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bethanythebogwitch · 3 months

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Wet Beast Wednesday: beavers

I love rodents; they're my favorite mammals. So today I'm combining rodents with the usual Wet Beast Wednesday to talk about beavers. These rodents are not only amphibious, they're engineers that play a major role in their ecosystems. Let's find out why you should appreciate beavers.

(Image ID: a beaver standing on dirt. It is a rotund, furry mammal with a large, blunt head. Its legs and eyes are small. Its tail is wide, flat, and hairless. It is wet. End ID)

There are two species of beaver: the North American beaver Castor canadensis and Eurasian beaver Castor fiber. The two species are so similar to each other in morphology and behavior that it took genetic testing to confirm that they are distinct species. Each species is divided into many subspecies, with a classified 25 for the North American beaver and 9 for the Eurasian beaver. Beavers are the second largest living rodents after the capybara. Adults have a body length of 80-120 cm (31-47 in), tail length of 25-50 cm (9.8-19.7 in) and usually weigh between 11 and 30 kg (24-66 lbs) but can reach up to 50 kg (110 lbs). Beavers are semiaquatic and have multiple adaptations for living in the water. The hind legs have webbed toes and are used to provide propulsion while swimming. The wide, flat, paddle-like tail is used as a rudder. Beaver fur is very thick, with 12,000 to 23,000 hairs per square centimeter and grows in multiple layers. The hair keeps the beaver warm and provides buoyancy while being thick enough to act as armor, protecting the beaver from predators. Beavers can hold their breath for up to 15 minutes, but most dives are shorter than that. While underwater, the beaver's heart rate is halved and blood is redirected to the brain and away from the extremities. The ears and nostrils can close underwater and the mouth can form a watertight seal. Being highly adapted for swimming, beavers are somewhat clumsy on land, but they can still move fast if needed. The front feet are very dextrous and can carry objects. Beavers can stand and move on their hind legs while holding things with their front feet. The tail helps provide stability while standing up. Like other rodents, beavers have an upper and lower pair of incisors that grow for their entire lives. The teeth need to be worn down by gnawing on objects and a beaver that can't gnaw can suffer from health problems as their incisors grow too big. Beaver teeth are coated with a layer of enamel that contains iron compounds, giving the incisors a characteristic orange color. The teeth grow outside the mouth and the beaver can close its lips while moving the teeth, letting it chew or pick thing up with its teeth underwater without getting water in its mouth. Unlike other rodents and pretty much every mammal, the beaver's excretory and reproductive tracts are merged into a single hole called the cloaca. Cloacas are common in reptiles, amphibians, etc, but having separate holes is a kay mammal trait. Beavers must have evolved back into having a cloaca. One hypothesis for why is that having a single hole reduced the surface area that can be exposed to the water, reducing the chance of infection. Males have a penis that extends from the cloaca when in use. Because of this, male and female beavers are virtually indistinguishable by sight if the penis is retracted. Staying downstairs, beavers have two sets of scent glands, anal glands and castor sacs. Both are used to produce scent chemicals that are used by beavers to mark their territory and identify each other. The anal glands also produce an oily substances that beaver groom into their fur to help waterproof it. The castor sacs produce a substance called castoreum and are attached to the urethra. Ancient people often thought that the castor sacs were testicles and that female beavers were actually hermaphrodites.

(Image ID: a beaver seen from the front on some rocks by the water's edge. It is dragging a long log in its mouth. Its top incisors are visible and orange. End ID)

The North American beaver is found in most of Canada and the United States, as well as northern Mexico while the Eurasian beaver's natural range has been considerably reduced from what it once was. They now live in portions of western, central, and eastern Europe, west Russia, and Scandinavia, with isolated populations in Mongolia and northwest China. Beavers live in freshwater (and occasionally brackish water) streams and lakes. They are nocturnal and crepuscular, active most commonly between dusk and dawn. Beavers are generalist herbivores, eating a variety of leaves, stems, shoots, roots, and bark. They prefer herby food in summer and woody food in winter. Beavers form stores of food underwater for the winter. Their digestive systems have an enlarged portion of the intestine called a caecum that helps digest the cellulose form all the plants and wood they eat. Their feces has been reported to have sawdust in it. Beavers are territorial and mark their territory with smell using secretions from their anal and castor glands that are placed onto piles of rock and mud they build. beavers defend their territories fiercely and will get into fights with others trying to move into their territory. Beavers who live in neighboring territories will gradually grow less aggressive toward each other and they become used to each other's scent. This is called the dear enemy effect and is seen in other territorial species. Beavers communicate using a variety of noises including whines and growls. A common behavior is slapping the tail against the surface of the water, which is used to alert other beavers to danger.

