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redskull199987 · 6 months

Note

i have two so I'll probably send them separately, but at the same time I feel like that would be a lot of notifications (also fem reader please); #1 is giving mike schmidt head under his desk while he's at work and stuff , #2 is like playing with mike's hair and stuff to help him sleep and cuddling with him , and #3 is mike bending reader over his desk and going to down because he's had a pretty bad shift and needs to relieve stress. you can just do one or all, it's up to you

First of all, this is only one of these three requsts, the second one to be precise. The others will follow of course, don't worry. Until then, I hope that you enjoy this one. I had lots of fun writing this:D

So hear my Voice, remind you not to bleed

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:1.3k Warnings:tooth rotting fluff,kissing and hugging, that’s all, slight movie spoilers Summary:You knew that your Boyfriend had trouble falling asleep, so you did everything you could to help him find his way into sweet sweet dreamland…

Masterlist

You felt like shit. At least, that was the short version. And the longer one wasn't even that much longer. To put it simply, you had an awfully long week. And that was probably an underestimation.

You fought murderous animatronics, a creepy dude in a bunny costume, a feral cupcake and after all that shit, you barely escaped with your life. And while you were fortunate and had only obtained a few minor scratches and bruises here and there, Mike had a few life threatening flesh wounds and Vannesa was lucky to be alive at all, after her father had stabbed her.

Your Bones ached and your head was pounding, as you finally made your way home. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just ask your Boss to give you a few days off because you had several Animatronic-induced wounds scattered over your body. Heck, you were happy you didn’t just lose your job after not showing up for three days in a row.

All you could do was tell them that you got involved in a car accident and that you and your boyfriend had been in the hospital for a few days. Much to your favor, they believed you and the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital only backed up your little lie.

Your Mind was still racing, as you reached your little Home. It was already dark outside, as you stepped into the comfort of your Apartment. You saw Lights coming from the Living Room and the Sound of the TV slowly made its way into your Brain and pushed away the gruesome memories of the Pizza-Plex.

“Mike?”, You shouted into the darkness,”Abby? I’m Home.”

You didn’t receive an answer, so you quickly discarded your shoes and Jacket and walked into the Living Room. Only now, you noticed Abby sitting in front of the Sofa, drawing with her Crayons and listening to the sound of the TV.

“Hey Abbs.”, You smiled and leaned down to greet the little Girl. She practically beamed at you and gave you a small hug.

“Have You eaten yet? Where’s Mike?”, You quickly asked again as you rose back to your feet.

“Yes, we had Spaghetti with meatballs.”, Abby stated happily,”And Mike said he was tired and went to sleep already. He told me I could stay up for a little bit longer:”

“Okay then.”, You mumbled, gently running a hand through Abby’s Hair,”I’ll go join your Brother in Bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay Love?”

Abby nodded at you profusely before turning her focus back on the Half finished Drawing in front of her. You looked at her once more, before deciding to finally go see your Boyfriend in your shared bedroom. You knew that he was always tired. Even before you started dating. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

But after recent events, his insomnia seemed to get severely worse. He could barely fall asleep anymore and even if he did, he’d be awake again a few hours later, jumping up with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead. You always tried to comfort him and be there for him, but you still felt like you weren’t doing enough. Like, you should do more. But you didn’t know how.

With a sigh, You slowly pushed your bedroom door open. You were surprised as you realized that the lights were still on and Mike was sitting in the middle of the Bed, still fully dressed.

“Mike?”, You asked with furrowed brows,”Are You okay, my Love?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Only as you got closer and sat down next to him, he looked at you.

“S-Sorry, must’ve been lost in my thoughts again. I didn’t notice you coming in.”, Mike explained. His voice was raspy and tired. With a soft smile, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly:”It’s okay, don’t worry. You wanna go to sleep?”

Mike only gave you a nod and got up to change into his sleeping attire,which consisted of a Shirt and some sweatpants. You quickly followed him over to the wardrobe and before he could pull off his hoodie, you carefully hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love You.”, you uttered against his skin. You could see how the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the shiver that went down his spine.

“I love you too.”, Mike answered, taking a hold of your hands and turning around in your embrace. For the first time today he gave you a smile. A lazy one, but you saw that it was genuine. You quickly leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, before you connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. You felt his hands wander to your waist and he pulled you closer. Warmth radiated off of his Body, while his lips worked against your own in passion.

As you finally parted due to the lack of oxygen, both Mike and you were panting against each other's lips. It was quiet for a few minutes and no one said anything, while the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

But then you reached for the hem of his hoodie and as Mike realized what your plan was, he obediently raised his arms, so that you could pull the hoodie off of his body. After you let the Hoodie fall to the Floor, Mike grabbed the Hem of your sweater and the two of you repeated the whole action, but with your roles reversed this time.

It didn’t take long, until you were both in your sleeping attires after you lazily helped changing each other.

With a drowsy smile, You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him back towards the bed. You had of course noticed that his expression wasn’t really the happiest, as he was afraid of having nightmares again. He had told you about them. It was always the same. He saw Abby, Vanessa or You getting stabbed by William Afton and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move or scream. He just had to witness it.

“Come here.”, You mumbled and held out your hand as you saw that Mike was hesitating to lay down. His gaze wandered from the sheets to your face and it seemed like the soft smile you gave him did the trick on him. He gently grabbed your hand and let himself be pulled down by you. As his head was laying comfortably in the crook of your neck and your hands were slowly brushing through his hair, Mike let out a deep sigh.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you, Mike.”, You mumbled into his ear. You felt how his arms slung around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I know.”, Mike muttered under his breath,”You’re here.”

He took a deep breath in again, before you finally felt his body relax against yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

“Just concentrate on my voice.”, you said, soothingly rubbing his back with one hand, while the other still brushed through his hair to calm him down,“Listen to my voice. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”,

“You’re here with me.”, Mike repeated quietly. You only nodded and continued to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. And within Minutes, you felt his grip on you loosen ever so slightly, while his breath became more even.

With a soft smile, You kissed the crown of his head once more, before also letting your eyes fall shut. If Mike could sleep, you could sleep too. And if he woke up, You would wake up too, no matter what.

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ywpd-translations · 7 months

Text

Ride 743: Sugimoto's “special technique”

Pag 1

1: The last lap!? This lap!?

What do you mean, Imaizumi

2: There's still time

I heard the limit fort his training camp isn't until midnight

4: Look around, Kawada: it's already getting dark, it will be sunset soon

In this training camp, we have a yellow board that prohibits surpassing.... we're about to put out the “no surpass board”

Pag 2

4: For safety reasons there's a no-surpassing rule

There will be no “races” after that

I'm putting it on the course

Yeah, it's already sunset

6: Of the several races they've had during this training camp

Pag 3

1: This lap will be the last one!!

Pag 4

1: It's.... it's sunset.....

Danchiku

2: Is your light attached properly?

“Behind” too

3: It's getting dark

Pag 5

3: They'll be pulling out the no-surpass board around now

This lap will be our last race

5: Calm down, Danchiku Ryuuhou, don't speak

This lap is a race, concentrate

This guy's conversation

6: could make you lose your pace!!

Pag 6

1: Sorry for ignoring you, Sugimoto-san!!

3: I understood it during last lap..... I thought.... Sugimoto-san was much weaker than Issa said

4: But he has decent strength!!

Especially at the final line, when he cornered me

Pag 7

1: He showed great strength!!

Kua!!

3: Even to this acceleration, he reacted strongly

Ku.... it's hard...

Normal pedaling is so vague....!! That's why I misjudged it

4: in this crucial moment!!

5: Many times

Pag 8

1: Many times

2: I tried, and then I understood

4: This guy is getting stronger during this training camp, too!!

Pag 9

1: He did say he prepared....

2: And he did practice with this Sohoku together with the others for three years

3: But!!

4: If you understand the strength, then there are many ways to deal with it!!

Hiigaruaaaa

Pag 10

1: You just have to run to “win”!!

Higaruaaaa!!

2: 3km left

I'll open a gap here and break his spirit!!

Pag 11

2: Danchiku accelerated so strongly!!

He plans to leave me behind here

3: So I won't be there for the final sprint!!

4: Puhaaa

It's hard!!

5: Kuaaaaa

It's so hard!!

Pag 12

1: It's hard!!

But I won't let you get ahead

2: Danchiku!!

Pag 13

1: 2km left!!

2: Kuaaaaa

My chest hurts

3: It's pounding so hard!!

4: My heart rate is over 190!!

5: When the heart rate goes over a certain limit, your body reduces the strength it pumps up blood with

And suddenly your body can't move

Pag 14

1: That's why you should stop your legs before that limit

I can.... still.....

3: Go!!

4: I can still

5: go

I'll say it.... five times

5: Until my heart rate goes down just a little

I can still.....

Pag 15

1: I can still go!!

“I can still go”!!

2: Kuaa!!

3: And then I'll accelerate again!!

Kuaaaaaa

4: It's hard....

I'll just repeat this over and over again

5: How about this, Danchiku

6: “What about your special technique, Sugimoto-san?”

“I'm don't have so little self-awareness that I didn't prepare it!!”

7: I can still

8: It's “simple” and it doesn't even have a “name”, but

Pag 16

1: This is my special technique!!

2: cough cough

Pag 17

1: You followed me again!!

cough

3: There's.....

5: 1km left, Danchiku!!

Pag 18

1: What, what's with this guy

He's staggering, and his breathing is reaching its limit too!!

2: Even though I left him behind enough to break his spirit and make him give up!!

3: I caught.... cough... up...

I won't give up

4: Until we cross over the finish line....

5: It's not the “end”

6: The en.... huh!!

This is the “final lap”, I get it

Pag 19

1: Danchiku.... have you thought about what will happen if you.... lose this race?

2: Sugimoto-san?

3: I did, many times

4: I thought about it, and it scared me, it tore at my heart as I couldn't fall asleep

5: I've been scared to death these days

6: I wanted to do my very best here so I could become the sixth member and go to the Inter High

7: That's why, Danchiku, this year I'll definitely... win against you and go to the Inter High

8: But, if I lose here, this “race”....

Pag 20

1: will become my “retirement race”

#yowamushi pedal #yowamushi pedal translations #yowapeda #yowapeda manga #yowamushi pedal manga #yowamushi pedal spoilers #ride 743 #sugimoto :((((#i hope he doesnt really retire even if he loses #even tho it would make sense in a way :((((

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wildrangers · 1 year

Text

If It's Meant to Be {2} // Nico Hischier

Word Count: 3.7K

start here!

Summary: Could an unexpected encounter at a bar lead to something more?

Warnings: Allusions to one night stand/sex, cursing, brief mention of anxiety, mild angst that's resolved at the end, fluff. Let me know if I missed anything!

To say Nico was surprised would be an understatement. He’d spent the day chastising a hungover Jack and trying to banish the girl from the bar from his mind. You were gone by the time Nico looked for you in the crowd, so he figured that was that until he saw you, eyes wide and mouth ajar, during warm-ups. You two just stared at one another for a moment before someone jostled him back into motion.

“You good, man? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost” Jack teased. Nico shook his head, quickly filling him in on what he’d missed the night before. “Wait, you hooked up with that girl I spilled my drink on?”

“I just said that Jack, yes” Nico sighed in frustration. “What do I do?”

“Are you sure she didn’t know who you were last night? I don’t know how someone has front row seats to see a team they don’t care about” Jack pointed out, not wanting his friend to be taken advantage of.

“I don’t think so, she looked shocked when she saw me just now” Nico replied, replaying the moment in his mind.

“Well then write your number on a puck and toss it over to her, doofus” Jack rolled his eyes, pushing Nico towards the bench. Nico quickly moved into action, asking for a marker and masking tape to wrap around a practice puck. The equipment manager gave him an odd look but did as was asked. Nico’s heart pounded in his chest as he scribbled his number around the edge of the puck, the coach’s whistle calling for everyone to clear the ice. He quickly skated over to your seat, noting the redhead from the night before now seated beside you.

He pointed to you, motioning he was going to toss the puck over the glass and you stood up to catch it more easily. He went to skate away but turned back when he heard you pound on the glass.

“Good luck!” you called, cupping your hands around your mouth so your voice carried through the glass. He felt a smile spread across his face as he raised a hand in thanks before following his team into the locker room.

***

“I cannot believe this is happening right now” you heard Jess say from behind you as Nico exited the ice.

“Can you imagine how I feel then?” you breathed out, giddiness filling your chest as you sat back down. “I seriously thought I’d never see him again and he’s here of all places?”

“Not just here, but literally playing? What are the chances?” she mused, leaning close to you. “And not to like, totally freak you out, but I think he’s actually a big deal—everyone is staring at you right now.”

You’d felt eyes on you ever since Nico had skated over but you were doing your best to ignore them. “Jess, he’s apparently the captain, half the arena has his jersey on right now” you whispered back. Jess, for once, was at a loss for words as she dug into her meal. You picked at the food she’d gotten for you, your nerves staving off some of the hunger you’d felt earlier. Everyone seemed to lose interest in you as the away team took to the ice so you smiled down at the puck before pulling out your phone to add his number.

***

Several hours later, Nico was excitedly putting his suit back on after the team’s win. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, heartbeat quickening when he saw an unknown number’s message:

Hey, it’s Y/N. I’m sure you won’t see this until afterwards but have a good game!

Hey, thanks! Are you still at the arena? He quickly responded and was relieved to see the three dots instantly appear as you typed your answer.

Yeah, figured getting out of the lot would be a headache so we grabbed a drink. Why?

Would you want to meet up? A couple guys are coming over to my place to celebrate, you and your friend could come too.

Sure! Where do we go? I’ve never been here before…

Nico quickly explained how to get down the tunnel to the locker room area, letting the guard there know to expect you both.

“Ready, cap?” Dougie asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“I actually have a couple friends meeting us before we head out.”

“No shit! You invited her?” Jack asked, Gravy close behind.

“Yeah” he felt his face flush as Jack filled them in on the night before, thankfully leaving out the hooking up in the bathroom part. Nico wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done but he would hate for you to feel embarrassed because the others knew.

Before anyone could reply to the story Jack had just told them, they heard footsteps approaching. Nico looked up and waved when you rounded the corner, noting your shy smile as you waved back.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left” he smiled, wrapping you in a quick embrace.

“Me too! This is Jess, by the way.” Introductions were quickly made and you all headed out of the arena.

“Nico, why don’t you drive Y/N and I’ll ride with Jess so I can direct her to your place?” Jack suggested and Nico felt gratitude sweep through him; now he’d get to be alone with you for a short while.

***

As you settled into the front seat of Nico’s car, your stomach was doing somersaults. If you’d told yourself 36 hours ago that you’d be in a dude’s car on the way to his place to celebrate his professional hockey team’s win, you would have called bullshit.

“How’d you enjoy the game?” Nico asked, as he backed out of his spot.

“It was fun! I’ve never been to a professional hockey game before and I haven’t watched my brother play in years so I was a bit rusty keeping up with everything” you admitted.

“How’d you end up on the ice then?” Nico questioned, his brows furrowed.

“Our friend’s dad is a season ticket holder and offered them to us since they’re on vacation. We didn’t have anything else to do so we figured we’d give it a go.”

“So, you don’t follow hockey at all, then?”

“Not unless you count my brother’s high school team. Why?” You were a little confused by his line of questioning given what you’d just told him.

“Well…” Nico began but was clearly struggling with how to say what he wanted to. As you noticed his fingers nervously tapping the steering wheel, realization hit you.

“Are you worried I only fucked you last night because you’re a professional hockey player?” you asked, slightly offended.

“No! I mean, not worried but just wanted to maybe…make sure?” he tried and you scoffed at his answer. “Please, just hear me out?” he asked, eyes darting over to yours. You begrudgingly nodded and he continued.

“I don’t think you would but you’d be surprised how many guys that’s happened to on our team over the five years I’ve been here. I’m not trying to accuse you of anything but I felt like I had to ask” he admitted.

You mulled over his answer. You guessed you could understand wanting to make sure that someone who was basically a stranger wasn’t taking advantage of you.

You reached over and took one of Nico’s nervous hands in your own. “Nico?”

You were stopped at a red light so he turned to look at you nervously. “Yeah?”

“I don’t give a shit that you play hockey” you said honestly, maintaining eye contact. He threw his head back in laughter before placing a quick kiss to your hand as the light turned green. “If anything, it’s a negative” you admitted quietly.

“Why?”

“First of all, every athlete I’ve ever met at school has kind of sucked. But mostly, when you tossed me that puck it was like the entire crowd was staring at me, it was such an odd feeling.”

He frowned, squeezing your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, don’t be sorry, I just wanted to be honest with you. And for the record, I’m really happy you came over” you smiled over at him. “I was super bummed I wasn’t able to give you my number last night.”

“Yeah?” he asked, cheeks flushing lightly in the dim lighting.

“Yeah, you were a pretty good lay” you teased and he scoffed, jokingly pulling his hand away. “But seriously, yeah, I had a good time talking with you last night.”

“Just talking?” he pushed, smirking.

“You can’t get offended at me joking about us hooking up then be mad I don’t mention it repeatedly” you laughed, shaking your head at him.

“I know, I’m just messing with you” he smiled, offering you his hand again. You gladly took it, settling it onto your lap and tracing patterns on his palm. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to say that, you know” you offered, giving him an out if he was just trying to be nice.

“Why wouldn’t I say it if it’s the truth?” he asked, glancing over towards you. “I was so pissed at Jack all day for picking a fight right as you were pulling out your phone.”

“Well, Jess said if it was meant to be more than a one-night thing we’d meet again and here we are” you mused.

“I’m glad we get the chance to see where this could go.”

You smiled at his response, “Yeah, me too, Nico.”

***

“Babe, are you almost ready?” Nico called, checking his watch again. Since you’d started dated, Nico knew better than to expect you to be perfectly on time for anything. Depending on his mood, he found it endearing or infuriating that you were always ‘punctually late’, as you said, by about ten minutes.

“Coming!” you called and to his relief, your clicking heels confirmed you were earlier than usual.

“At this rate, we’ll only be five minutes late” he teased, holding out your jacket for you. You rolled your eyes playfully back as he helped you into the warm material.

“Tonight’s important, I swear I really tried to be on time” you admitted and a twinge of guilt hit him.

“I know, love, I’m just teasing” he replied, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You look beautiful.”

Nico’s heart still fluttered every time you shyly ducked your head at one of his compliments. “Now who’s make us late, hot shot?” you joked and he beamed, grabbing the keys while wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As his car approached the venue, he noted your leg bouncing nervously so he reached over to squeeze your knee. “It’s going to fun, liebe, it’s really just a dinner for you. I’m the one who has to schmooze with the fans.”

“I know” you sighed, placing your hand on top of his. “This just feels different than team outings, it’s our first, like, official Devs event together. I just want it to go well.”

“It will, I promise” he replied earnestly as he parked the car. “Ready?”

***

You were grateful that some of the other players had brought their significant others; without them, you’d be standing awkwardly alone while Nico was moved from group to group. You understood it was his job, and you loved seeing him smiling with his fans, but it was a weird experience nonetheless.

“How long have you two been together again?” Nicole, Jesper’s girlfriend, asked from beside you.

“A little over six months” you replied, smiling to yourself as countless memories flashed through your mind.

“You’ll get used to all of this, I promise” she said, squeezing your hand lightly. You gave her a quick hug but pulled away as you felt warm hands settle on your hips.

“That better be Nico or he’s going to be pissed” you joked, turning around to meet his smiling eyes.

“Everything okay?” he asked, gently pulling you into his side.

“Of course, you didn’t have to come and check on me, I know you’re busy” you admonished, reaching up to fix his tie.

“Did you ever think I just wanted to sneak over to see you?” he teased and Nicole jokingly gagged before wondering off to find her own boyfriend.

“You scared off my friend, weirdo” you joked back and he chuckled. That was one of your favorite things about being with Nico: you two were playful but the jokes were always kind-hearted.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice from behind you drew his attention away.

“Oh, hey Molly. This is Y/N. Molly is our social media manager” Nico filled in and you shook the girl’s hand.

