was a bruise—right on top of one of his gills.

No wonder it stung when he breathed.

God, but he hated to look at them—they perhaps weren’t as monstrous as they were right after the accident, but they were far from pretty. Deep slits arced on either side of his abdomen, the longest one sitting just above his waist and running parallel to his rib cage; subsequently smaller ones followed up his sides, ending just below his pecs. There were times he laughed at how well they framed his body hair, but those were few and far between. Scar tissue surrounded them from where the skin had healed when it first split, and he could feel the stiff skin move with every breath. It...fluttered, almost, rippling along with his muscles and lungs.

He shuddered at the sight and turned away, continuing to strip until he was naked. The tub was full, so he shut off the flow and stepped in. He sighed again as he sank down into the warm water; it was a balm on his aching muscles. He sometimes wondered if that was another side effect—after the accident, after everything, they’d gotten a lot denser, it seemed, and he was certainly stronger, his muscles more defined. But it also meant that he was always tired, always sore, always in some sort of pain, and he only knew of two ways to deal with it. He didn’t have the cash for rum right now, so a hot bath would have to do.

Unnecessarily, he took another deep breath, and slipped below the surface of the water. His lungs quickly adapted to the change, and he was hyper aware of the constant movement coming from his gills as they worked. He exhaled and started to breathe normally—at least, as normally as was possible underwater.

He couldn’t drown, but maybe his demons could, just for a bit.

-----------------------------------------------

Emma Swan would never understand why the landlord kept locking the door to the roof; she’d just pick it again later. Besides, she was the only one that ever went up there, and unless the dude wanted to install a camera and evict her, she’d keep going.

She had planned on taking a long, hot bath when she got home, but some asshole had used up all the hot water. It was probably just as well; she kind of didn’t feel like dealing with the inevitable mess. That’s why she had her dollar-store spray bottle, right?

It had been dumb of her not to bring it up here, though; she could already feel the itch forming between her shoulder blades, making her shift uncomfortably beneath her leather jacket. It was definitely time to get that off. (The July heat certainly didn’t help in that regard, but she could bear the discomfort; she could stand that easier than the alternative.)

She easily slipped off the red leather and let it fall on the cracked concrete of the roof, leaving her in a well-worn long-sleeved tee; it was the only way to make sure that puting the jacket on was as easy as taking it off. Plus, an extra layer helped keep things under wraps. Just one of the many things she’d learned about her situation in the last 10 years.

(“Situation” seemed like the best term for it. Someone might call it a blessing; some might prefer curse. Honestly, it was more of an annoyance, so she figured it was best to use as neutral a term as possible.)

This was the part she both loved and hated: taking off her shirt. She knew it’d feel good to remove it, but it always hurt in motion. Oh well—like ripping off a bandaid. Quickly, trying to ignore the thousands of pricking and tugging points across her back and arms, she pulled it up over her head and let it fall on top of her jacket.

Now down to just a cami, she rolled her shoulders back and flapped her arms a few times. Yeah, flapped; what else was she supposed to call it when they were covered in feathers?

The biggest ones extended from her triceps and forearms, with smaller ones covering her skin from shoulder to wrist and between her shoulder blades. The tiniest ones blended in with her natural peach fuzz; the rest varied in size from a few inches to a couple feet and layered on top of each other like...well, like a bird’s wing.

She had wings, okay? But not like the kind you’d see on an angel in a Christmas pageant—freaking swan wings where she’d once had normal human arms. Even her hands vaguely resembled talons, but thankfully, it was easy to pass off her thick, dark nails as a really good gel manicure.

A few feathers drifted to the ground as she stretched, and she stared at them in annoyance, trying to determine if they were indicative of an oncoming molt or just incidental. She was incredibly close to catching a high-paying skip; she didn’t have time to be laid out with a molt for a week.

(Those were the weeks she did label it a curse. Last year, it had overlapped with her period. To make a long story short, she was now banned from ordering at the pizza place down the street due to some things she may have said to the teenaged delivery driver.)