“So nice to meet you! Could I get a picture of you two?”

Nico looked to you and you shrugged, not thinking much of it. Nico’s hand fell to your waist as the two of you grinned into the camera.

A few hours later, you checked your phone as the evening was winding down. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you saw the countless Instagram notifications on your lock screen. Opening up the app, your heart dropped.

Molly had posted the picture to the Dev’s Instagram story and had tagged you. You hadn’t even thought to ask her not to but now your page was blowing up. You had a bunch of new followers and your most recent pictures with Nico had dozens of comments from strangers. Most were kind or neutral but the few that weren’t…

Typical puck bunny behavior, asking for her handle to be included on a team post

Wish our captain knew he could do better than this…

Bets on how long she lasts?

The room swam around you as you quickly changed your profile settings to private and focused on steadying your breathing. Your hands shook as you locked your phone, anxiety flooding your system.

***

As Nico excused himself from the group he’d been chatting with, his eyes instinctively darted around the room looking for you. He knew tonight was a big deal for you, so he was doing his best to step aside with you when he could. When he finally found you, his stomach dropped slightly at the look in your eyes. He quickly made his way over to you, “Y/N/N?” he questioned, worried.

When you didn’t answer, he gently laid his hands on your shoulders causing you to jump. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he questioned, sitting beside you.

“Nothing, just lost in my thoughts I guess” you smiled but he knew you were lying when no light reached your eyes.

“Are you sure? You don’t look like yourself” he pushed, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.

“Nico, seriously, everything’s fine.”

“If you’re tired or ready to go home, we can—”

“Nico! Stop fussing like a mother hen. I’m fine” you scolded and he drew his hand away in surprise. It wasn’t like you to snap at him, especially not in public.

“Fine, sorry to check in” he grumbled and made his way over to his teammates to say his goodbye’s. He suddenly wasn’t in the mood to be at the event anymore.

***

Shit, you thought to yourself as you watched a dejected Nico walk away. You hadn’t meant to snap at him but you didn’t want to bother him while he was working. You didn’t know if you’d tell him at all, honestly; there was nothing he could do to make it better. You massaged your temples gently, re-opening your phone to remove the last of the new followers. You hadn’t had the courage yet to open up your photos to remove the nasty comments.

A few moments later, Nico returned, arm held out to you. You looped your hand around his bicep and waved to the players you knew, forcing a smile as you walked out to the parking lot. A tense silence descended as the valet brought Nico’s car around. Ever the gentleman, he helped you into your seat but he closed the door a little harder than necessary.

Now that you were away from everyone, you felt all the energy leave your body—you were absolutely exhausted. “Nics, can I just crash at your place tonight?”

“You’re really going to act like nothing happened back there?” he questioned, fingers wrapping tightly around the steering wheel.

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”

“That’s total bullshit and you know it, Y/N. If you’re too tired to drive home, you can stay over and I’ll just crash on the couch.”

“You’re kidding me” you scoffed, looking over at him.

“I’m really not. Something’s clearly wrong and instead of letting me help, you snapped and shut me out.”

You had nothing to say to this, so you curled in on yourself, resting your head on the window, fighting back the wave of emotions threatening to spill over. The rest of the drive was uncomfortably silent, as was the elevator ride up to his place.

You slipped your heels off as Nico tossed off his jacket and loosened his tie before sitting on the couch. “Y/N, can you please just tell me what happened? I know something isn’t right.”

You sighed, shrugging your own coat off as you opened your phone to your last Instagram photo. For some reason, talking about it seemed overwhelming so you placed your phone on his knee rather than answer him directly. “Just look at this, I’m going to take my make up off and change.”

***

Nico stared after you sadly as you closed the bedroom door quietly. Sighing, he picked up your phone, his confusion deepening when all he saw was a picture of you two smiling into the camera. As he went to scroll past it, his eyes caught on the most recent comments and he instantly saw red. He opened the comments section and his heart deflated.

When you met months ago, you’d said that him being an NHLer was the only drawback to dating him and he hadn’t really understood why—now he definitely did. He took the liberty of deleting every nasty comment he could find on your page, even scrolling through a second time to make sure he hadn’t missed any.

As he heard you shuffling around in his dresser for some PJ’s, he set your phone down before turning to his own. He pulled up his camera roll, checking the handful of photos from this evening. There were a few you two had taken together in the mirror before leaving but he chose one he’d roped Jack into taking before entering the venue.

The sun was setting behind you and while Nico was beaming at the camera, you were smiling directly at him. His heart squeezed at the emotion in your eyes—no one had ever looked at him quite like you did. So full of unconditional love and adoration. He knew his face bore the same look whenever he gazed at you.

He quickly posted the photo to his Instagram stories, adding the caption:

Fun night with my girl and the team!

He made sure not to tag you; even though your profile was now private, he didn’t want anyone bothering you. He wanted to share your love while still protecting you from more harm.

A moment later, the door creaked open and you peaked your head out. “Can you please come to bed, babe? I’m sorry.”

“Come here first, meine liebe?”

He watched as you nervously played with the hem of your, really his, shirt and he held his arms wide for you. You smiled shyly, curling yourself onto his lap and tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Nico. I didn’t want to bring it up while we were at your work event and it just really hurt to see those comments. I know it shouldn’t bother me but they did…”

“Why shouldn’t it bother you? They were assholes, anyone would be hurt to see people talking about them that way, especially when it’s not true” he replied, tracing patterns along your back and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I guess, but I just felt silly letting strangers on the internet affect me so much. Like, I couldn’t even tell you what happened so I just left my phone with you. I didn’t want to start crying over something so stupid.”

“Hey” he chastised, pulling your face up to meet his gaze. “It’s not stupid. I’m used to people saying shitty things to me online, it comes with the job unfortunately. But that should never apply to you, okay? Tell me how to fix this. I already deleted the nasty comments on your page.”

Your eyes shone with grateful tears as you placed a gentle kiss to his lips, “Thank you, my love. Just ask Molly not to tag me in anything else, yeah? There’s not much else to do.”

“You got it” he said pulling you into a tight embrace. “You know that none of what they said is true, right schönes mädchen?”

“I know, pretty boy” you smiled back at him. “Now bed, please?” you asked, eyes widening, lip jutting out in a pout. He gently nipped at your bottom lip, making you giggle as he picked you up and carried you into his bedroom.

“You also know you’re stuck with me, right?” he joked as you rested your head on his shoulder again.

“I’d consider myself lucky to be stuck with you my whole life” you said quietly. His only response was a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

Thank y'all for the support on this story :) Feel free to submit requests or blurb ideas, I have everyone I write for listed on my Masterlist post.

Side Note: (meine) liebe = (my) love & schönes mädchen = beautiful girl

(according to Google Translate, sorry if this is wrong!)

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fic #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nj devils #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils blurb #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader

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benjaminthewolf · 2 years

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Red Lightning (OC Vore Story)

Maxus my beloved…now in three of my vore stories! And one of them, this one, features him getting nomed by his boyfriend, so, hurray!

****

The thunderous, bellowing storm cracked and boomed obsessively as the constant pounding of the rainfall against the land below tore apart the soils and flooded countless burrows. Many animals would be drowned, others, displaced. Still others were to be gravely injured, just barely able to get by. But none of these creatures, none that crawled, swam, or flew upon the lands below, could have possibly been in more of an absolute panic than perhaps the only one that was able to comprehend what the word panic meant in the first place, Maxus.

His wings beating painfully as he was forced to simply take each of the giant, pelleting raindrops that plummeted down upon his soaked, beaten being, the poor, wincing Incrediman didn’t even know where, exactly, he was going at this point. All he did know was that he needed to keep going. Keep flying, keep beating, lest all he had managed to survive through prior to that moment, would all, ultimately, be in vain.

Maxus gagged and choked on his damp, wetted breath as each and every single flap consumed more and more of his stamina, his eyes barely able to detect anything through the torrential, deathly downpour, and the blackened depths of night, except for the light which radiated off his own phone. He was trying desperately, trying in anguish, to reach the emergency services line, with each failed call it almost felt as if the storm itself was mocking him, jeering in jovial, echoing laughter, at the fact that his life had no way to be saved. Maxus nearly dropped his phone, that was how disoriented he was. The one thing that had any chance of giving him a lifeline back into civilization, smashed onto the soil.

Maxus tried to remember how he got here, if just to make sense of what was happening now. He was scheduled to meet with leaders of the tribal people living in what was the I.A.C.I.’s equivalent of Central America, in order to discuss policies and practices with them in relation to the overall I.A.C.I. government. But once the warning for a severe storm in the area had shown up on Maxus’ phone, he decided he had to turn back, and reschedule the meeting for another day. He wasn’t able to make it out in time, however, before the storm commenced.

Maxus’ eyes began to create an almost as relentless flood of water all on their own as he forced his body to keep moving. Oh god, all he wanted right now was to be home. To be graced with all the loving, familiar faces of his family, and to snuggle up inside his bed with his beloved boyfriend Akeko. To fall asleep next to him, and to wake up next to him, alive and well to give his fathers a hug once-

*CRACK*

Maxus’ heart stopped. There was a sudden overwhelming jolt of heat, shock, and pain that caused his way up its spine. Upon reaching his brain, however, the jolt made Maxus go limp, his eyes losing much of their color as he began plummeting towards the ground.

His wings getting lifted up by the air resistance as he dove through the emergent layer, Maxus came crashing down through the canopy, many sticks and branches being broken and snagged onto his skin and clothes as he only continued to fall. Maxus was lucky that the rain had softened the mud upon the forest floor, as this combined with the constant slowing due to air resistance that was to come with having a pair of wings lying open in the air, made it so that Maxus wasn’t killed instantly by the fall. He was, however, severely injured, and his body was in a near-deathly state of shock.

All that was left to happen now, was for the scavengers and decomposers that roamed the forest floor to come pecking by, happening across this freshly fallen body as their newest source of food.

Luckily for Maxus, however, today, that was not to be the case. Not even five minutes had passed before a pair of bare footsteps came plodding towards his being. Their feet made plip-plopping sounds as they sank halfway into and pulled themselves out of the mud effortlessly and sequentially, leaving deep imprints in the ground, as the rain continued to beat down upon their skin. A few seconds later, another pair followed. The two people who had arrived upon Maxus conversed between themselves for a while, occasionally glancing down at the unconscious, fallen man with deep sorrow in their voices and worry in their eyes. Finally, they bent down on their knees and proceeded to work together and heave Maxus up, his still-opened wings swaying and shifting upon his back as the three Incredipeople traversing the jungle bobbed up and down upon the soft, uneven paths of the jungle floor. Maxus’ chest was barely able to rise and fall as his poor, quivering heart desperately continued pounding, for had it not been for his rescuers, Maxus would not have opened his eyes.

****

Maxus could feel his body swaying. Not swaying violently, like the winds did to his poor, feeble being back in the storm. No, this was a comfortable swaying, a light swaying. Like the motion of a child’s cradle as their parent rocked them to sleep. Maxus couldn’t help but smile. He still remembered the old stories his fathers told him about his younger years. How he would always, without a shadow of a doubt, find a way to make it past a child-proofed gate. How he would tie a blanket around his back and pretend he was a superhero soaring through the skies. Maxus wished he could go back to those days. Yes, he would give it all up, his independence, his power, his experiences, all to go back to a time before the drama. A time before it all. A time before…

“Are you okay?” a calm, tender voice softly spoke.

Maxus’ eyes flickered open. All he could see was a face. Upon forcing open his eyes a second time, however, he was now able to tell that there were two faces gazing down on him, both of whom seemed rather relieved that he was alive.

One of the faces turned to the other and said something to them in a language Maxus didn’t understand. Then, glancing back over to Maxus, that same face proceeded to speak a sentence the decidedly American Incrediman did understand.

“Your name is Maxus, right?”

Now that he was able to hold open his eyes for longer than two seconds at a time, Maxus slowly sat up. The first thing he realized was that he was not laying on a bed, rather, a hammock. Nodding in understanding, as it did explain the rocking motions, Maxus proceeded to check out the two people who had woken him up. One was wearing a red and black, cotton cloak-like garment that extended to just above the knees. He had a lighter red cloth hat that had decorations resembling whiskers and perhaps an animal’s nose on it. It resembled the type of hat one in America would put on during the cold in winter, though, obviously, winter didn’t exactly happen here.

The other wore a similar cloak, but had a red hat that was in the shape of a semicircle, with red triangular-shaped protrusions sticking out that made the hat resemble a sun.

Maxus quickly realized that this meant he was still in the jungle. Sure enough, with a second-long glance about his surroundings, it was confirmed he was inside a hut belonging to the Sunrise tribe, one of the local indigenous groups that lived in the area, and the one that was definitely the most well known to the people outside of Central America.

Maxus cleared his throat. “Ungh…well. I didn’t die.”

Giving a short, affirmative nod, the man with the sun hat took in a breath to speak.

“Two members of my tribe found you lying on the ground. We brought you back and treated you. You should be just fine.”

Now that the bilingual tribal man had mentioned treatment, Maxus was able to sense some sort of wet pasty stuff plastered onto his body under his iconic yellow sweater, that which he was rather quickly able to recognize as herbal mixtures that the tribes used to treat wounded individuals.

Maxus let out a rather long sigh before shifting his position in the hammock and gazing blankly into a wall. “So……..” he let his voice trail off. “Is anyone from my society coming here to get me?”

The man with the sun hat said something to his fellow tribesman, who was currently preoccupied sorting through herbs, indicating as such that he was the one who had applied the herbs onto Maxus, before a small exchange that he couldn’t understand took place.

The man with the sun hat reached over into a corner of the hut that Maxus couldn’t see, before pulling something out and stepping back over into the exhausted man’s field of view. Maxus’ body shook in confusion.

“Wait, is that- Is that my phone?”

“Yes, of course. As leader of this tribe I kind of have to know these things in order to work with the people outside the jungle.” The man with the sun hat swiftly explained.

“Ah. I see.” Maxus calmly responded with an understanding nod. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Nodding along with Maxus, the tribal man let a small smile form upon his face “Anyway…So there was this one…friend? Acquaintance? I’m unsure, but someone you know was really trying to get ahold of you. And…before you ask, yes, there are reception towers around here. The diplomats from outside the jungle promised us that was all they would build around our land. I’m…unsure if they’re going to keep that promise or not, but, well, you know.”

The man with the sun hat took a second to let out a sigh and stare down at his shoes. “But yeah, someone named…how do you pronounce it…Ake-Akak-”

“Akeko.” Maxus swiftly clarified.

“Akeko. Thank you.”

“Did you answer the phone?”

“Well, I tried, but it was so wet at the time that it didn’t really…you know…but now that it's dry, and…functioning well enough, we did try to contact him. In his own words, he said, something like: ‘I’ll be over as soon as possible’ and-”

All of a sudden, someone from the tribe burst in with a gasp and said something to their leader that Maxus could only guess the meaning of. There was a brief exchange between the two of them, before the now chuckling leader turned back to Maxus.

“Well…speak of the devil…” he heartily chortled to Maxus in good spirits. “...he’s here right now.”

Maxus didn’t even have time to say: “Wha-” before Akeko came rushing into the hut, his blue and black demon wings folded neatly against his back as his red fox tail bobbed up and down behind him.

“MAXUS!” he cried out in a rather confusing, swirling mixture of both shock and relief, before practically leaping forward towards his still rather groggy lover.

The moment Akeko and Maxus met together in an embrace, the herb-smeared man merely allowed Akeko to wrap his arms around him as the poor masked man’s breath rose and fell in shaky, sporadic bouts.

“I..I’m…I’m just so happy you’re alive!”

Placing a hand of his own on top of the Japanese man’s soft, black hair, Maxus closed his eyes and continued to remain silent, merely allowing Akeko to let out all his emotions, before the weeping, quivering man lifted up his head and gazing up into Maxus’ own.

The wounded Incrediman’s left yellow eye and let blue eye as well as his light blue mask were all still there upon his face, and as Akeko’s tears continued to roll down his cheeks, the simple, light feeling of his beloved Maxus’ hands caressing upon his head and full-face fox mask finally allowed for the reality to begin sinking in, and for his momentary panic to subside.

“I’m here, Akeko. I’m here.”

Akeko’s breath slowly became more stable as his tearflow began to dry up. He knew that the moment had passed, and that his body would eventually process his emotions, before escorting them into his long term memory banks, among tons of hundreds of similar memories, sad, happy, you name it, involving him and his beloved boyfriend Maxus. He knew that this process was already going on as he stood, and that, though he wasn’t trying to suppress his body’s attempts to help him process his emotions, he didn’t have a reason to cry any longer. As such, Akeko sniffled a couple times before slowly nodding his head, attempting to speak through his tight, rather sore windpipe, and let Maxus know he was going to be okay, as well.

“...I know, Maxus. I know.”

Maxus and Akeko would hold this position for at least five entire minutes, and in that time, the tribe’s healer was given enough time to explain to his leader that Maxus wasn’t gravely injured, and that his body would be able to handle the healing from here. He should clean off the wet, pasty, herbal mixtures currently clinging onto the man’s skin, and then he should be good to go.

The leader nodded in understanding and began to patiently wait for Maxus and Akeko to let go of each other before relaying the information to them in english.

At last, when the moment came, Maxus and Akeko collectively allowed for the vast majority of the remaining bits of panic and anxiety within their beings to flow through and out, their eyes and faces slowly morphing from shocked and terrified with agony, to relaxed and relieved with ease.

Maxus proceeded to let the tribe healer do his job and clean off the current herbal paste sticking to his skin before taking in a deep breath, letting out a rather long sigh, and slowly stepping out of the hammock The tribe’s leader calmly handed Maxus back his phone, which he promptly put into his pocket, before turning back to Akeko, and taking in a deep breath to speak.

“Well then, Akeko. I guess that means there’s nothing left to do except start heading home.” he told his now upright boyfriend with a short head nod.

Akeko gently grasped onto one of Maxus’ hands using his own before softly looking his love in the eyes.“...you shouldn’t do that, Maxus, your body is still healing!” he attempted to explain in worry.

Taking a few seconds to contemplate what Akeko had told him, Maxus stood still. After a few seconds of this, he narrowed his eyes, and upon their un-narrowing a little while later, Maxus gave Akeko a nod of agreement and subsequently started to stare down at the floor.

“...yeah…yeah, no you’re right, Akeko. I…” Maxus, not entirely wanting to admit his brain had yet again defaulted to overworking itself regardless of the physical consequences, eventually let trail off.

Taking a few steps out of the hut while attempting to coax Maxus along by keeping grip on his hand, Akeko, Maxus following in slight reluctance behind him as such, began to lead him through the indigenous peoples’ town, before Maxus, (who had kind of been keeping his head down the whole time) realized there were a lot more plants in close proximity with the pair in contrast to the relatively cleared town.

Glancing up as a result, Maxus gave an understanding nod now that it was clear that he and Akeko were out in the jungle. Now, the only question on Maxus’ mind was: “Akeko, where exactly are you taking me right now?” and as it would be, those exact words somehow ended up slipping out of Maxus’ mouth, to which Akeko could only give a lighthearted chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Maxus! I spotted this area from up above while flying over here! In my eyes, it's practically perfect for the two of us to relax!”

Maxus, contending in his head that, “Yeah, that makes sense…”, ultimately decided to just keep quiet as Akeko continued to lead him through the crowded jungle floor and deeper and deeper into its damp, warm greenery as such.

Eventually, however, Maxus was able to hear the rushing of water. He was about to ask Akeko what it was, before the answer was practically presented to the man atop a silver platter, when the masked Japanese man gently pulled back some fronds in order to reveal a relatively large clearing. Well, clearing in the sense that it was free of trees, of course. Instead, only a great, gushing waterfall that crashed and boomed its force down into the great pool below, before said water flowed down into smaller rivers or tributaries, so they eventually made their way to larger bodies of water farther down the line. The spectacle was indeed quite breathtaking, and as Akeko continued to lead Maxus further in, over the large assortment of rocks and boulders, as well as the occasional rouge plant, before at last reaching a spot near the edge of the lake-like body of water that was covered in soft, fuzzy moss, making it ideal to lay on as such.

Upon witnessing his boyfriend comfortably laying down across almost the entire length of the moss, Maxus quickly realized that there wasn’t exactly enough room down there for the both of them. Plus, he wasn’t really the kind of person that got easily relaxed lying down upon the greenery of nature anyway (Unlike his boyfriend); so, ultimately, he decided to use his shrinking powers to bring himself down to about the size of a mouse, before swiftly spreading his wings and taking off from the floor, landing slowly and calmly down upon Akeko’s chest as such, right above his iconic red and blue lighting bolt symbol, shuffling around until he was positioned comfortably, with his chin rested upon his folded hands so he may gaze up into his love’s eyes while the much larger man gently placed a hand on his shrunken boyfriend’s back.

Akeko smiled contently as Maxus began to blush. Snuggling up contentedly with his now giant boyfriend covering his form, the shrunken, masked man let in and out one great big deep breath, and at last began to let his emotions flow.

It did seem that a combination of the herbs as well as a good night’s rest had helped his shocked, charred body recover. However, upon Akeko accidentally pressing down just a bit too hard on Maxus’ wings, the area that was struck first of course, the poor, tiny man gave an involuntary spasm as a jolt of pain tingled its way through his body.

Upon realizing this, Akeko began to get rather worried.

“Maxus, are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

Realizing that he was being asked a question that he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer at the moment, Maxus proceeded to gaze down towards Akeko’s sweater in slight hesitation, before at last, his conscience kicked in, and he knew he had to tell Akeko straight, even if it meant hurting both of their hearts. His throat tightening up slightly upon being forced to tell his love that he wasn’t, in reality, okay, Maxus’ words came out a little rough and shaky as he somberly let out a deep breath.

“N-No, Akeko. Rest and herbs helped, but…my body still has a ways to go…”

Upon hearing this admission, Akeko’s gaze softened.

“Why…Maxus, why didn’t you just tell me so earlier?” he calmly asked his boyfriend as the tiny man upon Akeko’s chest closed his eyes once more, not exactly able to gaze upon his larger love’s face after such an admission.

“Well…the healer said I’d be able to heal on my own from here, which is true, my body can take care of it eventually, I’m not in serious danger…but it still just…you know…” Maxus anxiously attempted to continue the conversation.

“...Maxus, if your body still needs to be treated…”

“Um, yes, I should probably just get myself looked at again by a doctor with access to modern technology, so why don’t we-oh. Or…yeah, you’re right. That…works too.”

The action in question that Akeko had taken in order to show Maxus that leaving the current area was not at all necessary, was, quite simply, opening up his maw.

Akeko lifted up his hand slightly in order to let go of Maxus, enabling the shrunken man to crawl inside. The frail, tiny man proceeded to do exactly that as he shuffled his way up Akeko’s sweater, in order to place his hands upon the outstretched tip of Akeko’s light blue tongue.

Maxus took a quick gander at the open chamber in front of him, which, due to his size, was considerably more spacious and cavernous than it ever would be otherwise. Front after front of warm, alluring breath was released onto his face, allowing him to get a nice, gentle preview of the warmth that was to come inside. The smooth, stretchy pockets that was Akeko’s cheeks grew taller and shorter with each natural shifting or quivering motion the jaws were to take. Maxus proceeded to haul himself up onto the tongue, the glistening, sharpened fangs to his sides sparkling in their capabilities as he did so, yet Maxus knew almost for certain that said capabilities would only ever be reserved for tearing off pieces of food during mealtime, and nothing, nothing else.

As the injured, winged man inched further inside, the gaping, awaiting gullet only seemed to grow wider with each crawl forwards as the plump, dangling uvula swung lightly from side to side, each breath that Akeko took in and out making it shift a little as a result.

Maxus could feel the maw’s ever-present natural warmth enveloping him like a blanket as he continued his trek further in. The farther and farther he got from the outside world, the less and less of its cold, cruel influences seemed to reach his being. Now, at long last, he was far enough inside for Akeko to be able to retract his tongue, gently closing his jaws around Maxus as such, making absolute sure that he wasn’t going to accidentally bite down on his shrunken boyfriend in the process, while the roof of his light blue maw stayed high above, so said little man wasn’t at risk of bumping his head.

Maxus slowly and calmly lowered that same head to the floor of the tongue the moment the maw had fully closed. He was already able to feel the warmth soaking into his skin as he nuzzled his cheek upon the soft, squishy surface. Akeko didn’t exactly wish to rush his love down towards his stomach, as, due mainly to the work of the tribe healer, he was no longer in any serious danger that required urgent care. Plus, in times like these, it was often quite beneficial to both parties for them to savor the moment.

And so, due to those reasons, Akeko merley ended up going along. Now that Maxus had shuffled almost all the way over to the slick, smooth drop that was the esophagus, he was able to fold over his tongue and cautiously stroke the gigantic, sleek muscle all over his little guest, positively slathering him in saliva as such.

Maxus reciprocated the gentle, loving strokes by rolling over onto his back and wrapping his arms all around the warm, blanket-like body part in an all-encompassing hug, the two parties in absolutely no rush at all to cut off the embrace any time soon.

Eventually, however, it was time for Maxus to get down to the gurgling, shifting healing chamber below, and as a result, he slowly unwrapped himself from Akeko’s tongue, rolled back over onto his chest, and, once again, started to shuffle forwards.

Glancing upwards and taking note of the plump, dangling uvula swaying leisurely above his head, Maxus proceeded to give the hanging, fleshy sack a great big hug as well, as he carefully slipped his lower half into Akeko’s gullet. Once his feet and legs were all the way in, at the ready for the swallow, Maxus allowed himself to slide his hands off the uvula, stretching it slightly, though not uncomfortably, all the while. Eventually, Maxus’ hands slid all the way off, causing the resulting slinging effect to launch the uvula back up, before it resumed its regular swaying above.

Akeko, back on the outside, gently placed a hand over his esophagus, before at last gulping Maxus down in one great gulp. Letting out a humongous sigh now that Maxus was on his way to his stomach, Akeko proceeded to lightly follow the bulge his love was making in his throat as he proceeded to be squeezed on down.

Maxus on the inside was able to feel the light pushing sensation that Akeko’s fingers exuded on the throat bulge he was in, causing him to reciprocate with a few gentle rubs around the soft squishy, light blue esophagus, i only to further emphasize their (pun entirely intended) skin-tight embrace as he did so.

Then, at long last, Maxus disappeared behind Akeko’s collarbone, and the much larger masked Kitsune man was only able to relocate his hand towards the grumbling, awaiting chamber that was his stomach once he was; before Maxus inside the throat was suddenly able to pick up the deep, thumping, echoes resonating out from Akeko’s chest, his beloved boyfriend’s heart pounding its presence all around him, a great, booming chorus he would have never been able to experience had he been unable to shrink down to this size.

Once the rumbling, melodic chorus that was the mixed symphony of high and low gurgles emitting from Akeko’s stomach became audible to Maxus as well, the tiny, winged man being squeezed and squelched through his boyfriend’s esophagus knew that it would only be a few seconds longer before his long awaited, desperately needed, final healing began.

Akeko was able to feel from his position on the outside Maxus getting thrusted through his lower esophageal sphincter, causing the tiny man within to plunge deep down into the healing acids below, a soft, gentle splash that would cause the liquids inside to splatter against his stomach walls for a moment before finally settling back down. The great, gurgling organ let out a few grumbles that were audible even to Akeko, before the organ got to work, and thus picked up its activity, sloshing and churning around as its little guest finally began to get comfortable.

Maxus on the inside was almost immediately hit with a wave of all-encompassing love the instant his body hit the liquids. Not only could he feel his tiny, fragile form getting rid of all the remaining wounds and injuries it had previously accrued from the lighting, but he was also immediately flooded with a wave of peacefulness and calm.

Trudging his way through the shallow, healing pool, Maxus very quickly made his way over to one of the soft, smooth, and decidedly squishy stomach walls inside of Akeko’s being, before squeezing down against said wall, squishing deep into its flexible, cushiony form, all the while rubbing slowly and sensually around his lover’s churning, shifting walls, causing the larger man on the outside to blush but slightly as he pat a few times over his stomach area in reciprocation.

Maxus’ allowed himself to slowly slip down inside the healing pool until he was all the way up to his neck. He could feel the acids slowly yet vehemently doing their work of healing up all the leftover burns and scorches its tiny little patient had received in the lighting strike, so the moment he was free to soar the air again, no marks, scars, or patches of said downright terror-inducing phenomenon’s former work would ever be seen again.

Maxus nuzzled his face deep into Akeko’s plush, pillowy walls as his body continued to heal. Back on the outside, Akeko himself was beginning to settle down upon the moss, his body lying comfortably on its side as he was able to soak up all the calm, soothing ambiance that the rainforest had to offer, just as Maxus inside of him was doing with his stomach.

Neither party knew just how long they were going to spend there chilling, half-tapped out of reality as their bodies and minds merley focused on the wondrous world around them, soaking in all of their positive ambiance, both from outside and in. All they did know instead, was that, here and now, in the current positions in which they lay, they were going to make the absolute most of it that they ever possibly could.

As such, the moment only continued to course its way along, the ever clicking hands of time seeming to slow to a halt as the two boyfriends were only able to think about how much they loved one another. Neither was able to verbally say as such, but neither needed to. Both of them knew, just by their actions alone.

As Akeko’s healing stomach passionately continued to growl and churn around Maxus’ miniaturized being, the tiny, snuggling man was only able to sense one and only thought casually taking the course through its mind.

“Thank you, Akeko. Thank you.”

And in the moment, that was all that needed to be thought.

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victorville-yoga-c5qwy6i · 1 year

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#Youtube

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discoveringthebible · 1 year

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Mission Sunday

Today at my church for our morning service, we have Mission Sunday. I always enjoy when I can listen to missionaries tell about their experiences. And it reminded me of my three inner city compassionate mission trips that I took in my 20′s.

I have never been overseas for a mission trip. And I don’t believe that you have to in order to be considered a missionary or to be considered the trip to be a mission trip.

Jesus commanded His disciples that we must go out into all the earth to proclaim the Gospel. This isn’t a suggestion or something that is for the “full timer.” This call was for every Christian.

Matthew 28:18-20 NLT: 18: Jesus came and told his disciples, “I have been given all authority in heaven and on earth. 19: Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit. 20: Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

As a Christian, a Christ-follower, we are to go. This can mean anywhere: across the world, or just down the street. I firmly believe this. As North America becomes more self-isolating (because of how individualistic our society is), we don’t know our neighbors. We do not know what things they are going through and we don’t even know if they know the saving power of Christ.

At Northwest Nazarene University, I was a Bible minor and a Communication Science major. As a result of my minor, I was required to take a half semester class called, “Compassionate Ministries.” I wasn’t sure at the time exactly what that was, but I was interested in taking it because one of the class requirements to pass was that we would be going on a mission trip. I had to plan to take the class accordingly, so that I could go.

[If you would like a couple of books on missions, and compassionate ministry check out:

Bryan P. Stone’s Compassionate Ministry: Theological Foundations

and

Robert D. Lupin’s: Toxic Charity: How the Church Hurts Those They Help and How to Reverse It]

Today at church, our Associate Pastor Don and a long-time member of our church, Arlen, presented a Q&A about Arlen’s work as a missionary.

I cannot even remember all of the questions that Pastor Don had asked Arlen, but Arlen was explaining the work he did in 3 of the many countries he has visited over the years. He talked about Russia, Guatemala and Nova Scotia, Canada. One of the questions had to do with safety.

And it brought me back to not only my Compassionate Ministry’s Mission trip, but all three mission trips I took in my twenties.

I am from California and have loved San Francisco since the first time I visited as a small child. I still need directions when I travel there, but I have a general layout of the city and some good restaurant suggestions throughout, not just in the touristy parts.

My college is in South-west Idaho. And our mission trip was inner-city San Francisco. Boy, was I excited. What I wasn’t expecting was that instead of driving everywhere, we walked, unless it was more than 2 BART stops away, then we took the underground system. I was used to driving from place to place, but I will never forget some of the people that I met with my college group and how just casual conversations on the street allowed us to be able to minister spiritually, practically and physically for all kinds of people. It was certainly a challenge to walk miles per day (many of their roads are very steep) and I ended up losing several pounds in just 4 days.

When I was presented with the opportunity to help lead a group of teens a couple of years later (also from Idaho) I jumped at the chance. Many of the teens had never left Idaho, so this was way out of their comfort zone, so it helped them to know there was someone familiar with the area we were going to. Not only were we able to help more people in practical ways while walking about the city on this second trip, but we were also able to minister and help grow the teens that were there. Specifically on this second trip, I remember we met up with many teen groups from all over the western part of the United States. I wish I could remember the name of the ministry we signed up through, I’ve still got my water bottle somewhere with their name on it. Anyway, one of the teen girls was so distraught at just how many homeless people were just sleeping out in the open and she was touched deeply. Not only did she want to help everyone she saw, but she also wanted to know what that experience was like. The church we stayed at on this trip was in Korea-town in Oakland, just up the bay from San Francisco and it was gated, but had a large courtyard. She petitioned the group leaders, as well as her church leaders to try and get as many kids to sleep out in the court yard on the ground, rather than in the warm gym. I thought it was a brilliant idea, but in order for that to happen, they needed at least one adult to be in that courtyard with the kids, so I volunteered. And one other adult from another church joined us as well. I believe all of our teens stayed outside on the last night, with sleeping bags and blankets on the ground. (Us leaders had pads that were 2 inches up off the ground, but it was still pretty uncomfortable). This girl’s experiment worked. She not only understood how hard it was for the homeless, just my sleeping one night outside, but we all (except for me surprisingly), also encountered something we didn’t expect. Bug bites. Everyone who slept outside ended up being covered in bites from some critter that we think were in the trees. I slept away from the trees farther than anyone else, because I needed a safe place to put my glasses, so I slept next to a courtyard bench.

In the morning as we were getting ready to leave, it came to our attention about the bug bites. The girl was bitten the most, but she still had a smile on her face as she finally understood how the homeless felt. And then she asked the question: Do you think the homeless also get bug bites? I had never thought about it before, but I said, “If we got them from just one night, then most definitely, they probably have them frequently.” We went to a drug store and picked up several containers of bug cream to help us get ready for our big drive back to Idaho. I was honored to be a part of that moment for those teens, to be able to help them help others. Even as I type this, I still get a smile on my face, just thinking about it.

I write this to remind us all that, as Christians, we are called to go and serve. This doesn’t mean “Bible-thumping” or “sin-shaming.” This doesn’t call for “hellfire and damnation” or to “scare the hell out of someone.” When we are called to serve, we are called to serve in the way Jesus did. Jesus did not just serve spiritually. Jesus served practically. He served the needs of those how they needed it, whether that was food, clothing, a spiritual lesson, or just a mental one. Jesus ministered holistically, and we should to.

Peace and Blessings,

Cody Marie

#missions #ministry #church #jesus #christian

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galacticlee3 · 2 years

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A Happy Tummy Makes A Happy Heart (Ler!Beel, Lee!Reader)

posting in the same month??? who have I become???

this was written in scenario/headcanon format because I find it easier/more enjoyable to write in, so I hope you all enjoy it too!

Warnings: mentions of weight loss

800 words

You had just come back from the human world, Beel’s birthday had been an eventful trip up to Disneyworld’s Epcot for the Food and Wine Festival

He miiiight have eaten an entire buffet by himself when the staff weren’t looking, but by his glowing face and happy smile, you could tell that the scolding he got from Lucifer was worth it

Although demons and celestial beings could travel between worlds if granted permission with ease, there were some side effects for humans. Because you had manifested power and made pacts with all seven by now, the effects were not as severe, but you always seemed to lose weight when you came back to the Devildom, even though you had definitely gained a few pounds from all the Disney dining.

Beel noticed the fatigue in your eyes, how you weren’t eating as much, and grew a bit worried, he cares about you and can always tell when something is off with your health. This side effect had made itself known the first time you went up to the human world with Lucifer, Satan, and Mammon. You had been bedridden for a couple of days before Asmo called Solomon in. He explained that your body was not strong enough yet to go world-hopping frequently and that this was a natural part of getting used to it.

And so, the awkward few days you settled back into the Devildom environment were usually spent with the brothers doting on you in their own way

You were currently trying to help Beel finish his embroidery for Devildom Home Economics, his hands were not as nimble as yours and his strength caused him to rip the delicate fabric every once in a while.

He enjoyed spending this time with you, but he noticed the bags under your eyes and how dehydrated you looked. “MC, when was the last time you drank water or had something to eat?”

You blink owlishly at him and try to think back to this morning, you had only eaten a piece of toast with Hell Poison Honey. It was already three hours past lunchtime, and you did feel a bit peckish.

He would lecture you about making sure you were eating enough to stay healthy, and subconsciously pull you closer to him, so you were almost on his lap

He supports your back with his arm and lets you lean into his chest, smiling as you giggle a bit at his concern.

“What are you laughing at, MC? This is a serious conversation,” he would say with furrowed brows and a mischievous smile. It wasn’t often you saw this side of him, the playful aura wasn’t as common as his usual careful, sweet, demeanor. He would scribble up and down your sides to get you giggling, making sure you were okay with the attention every step of the way, always checking in on you when he went to pinch at your ribs or blow a raspberry at your neck.

Beel would totally pretend you were his afternoon snack, nibbling on your sides and bringing your tummy up for him to nuzzle against. He would listen to it and tell you “You see, I can hear that you need to be feeding it more, its not happy! Don’t worry, I’ll give it some rasperries to make it feel full.”

Cue dozens of sweet raspberries all over your sides and tummy, strong arsm still holding you up as you squirm around. He loves to hear you laugh, have you close to him, so he can make you happy and warm.

Hes literally a huge teddy bear, he would use his fluffy hair to swoop across your sensitive torso, his stubble grazing against you hips as he nibbles on them as well. “You never told me you were so delicious, MC! I could just eat you up!”

Eventually he just slows to tummy rubs to make you relax against him, gently scratching your scalp and playing with your hair. He adored moments like this, and he loves when he gets to have you all to himself.

Until your stomach growls

Beel would practically run to the kitchen to make something for you to eat after you tell him, not leaving himself out of course. He’s an excellent cook, he takes classes from Barbatos as well as Luke to learn how to make human cuisine and celestial meals so he can sample them all in his free time

He makes your favorite sandwich and crashes on the couch again, using his newly fashioned embroidery project to wipe his mouth

You could practically feel the steam coming out of your ears, you guys had worked for an hour and a half on this project and now it had Hell Sauce all over it????

Needless to say, after many more hours of work, he aced the project, and of course all was forgiven

#obey me #tickle fic #sfw tickle community #obey me tickle fic #obey me tickling #obey me tickles #ler!beel #lee!reader #lee!MC #galactic writes

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kirathecricket · 3 years

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It’s Fix it Fic o’ Clock

Post RoTT, where Jim awakens after witnessing Claire’s death in the previous timeline and races to her house to restore her memories.

WARNING: GRAPHIC

32 times.

Jim had reset the timeline 32 times since Toby’s death.

Each time he went back, he was able to save all but one.

During the first few resets, he had gone through losing Toby over and over again, holding his grimy and lifeless hand from beneath the piles of debris he grew all too weary of. He had hoped losing Toby that many times would numb his emotions, and he would be able to better prepare for it—expect it, even. But every time it came as a greater devastation, growing more and more painful with each failure.

The following resets had varied. He had gained sickening memories of sitting beside his mother among the remains of the fire titan and holding her tightly as they mourned Strickler together. He remembered pounding his fists into the rubble as he screamed and thrashed over Nomura’s death. He remembered the hollow feeling that drilled deeper and deeper into his chest as he stared at the stone remains of Blinky. He remembered clutching tightly to Douxie’s icy corpse, listening to the wails and screams of Claire and Zoe as they gathered around him. But one memory haunted him above all others—a memory he tried desperately to eliminate, but could never shake: Claire’s trembling body, her hands gripping tightly to Bellroc’s staff lodged deeply into her stomach. Jim remembered trying to calm her as best he could before he tore the staff out of her, her screams piercing his ears and leaving him scarred.