She shook her arms again, watching in disdain as a few more feathers came loose, confirming her fears; damn. She did not need this right now.

A breeze blew in from the harbor, ruffling her feathers. Some foreign bird instinct leaned into it, holding her arms out behind her to brace against it. For a minute, she let herself forget about everything—her finances, her schedule, her ever-present loneliness, the constant weight of whatever this was—and let her feathers float on the wind like they were meant to.

Fuck it. She needed to fly.

Quickly, she undid her ponytail and threw her hair back up in a messy bun as she took long strides to the edge of the roof. There, she unlodged a loose brick, revealing a small hidden compartment below containing a white mask. It wasn’t anything fancy—the kind you could get from a party store any time of the year—but it did the job, so she slipped it on. It was best to hide your identity when you were one of the local cryptids, she figured.

(Maybe, one of these days, she’d meet another one; she somehow hadn’t in 10 years, but they had to be out there. They had to.)

Without any further hesitation, she stepped up onto the ledge, spread her arms wide, and jumped.

There was always a bit of fear that it wouldn’t work this time, that the pavement would meet her hollow bones and crush them—but then she caught an updraft and rode it up over the next building.

For at least a few hours, she could pretend to get away from everything, before the inevitable weight of her baggage brought her back down to the ground.

---------------------------------------------

Ten years prior

The explosion came from nowhere. Not that most explosions ever gave warning, and if it was going to happen anywhere, a seemingly abandoned waterfront warehouse was as likely a place as any.

The official report said it was a gas explosion; that was true enough.

Two fatalities were listed: the building owner, one Mr. Gold, who was inside when the blast hit; and his wife, Milah, who was just outside.

[She’d asked Killian to meet her there—he didn’t fully know why, but she’d asked, and he was at her beck and call. He didn’t care that she was married; he loved her, and she loved him.

She was scared; it was visible in her darting eyes and hunched-over position. But she immediately relaxed when he rounded the corner of the building and ran to him, immediately wrapping her arms around him.

Frantically, she started to say something about her husband—that he was inside, she was worried about him and her son, and she wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—when suddenly there was a deafening sound, a wall of heat, an acrid stench, and Killian was in the water, fire at the end of his left arm and in his lungs and Milah—where was she?

It took far too long to break the surface of the harbor, only to be greeted by a scene from a war film—and the undoubtable form of Milah’s lifeless body, under smoldering debris where the building had once stood.]

The number of casualties was unknown; only one person went to the hospital, due to losing their hand in the explosion.

There were more people in the area, within the radius of the damage, but most fled as quickly as they could.

[Emma still wasn’t sure why Neal had wanted to wander down by the docks; most of his deals went down in other parts of town, but she didn’t think too hard on the change of venue. The salty brine of the ocean was and oddly refreshing scent, compared to the typical smog and gas of the parts of the city they usually haunted.

It was kind of romantic; they were walking hand in hand, snacking on the Pop-Tarts they’d just nabbed from the corner store. She’d had a pretty intense craving for them lately and he’d been all too happy to oblige.

They took a turn down what looked like a row of warehouses in varying amounts of use; he seemed to know where he was going so she followed, taking note when he was starting to slow. She was about to ask what they were doing, but then a deafening roar screamed from the building across the street, immediately drowning them in dust and debris, and something that smelled like gas, but also not?

It didn’t matter; they needed to get out of there. They immediately sprinted off in the direction they came, not stopping until they were sufficiently out of breath. They didn’t dare linger in case the police wanted to talk to them. No thanks.

But, ugh, she’d dropped her Pop-Tart.]

The smell of the gas lingered—though it was only labeled as such because none of the experts could place it. It was more than natural gas, more of a chemical note to it—but it didn’t match any other known chemicals. Gas was easier to explain, so that’s what they went with.