It’s going to be okay, he’d sobbed. I promise you, Claire, it’s going to be okay. I won’t let you die. I love you too much to let you die.

He’d screamed for help, finding Douxie and Toby at his side in an instant, telling Claire to hold on, that they would fix this.

Cradling her head in his hands, he’d watched as her gaze became distant and her eyes glossed over. He’d shook her desperately, calling her name as if by some miracle, she’d respond. He remembered the feel of her lips against his, cold and lifeless, unmoving as he’d kissed her for the last time. That day, he didn’t hesitate to destroy the kronosphere. He didn’t even look back at his friends to say goodbye.

1 reset later, he sat on the steps of his porch, a light evening breeze ruffling tufts of his hair. He turned the amulet over in his hands carefully, tracing his thumb along the brim, mumbling the incantation softly to himself.

In every reset, the amulet had called to him. Though Jim wished he could refuse his destiny, he now understood that the mantle of Trollhunter was always going to be his to wield. As the armor began to form around him and envelope his body, memories of past lifetimes flashed in his mind.

He felt sick.

His chest plate fit into place gently around his torso, and the other pieces of metal wrapped around his limbs effortlessly and began shrinking to fit his rather skinny build. He held out his right hand grudgingly and swallowed hard, feeling the energy of Daylight build in his palm and materialize between the spaces of his fingers. He closed his eyes as the heavy sword began to shift and adjust, feeling lighter and lighter until it was perfectly balanced. He furrowed his eyebrows, clenching his jaw as he felt the weight of the armor settle around him. He opened his eyes slowly to find himself decorated in the pristine suit of armor he despised so much. He felt nauseous, worrying that at any moment he might purge. Jim grabbed at the amulet angrily and tore it from his armor, glaring at it as heat rose in his chest.

“There,” he growled, “you happy? You’re mine now.”

The amulet remained still in his palm, pulsing faintly in response. Jim scoffed.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he spat, shoving the relic into the back pocket of his jeans and trudging towards his house to retrieve his bike from the garage. As he climbed atop his rusted and squeaky transport, the image of Claire’s battered and bloodied body flashed in his mind. He halted his movements abruptly, placing a shaky hand against the side of the garage and swallowing. He breathed deeply in an attempt to calm his nerves, regaining his bearings after a few tense moments. He proceeded to board his bike, adjusting his footing before peddling speedily off into the night with one destination in mind.

The soft and gentle evening breeze turned into a fierce and icy wind, whipping mercilessly at his clothes and hair as he rode. His stomach churned as he thought once more of Claire, his breathing turning harsh and ragged as he peddled.

Just two more lefts and a right, he thought to himself, trying his best to achieve self-assurance. Jim would see her soon, healthy and alive, beaming at him brightly just as he remembered.

He banked left, passing a pair of headlights with a heavy WHOOSH. He tried hard to focus on that smiling Claire he’d planted in his mind, but the memory became tainted, slowly morphing into the sickening image of her glassy eyes staring back at him. He took another left, rising above his seat to peddle faster, his bike leaning back and forth with each pump of his legs. His heart beat faster with each house he passed, his vision becoming blurred with hot tears. He quickly wiped them away with his sleeve, focusing on the path ahead.

Veering right, the Nuñez estate came into view, each window aglow with a faint yellow light. Jim practically leapt from his bike and onto the lawn, stumbling forward as he raced through the grass and latched onto the wood pillars of Claire’s house as quietly as he could. He scaled the wood hastily, throwing himself onto the slanted roof that stood before her window. His heavy breaths came to an abrupt halt as he caught a glimpse of her. She lay on her side comfortably, a pair of earbuds snug in her ears and a pen in her hand, scribbling notes on what appeared to be a thick packet of paper—a script, no doubt.

Jim had to fight the urge to throw her window open and envelope her tightly in his arms. In this timeline, they hadn’t formally met yet, since it began in the evening after school had ended. Jim went looking for the amulet on his way home, making up an excuse to stay behind for a few minutes while Toby trudged ahead. He didn’t want to explain his findings to Toby again. After the first few resets, he had gotten a bit weary of giving his best friend the Trollhunter Tragedy and preferred restoring his memories to spare the monologue.

Now, Jim prepared to do the same with Claire, gripping the amulet tightly in his back pocket and whispering the words Douxie taught him to say several timelines ago. He chanted the brief phrase and brought the amulet out before him, watching as three glowing orbs emerged from the blue stone and disappeared behind Claire’s window, leaving a smokey trail of light in their wake.

Jim hastily pocketed the amulet and stepped forward, silently praying that the spell had worked. Before he had the chance to bring his knuckles up to her window and knock, her face appeared behind the glass, wide brown orbs staring back at him with fright. The barrier between them slid open, and before Jim could react, he was already standing in her bedroom, his arms wrapped tightly around her back. She returned his embrace hastily, clawing at his sweater to establish a firm hold on him. Jim didn’t wipe away his tears that brimmed the edges of his lower lids this time. He let them fall shamelessly, his shoulders heaving with each silent sob. Claire didn’t dare let go as the flood of memories filtered into her mind, stabilizing herself in Jim’s tight grip. Together they stood, rocking each other back and forth and stifling quiet sobs, burying their faces into each other’s necks in an attempt to seek comfort.

Minutes later, Jim finally spoke in a strained whisper, “I’m sorry.” He broke away from Claire’s embrace to take her tear-stained cheeks in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s wide eyes stared back at him sadly, her mouth slightly agape and her bottom lip quaking. No words escaped her mouth; all she could do was shake her head no in response.

“I tried to save you,” Jim croaked. “I swear, I tried so hard.”

Claire’s hands found their way to his cheeks, mirroring his movements and wiping his tears away. She brought her head to his abruptly, enclosing her mouth around his with force. He felt her fingers grip the sides of his face tightly, pushing him closer as to gather all that she could of him. Jim did the same, moving his hands to the back of her head to deepen the kiss as much as she would allow it. Their lips pressed against each other in synchronized movements, their breaths uneven and heavy. When they broke apart moments later, Claire shook her head.

“You’ve been trying to save everyone for far too long, Jim,” she whispered. Jim’s eyebrows furrowed deeply in response, his gaze desperate. “—And it’s tearing you apart.”

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “I can still find the right timeline. I can still save everyone—“

“Jim. . .” Claire muttered, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, “it’s time to stop. It’s time to move forward.”

Jim’s hands traveled to her waist as to bring her closer to him. “I can still do this,” he growled, “I can still save everyone.”

“Jim, look at you,” she croaked. “You’re exhausted yet restless. With every reset, you get a little more lost.” Claire’s eyes shined with tears, her expression morphing into one of heartbreak. “Maybe. . .” she struggled, “Maybe there is no saving everyone. Maybe one of us is bound to die.”

“No!” he grunted, shaking his head in defiance. “No, I can do this, Claire, I can—“

“Make me a promise,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Promise me that this is the last one. This is the last timeline.”

Jim swallowed hard, bowing his head. “I can still do this,” he murmured, glancing up at her as fresh tears spilled from his dulled eyes.

“Promise me,” she said again, bringing her forehead to his.

He was silent for a long time, his breath hitching with each broken sob. Finally, after minutes, he spoke in a voice so low, Claire could hardly hear it. “I promise,” he choked out, pursing his lips.

She leaned forward to briefly kiss him one more time, his motions slow and strained, as if it pained him to move. Claire pulled away deliberately, keeping her eyes closed and her face close to his.

“Whatever happens,” she began, voice trembling, “know that I have loved you in every life we’ve lived.”

Jim’s hands slid from her waist to the small of her back, where he moved forward to envelope her body in his arms. “Know that I will love you always in this life,” he promised, nuzzling into her tear-stained cheek, “and that I have never loved anyone other than you in all other lives.”

When they pulled away to meet one another’s gaze, they saw memories of every past life flash before them in each other’s eyes. They saw the trauma they shared and felt the emptiness of every loss they’d experienced. In this life, they knew it would be no different—that years from now, they’d be gazing at each other like this again, broken expressions plastered onto their faces as they revisited the memories of a past life. Over who they would be mourning, they couldn’t be sure, but as long as they shared this life together, they knew they could heal together.

#I don’t know why tumblr spaces the paragraphs out like that but I really can’t do anything about it so sowwy🤷‍♀️#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #jlaire #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #ToA wizards #trollhunters rott

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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Demon Brothers as Roommates

Intro:

So, the MC has left the Devildom and, of course, everybody is quite sad… But this time around, they have a little trick up their sleeve. With just a bit of magic (and training thanks to Solomon) the MC can now summon one of their favorite demon boys up to the human world with them! There's just, uh, one problem though… After being summoned to their side, their beloved demon now refuses to leave it.

Alright MC, enjoy your new demonic roommate!!

Lucifer

Apparently Lucifer is on sabbatical… And yes, he does appreciate that irony in that.

Lucifer actually has a surprising amount of human world money stashed away in alias accounts (because this man renting a cheap motel on business trips? Let's be real) so he uses that wealth to get them a place befitting his standards… which are high.

Spacious apartments in nice areas that would make even the upper middle-class shit their pants? Congrats, MC, that's where you're staying now!

Even with all that money, though, Lucifer CANNOT sit idle for a second. The guy is used to working all his life and just sitting around would drive him insane!

Expect him to still be running some Devildom affairs long-distance style while doing something else on the side, probably stock market stuff tbh.

Is going to want to pay for and provide everything himself but will respect the MC if they still want to work and split the bills (not to a ridiculous degree, though, like half-and-half because that would mean getting three jobs at least).

A lot of trips and vacations too, especially if the MC likes to travel. It’s a good excuse to relax while also technically doing something so he doesn’t lose his mind doing nothing in particular.

He is going to be that strict roommate who expects you not to be a slob and isn't afraid to say so. Regularly scheduled cleaning/organization days are mandatory because hygiene is important. Take some pride in yourself and wash up, MC. That kind of thing.

Also going to have short-fuse for… antics. If you want to prank him, do so at your own risk because he may prank back (and that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds, trust me.)

Mammon

Yeah so, living with Mammon is like the inverse of Lucifer. Prepare to be poooor.

Man has no human money, are you kidding me? Even if he did, he wouldn’t keep it for very long. Couples budgeting is a MUST if you’re looking to survive.

The apartment is going to be whatever the MC can more or less afford on their own with Mammon shoved in somewhere like a cheap lamp… Don’t expect a lot of room.

However, Mammon is great at the hustle. Man can work multiple jobs and actually be pretty dang good at them. For the most part, anyway. He may occasionally trip up and get himself fired, but he bounces back quick.

If the MC isn’t so moral he can also uh… “find” some extra money lying around too. Just be careful when playing with fire, right?

Even if they’re poor as shit, Mammon is still a blast to be around. The guy knows how to have fun on and off of a budget. Lots of “window shopping” (getting kicked out of stores for goofing off), nightclubs, amusement parks, and cheap fun. They’ll never be without a story to tell or a smile on their face!

He IS pretty slobbish though. He’s not going to remember to clean up after himself unless told, but he’s also not going to be bothered if they don’t do the same thing. A weekly cleaning day is going to be ideal unless they don’t mind living in a pigsty...

Prank waaaaars!! The kind of guy to get them both water guns and have a war in the middle of the apartment complex. Good luck getting any rest with Mammon around.

Leviathan

Whelp, your room is now his room, quite literally MC. You had to pick the shut-in…

The guy isn’t exactly poor but what human money he does have is all wrapped up in his many interests… Merch interests specifically.

Thankfully, he won’t take up too much space. Put him in a room with a desk, bed (or bathtub), TV, and computer and he’s good to go!

He’s not going to be a complete bum, thankfully. There’s no way that they can get him to leave the apartment, but he can run small online stores (usually anime themed) or become a streamer. Probably enough to help pay the bills, but not much more.

If they don’t mind having a literally permanent housemate, then being with Levi has its own kind fun. Lots of anime marathons, movie nights, and game nights. Really, it’s just like how he was in the House, but now transported to the human world.

Is probably going to want a pet goldfish, snake ,or lizard so prepare to house Henry 3.0.

When he does leave the apartment, it’s to take the MC to conventions, concerts, or anime stores. He always manages to get just enough money for these trips, but never says where the money comes from… Best not to ask. Could be black market for they know...

… He’s a shut-in. He’s a shut-in roommate. Hygiene isn’t exactly his main concern. If they ask him to, he’ll make sure to clean up after himself, but he may need a reminder.

Can have a fun side, but just don’t mess with his stuff too much. He doesn’t need a Mammon 2.0 around too...

Satan

He's either hatching a plan for world domination or adopting 10 cats… One or the other.

About as poor as Mammon at first, but threat not. He won’t be for very long. Satan is intelligent beyond his years (or equivalent his years maybe?) so he’ll probably net himself several degrees within a couple semesters like a certified prodigy.

At that point, there really isn’t much to worry about (aside from student loans, join our pain Satan) but he can sell himself just fine and probably get some high paying job like a lawyer or doctor or whatever… I’m not jealous…

They’ll start out in a pretty modest place, but there will be upgrades fairly quickly when he starts racking it in so Satan’s a fairly decent choice as a roommate.

He does still have that nasty habit of breaking things when he’s pissed off, but that can be subverted by getting a pet! Just hold up whatever cat you own when he’s about to rampage then declare that he’s scaring/upsetting them and he’ll stop in his tracks. Works every time!

Probably going to be the most domestic out of the brothers. He enjoys cooking (and ain’t half bad at it either), shopping is a practical necessity, he’ll take care your pets like they were his own flesh and blood, etc.

There will even to be points where he’s in bed reading in the middle of the night with tea and reading glasses like some kind of grandma so take that image for what you will.

Satan is the prankster of the household, but he does his pranks more as a way to give grief to his enemies rather than for funsies. Be warned, if you poke this bear he will retaliate for sweet, sweet revenge and he has centuries worth of pranks behind him. Good luck.

Asmodeus

It's a new party every night, sweetie, get used to it!

Asmo is the only other brother who has some amount of money to offer from his own trips to the human world, but it's just a modest amount.

Is totally willing to work to help pay for a nice place. He wants a building nice enough to host parties!

Would go back to modeling and maybe dip his toe into acting from time to time… He gets a lot of gigs (this IS the Avatar of Lust after all) so they won't be strapped for cash. Which is good, because Asmo is a very "business by day, but party every night" kind of person.

Do know that his shopping is NOT going to slow down either. Keep an eye on the budget.

He’s also going to make friends wherever he goes so he’s going to want for them all to hang out at least somewhat regularly.

That being said, he can tone it down some if the MC so desires, just know that they can’t keep him cooped up in the apartment for too long or he’ll start getting antsy. You can’t keep this stallion locked up, MC, he needs to run free!!

Being with Asmo is going to be like having a free pass to whatever gathering the MC wants to go to, at least. He could even get them into red carpet events with just his sheer charisma, charm, and er-… “charms.” Who doesn’t want to meet their favorite actress or singer, eh?

But oh, sweetie, please don’t prank him! Life is too short to waste on silly games (he also just genuinely just doesn’t enjoy being messed with so best not do it).

Beelzebub

Brave choice, MC, but quick question. How in the world are you going to pay your food bills???

Beel is a real sweetheart through and through but his stomach is NOT. That thing will eat them out of house and home! (Maybe even literally!!) Both of them are going to have to work and probably some pretty looong hours (cause he’s got no money either).

Honestly, Beel would be best as a personal trainer in the human world. He’s a pretty decent combination of tough but genuinely kind and motivating. (The fact that he’s pretty easy on the eyes would help out a lot too).

But the MC won’t have to worry about Beel sneaking off with someone just looking for some “quality time.” He’d take his job seriously, though he’s not particularly versed in what the human body can’t handle so only the really dedicated (or masochistic) would stick with him anyway.

“Good work last week, April! You did so well that we’re going to go from 500 pushups to a thousand! … I can see you’re worried, but I believe in you.”

But hey, he can deadlift well over 2,000 pounds without breaking a sweat so who has the balls to argue with him, anyway?

Trying out every restaurant in town would be a must. He’d even plan out vacations for them with the sole purpose of travelling the globe and tasting the different flavors. Food trips!!

He's neat enough since he used to tidy up a lot for Belphie so no need to worry about him picking up after himself (except for the occasional pile of wrappers. Toss those out unless you want ants)

I mean, you can prank Beel if you want. He'll be pretty good-natured about it as long as it stays harmless. Just don't ruin any of his food, got it?

Belphegor

So… Belphie makes for some excellent décor! Really he is great at laying around and looking fantastic just… he’s not that great at much else...

Realistically, choosing Belphie as a roommate is kind like having a high maintenance pet. He’s good for love and cuddles, but he’s not going to be helping with the bills or anything unless they whine incessantly about it.

If the MC can make enough for the both of them, then it should be fine. They won’t get upset and he won’t be crabby but if not… Oh boy.

Regular job Belphie is a needy Belphie. He’ll come back from whatever job he’s working, likely a night shift, and demand attention or cuddles right then and there. He needs to recharge those batteries, after all...

If he isn’t working then he's at his happiest. He can even pull off being a “househusband” of sorts. He’s not going to go above and beyond the call of duty, but he can keep the place clean, get a basic meal on the table (provided someone teaches him some human recipes), and get groceries if he needs to… You know, basic domestic shit.

They’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that, at some level, Belphie just doesn’t believe in “common curtesy” or “human decency.” If some neighbors are being too noisy for his liking, he will troll them to oblivion and beyond. He may even get sued for it if he takes it too far, so the MC will have to keep an eye on him…

He’s the House’s #2 prankster, but unlike Satan he doesn’t need any malice to be a little shit. The MC will be pranked and it will be at the most unexpected times. Be warned...

Check out my Masterlist for more!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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whelvenwings · 3 years

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Length: ~5k Tags: Canon Divergent, Y yo a ti Cas timeline, Misunderstandings

It's three months after Castiel was brought back from the Empty after confessing his love to Dean, and things are awkward between them. They haven't talked about it. Castiel can feel how much Dean wants to, but he won't let himself, and Castiel can only wait. But one night, with Castiel halfway across the world, he gets a text from Dean that might change everything - even if Dean didn't quite mean it to.

Castiel

It was just awkward. Castiel couldn’t deny it. Things between himself and Dean were definitely awkward.

Three months back on Earth, safe from the Empty with a little help from the Winchesters and from Jack – but Castiel and Dean still hadn’t talked about it. The things that Castiel had said – and what Dean had said in return.

I love you. Me too, Cas.

Castiel knew he should have expected this, the awkwardness. Hadn’t he known Dean long enough, at this point, to be able to predict him? And there was nothing more predictable than Dean not wanting to talk about something.

Still, it hurt. There had been that shining moment of happiness, if a word as soft as happiness was even the right way to describe the feeling of absolute blazing corrosive joy that Castiel had felt when Dean had told him that his feelings were reciprocated. And now, there was just… silence.

It was awkward.

And Castiel didn’t know what to do. Was Dean waiting for him to say something? But Castiel had already said it all. It was Dean who’d only managed to choke out a few words, Dean who must have more to say. And yet he said nothing. Days were slipping past full of staring and loaded sentences and quietness.

The fact that it was all so familiar didn’t make it any better. Castiel wanted something different. It had been different before they’d said anything out loud, but – but there had been something about hearing Dean say those words, me too, Cas, that had changed everything.

He didn’t need much. Nothing grand or unusual, only something to ease the tension. Even if it was just an expression on Dean’s face that acknowledged what had passed between them, instead of pushing it away.

But Dean… Castiel knew it was different for him. There were things that Dean didn’t allow himself, for a tangle of reasons that Castiel only barely understood. Dean didn’t let himself touch. Dean didn’t let himself speak. Dean didn’t let himself look.

But Dean wanted to.

Castiel knew Dean wanted to. So many aching years that Dean had longed for him, and Castiel had been able to feel it like a prayer – and not some soft and murmured thing, a prayer of an older kind, something raw and wordless and desperate. Something on its knees. Castiel could feel the yearning in Dean. It would have been so simple for Castiel to offer touch, but Dean hadn’t ever really let him. And Dean still wasn’t letting him.

And Castiel could still feel the longing.

When they were together, and when they were several thousand miles apart, too. It was there. Never any quieter or gentler, not even from far away. It always touched the same place in Castiel’s grace that it had done from the start. And the feeling of it was just the same, too, like being doused in oil and dropped into flames that reached and hoped and hungered.

Beautiful fire. A beautiful prayer. Castiel wanted to answer it. Dean behaved as though he didn’t know it was there.

The tension in the bunker had become too much, last night, and Castiel had abruptly left with just a quick text to Dean.

> I’m going to look for the artifact Sam read about in Seoul. It shouldn’t be left unguarded.

The artifact was probably just a trinket, if Castiel was being honest with himself, and its significance paled in comparison to everything they’d been through, but it was a reason to get away from everything and give himself a break. It would have only taken Castiel moments to find the artifact if he’d wanted, but he drew it out. He walked rather than flying, pacing the streets of Seoul, following up on the leads that Sam had found. His grace hummed and sighed against Dean’s prayer.

He hoped that when he returned, something might be different. That he and Dean could talk. Maybe even – as he walked down a side-street with neon lights that glowed through the drizzling rain, Castiel allowed himself a wry little smile. Maybe even do something together. Go somewhere. Go on a date.

A date. To a human the word would probably sound little, and normal, and silly for an angel to be thinking about. But to Castiel, it just sounded like something new.

And it was so easy, somehow, to picture Dean coming into the bunker's kitchen, pointing at Castiel semi-aggressively, and saying, so. You, me, date. Up for it?

Would that be how Dean would phrase it? Castiel tried it a few different ways in his head. Down for it? How about it? You in? Each time, the Dean in Castiel's mind looked almost angry as he waited for an answer. Each time, Dean's face softened when Castiel said, yes.

So easy to imagine. So out of reach. Castiel walked on through Seoul, the rain starting to thrum down harder.

–––––

Dean

It was awkward.

Dean knew it was awkward, and he wasn’t thinking about it – he wasn’t. Except when Cas did stupid shit like ditching the bunker without warning, leaving just some handwritten note like a kid sneaking out of his tent at summer camp, it made it kind of harder to ignore.

Staring down at the note in the bunker’s library, Dean pressed his lips together and read it over again, his eyes scanning the words while his brain paid no attention to them, lost in thought.

There was something so ridiculous about it all. The moment between them, the – whatever it had been, when they’d admitted their crap to each other – it felt so overblown to look back on. Sure, Cas had had to summon the Empty, he’d had to get all deep just to save Dean’s hide. But Dean… what he’d said had just been stupid. No point to it. Dean cringed when he thought about it.

Me too, Cas.

The words were so little like something Dean would ever say that they might as well have been in a foreign language. Me too, Cas? That kind of thing didn’t have to be said. Because obviously, him too. But what were they supposed to do about it? Buy each other flowers? Feed each other chocolates? God forbid – hold hands?

Dean felt a little hot rush in his chest just thinking about it, and an accompanying stab of guilt. What were they, seventeen? They were old. Too old for flowers and chocolates. Too old for holding hands. And too old for this weird tension between them, Jesus. Who got nervous and tongue-tied and awkward around a crush at Dean’s age?

Who called it a crush at Dean’s age?

Dean, sat in the library at the bunker, dropped the note Cas had left and picked up his phone. Practicalities. Just focus on the practicalities. He should at least make sure Sam had kept Cas up to date with the latest research about the artifact that might be hidden in Seoul.

Dean tapped on the screen of his phone for a few seconds, holding it a little further away from his eyes than he used to have to do. He read over what he’d typed once, and then hit send.

–––––

Castiel

Castiel’s phone hummed.

With a little clench in his gut, Castiel stepped under the cover of a dark doorway to get out of the rain, and pulled it out of his pocket. Dean’s name was on the screen, obviously. There was the usual leap of excitement, tinged with a familiar sinking feeling in his chest. Dean would probably be angry with him for leaving.

With a stoic line to his jaw, Castiel opened the text, knowing it couldn’t be anything good.

> So. You up to date?

Castiel stared down at his phone.

No… no. He couldn’t have read that right. He blinked, and tried it again.

It still said the same thing.

You up to date?

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was… up to date? If he… wanted to date?

However many times Castiel reread the text, it said the same thing. Castiel stood absolutely still, his eyes puzzling out the letters of Dean’s message again and again.

It was – it was just the way Castiel had imagined it, if not word perfect. The brusque tone, the question. Castiel, half in shadow in a porch in rainy Seoul, stared down at his phone as if it had just promised him the moon.

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was up for dating.

Via text. Obviously. Maybe all this time, it had just been that trying to talk face-to-face had been too much. Maybe Castiel should have left for halfway across the world months ago.

Castiel could feel his heart pounding. He couldn’t stop himself reading Dean’s question, over and over again.

–––––

Dean

When the text from Cas finally came back, Dean snatched up his phone. It wasn’t that he’d been sitting and staring at it, waiting for a reply – he’d just got a little lost in thought, was all, wondering where Cas was and why he wasn’t answering sooner.

The text, though, when Dean read it, put a frown on his face.

> I’m so glad you asked. Yes, I would love to.

Wait. What? Dean checked over what he’d said himself in his first text, just to be sure he hadn’t made some kind of a typo. Nope, he’d definitely just asked if Cas was up to date with the artifact.

So, Cas would love to… what?

Cas was glad he’d asked about what?

None of it sounded like the answer to a simple question about research on an artifact, at all. Maybe Cas was just in the middle of something, and misread Dean’s text. Not something that had ever happened before, but still. Whatever.

Dean circled his thumbs over the keyboard on his screen, and then typed a reply.

< Love to do what

Keep it simple, he figured.

He sat puzzling over Cas’ first message as he waited for a reply. So glad you asked. What did that even mean? Was Cas ever particularly glad when Dean asked anything?

The reply came back quickly, this time.

> Anything you want to do. :) Maybe just going to a bar?

Dean squinted down at his phone.

Anything he wanted to do about what? A bar?

Was he losing it? Dean reread the text over and then over again, and looked back up their conversation to try to make Cas’ reply make sense. The emoticon was typical enough, even though Dean hadn’t seen a smiley one in a while. The way it made his chest squeeze was ridiculous. It was just a smile. And it just followed the words, anything you want to do.

Before he could let his mind run too far with what exactly that could mean, Dean texted back in confusion,

< You want to go to a bar?

There was something about this conversation that was making his heart beat harder. Come on, he told it. What, you can face down the end of the world more than once and a little text conversation still has you like this?

Ignoring his solid logic, Dean’s heart only raced faster when Cas texted back,

> Yes, of course. Unless you think it’s a bad idea?

So… Cas wanted to go to a bar? With Dean?

That was – well, it wasn’t that strange on Dean’s personal spectrum of strange to not strange these days. Fighting Death and God and God’s sister and all the rest of it kind of put a bunch of other strange crap way down the list. But this was still… weird. Not bad weird, necessarily.

But how had they got here, why were they talking about this? What kind of a bar, why? Dean had just wanted to check up on Cas in a few brief words and suddenly they were making evening plans? Cas was making no sense. Was he doing it on purpose? Dean read the whole conversation over again, and pulled a face of utter and annoyed confusion for the benefit of no one, and shook his head.

He thought about it, and licked his lips, and shook his head again.

And then thought some more, and made a hand gesture, as if asking of no one, what the fuck.

He texted out,

< What do u mean

He stared down at the text for a second, and then deleted it, and tried instead,

< Why are we talking about this

He didn’t even read that one over again before deleting it. He made another face, and then quickly typed and sent,

< But you’re in Seoul

However they’d arrived at the idea of going to a bar, it didn’t particularly matter when Castiel was thousands of miles away. Had deliberately ditched, in fact, which was more of an obstacle to them having a nice evening out tonight than the distance between them, but Dean wasn’t going to say that directly.

> Only for a short while longer. I’ve almost completed the search for the artifact. Then I’ll come back :)

Another damn smiley face, another little lift in Dean’s chest. Look at him. Fully grown, and soft over the idea of his best friend looking forward to spending an evening together. Yikes.

Practicalities. Dean fired off another text.

< Okay... you just wanna talk or what

If Cas was going to try to insist that they talk about stuff, well – the drinks would probably be a good place to start, but Dean would need to psych himself up to the idea of trying to explain anything at all that had happened between them. Me too, Cas. He kept hearing himself say it and wanting to bury his head in his hands. What had he been thinking. What had Cas been thinking, when he’d decided on Dean. That had to earn the award for the worst fucking choice in the history of the world.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his hands.

> I think talking is what people usually do on a date. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Dean’s eyes went wide.

–––––

Castiel

Across the world, in the porch in Seoul, Castiel watched as Dean’s little typing bubble with three dot dot dots appeared, and disappeared, and reappeared.

He tried to quiet the excitement in his chest, tried to remind himself that Dean had just implied fairly heavily that he wouldn’t want to talk on their date – which wasn’t unexpected for Dean, but it did leave Castiel wondering what else Dean might want to do.

A thought occurred to Castiel about something they might be able to do without talking, and he swallowed, and felt his hopes fly higher.

Or perhaps Dean just wanted to sit together in silence. That would be alright, too. Companionship in the quiet. When he thought about it, Castiel knew it would be more than enough just to sit by Dean in a bar and drink together, knowing that they were both choosing to be there. Even if they didn’t say a single word the whole evening, even if Dean didn’t so much as look at him the whole night. They could spend the date speechlessly. But it would be a date. It would be an acknowledgement. Maybe it would ease a little of the longing that Castiel felt and felt and felt from Dean, burning.

Finally, a text from Dean came in.

> Wait what

Wait, what?

Castiel felt his heart sink.

There was something wrong. That tone, just two stark words – something wasn’t right. Castiel scrolled back up their conversation. Had he accidentally said something rude? He couldn’t find it, reading the texts over and then over again. He’d used emoticons to show that he was happy. Had they seemed sarcastic?

Did it seem as though Castiel didn’t really want to go on a date? Or that he wouldn’t really be content for them to not talk on the date? Hurriedly, Castiel began typing again.

< I mean it. We don’t have to say anything. I just want to be there with you.

It was the kind of text that Castiel would ordinarily type out and then delete because it was too forthright, too emotional, too much for Dean – but this time, he just hit send before he could think about it. Worse than Dean being grossed out by Castiel openly having feelings was the idea of Dean not knowing that Castiel really did feel those things.

There was a long silence. Castiel stood still, waiting for Dean.

How many times had he stood, quiet, expectant, wanting Dean to be ready, hoping he would be ready, prepared to wait for an eternity until he was? In the span of Castiel’s own lifetime, he’d waited just a blink of an eye. But somehow this blink had been torturously slow. A torture Castiel would have fought to the death before trading.

Castiel’s phone hummed.

> You really want to go on a date

Castiel stared down at the screen. He couldn’t tell if the tone was judgemental or vulnerable. He blinked, and thought hard – and then, with a little shake of his head and hard press of his lips, he made a choice.

Quite suddenly, the street in Seoul was empty.

–––––

Dean

Dean almost fell out of his chair when Cas appeared opposite him in the bunker.

“Shit!” Dean swore, grabbing the table in front of him with one hand. He watched as Cas tilted his head just slightly sideways at Dean’s other hand, instinctively on the butt of his gun.

He eased his hold.

“Could’ve killed you,” Dean mumbled. Cas smiled wryly.

“You could have tried,” he said.

Dean swallowed. Right. Angel powers were all the way back up, these days.

“You’re back,” he said blankly, just to say something, because immediately leaving the room didn’t seem like it would be a good idea – however much the nervousness in his brain was insisting that this conversation wasn’t going to go well, and he needed to bail.

“Yes.” Cas lifted his phone up to face Dean, so that Dean could read their conversation on the screen. Dean glanced over it. It was strange seeing his own words on the left side of the screen, almost embarrassing. “What does this mean?” Cas asked.

Dean got to his feet, feeling too low down still in his chair.

“Uh…” He watched Cas warily, while trying to keep his tone light. “You tell me, Cas.”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “You asked me if I really wanted to go on a date.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

Cas stared at him, clearly expecting more. Dean tried waiting him out for a few seconds in silence, hoping Cas would say something else, but Cas had that determined look in his eye that told Dean he was going to have to be the one to say something.

“What about it?” Dean said.

“What does the question mean?” Cas asked.

“Well, Cas, it’s kind of all right there. In the message.”

“You just asked if I really want to go on a date,” Cas said again.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So, do you?”

It was all wrong. His tone was all wrong. It was aggressive, and blunt. He sounded outright angry at the idea that Cas might actually want to go on a date, and that tone didn’t even vaguely map over the ridiculous leap in his chest at the idea of a date together.

But somehow, Cas’ shoulders were dropping, and his face was relaxing, as though – as though that was what he’d been expecting to hear. Or even what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Yes,” Cas said.

Dean felt his mouth fall slightly open and his eyes go wide, and he looked away.

He could feel his breath suddenly coming a little short. He tried to stand very still and be very quiet so that Cas wouldn’t see what that one-word answer had meant. How much it had shaken Dean.

It was only when he heard the yes that he realised just how little he’d expected to ever hear it.

Cas wanted to date. The hot rush in Dean’s chest was back, and the accompanying punch of guilt readied itself… but held back. Because Cas had said yes.

He’d said yes.

“Is that a surprise?” Cas said, his tone dry but not unkind. Dean swallowed, and managed a smile when he looked back over.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Oh.” Cas looked confused. “But… I told you…”

“I know.” Dean shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d wanna do any of that crap, though. Human stuff.”

He saw something clear on Cas’ face, as though something that had been weighing on him had suddenly been lifted.

“Ah,” he said. “Well… I do. Want to.”

Dean nodded, once, a little sharply. God, he had no idea how to do this. And it didn’t help that he could feel things moving inside him, shifting, like walls crumbling, like stuff he’d smothered finally elbowing its way up to be felt – a blazing feeling, a hurting feeling, a wanting. Somehow both familiar and terrifying.

“Okay,” Dean managed aloud.

“As long as you still want to,” Cas said.

Still? Had Dean ever actually told Cas that he wanted to go on a date? Maybe he’d just been that obvious. Or maybe Cas had actually been able to guess what Dean wanted from the way Dean had said me too, Cas, even though Dean hadn’t been able to guess what Cas wanted in spite of literally being told I love you.

“Do you?” Cas asked, when Dean was silent for a second too long.

That wanting feeling, that hot tense ache that almost had Dean’s teeth gritting against it at this point, it was demanding a yes. It was saying go, go over there, what are you waiting for now? But Dean swallowed it. He couldn’t just have that. He couldn’t. Could he?

“Well,” he said. “I dunno. I mean. We are kinda old for it. Aren’t we?”

Dean watched Castiel consider it, his heart thudding.

“I’m fairly old,” Castiel said, “yes. But I think I’m still allowed to try new things.”

“New things,” Dean echoed.

“Yes.”

“Like… dating.”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “If you want to.”

“And like…” Dean went to say something else, and then stipped himself. Too many things all rushing to the front at once. Too many possibilities. Too many things that he’d given up thinking he could ever have. Too many things he’d told himself it was right that he didn’t have, because it’d be embarrassing if he did.

But now, here was Castiel, standing in front of him and saying he wanted to go on a date. Watching Dean quietly, waiting for him to finish what he’d started to say.

“Like…” Dean said, and then stopped again, and shook his head. “I don’t know, Cas. I’m not… you know.”

“You don’t want to?” Castiel said, the question spoken so neutrally that Dean knew it came with effort – Castiel’s muscles had to be heaving with holding that door open for Dean to leave through, if he wanted. But Castiel was still holding the door. Still saying, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.

“No, I – yeah. I mean, I – yeah, I want to,” Dean said, saying the last part to the floor. His chest felt as though it was going to crack open. He wanted walk around the table between him and Cas, and drop to his knees, and just ask Cas with his eyes to touch him, anywhere, anyhow, gentle or not. “Just… I mean, look at us. Are we really gonna fit with any of that crap?”

He couldn’t imagine them trying to do the usual sweet romantic stuff. Dates and gifts and cards and flowers. So stupid after everything they’d been through, like sticking heart-shaped bows on the muzzles of two rusting guns.

“What kind of crap?” Castiel asked.

“You know. The whole schtick. Lovey-dovey crap.” Dean mumbled it, aware that even in describing it he sounded ridiculous. Lovey-dovey? Christ.

“I thought we could just try things out,” Castiel said. “And see if we can do them our way.”

“But what if it doesn’t work,” Dean said, making an attempt not to sound too wretched. He watched Castiel, waiting for him to give up, to say this was already too much work, that it wasn’t worth it, and they should just carry on going as they had been.

“Then we try something else,” Castiel said.

“Right,” Dean said, with an almost-laugh. “And we just do that over and over, huh.”

“If you’d like.”

“You’d seriously be okay with just keeping on trying forever?” He said it as if it were a joke.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Of course.”

Dean went quiet. The expanse of the table between them was far, much too far. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded, because he didn’t know what else to do.

Cas saying that he’d keep trying forever was absurd. What was even more absurd was that Dean actually believed him. Cas had that look on his face, the one that allowed no argument, not angry or proud, just – sure. Certain.

If nothing they did together felt right, Cas would stick by him and keep trying new things. Forever.

Dean felt a part of himself breathe out, and with it went the last of the wall. Now Dean was immolating, standing still in the library of the bunker, just burning and burning with wanting to be touched by Cas, and –

As Dean watched, Cas’ jaw was tightening, as though he too were holding himself back against what he needed.

They stared at each other over the table. You first, Dean begged him silently. Please, just come here, just come here.

Cas’ blue eyes were locked with his, trying to say something Dean couldn’t hear.

“Cas,” Dean said, into the silence.

Cas watched him, waiting.

Dean’s mind was a blank. He didn’t know how to take this feeling, this all-encompassing burning wanting yearning feeling, and turn it into words. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted without accidentally putting it out of his own reach in the asking. He didn’t know how to want in the way that received, only in the way that was hopeless.

And Cas only looked at him and waited.

Dean opened his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he said. Cas’ expression flickered, but he didn’t move. “I – you – Cas, Jesus, I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Dean said quickly, immediately.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

“Yeah. I mean…” Dean swallowed. “No.”

Now Cas looked confused.

“Do you want me to…” Cas paused, puzzling it out. Dean watched him thinking, if I shouldn’t go, and I shouldn’t stay, then…?

“Cas,” Dean said, “come here.”

Cas blinked, and Dean watched the slope of his shoulders change, watched the way Cas’ eyes lightened with a sudden hope. He watched Cas take a step around the table, and then another, slowly, as though afraid to scare Dean off.

Dean couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. His hands were too big. He’d just asked Cas to come to him, and Cas was coming to him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Dean moved, quickly, decisively, making for Cas as Cas came towards him, needing to be close and needing it now, and then – and then they were in front of each other in the bunker library, they were right in front of each other, standing with their hands by their sides and looking at each other. And all Dean could think as he looked at Cas was,

This is so heavy, it’s too much, it means too much.

And all Dean’s furiously thudding heart wanted was touch, anyway, no matter what it meant.

Cas reached up a hand, and gently – so gently – put it against Dean’s cheek.

Dean held his head up for a long moment, trying to keep himself together, keep it all in, be still, be silent. He gritted his teeth against the feeling in his chest, against the blazing of his happiness –

And then, he let go.

He closed his eyes, and breathed out. And leaned into the touch.

“I love you,” he heard Cas say.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I love you,” Cas said again, more determinedly, and Dean felt Cas’ forehead press to his own.

The touch of him was better than absolution. It was beautiful. It was perfect. Dean could feel the love of it running through him, easing the rusted gritty parts of him that had thought all this beyond him, and he wanted to gasp through the feeling of it like he was swimming through cold water. If he’d tried ten minutes ago to imagine Cas saying I love you to him again, Dean would have imagined it so sweet and unlike them. But this, this was happening. Cas’ forehead against Dean’s. Cas’ voice saying those words, I love you. And it felt real.