Besides, that was the only thing that got hot enough to completely disintegrate human remains; what other reason was there to explain why they couldn’t find Mr. Gold’s body among the melted, charred remnants of the building?

The site was razed, but never rebuilt. But urban legend quickly grew to talk of a mysterious figure rising out of the shadows there, said to be his ghost.

(Or possibly something worse.)

---------------------------------------

thanks for reading! I know this is weird so let me know if you’d rather not be tagged: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @killian-whump @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @therealstartraveller776

#cs ff #cs mutant au #cs super hero au #i have no idea how to tag this #my ff

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nowandajenn · 4 years

Text

Day 4- Voyeurism (feat. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes)

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing Stucky, so be kind. Also, it’s KINKtober, so that pretty much just calls for the filthiest smut you can imagine. Don’t be ashamed. Go on, read it.

Warnings: This is literally just pure filth to satisfy my own sick little urges. Oral sex (m and f recieving), anal sex, vaginal sex, fingering, language, threesome. Like I said, pure filth. Hope you enjoy.

You loved Steve and Bucky. You really did. Having said that, you were convinced that they were LITERALLY trying to kill you. Cause of death? Constantly catching them in the act (or almost act) and promptly feeling like you were going to burst into flames. You absolutely loved their relationship and how comfortable they were with each other and their sexuality, but if you had to almost watch them go at it again, leaving you with sopping panties and a red face that would rival a tomato, you were going to scream. You were going through a massive dry spell and your toys just weren’t doing it for you like they used to. Plus, you had a sneaking suspicion that they actually wanted you to catch them.

You wake up in the middle of the night and look over at the digital alarm clock on your nightstand. 3:13am. Perfect. You untangle yourself from the sheets and blankets that are twisted around you and crawl out of bed, desperate for a glass of juice.

You don’t expect anyone to be up, especially at this hour. You shared a floor in the compound with Steve and Bucky, and Clint, who was almost never there. What you REALLY didn’t expect was to walk into the barely lit kitchen to see Steve leaned up against the counter, head thrown back and moaning, and Bucky, on his knees on the tile floor with his mouth wrapped around his boyfriend’s massive cock.

You’re not sure exactly how long you stand there transfixed by the sight before you, but when Steve makes eye contact with you, that snaps you out of your reverie really fucking quick. Before you turn to go back the way you came, you see a sly smirk come across Steve’s face as he threads his fingers through Bucky’s long dark hair, fucking his mouth harder.

All of the saliva in your mouth completely dries up and you almost choke to death, before turning and rushing back to your room, wondering how in the hell you’re going to be able to look Steve in the eye anymore.

You manage to avoid Steve and Bucky like the plague for the next couple days, which you hate doing. They’re your closest friends, and you love being with them, but after catching them in the kitchen, you’re pretty sure that you would’t be able to look at them both without your head catching on fire.

A little bit buzzed and slightly wired from a rare girl’s night out with some of your friends, you get out of the Uber and head inside, taking the elevator up to your floor.

When you close your bedroom door behind you and flip the switch to turn on the table lamp in the room, you almost scream.

“Jesus fucking- what......what the hell are you doing in here?” you gasp, hand over your fluttering heart.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Steve says, getting up off the couch and walking towards you.

“No I haven’t. I’ve just been busy. Our paths just haven’t crossed in a few days. It happens.” It’s a weak excuse and you know it.

“Doll, don’t lie. We know you caught us in the kitchen the other night.” Bucky says, lounging on the loveseat.

You can feel your face burn with embarrassment. “Well, maybe next time don’t pull your cock out where someone can just walk in on you.” It comes out snarkier than you meant it to, and both men chuckle.

“Did you like it? Did you like watching Buck suck my cock? Did it turn you on?” Steve asks, stepping even closer to you. Jesus Christ, it is burning hot in here.

He uses his knuckle to tilt your head up so you’re looking in his eyes.

“Did it?”