It felt like him, Dean, and it felt like Cas. This was who they were. This was how they loved each other.

“Me too,” Dean said. “Me too, Cas.”

He leaned forwards, and kissed Cas.

They didn’t go to the bar, in the end. They found they had enough to do without going out.

–––––

Dean

The next morning, in the kitchen, Dean turned to Cas and said casually,

“By the way, you never actually said. Are you up to date with the new research on the artifact? We should probably still try to find the damn thing.”

“Am I up to…”

Dean watched as Cas’ expression changed. It went from slight confusion, to sudden horror – and finally settled on a kind of dry acceptance.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas came to stand by Dean, and because he could, Dean leaned forwards and kissed him again. His heart raced as he did it. Cas kissed him back, and Dean felt as though gravity probably shouldn’t be holding him down at this point.

“I, um,” Cas said. “When you texted me yesterday… I thought when you asked me that, you were asking me on a date.”

Dean’s brain took a second to catch up – and then he pressed his lips together to hold in a laugh. Cas tilted his head to one side.

“Don’t,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t,” Dean said.

“Dean…”

“I’ll never mention it again.”

“I thought…” Cas closed his eyes, his head dropping as he smiled again at his own misunderstanding, and Dean let himself laugh. He reached out and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, still a little tentative, still feeling his heart sing with the ability to touch. Cas leaned in, their bodies swaying together slightly.

“I love you,” Dean said, the words flowing up out of him like water from a spring, so easily, so naturally. He felt the immediate seize of panic afterwards, hearing those three words said in his own voice, out of his own mouth – but he couldn’t regret them, not when he saw Cas’ head lean back again, his blue eyes glowing with happiness.

“I love you,” Cas answered him. “I love you.”

#whelvenwingsfic #spn #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #it's also up on ao3 if anyone prefers! I'll reblog with a link ayo

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asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

me lámh le do lámh - Part II

First | Next | Masterpost

He went straight to Vizima to find Triss, once he’d made his way out of Kaedwen. It wasn’t directly on the way to Oxenfurt, but it was close enough that he didn’t feel he was making an unreasonable digression. Though he was nervous about locating his bard, he needed to know what this Ida person could tell him.

Triss was as welcoming as always, greeting him with a brief press of cheeks and a light embrace. Yennefer had told her of Geralt’s mission, but she was unable to assist him on the first day, busy with treating several commoners who had come down with a sickness. Nothing of a magical nature, but it did detain her for much of the day after Geralt’s arrival. He busied himself in the city, restocking on potion ingredients that he’d run low on over the long winter, dropping his armor off to be reinforced, and picking up a slim cloth bracelet for Jaskier. It was a soft blue color, with silver beads spaced evenly over the surface, and Geralt thought it would please him.

Gods. He was in trouble.

That evening he dined with Triss in her quarters, despite the fact that it was wildly inappropriate. Geralt asked after it, and Triss laughed dismissively.

“That is a delightful sentiment, but no one is questioning my dalliances,” she said with a grin. “They’re too afraid I’ll turn them into toads if they irritate me. And besides, half the Continent believes that you’re courting Yennefer because of the bard’s silly songs, and the other half thinks you’re courting the bard.”

Ah. “Well,” Geralt said, articulately.

Triss smirked at him over her wine. It was exceptionally good, a vintage from Toussaint that was nearly as old as Geralt. Triss’ quarters were fairly large, befitting a court mage, but decorated in a way that made them seem almost cozy. She favored muted colors that turned rich in the light of the candles scattered around the room. There were dozens of tables and shelves crowded with books, herbs and knick knacks that made the space feel distinctly lived in. It was a stark contrast to Yennefer’s lodgings, which were always immaculate and finely organized. The clutter was a refreshing change of pace. “Yennefer told me that you’re trying to make the bard immortal,” Triss said. One of her eyebrows rose, and Geralt wasn’t sure if the look she gave him was impressed or judgemental.

“Not necessarily,” Geralt said defensively. “Just not so, uh.”

“Excessively mortal?”

He hummed. Triss sighed.

“I don’t know of anything to lengthen a human lifespan to that of a witcher’s,” she said. “But the elves have been dealing in things relating to life force for longer than there have been human mages on the Continent. If anyone has any knowledge of what you’re after, it will be the Aen Saevherne.”

Geralt nodded. “Yennefer told me to ask after a woman named Ida. A sage?”

Triss set her goblet down, looking grave. “Ida Emean. An old acquaintance of mine. Perhaps one of the last elven sages alive, though they’re so secretive it’s difficult to tell. She works occasionally with the Brotherhood, when their goals align. But you need to know, Geralt, even if she has an answer for you, this kind of magic comes with a price. Always.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” Geralt said. “Jaskier, he’s—”

Triss interrupted him with a gentle smile, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand on the table. “I know what he is to you. I want to help. I just want you to be careful.” Geralt wondered when he’d become this transparent to, apparently, half the Continent and every one of his close friends. The sorceresses were probably gossiping behind his back.

“How will you contact her?” Geralt asked, pushing through his embarrassment. He wished saving Jaskier’s fragile human life didn’t involve so many conversations about his unrequited love.

“Megascope,” Triss said, rising. “We’ll need to do it soon, when the moon rises. It will make the connection stronger; I’m not sure where she is.”

Geralt followed her into a room off of the main sitting area, a small space that was almost entirely dominated by Triss’ megascope. He’d seen its like numerous times at Kaer Morhen, where Yennefer had set her own up in the highest tower still standing. The large crystal disks swam with a cool blue light as Triss waved her hand through the air. Three brass arms rose up to hold them at shoulder level, facing inwards to form a triangle. The soft light filled the dark space, throwing Triss’ face into sharp relief before Geralt snapped a finger to light the candles in the room.

Triss stepped up in front of the negative space between the stands, uttering a few words in Elder that Geralt wasn’t familiar with. After a moment the light began to shimmer and twist around itself, slowly solidifying into a human form.

The figure was indistinct, as they usually were in megascope projections, but Geralt could tell that the woman was beautiful. Used to dealing with elves in the south, whose genes had been diluted with human blood over so many centuries, Geralt was taken aback by the sharpness of her features. Her neck was long and elegant, and her hair fell in sheets around her alien features. He was reminded suddenly of his encounter with the elves of the Blue Mountains so many years ago, the inhuman angle of Filavandrel’s cheekbones.

The smoky figure turned towards Triss first, her head dropping in a brief nod. “Triss Merigold. Keidmil.” Ida said in greeting.

Triss nodded in return, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Keidmil, Ida. I apologize for summoning you with so little warning. I have done so as a favor to a friend.” At this Ida’s eyes, empty orbs of swirling blue light in the megascope, fell on Geralt.

“Vatgern,” she said, with the tone of someone who has just discovered something fascinating but slightly repulsive on the bottom of their shoe. “You have friends in high places, wed. What business does a witcher have with me?” Her accent made the words almost musical.

Geralt’s nod of acknowledgement was more of a bow. He wasn’t normally one to show deference to those with power, but this time his heart was pounding in his ears as he leaned forward. If Ida wouldn’t help him, he would be back to square one before he’d even really begun. “Keidmil, Aen Saevherne,” he said as demurely as he could, which probably still came out sounding like gravel. “I was told by Yennefer of Vengerberg that you might have some knowledge on extending human lifespans.”

Ida’s head tilted a tic to the side, clearly intrigued. “Witchers already live near as long as any half-elf on the Continent,” she replied. “There is no spell that could give you the lifespan of a true Aen Seidhe.”

“It isn’t for myself,” Geralt said quickly. “It’s for a human. Someone I… care deeply about.” He ignored the way his face flamed at this admission, no matter how clear it was that Triss obviously knew about his infatuation. He’d barely admitted it aloud to himself, let alone anyone else.

Ida hummed, the sound vibrating through the megascope. “This has precedent. But the spell you seek does not come without cost.”

“Tell me,” Geralt said firmly.

“There has always been conflict between humankind and the Aes Seidhe. Our peoples have crossed gweld an gleidyf many times over the millennia. But there were always times when there was peace, coexistence. In the early days, before the blood of men diluted our own, the Aes Seidhe could live through half a dozen human lifetimes or more. It was taboo to form relationships with humans, and many did not bother. But there were, of course, exceptions.

“It is unclear where the ritual comes from, but the tales say that one of the Aen Saevherne fell in love with a human woman, who then fell gravely ill as she entered her twilight years. The sage, terrified of losing her, bound her lifeforce to his own, effectively extending her life at the cost of some of his own longevity. Over the years the ritual was refined by others. It has fallen out of practice, in this age; many of the Aes Seidhe’s bloodlines are so diluted that they live for no longer than twice a human lifetime. But the ritual remains.”

Geralt swallowed. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I can,” Ida said, her chin raising slightly. “But I do not need to tell you, vatgern, that all such magic comes with consequences. You cannot create those years from nothing; they must be drawn from somewhere. And you will be binding yourself to this human. I cannot say how this ritual will impact someone who is not of elvish blood.”

He could feel Triss turning worried eyes on him. She too knew the price that magic could demand. “Will Ja—the human, could he be harmed?” Geralt asked.

Ida’s head shook back and forth, her hair swaying. “You assume the responsibility of the ritual,” she said. “Is this human worth so much to you?”

“Yes,” Geralt said instantly, surprised by his own lack of hesitation. “Anything.”

Ida looked at him for a moment, as if judging his truthfulness. “Very well,” she finally said. “I will give you the words, but the ritual requires additional pieces. Gaes carraigh, an oathstone, for the vow; ghealachlíon, night’s linseed, for the binding; and ionad, a place of great power or great personal meaning. Once these elements are combined, you bind your hands with the moonflax over the oathstone and speak the incantation. It is straightforward, but your pronunciation and your intent must be exact. Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme.”

“Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme,” Geralt repeated. The words were easy, close enough to their modern counterparts that he was certain it would be nearly identical in southern Elder. It was almost too easy, romantic in its simplicity. Ida nodded, satisfied. “And that’s all?” Geralt asked, breathless.

“That is all. There need be no officiant, no further ceremony. You will be bound by Chaos herself.”

“Officiant?” Geralt blinked, confused. “Why would we need an officiant?”

“I have been told that human marriages tend to involve quite a few witnesses,” Ida said, sounding amused. “Ours are a bit more personal.”

“Wait. This is a marriage ritual?” Geralt felt his heart starting to sink down into his stomach.

“I thought that much was obvious,” Ida replied. “Now, if that is all you require, I have my own business to attend to.”

“Me grasha, Ida, for taking the time,” Triss piped up again. ��If you ever need a favor in return…”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ida said. “Va feil.”

“Va feil,” Triss replied, and the megascoped dimmed and cast the room back into darkness.

Geralt stood in utter stillness for a moment, blinking into the dark. “Fuck,” he burst out. “I have to marry him?”

Triss just laughed.

Triss, luckily, knew the locations of most of the components Ida had mentioned, though the last location would be up to Geralt to determine. The first of these, the oathstone, was used frequently enough in larger elven settlements before their people were displaced. She had recommended the ruins of Ban Aine as a likely findspot, and it was situated not too far from Oxenfurt. That was to be his first real stop, to collect Jaskier and convince him of Geralt’s plan.

Hopefully without revealing too much about the exact nature of the ritual, which still made Geralt sweat when he thought about it for too long.

He couldn’t help but think of it with a strange mix of giddiness and dread, churning together in a nauseating concoction. Marriage wasn’t something that witchers got to do, ever. Their lives were transient and drawn out, and often ended in violence. Even if any of them had the time to court lovers, it wasn’t the type of life that one would wish on someone they cared for. It could only end one of two ways: the witcher outlived their paramour, or their love was left to grieve them after they were gutted by some beast or strung up by an angry mob.

Even when Geralt had been infatuated with Yennefer he hadn’t truly considered anything like marriage. He had imagined a kind of loose commitment, maybe, but he had always known somewhere deep in his own mind that Yennefer would never stand to be tied down to anyone for long. He had been desperate enough for her love that he’d been willing to settle for anything she could give him.

He had never dared to hope for more, no matter how he might want it. Still, once he had come to understand his own feelings towards Jaskier, he had been unable to stop himself from thinking about it at times. He wondered what things might change between them, if they tied themselves together. Things might stay much the same; Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen most years, and journey with Geralt when he could throughout the rest of the year. He would bring trinkets and books and stories for Ciri, and teach her how to be human, and trade quips with Yennefer and the other wolves when they all gathered. He would still help Geralt clean up after a hunt, help him stitch his skin back together and wash away the grime and curl up at his side when night came. But maybe he would also let Geralt wake him by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s eyelids like he had so often yearned to do. Maybe he would reach out and hold Geralt’s hand as they walked through a new town; maybe he would close the distance kept between them when they lay in tiny rented beds.

Maybe he could be Geralt’s, and no one else’s.

He was successful, most of the time, in keeping these kinds of thoughts at bay. It did a witcher no good to dwell on what could not be.

Now it would be, if only technically, and only if Geralt could convince Jaskier to perform the ritual without giving away its origins. He considered telling Jaskier the full truth of it, of course. It was probable that Jaskier wouldn’t even care. In his mind, they were only friends; it would be easy enough to set aside the implications of the ritual in favor of practicality. It would be ridiculous to turn down the chance at potentially doubling his own lifespan just because hundreds of years ago an ancient ritual was used for romantic unions.

But every time Geralt thought of telling Jaskier, and of hearing him dismiss Geralt’s concerns, he felt something black and dreadful crawl up his throat. Jaskier would think it was silly, the idea that he could ever be married to a witcher. He would laugh, with that sly grin he always got when they were sharing a joke between them—isn’t that funny, the look would say, the idea of you and me.

No. If he said nothing, Jaskier would never have to know, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Geralt would never hold him to any sort of bond that the ritual created between them; he would be happy knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be taken from him by time and old age, at least not yet.

And at least he would have something of Jaskier for himself, even if he’d had to steal it.

#geraskier #geraskier big bang 2021 #big bang #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher #the witcher #twn #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #multichapter #me lamh

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pocketfulofrogers · 3 years

Text

To Outlive the Devil

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: A good save and a case practically solved leads to intelligence almost losing one of their own. Can you get out before it’s too late?

Notes: Canon violence, nothing worse than a typically dark episode. This is a past and present cut together story and it’s just shy of 4k.

Now

Your bleary eyes open up to a cold and damp bedroom. An abandoned… apartment? The peeling wallpaper had given way to yellow stained drywall. From the small window on your left, it appeared as if you were several stories in the air, but there were no distinguishable landmarks that told you if you were even still in Chicago.

As you begin to come to your senses more, you feel the thick rope tied around your wrists and ankles. The rough material burns against you skin and you notice you already have sores.

How long have I been here?

Your memory is fuzzy and your head throbbed violently. It isn’t until you shift uncomfortably that you realize it’s a heavy metal chair you’re tied to.

Slowly your body begins to pick up on the danger your muddled brain had managed to identify and your pulse begins to quicken. As much as you try, your heartbeat continues to pound in your head as you try to twist your arms free.

The pain that responds is only a small price to pay for even the chance of freedom. Desperately, you continue to twist and pull until one of the knots manages to loosen up enough for you to squeeze your hand out. It’s just a short sprint to the front door in front of you.

You will your frozen fingers to work faster as you pinch and tear at each knot and then internally scream at your stiff muscles to carry you forward just a little bit more.

When your hand reaches the doorknob and it isn’t locked, relief floods your system. But when you’re able to wrench the door open, the person behind the door barely registers in your mind before everything goes black once again.

Then

Jay leans against his fist on his desk and tries to keep his frustration at bay. They’d been at this for two days straight and had been on the case for the last three months. “That’s two bodies in as many weeks. Is no one else starting to think…”

“That maybe hunting Chicago’s very own Criminal Minds level serial killer couple is out of our depth?” You interrupt, tilting your head towards him. “Doubt it.”

In fact, over the last two weeks, it’s the only thing you could think about. A younger woman named Madison roped, at least you were hoping she wasn’t a willing participant, into a horrific and violent life by a man you had yet to learn the identity of. You’d spent many nights pacing your bedroom, ranting and theorizing to Jay when all he wanted was just a bit of sleep.

The further you dove into it, however, the less hopeful you became for a quick arrest.

Voight had about ripped your head off when you suggested passing the case to the FBI and got to hear the ‘this is our city’ speech once again. But the truth was you were running out of ideas, running out of leads to chase down the rabbit hole, and running out of time.

“I hate to say it, but Voight’s right.” Antonio almost looks pained, but he continues on before you can question him. “The first time these two surfaced five years ago, CPD went full force. They shut it all down, had every uniform pulling overtime, and tried to smoke them out. Instead, it scared them into hiding.”

“Five girls in three months, Dawson, they’re escalating.” You take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “I can’t keep notifying parents.” There’s a certain pang in your voice only those who have had to watch a parent’s life crumble around them can hear. Jay reaches out to squeeze your forearm for just a bit of comfort and you run your fingers over his.

It’s enough.

“Then we end this.” Voight’s eyeing you, sympathetic to where you’re coming from, but not willing to give up yet. “Let’s find these monsters and make them pay.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you nod and turn to Adam. “Ok, let’s go over everything together, see if we can find something we missed.”

“Since it’s all we have, let’s revisit the address on Madison’s unemployment file.” Jay suggests.

Adam looks confused. “The house was condemned last year, torn down in the spring.”

“I know, but what about the name on the house, did anyone look into it?”

“Figured it was a stolen identity.” Kevin pipes up. “Clara Knight, died in 2012 of a heart attack at 66. No other properties in her name.”

“Knight?” Mouse perks up and starts shifting through his files. “I found a few erased emails from a Robert Knight, but I couldn’t find any relation or connection.”

Adam is already typing ferociously. “Got a death certificate for a Robert Knight, 68, died a few months ago. Seems like the guy barely existed.”

“Any children?”

“A daughter.” His face is grim. “Murdered in 99, she was 16.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “Pull up a picture of her.” You don’t need to see it to confirm what you already feared, but still the image of her face churns your stomach. A beautiful blonde girl with the hope of the whole world in her smile. “He’s been at this a lot longer than anyone thought.”

“Any property still in his name?” Voight asks.

Anxiety rippling through your chest, it feels like an eternity before Mouse nods. “His nephew Isaac put his house in Roseland on a tax form.”

Now

When you come to, the first thing you notice is that your restraints have been changed to zip ties and for a moment you’re concerned about your circulation. You’re worry is cut short by the cup of water on a table to your right, the plastic straw close enough for you to reach it.

The sudden realization of the searing pain in your throat and the cracked skin on your lips lets you know it’s probably been about two days. It’s the dryness of your tongue that overrides every single rational thought of concern that maybe the glass beside you isn’t safe to drink. But, fifteen minutes pass with no incident so whoever it is probably wants to keep you alive.

The thought sends ice down your back.

Alive for what?

“What do you want from me?” You scream into the empty apartment.

Then

“We need a vacation after this.” Jay declares as he leans the seat of the car back a little. “Somewhere warm with water so I can look at you in a tiny bathing suit all day.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the small smile you give before bringing the binoculars up again. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

“Hey lovebirds.” Adam calls over the radio from the car down the street from yours. “Have you seen anything yet or are you too busy staring into each other’s eyes again?”

It’s Jay’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you just take your third piss break?”

“Hydration is very important.” He defends.

“I told him to wear the diapers.” Alvin adds. Adam tries to defend himself, but you can barely hear him over Kevin’s laughter next to him.

Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the movement of a curtain, the flash of blonde hair, and the air shifts. Jay immediately catches the tense set of your shoulders and starts asking questions.

“They’ve got a girl up there.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”

You nod and get out of the car despite the hushed protests from Jay as he follows you. To do what? You weren’t sure yet but you had felt so powerless these last few months that maybe you weren’t being the most rational right now.

The curtain moves again and, rather than getting caught, you quickly spin around and push Jay against the car before crashing your lips to his. Other than a noise of shock sounding from the back of his throat, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“North corner window.” You mumble against his lips and slide your hands up his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him a better angle.

When he pulls away, he brings his phone up and looks you in the eye. “We’ve got confirmation on the nephew Isaac, but he’s got another girl up there. If we bust in, he might get spooked and hurt her.”

It’s quiet longer than either of you would like.

“What should we do, boss?” Adam asks for you.

“Do you think you can get in quietly?” Voight asks.

Jay waits for your nod. “We’re on it. Going silent.”

Picking the lock was nothing. Sneaking around a house you know nothing about except for a quick glance at a blueprint from 2005 was the difficult part. Jay splits the two of you up, sending you upstairs while he clears the lower level. Circumstance didn’t allow you the option to argue with him that splitting up in a situation like this is the worst thing to do.

He was your partner and it was your job to always have his back, as difficult as he makes it, but he’s rounded a corner into the living room before you get the chance to cuff him to you.

Your breath catches in your throat when a step on the stairs creak, but you keep moving until you find a girl in the second room you clear. She’s blind folded with on leg tied to the bed. She tenses when you approach, but relaxes once you’ve gotten close enough to whisper who you are.

“Tracey.” She says he name with a whimper and your heart breaks as you cut the rope and take off her blindfold.

When she sees you’re really who you say you are, she throws herself into your arms and begins to cry. There’s nothing more you want to do than to sit here and comfort her, but your ears picks up on a man’s voice you don’t recognize.

“Ok, Tracey, I know you’re so scared, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I need you to be brave a little longer.” You pull back and look her in the eyes. “My partner and I came in here alone. I need you to tell me where the man and woman who took you are.”

She nods. “I don’t know where she went, she left a while ago. He’s here, downstairs I think, in his office.”

There’s a crash downstairs, the sound of broken glass and your blood runs cold. Immediately, you look for any other way out, but there’s nothing. No balcony, no window, nothing. Voight’s on the radio already, but you silence him.

“Stay directly behind me.” There’s a kind of urgency in your voice that puts her even more on edge.

Creeping down the stairs, you can hear Jay struggling in the kitchen, but it sounds like he’s holding his own.

“Bringing the girl out.” You whisper into your radio and glance back at Tracey. “As soon as we get down, I want you to run to the door. Do not stop. When you get across the street there are people who will help you.” She nods but she looks terrified. “I swear I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”

It’s the door opening that alerts Isaac that something else is going on. You round the corner with your gun drawn and the scene before you makes your knees weak.

Jay is bruised and cut up, struggling against the man behind him, the arm around his neck, the gun pointed at his head.

“She said you were cops, but I told her she was paranoid.” Isaac snarls.

“Madison? Is she here?” You ask, your voice as level as your gun trained on his head. Voight is yelling over the radio, but you tune him out. “I’d love to meet her.”

He snickers and smiles wickedly. “Even if she could be caught, neither of you will be alive long enough to see it.”

He only manages a twitch before you pull the trigger and land a shot right between his eyes.

Jay falls forward, breathing heavy and you rush towards him. “Jay’s hurt!” You call out when the door is broken down. Adam kicks the gun away from the obviously dead suspect and you let them handle the scene.

“Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? I told you it was stupid to split us up! How’s your breathing?” Your hands are frantically searching every inch of his body. He has to grab your hand and grip it tight in his to stop the assault of questions rapid firing from your lips.

He sits up with a groan and kisses your knuckles when he sees the panic on your face. “I’m okay. Because of you it’s just a few cuts and bruises.” He manages a smile and you almost cry right there.

Voight places a hand on your shoulder. “Tracey is on her way to Med. Medics said she’s going to be okay. We’ve got another bus on the way for you. Nice work you two.”

Now

The creak from the front door opening pulls you from a daze and you wince at the sunlight flooding the room. A blonde woman stands before you with a duffle in her left hand and a gun in her right.

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re still alive. What a shame.”

You struggle to focus your eyes from the concussion you’re assuming she must’ve given you. “Maddison.” You croak out. “What are you doing?”

She drops the duffle next to you and grips your hair to pull your head back, pushing the barrel of the gun into your temple.

“I’m going to make you suffer.” She hisses and roughly lets you go. “I tried to warn him that you were watching us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Isaac?”

“Don’t say his name!” She screams and the sound cracks through your skull. “He told me to get some supplies, but when I cam back, I watched from the back window as you murdered him.”

You shake your head and try to reason with her. “Maddison, he was hurting people. He was going to kill my partner.”

“Partner.” She repeats sarcastically. “You mean Jay Halstead, your boyfriend of 3 years?” Maddison moves in front of you to revel in the fear that has filled your eyes and smiles sinisterly. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

You start quickly, the panic in your voice betraying the training you were struggling to hold onto. “If you want to kill me fine, do it. But don’t hurt him, Maddison. Please, he’s done nothing.”

She tsks as she opens the duffle and begins to pull out long metal pieces until finally, a long-barreled shot gun. “Why would I kill you when the alternative is so much better?”

You begin to struggle against the restraints as your mind starts to put together scenario after scenario of awful images. Maddison pays no mind to you begging and pleading to see reason. Instead, she pauses from building some contraption to walk over to you and jam a needle in your neck.

When you come too again, she’s sat casually in front of you. “I thought hitting you in the head again might actually kill you, and that’s not what I’m going for, so… you’re welcome.”

You glance around again and notice the barrel of the shotgun behind you just to the left of your shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.” You deadpan looking back at her. “What’s with the ‘Saw’ set up?”

She raises a brow. “Hold onto that strength while you can.” She points out the wires and hooks running along the floor and ceiling to trace it back to the door in front of you. “I used to be a STEM major. Did you know that?” She doesn’t stop long enough for you to respond. “Turns out I still remember a few things.”

You stare past her towards the door and then look quickly back to the gun, beginning to piece together her plan.

“Yes.” She coos. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. The first person that opens that door, if he happens to be the right height, will get a life ending shot to the face. And I’d like to ask you what the chances are that anyone other than your boyfriend will be the first through the door.”

None.

For the first time you feel utterly defeated, hopeless. Madison watches closely, soaking in every moment of your anguish.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like.”

Then

You phone buzzes for the fourth time in the last hour. “Yes?”

“He’s actually insufferable, where are you?” Will speaks quickly, his tone seeping in irritation.

You laugh. “April already sent me out to get him food because he was whining so much. I am in route with a burger and some other stuff from his favorite place. Should be there in 15.”

“Thank god.” He says quietly. “Would you give it a rest? She’s 15 out with enough food to hopefully put you in a coma so I don’t have to.” You laugh as Will continues to yell at his brother.

“I almost died! Where’s your compassion?” You hear Jay yell back and only laugh harder

“You have ONE bruised rib and a concussion. I’ve seen high school football players handle worse with less complaining!”

“If it’s not so bad, why won’t you let me leave?!”

“I’m stepping up the pace, be there soon.” You laugh and hang up.

The Chicago night was chilly, but something else causes the hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle. You don’t stop walking, don’t even pause a single step. Instead, you glance in a shop window and catch the reflection of a woman, a flash of blonde, not too far behind you.

Casually, you switch the bag of food to your other hand, but before you’re able to grab your gun, there’s a pinch in your neck and everything goes black.

Now

Jay had forced his way back to work sooner than anyone recommended. You’d been missing for 5 days. Disappeared with no trace other than your cell phone and a bag of cold diner food spilt on the sidewalk. If it were up to him, he would’ve been at his desk the moment 30 minutes hit and you weren’t there.

Alvin called two hours later telling him what they found and Adam and Antonio had to physically restrain him, Will almost sedated him. Voight promised him that they’d find you, and Jay knew they’d do everything they could, but he needed to be a part of the search.

“Did she have any enemies?” Alvin asks and he doesn’t flinch when Jay begins to laugh sarcastically.

“Any enemies? Do you hear yourself? She had tons. We all do. But let’s stop pretending like her being taken the day we closed that case isn’t connected.”

Alvin tries to sympathize with him. “We have to ask. You know the drill.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to treat this like any other missing person? It’s Y/N, Al! Y/N!”

“We know.” Voight says from his office door. “I made a few calls, Jay, we know where she is.” For a fraction of a second, Jay is frozen, but the thought of what you could be going through right now moves him. He’s grabbed his jacket and is in the car before anyone else has moved.

“I thought only the CIA had access to things like that.” Adam whispers lowly in the car into Kevin’s ear.

He shrugs. “Do think it’s out of the question that he’d break several constitutional laws to save any one of us?”

Adam sits back in his seat with pursed lips, nodding.

You struggle against the restraints long after Madison leaves you with only a gag in your mouth. The multiple cars pulling up and all the people shouting told you that you were running out of time. As of this very moment, you were locked into your fate of watching the man you loved die.

This was not an option.

The hard plastic digs into your ankles and wrists, your movements quickening with each door you hear them break down. You try to scream, to warn whoever was on this floor that there was a danger they couldn’t possibly see, but your muffled cries wouldn’t carry.

Tears soak the bandana shoved in in your mouth and you try to scream again.

No! Stop! It isn’t safe!

You hear Voight’s voice a few doors down and begin to try and rock the chair back and forth. It was considered heavy for a good day, and today was not that. Having not eaten or really moved in so long had left you weak and foggy. The adrenaline coursing through you veins only aiding a little in your efforts.

The sound of the front door breaking down sends a jolt of energy through you and you send yourself flying in front of the gun just as the bedroom door opens.

Jay raises his weapon at the sound before his brain can register what has happened. His wide eyes find yours just before you’ve hit the ground.

“Y/N!” He screams and rushes towards you. Frantic, shaky hands move quickly to remove the bandana and zip ties before applying pressure to your shoulder. “I need a medic!” He calls franticly over his shoulder, but when he turns back to you, he has to shut down the thought that you might not make it that long.

“You found me.” You try to say, but instead sputter blood onto your cheek.

“Oh, God.” He gasps. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” But the more he says, the less you hear him.

“I love you.” You try to reach out to his face and graze his cheek, but your fingers won’t cooperate and only leave smudges of blood across his skin.

When your breathing starts to quicken and become more raged, he knows time is running out. So, in defiance of the orders and suggestions coming in through his ear piece, he lifts you up to cradle you to him and runs.

An annoying, incessant beeping is the only thing you can hear, but when you move to reach for it, a shooting pain stops you cold. You groan softly and pry your eyes open only to see both Will and Antonio hovering too close to your face.

Will starts to wave a flashlight in your eyes and you push him away. “When was the last time you guys brushed your teeth?”

Antonio chuckles softly and places his hand atop your head, his thumb brushing softly. “We got her.” He says quietly. “She couldn’t help herself. She stayed close to the scene to see the fallout and Kim caught her.”

Will nods his head towards Jay who was sleeping soundly in what you had to imagine was a very uncomfortable position. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him as well as you. Do you want me to wake him?”

You look back over at him and smile before turning back. “Better not. These are the last few moments of peace I’ll get for the next year at least. You would think someone would be a little more grateful towards you for saving their life, but I can already hear how mad he’s going to be.” Only a small part of you is joking.

“Well, I’ll get shot next time and we’ll see how you feel.” Jay’s sleep riddled voice carries from the corner, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. “I’ll give you an hour.” He adds before settling back in.

Now that’s the love of my life.

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #Chicago PD #hank voight #antonio dawson #alvin olinsky #Adam Ruzek #kevin atwater

232 notes · View notes

waywardrose13 · 3 years

Text

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said.

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look.

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said.

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest.

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before.

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked.

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together.

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered.

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff.

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly.

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet.

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled.

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

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#one shot #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #fanfiction #jensen ackles #waywardrose13 #one-shot #fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #angst

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and-knowing-is-half-the-battle · 3 years

Text

Got a good response! How about chapter 2?

Winterrogation, Chapter 2: The deal

Chapter 1 found here

Summary: The Winter Soldier is interrogating you for the second time with his unusual methods.

Pairing: Winter soldier x fem!reader

Work Count: 1.7K

Warnings: dubcon, biting, bondage, smut, rough sex, minors DNI, vibrator, overstimulation, oral (m rec), penetrative sex, use of nicknames (sweetheart, good girl), creampie.

A/N: Do not copy, translate, repost or rewrite my work, even if you credit me. I do not give my permission for my works to be copied or shared on other sites.

Picture source: bucky-daddy

________________________________________________________

Two men led you down a set of stairs, each holding an upper arm and wrist. You did your best to remain calm, taking in your surroundings to distract yourself. It seems Hydra had taken up residence in an old home or mansion, with lots of wood panelling and antique furniture. You knew where you were headed, his words ringing clear in your mind, “I’ll be interrogating her again tomorrow.” You weren’t sure how to regard him since yesterday. A mixture of desire, fear, humiliation, and shame churned in your belly.

They had given you what you assumed to be standard issue Hydra clothing, a tight black long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants. They had given you nothing for your feet, leaving you feeling particularly vulnerable as you resisted slightly, skittering down the basement hallway. After all the handsome wood interior, the three large rudimentary metal crossbars on the door were jarring in comparison. Two armed guards took them down, unlocked the door, and opened it as you approached.

Your mouth went dry as they shoved you inside, and you heard them reverse their actions, locking you inside. The room was sparsely furnished: a trunk full of clothing, a desk with a few books and some papers that looked like floorplans strewn on it, and a large metal four-poster bed. And the winter soldier was sitting on it.

He stood up, practically towering over you, and approached in his intentional and menacing way. You instinctively backed up as he descended on you, surprising you by catching you in a bruising kiss, pinning you against the door. It was a rough kiss, his tongue pushing its way coarsely into your mouth, and once again you tasted the sweet mint on his breath.

He pulled back and suddenly swung you effortlessly onto his massive shoulder, taking the few steps to the bed and tossing you down. You scrambled back, knocking the singular pillow to the ground.

“I s-swear. I was telling the truth yesterday! I d-don’t know anything else! Please!” You squeaked, holding your hands out defensively.

“I know, sweetheart,” he chuckled unkindly, pulling his shirt off over his head, exposing his broad chest littered with bruises, cuts, and scars of varying ages. You swallowed thickly, trying not to stare at his corded muscles. “You said you would be my toy,” He reminded you, “so I thought we might play a game,”

He reached forward and pulled your ankles toward him, unbuttoning your fly and tugging your pants off. You were frozen in place, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned over you, making true eye contact. The darkness in his eyes was terrifying, yet magnetic.

“Each time you cum, you have to stay one more day,” he proposed with his gravelly voice, undoing his own pants and letting them drop, revealing black boxers. He moved forward, his thick thigh slotting between your trembling legs.

You shook your head, moving backward again as he pursued, grabbing your thigh firmly with his metal hand and pulling your shirt off in one swift motion with the other. While he turned to throw it to the side, you took advantage of his distraction and slipped out of his grip, scrambling to the floor and making it a foot or two before his fist gripped your hair in warning. You stilled, panting, and stood as he raised his hand to your height.

“While I enjoy the chase, sweetheart, I don’t know where you think you’re going,” he smirked, tossing you back on the bed. “Now be a good girl and do what I say. Starting with taking care of those,” he gestured to your bra and underwear.

You knew better than to defy the Winter Soldier, so, looking away in embarrassment, you complied, feeling his burning gaze watch you. He slid toward you again, leaning down over the bed to bring up a large metal shackle on the end of a chain, which you now realized were attached to the bottom of each bedpost. He held his large hand out expectantly, looking at you under his heavy brow, daring you to challenge him. You placed your comparatively small arm in his hand, and he wound cloth around it several times before securing the shackle over the top. Against your better instincts, you felt electrified by the touch of his skin on yours.

“What a good, pretty, little thing you are,” he taunted, repeating the same with the other arm and each leg. There was quite a bit of wiggle room between each point of restraint until he reached down and secured a thick velcro strap against your belly. “Much better,” he hummed, lying alongside you, “now we can play,”

He started with the same trick, a vibrator tucked inside you on low. It lit up your nerves, making you sensitive to any touch. He grabbed at your breasts with his flesh hand, biting into your neck. You cried out, your wrists pulling at the slack of the chain. He gripped your jaw, turning your face to him to kiss you again as you felt his bulge growing on the side of your thigh. He brought his hand down to turn the vibrator up, accidentally brushing against your leg with a light touch, causing you to shiver. A glint of understanding caught his eye and you knew that you were done for.

He ran a single finger along the column of your neck, lightly teasing your skin before trailing down to circle your nipple. You groaned, trying to shift away from him uselessly.

“So that’s it,” he teased, nipping at your ear. You had never been so close to him before. His smell was woody and masculine, adding to the wetness growing between your legs - which his super soldier senses picked up right away. He breathed deeply, your cheeks heating in response, then licked lightly along your neck. It didn’t take long for you to be a quivering mess. When you were practically dripping, he rid himself of his boxers and positioned his cock by your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet,” he groaned when you licked at his tip, once again losing the battle against your wits. You pulled him into your mouth, wetting as much of his length as you could, twirling your tongue around his shaft. He then unstrapped the velcro and knelt toward the end of the bed, pulling your hips toward him, making your arms taut, but allowing your legs to bend toward your chest despite the chains, your pussy on display for him. He pulled the vibrator out and stuffed his cock inside you, his hands supporting each thigh as he fucked you roughly.

You forgot everything but the giant cock inside you. You forgot your name. And when he reached down to play with your clit, you keened within seconds and bucked while he continued to fuck you through your high. When you came back down, he leaned over you, caging you between his large arms, his long hair swinging around his face.

“One,” he grunted, pistoning into you without mercy. You were finally stripped away enough to admit to yourself that being helpless beneath him was all you wanted. That losing all control was making you come undone. He changed his angle slightly, hitting your g spot with every thrust, and reached between you to circle your clit again with his flesh fingers. Your realization mixed with this sensation sent you tumbling over the edge again, clenching against him. He groaned, his own climax being pulled out of him by the force of your pussy. He stayed hovering over you for a moment while you both panted.

“Two,” he breathed heavily onto your sweat slicked neck, laying beside you again. He didn’t give you much time before his metal thumb ghosted over your nipple, his heavy arm laid across you preventing much movement. You twitched against him, gasping as your heart rate skyrocketed when he didn’t relent. It could have been five minutes, it could’ve been an hour. All you knew was that your nerves were stretched to their breaking point when he finally reached down and stroked your tender clit again. You struggled to get away, feeling overstimulated, when he caught you by surprise by leaning up and licking your nipple slowly.

You sobbed as you unconsciously rutted against his hand, wanting him to stop and wanting him to never stop. When you finally came, squirting audibly against his hand, your spent muscles strained against him and the shackles.

As your vision returned to you, you caught him licking you off his palm with a moan. He obviously got off on being in control as much as you did being under his control.

“Three,” he said as he got up, pulling his clothes back on. He walked to the door, knocking three times, and the guards on the other side began the process of opening the door. Two of them entered, approaching you to undo your bonds as he gave them orders. “Take her to The Artist. I want her marked. And keep her for the three days I am gone,”

He leaned against the wall as you were allowed to dress, except for your shirt, which a guard held instead. His dark blue eyes watched your feet as you were lead out much in the same way you were lead in, which you were grateful for considering the trembling state of your legs. As they took you down a series of hallways, you felt you understood something. Of course he liked control - the locked door, the armed guards, the shackles too big for you on the bed - was he a prisoner, too?

They brought you to a room where an older man waited with a tattoo gun.

“The Winter Soldier wants her marked,” one guard said, as they pushed you roughly into a chair, holding your left arm and shoulder still.

“Very well,” he said, wetting his finger with his tongue to flip the pages of his book. When he found what he wanted, he brought his chair closer, holding the book in his lap open to the page with a red star overlapped by jagged black lines.

Chapter 3

#tw smut #tw sex #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier smut

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lalainajanes · 3 years

Text

For klarosummerbingo, my “mango lassi” square! Did I order Indian food for dinner? Yes, yes I did.

Masks Off

When she notices the goon tailing her – shaved head, seasonally inappropriate leather jacket, neck tattoos – Caroline’s pissed off.

And exhausted.

She’d spent all day cooped up in the boardroom at Forbes Industries, listening to men twice her age complain about dividends and try to suggest that workers didn’t really need a raise subtly.

It had been a tedious and pointless exercise, one she suffers quarterly. Caroline holds 51% of the company’s shares and can easily wrangle another block of shareholders into voting with her. Her parent’s wills, read out fourteen years ago, had bequeathed a stake in FI to several loyal employees. People they’d loved, who’d stepped in to help raise Caroline after they’d passed.