“Y-yes.” you admit softly.

“Did you touch yourself that night? Did watching us make you wet?” Bucky asks.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

You drop your head but Steve tilts your chin up again.

“We know you’re not shy, doll. Why are you acting like it with us now?” he asks.

“Because....seeing the both of you like that.....it turned me on. It was hot. But it wasn’t my moment to walk in on.” you admit.

“What would you say if we told you that we like it when you watch us? The way you turn all red and get all flustered. You look so fucking cute.”

Bucky steps forward and before you can even breathe, his lips are on yours. A moan escapes your throat before you can even think to stop it, and you melt into him. What is even happening right now?

When you feel Steve come up behind you and gently move your hair away from your neck, you shudder in anticipation. His lips are soft and warm as they move over the delicate skin there, making your toes curl.

“Fuck.......oh my.......” you gasp out as you and Bucky part.

“What do you think, sweetheart? You want to watch us? You want to REALLY watch us?” he asks.

“Yes....please, yes.” you whimper.

Somewhere deep inside your desperately horny brain, you know that you should be feeling shame. Even a little bit of shame. But you’re not. But as you watch Steve and Bucky kiss and touch each other in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but pure, unadulterated lust.

You can’t take your eyes off of their bodies, and you think to yourself that if you died right now, you’d die a happy girl. Both of them are built like brick walls. Strong chests with delicious pecs that you want to sink your teeth into, abs that you could scrub your lingerie on, and legs that are like tree trunks.

“Just enjoy the show, baby.” Steve murmurs in your ear.

You watch as they strip each other out of their clothes until they’re down to just two pairs of tight boxer briefs. Steve sinks to his knees, trailing wet sloppy kisses all down Bucky’s chest and stomach, stopping to slide his underwear down his legs. His cock springs free from it’s confines, damn near smacking Steve in the mouth.

He takes Bucky’s thick cock in is hand, pumping it slowly with long, languid strokes before darting his tongue out to lick at the tip. Bucky throws his head back, one hand on Steve’s shoulder and one on his head.

“Fuck.....Stevie.” he groans out.

You watch in awe as Steve deep throats his lover like a fucking champ, while Bucky keeps his eyes on you.

“Take off your clothes, doll. Get comfortable. I want to see what you have on under that little dress of yours.”

You stand from the chair and slowly reach behind you, unzipping your dress and letting it fall to the ground, leaving you in a white lace bra and matching G string.

“Fuck.....look at that. Stevie, look at our gorgeous girl.” Bucky moans out.

Steve turns his head to get a good look at you, while still keeping Bucky firmly in his mouth. He lets out a moan and dips his hand into his own underwear to fist his cock.

You sit back down on the plush chair, throwing one leg over the side so that you’re wide open for them. If they’re going to put on a show for you, you’re damn well going to return the favor.

You run your fingertips up and down your wet folds, smearing your arousal around, toying with yourself as you watch the boys take each other apart piece by piece.

When Bucky finally cums, it’s magnificent. You watch as hot streams of thick, white cum shoot out from his tip, landing on Steve’s face and neck. You let out a loud moan at the sight, completely unashamed.

“Look at her, Stevie. Look how wet she is. You can see it from here.”

Your brain must be temporarily out to lunch, because you find yourself practically floating over to them. Without any provocation, you slide your finger through the mess on Steve’s neck and bring it to your mouth, moaning at the taste. You do it again, this time offering your finger to Steve, and when he takes it and sucks on it much like he just did with Bucky’s dick, another wave of arousal floods your pussy.

Once all the traces of his cum are gone from Steve’s beautiful face, Bucky turns you around to face him, gripping your hips and bringing you in for a filthy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. His fingertips dance down your body until they meet the apex of your thighs.

“Oh, honey. You’re fucking DRENCHED.” he moans out, sliding his fingers through your wetness. You watch as he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, sucking your arousal off of them and groaning.