The board knows she has the final say, and it kills them. They think she’s an idiot, that she’d bought her degrees and can’t comprehend the financial statements. They try to ply her with compliments and flattery, attempt unsubtle fibs – Caroline plays dumb and tolerates the bullshit because she knows she can control them. Another board might not be so easy to manipulate.

She’d had a headache by the time the meeting had wrapped, had been so grateful to see Enzo waiting at the curb. She’d practically dived into the backseat of the town car, had rolled the partition down, and enjoyed a satisfying debrief and bitch session on the drive back to her apartment. Enzo had offered to grab her dinner before he went off the clock, but Caroline knew he had a date night planned. She’d shoed him away, told him she’d order in.

Once safely tucked away in her place Caroline had gotten restless.

She’d changed out of her boring suit, pulled out the pins in her hair, and loosely braided it back. After changing into a pale blue cotton dress and pair of oversized sunglasses, then selecting a few Forbes Industries prototypes, Caroline had headed out for sustenance.

She hadn’t bothered to let her security detail know. She’s adept at sneaking away under their noses. The detail is mostly for show, to make sure no one connects Caroline Forbes, wild child heiress, to the vigilante who’s working on tidying up the city streets.

She’ll slip into the leather ensemble she’d commissioned once night falls and load up with weapons. Then she’ll head to the garage where she keeps her armored vehicles and larger toys.

There’s a new villain who’s been popping up more and more frequently on her patrols. She hasn’t caught him doing anything untoward just yet, and he’s yet to make the papers and have a ridiculous name bestowed upon him. She’s scoured papers from England, then the rest of Europe, checking to see if there was a reputation that preceded him. So far, she’s found nothing, but Caroline knows he must be working on something big.

Why else would he be so determined to attract her attention? He must have some kind of plan cooking up, wants her looking in another direction when he enacts it.

The walk to the restaurant had been uneventful. Caroline had to wait a few minutes for her order to be ready, but passing the time on a bench outside, unnoticed, her people-watching undisturbed, had been a nice change from how she’d spent the rest of the day.

It promised to be a hot evening, even though the sun would be setting shortly. Sweat had begun gathering near her hairline, forcing curls out of her braid. Caroline had added a mango lassi to her order and collected her dinner, inhaled appreciatively at the warm, spicy scent emanating from the paper bag.

She’d begun her walk home, sipping her drink contentedly, weaving through the growing number of pedestrians who were venturing out for the evening.

She’d noted the guy shadowing her about three blocks from her building, had heaved a dramatic sigh that had the guy waiting for the walk light with her edging away.

She’d just wanted to stuff herself with naan, biryani, and saag paneer and become one with her couch for a few hours before she went out to take out her frustrations on some bad guys. Was that too much to ask?

Caroline takes a turn, heading east to where there should be fewer people, reaching into her bag to slide her fingers into the modified brass knuckles (not actually brass but a proprietary FI compound) and grasping the extendable baton.

She takes another turn to check that she’s not paranoid, but the goon mirrors it.

As does another person.

Caroline pretends to adjust the strap of her dress, twisting her head to get a better look at her second pursuer. It’s an impressively muscular woman, her considerable height only enhanced by her spiked hair, dressed in skin-tight shorts and a mesh crop top.

She doesn’t seem to mind that Caroline’s spotted her, wiggling her fingers and offering a challenging smile.

There are two possibilities. Either the people following her are cocky and stupid – really the ideal scenario – or they’re cocky because they’ve got a solid plan and some big guns.

When a hand grabs her upper arm and yanks her into an alley, spilling the mango lassi and staining her dress, Caroline suspects it might be the latter. She’s thrown against a wall, just managing to get her hands up to save her face from being smashed into the brick.

She hears footsteps pounding against concrete, and the two pursuers she’s noticed join the man who’d yanked her into the alley. Regretfully, Caroline drops her takeout and her bag and backs away, hiding her weapons in the folds out of the skirt. She forces a quaver into her voice, “What do you want?”

It’s unlikely that three people who seem to have stepped right out of the goon for hire catalog have just decided to rob her. Caroline doesn’t want to assume there’s a larger plot. She’s hoping this won’t turn into a big thing, and she’s out of luck if people are planning to kidnap Caroline Forbes for ransom.

But it’ll be even messier if a bad guy’s clocked her extracurricular activities.

The spiky-haired woman takes the lead, stalking towards Caroline. She’s got a knife in her hand now, “What do I want? Twenty million dollars, to start with.”

Oh good. It’s just a kidnapping.

Honestly, kind of an insulting one. She won’t even have to liquate any assets to come up with the twenty million. Caroline stops moving, straightens her spine. “Done!” she chirps brightly. “Wire transfer, or cheque? I can do cash too, but that’s like ten briefcases. What are you going to do with them after?”

She’s been hoping to catch her attempted kidnapper off guard, but the woman doesn’t falter. She snorts, “You’re funny. I didn’t expect that.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot. I’m chock full of surprises.”

Spike lunges forward, and Caroline dodges, stepping past her and whipping her arm out, until her weapon lengthens fully. She crouches, extending her leg and spinning while slashing with her baton. Caroline lands a brutal strike on Spike’s kidneys. Spikes grunts, stumbles forward, arm banding over her stomach protectively. Caroline completes her spin and rises, catching Spike with a punch before she pauses, poised on the balls of her feet, back to a wall.

Her would-be kidnappers no longer look as confident. Spikes spits blood, expression enraged. The other two watch Caroline with calculative gazes.

“Girls gotta keep in shape, right? The tabloids are brutal. It turns out the elliptical is super boring, so I had to find something a little more fun.” Caroline leaps forward, tucking into a roll, snagging a brick from the ground and using her momentum to throw it into Leather Jacket’s face.

The brick makes contact with a gross crunch of blood, bone, tissue, and teeth. Leather Jacket howls, his hand coming up to cover his head. She jumps again, thighs locking around his neck, spinning to bring him to the ground. She digs her knee into his spine, gripping his head and slamming it into the ground for good measure until he goes limp underneath her.

Caroline stands, wiping her hand on her already ruined dress. “One down,” she says.

Only to instantly regret the proclamation. Bonnie says she needs to lay off on the monologuing, and maybe she’s got a point.

She senses movement behind her, near the mouth of the alley. Caroline turns warily, head swiveling between her two attackers and the men who are now freaking rappelling from the rooftops. Six of them. In black tactical gear, strapped with weapons and wearing black ski masks.

Well, crap.

If she’d been on patrol, with her protective suit and gadgets, she might have been able to take them. Now, in flats and a sundress, with two flimsy weapons and no backup, she doesn’t like her odds.

Caroline tosses the baton aside, pastes on the smile she uses when she has to ignore paparazzi shouting rude questions about her sex life at her. She lifts her hands slowly, palms open. “So, I’m guessing you don’t only want cash, huh?”

“Funny and smart,” Spikes says spitefully, coming up behind Caroline and yanking her hair. “What a rosy life you must lead.”

She feels a sharp sting in the side of her neck, then a flood of wooziness. Brief pain when she collapses.

She’s vaguely aware of being heaved up and over someone’s shoulder, of being alarmed by how her limbs won’t cooperate when she tries to fight back. She’s tossed in a trunk, encased in blackness.

Caroline fights it, the tiredness, her thoughts growing meandering and disorganized. When the engine rumbles to life underneath her, Caroline loses consciousness.

* * * * *

Caroline realizes she’s tied to a chair as soon as awareness returns.

She can hear voices murmuring, too soft for her to make out any words even when she strains. Caroline’s slumped over, pulling against the ropes. She’s definitely going to have some fun bruises tomorrow. Her head’s resting limply against her chest, and she stays as still as she can, barely opening her eyes while trying to get a good look at her surroundings.

Unfortunately, she seems to be in a pretty generic warehouse—grimy, smelly, cavernous, decorated with random overlapping graffiti.

She spots a tray of shiny, sharp medical instruments to her right.

Which is not ideal.

Caroline tests her bonds slowly, checking for any give or weakness. Any kind of opportunity. One of her captors has eagle eyes and notices her movements. She flinches when his voice booms out, “Sleeping beauty awakes!”

Damn it.

Caroline lifts her head, rolling her neck to work out the cramp that’s developed. “I prefer the modern Disney princesses, thank you.” She’s not the type to wait around for a handsome prince to come to her rescue.

She studies the guy who’d spoken. He’s got steel-grey hair and tanned skin, thick biceps. His face doesn’t show even a hint of emotion, and he doesn’t acknowledge she’d spoken. She’d guess he’s a pro, probably some variety of ex-military, likely expensive. Caroline hears the clomp of heavy boots and twists her head to see some familiar faces joining the party.

Moderately damaged familiar faces, but she’s not sorry about that.

“So about that ransom,” Caroline begins hopefully. “Twenty-five million, was it?”

The guy who’d taken a brick to the face grunts, “Thirty now. For our trouble.”

Caroline can admit that’s fair.

“I get it. Plastic surgery’s not cheap. Not that I’ve had any work done, despite what the tabloids might claim. I’m only twenty-seven. Of course my boobs look fantastic in a bikini.”

No one even cracks a smile.

“Okay, so you’re not interested in jokes. We could discuss the fact that it’s super gross that people follow me around the world and stalk me with long-lens cameras. Am I not entitled to take a vacation?”

No response.

Caroline sighs, shifting in her chair in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Tough crowd.”

Spike drags a second chair over, sitting down and resting a booted foot on her opposite knee. “Thirty million dollars. I have a list of six prisoners that I need to be released from the Super Max. And I want something from the Forbes Industries Vault. The subterranean one that most of your employees don’t know about.”

Caroline tips her head back, considering. Thirty million dollars, no big deal. The prisoners might be hard to arrange, but she’s got connections. She knows exactly who she’d need to bribe. She can always scoop them up later, wrap ‘em in a pretty little bow and leave them on the steps of city hall.

The Vault though? That’s not happening. She’s going to have to figure out how they even know about it, who else might have bought the info, but that’s a problem for later.

“How about fifty million dollars and a couple of extra prisoners? Maybe someone from the asylum?”

Spike leans over, her hand drifting over the tray of instruments. She plucks up one with a serrated edge, twirling it through her fingers. “I know you’re used to snapping your fingers and getting everything your little heart desires, but this isn’t a negotiation.”

She leans forward, resting the blade against the dip between Caroline’s collarbones. She taps it against Caroline’s skin with each carefully enunciated word, “Money. Prisoners. Vault.” She pulls back, gives the instrument another spin. “That’s my only offer. You can say yes, and we’ll give you a phone, so you’re servants can start arranging things. Or, we can do this the hard way.”

She doesn’t insult Caroline’s intelligence by spelling out what the hard way would entail.

Caroline swallows, straightens her spine. “No one gets in my vault.”

Spike sighs in faux disappointment, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “The hard way it is, then.”

Caroline closes her eyes, holds her breath, waits for the first cut to come.

It doesn’t come from where she’d expected.

Glass shatters from high above, showering down, leaving dozens of tiny nicks across her bare shoulders. She feels a rush of air before a body landing in front of her, knees bent.

A familiar man, one who’s been taking up way too much of Caroline’s free time, smirks at her, “Hello, love.”

Caroline gapes at him, and he pivots, backing up until her bent knees brush the back of his calves. She sees few bright flashes, but his back obscures her view of what’s happening. Whatever he’s doing, it’s painfully loud. Popping sounds interrupt shouts and screams of pain, and heavy thuds ring out. Caroline cringes, tucking her ear against her shoulder in an attempt to muffle the cacophony.

Silence, when it comes, scant moments after the chaos began, is jarring. Caroline leans as far to the side as she can, eyes widening when she spots the pile of bodies. She watches as the man, who she doesn’t know if she can call her rescuer since at this point he might also be planning on ransoming her, yanks a handful of zip cuffs from his pocket.

He moves swiftly and with grace, seemingly very at home his body and aware of its capabilities. Caroline’s eyes narrow, mind whirling as he secures her attackers, and she tries to assimilate this new information. He pulls off his leather gloves when he’s done, returning to her side. His expression grows regretful, and his fingertips brush her shoulders, skimming over the cuts and scrapes there. “Sorry about these. The skylight was the best entry point. Make sure you clean them up, hmm?”

He steps passed her, and Caroline feels him make quick work of her handcuffs. She hears the snick of a knife unsheathing and stiffens, but he only uses it on the ropes that bind her legs and torso. Caroline shakes them off, stands hesitantly.

“Okay,” she says, crossing her arms and turning until they’re once more face to face, separated by the metal chair. “What exactly is happening here? Who are you?”

“I’m afraid I’m not yet ready for you to know my identity. In due time, I promise.”

Caroline sucks in a sharp breath, her teeth grinding together. “Um, how about no?”

He blinks, and Caroline steps a little closer. They’ve always met in the dark, and he’d purposely stuck to the shadows as he’d teased and tossed questions at her. She’s never been this close to him. His eyes are blue, his lashes annoyingly long in a way men never appropriately appreciate. He wears a black mask, covering from the top of his forehead to his upper lip. His hair is slicked back, but she thinks it might be on the lighter side, given the shade of his stubble.

He clears his throat and shifts his weight, but he doesn’t step back or shy away. “I… I beg your pardon?”

“I have had a garbage day. It was long, it was boring, I had to argue over things I know I’m right about, with people who think I’m a bimbo and spend way too much time trying to look down my tops. My dinner got tossed aside when goons r us scooped me up. I love this dress, and it’s ruined. I’m bleeding. I don’t know where my shoes are. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I want to go home!” she’s shouting when she’s done ranting, out of breath.

“Right.” Her rescuer, she’s decided on the term now, shoves the chair aside. He steps forward until his feet bracket hers, wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline grips his biceps, too shocked to admonish this rude invasion of her space. “Hold on. Step up onto my feet.”

She throws her hands up in frustration, “Hello? Did anything I just said sink in?”

His lips, which she’s now noticing are very nice, full and soft looking, compress. She’s pretty sure he’s trying to swallow a laugh. “I heard every word. I’m trying to assist in getting you home. In service of that, if you could please step up onto my feet and hold on.”

His right arm rises, and Caroline recognizes the device in his hand. She’s about to ask him if he’s seriously rescuing her with a device he’d stolen from her but thinks better of it.

He’d stolen the grappling hook from a vigilante who rocks a rose pink leather catsuit, not from Caroline Forbes. It would have been a monster slip, a true testament to how rattled she is from the day’s events that she’d almost blurted out her secret identity to a guy with questionable motives and an unknown name.

Instead, she smiles tightly, loops her arms around his neck, and gingerly steps onto his heavy boots. “For future reference,” she says sweetly, “I generally only like following orders in the bedroom.”

The strangled choking noise he makes as they hurtle upward is immensely satisfying.

* * * * *

Two days later, Caroline’s on her couch watching news footage of a gala she’d been supposed to attend. She’d had a great dress, red and scandalous, all ready to go, but trying to cover her scabby shoulders with makeup had made her look like she’d contracted some kind of infectious skin issue.

She’d sent her regrets and a fat check, resigned herself to a solo evening in her comfy sweats. On her TV, a society reporter’s chattering away about the guest she’d just finished talking to, a lech who’s at least smart enough to hire a publicist good enough to hide his dealings with loan sharks. She trails off in the middle of a sentence, fingertips coming up to press at her earpiece.

The reporter looks right at the camera, excitement on her face. “I’ve just been given some breaking news! A surprise guest has arrived, all the way from the UK. Klaus Mikaelson has shied away from public life since his messy exit from his father’s corporation five years ago. He’s built his own tech firm from the ground up. Buzz had been building since they announced their intention to go public. Let’s see if we can get a few words.”

Bored with the fawning, Caroline’s just about to switch channels. She knows all about Klaus’ Mikaelson’s company. Blurbs about it have been showing up in the intelligence reports she has complied since he’d lured a pair of promising engineers from FI’s Paris offices.

She’s planning on investing in his IPO because he might have scummy HR policies, but his business is sound.

There haven’t been many pictures of him available; apparently, he’d hardly been a social butterfly even when he’d been welcome in the family fold. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so in the ones Caroline’s seen, in which he’d been gangly and angular and sporting a terrible haircut.

The image changes, swinging to the red carpet before Caroline can grab the remote. She pauses, impressed because Klaus Mikaelson has grown up nicely. She might be distracted by the flawless fit of his tux, which Caroline knows can cover a world of sins, so she leans closer as the camera pans up to his face.

And promptly drops her wine class.

The blue eyes. That smile, the dimple it carves into his stubbled cheek. She’d brushed her lips over that cheek barely more than forty-eight hours ago when she’d thanked him for what he’d done for her.

Klaus Mikaelson had accompanied her home the other night, had neatly deflected her probing questions, his amusement never turning to exasperation at Caroline’s dogged persistence.

She’d seriously considered inviting him into her home. She’d told herself it was only in search of more information, but a tiny part of her, the one that was unfailingly honest and sometimes gets her in trouble, had admitted her rescuer intrigued her, even without a name.

Well. Now she has one. A plan forms rapidly, and Caroline scrambles for her phone, digging it out of her couch cushions. She taps the screen, connecting a call to Bonnie. “Bon? Sorry to bug you when you’re off the clock. But I need you to find someone for me.”

She stands, walking into her bedroom as she explains what she needs.

Bonnie’s a genius, well worth the exorbitant salary Caroline pays her. She gets the address within an hour.

* * * * *

Caroline drops a rope onto the terrace of Klaus’ apartment, slips down with barely a whisper of sound, landing lightly. She hugs the side of the building, inching over to the open French doors. She’s fully suited up, hair tightly controlled, and mask on. She eases her foot over the threshold, eyes darting around.

Ugh, of course, he has excellent taste.

Caroline likes light and airy, fun patterns and textures. But she can appreciate the sumptuousness of Klaus’ living room. It’s done up in burgundies and neutrals, hints of gold. There’s a buttery leather sofa facing a fireplace, thick carpets that muffle the sounds of her boots as she walks further in. She can imagine a pleasant night in front of a crackling fire, curled up on the couch when the weather turns cold.

But she’s getting ahead of herself.

Her nose twitches, picking up the smell of curry, cardamom, and turmeric.

She hears a door click shut, whirls to find Klaus, barefoot and still dressed up from The Gala, though he’s ditched the jacket and tie. He leans against the now-closed doors to the terrace. He smiles at her warmly, “Hello, Caroline.”

Which answers one of her most pressing questions.

Caroline yanks her mask off, tossing it aside. “I realize this is going to give you déjà vu, but what exactly is happening here?”

Klaus pushes off from the door, ambles towards her, studying her reaction carefully. Caroline doesn’t flinch away or retreat. “I have a proposition for you. And I have dinner. Takeaway from that place you visited the other day when your evening plans were… interrupted. I even got the mango lassi.”

Caroline narrows her eyes, “I have weapons, you know. Way more than you’d think, given how tight this outfit is.”

He laughs, a low husky sound that Caroline knows would be easy to get addicted to. “I’m sure you do. I’m not worried about you using them on me. I only want you to hear out my proposal. You can leave anytime you wish.”

She wonders if it’s stupid to believe him, but she does. He’d had the upper hand two days ago, had no trouble dispatching the group that had taken her. If he had nefarious intentions, he could have picked up right where they left off with the torture.

Caroline’s learned to trust her instincts. They’re telling her she’s safe.

She tugs her hair out of its elastic, loosens her collar slightly, pulling the zipper down a few inches. “Mind lending me something to wear? This totally isn’t designed for sitting for long periods.”

Klaus directs her to a guestroom, gathers a few things of his for her to wear. When she gets to the dining room, she finds he’s arranged the food on gleaming platters and lit candles. Her mango lassi, in its plastic cup, looks wildly out of place.

Caroline refuses to find it endearing.

At least until she’s confirmed that her instincts are correct.

#klaroline #klarosummerbingo #klaroline fanfiction #batman vibes #but where the author is only aware of batman because it's a ubiquitous pop culture thing #so maybe bad batman vibes idk

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