“Fuck doll....you taste so fucking good. So sweet.”

“What do you want? What do you want to watch us do next? Hmm?” Steve murmurs in your ear. His chest is pressed to your back, and his big hands are splayed over your hips as he gently grinds his cock into your ass. You’re still having trouble believing that this is all actually happening right now, but you’re just going to go with it and worry about the consequences later.

“I want......” you gasp out, trying to keep your knees from buckling from the pleasure that they’re inflicting on you. “Jesus....I want to watch Bucky fuck you. I want to watch you take him.”

Bucky gives you a devilish smirk before bringing you in for another filthy kiss. He cocks his head toward Steve.

“You heard the lady. Get on the bed.”

Watching Bucky open Steve up with his fingers and his tongue is a wonder to behold. You sit, mesmerized at the foot of the bed, as Bucky slides his fingers in and out of Steve, his eager hole sucking them in as far as they’ll go.

“Fuck, Stevie. You’re taking his fingers so well.” you purr.

A moan slips from his lips as he keens under the praise, and he brings his hand over to clench your thigh. You run your fingers through his hair softly, helping him relax as Bucky works him open.

“You better watch out because Stevie has a praise kink. You keep talking like that and this will be over before it starts.” he teases.

Once he’s sufficiently stretched, you move next to Bucky as he slips his cock past Steve’s tight little hole, gasping as it stretches to accommodate Bucky’s wide girth. Stevie moans as he pushes farther into his ass until he’s in him to the hilt. You run your fingers lightly up and down Steve’s back as Buck grips his hips and starts thrusting into him slowly, getting him used to it.

“Oh my....you look so fucking pretty like this. I love watching his cock drive in and out of your little asshole, baby.” you moan out.

Steve moans and grips the sheets in his fists.

“Fuck, I want.......I want...” he groans out.

“What do you want, baby?”

“I want to taste her. Please. Let me taste her, daddy.”

Oh. Oh shit. Who knew you were dealing with a praise kink AND a daddy kink here?

“You want to let Stevie taste you doll? You want him to eat that pretty little pussy of yours?” Bucky asks, grinning at you.

You nod slowly, pulling your ruined panties off and positioning yourself so that you’re laying under Steve while Bucky continues fucking into him. You have to admit, there’s no beating the view you have. Steve’s face buried between your legs, devastating you with his tongue and fingers, Bucky above him, snapping his hips against Steve’s ass, their skin making the most delicious sound as they smack against each other.

“You’re so beautiful, baby doll. You look so good splayed out underneath me. You don’t know how many times I imagine this for the three of us. You don’t know how much we’ve wanted you right here in this position.” Steve groans out as he pumps three thick fingers in and out of your cunt. If you had any working brain cells at the particular moment, you’d probably be embarrassed, but right now you don’t give a shit.

“God, please, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum....” you pant, gripping his hair and tugging, making him fucking GROWL.

With a few more thrusts of his fingers and his tongue dancing over your clit, your orgasm slams through you, making you arch your back and scream his name.

“Christ, doll, you’re so pretty when you cum.” Bucky pants out.

Once you catch your breath, you reach down and take Steve’s rock hard cock in your hand, pumping it in time with Bucky’s thrusts. You can tell that he’s not going to last much longer, and you want to bring Steve over the edge with him. You watch both of their faces as you stroke him, both completely blissed out and drunk on pleasure.

“Oh....oh fuck.....I gotta cum....I can’t hold on....” Steve whimpers.

“Cum in me.” you whisper.

With a harsh thrust, he sheathes himself in your tight channel and it only takes two deep strokes into you before you feel his cock swell, filling you with his seed. Bucky reaches his end shortly after, thrusting hard into Steve, who in turn thrusts hard into you, bringing you to another orgasm.

The of you stay connected like that for a few moments, breathing heavily and coming down from the intense pleasure of what just happened.

“I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship.” Bucky smirks he watches Steve kiss you.

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