(Image ID: a beaver swimming underwater. Its body is strengthened out and streamlines. Its front legs are tucked under its chin. The hind legs are being used for swimming. The tail is out of frame. There are rocks and logs in the background. End ID)

Beavers require deep and still water to build their homes, but they aren't satisfied just looking for lakes to live in. No, these little entrepreneurs will make the conditions they need by damming streams. I will devote a whole section below to beaver damming and its impacts on the environment. Aside from dams, beavers also build lodges, which are their homes. Building these structures requires material and beavers use wood, mud, and rocks. To get the wood, they use their incisors and powerful teeth to chew through trees and branches. Famously, a beaver can take down a large tree in under a day. Lodges take a while to build, and until it is ready, beavers live in simple burrows on the water's edge. There are two types of lodges: bank lodges and open-water lodges. Bank lodges are burrows along the water's edge covered in sticks and are more common with Eurasian beavers. The more famous open-water lodges are built away from the shore. A pile of sticks forms a platform that is covered with a dome. The dome reaches above the water and is made of sticks and rocks held together with mud. Inside the dome but above the water is an open cavity filled with air. This is called the living space and is (as the name suggests) where the beavers live. The only above-water opening in the living space is an air hole built in the very top. The other entrances are underwater, meaning that beavers can only enter and leave by swimming. This provides good protection from predators, most of whom wouldn't be able to swim into the living space, as wells as insulation to keep the living space warm in winter. Beavers live in familial groups usually consisting of a pair of parents and up to eight children. Family members use the scent of their anal glands to identify each other and will body through grooming each other and play-fighting. The parents are monogamous, but will seek out new mates if they lose theirs. Mating occurs in late December to mid January when the female goes into heat. Up to four pups are born three to four months later. Beavers are born furry and with open eyes and can digest solid food after a week, but usually nurse for up to three months. Beaver milk is more fatty than the milk of other rodents. Beaver offspring will stay with their parents for two years before becoming independent and a family can have two generations of offspring at a time. The largest families need to build multiple lodges. The offspring, called kits, will stay in the lodge for their first one to two months and will start assisting the family with construction of dams and lodges at a year old. They reach sexual maturity between one and three years of age and can live for up to ten years in the wild. Beavers that become independent will travel away from their parent's pond to find a new stream or pond to settle in. This is the time most beavers meet their future mates and the pair will travel together in search of their new home. Beavers will stay in the same territory unless poor conditions force them to leave and find a new home.

(Image ID: A beaver in the Minnesota Zoo with four kits. They are in an artifical lodge with stone walls and star and sticks on the ground. The kits are miniature versions of the adult. End ID.)

(Image ID: an artistic depiction of a beaver lodge with a cutaway to show the interior. It is a large pile of branches with a chamber inside partly submerged in the water. The chamber is connected to the outside by two tunnels the open underwater. There are two adult beavers outside the lodge and three juveniles inside. End ID. Source)

The most famous feature of beaver behavior is their dams. By damming streams, beavers create the large and still ponds they need to build their dams. Beavers that live in pre-existing ponds or lakes that are deep enough for their lodge entrances to be underwater don't need to build dams. To start, thy will dig canals to reduce the flow of the stream, then drive large logs and branches into the mud of the stream bottom to form a base. The dam is then filled in with rocks, branches, shrubs, mud, and anything else the beaver can get its paws on. Beavers can pull or carry objects up to their weight and will build canals and use mud slicks to pull larger logs. Dam complexes can cover acres of territory and the canals beavers dig dig to divert water and help move logs around can be over half a kilometer (1,600 ft) long. The largest dam in the world is in Alberta, Canada's Wood Buffalo National Park and is 775 meters (2,543 ft) long and growing. It was formed of different dams that were combined. Beavers are one of the best examples of ecosystem engineers, species that modify their habitats. They are also a keystone species that are vital in wetland areas of their native range. Dams expand wetlands and reshape the stream environment in ways that typically benefit the local ecosystem. There are some negative impact of beaver dams, including impeding fish migration, increasing silt upstream of the dam, low oxygen levels in the created ponds, and harming species that require fast flowing water. However, the positive impacts of the dams are many and varied. The dams create new ponds that provide habitat for many species that require deeper or slower water, including many aquatic insect larvae, worms, and mussels. These ponds are also ideal spawning locations for many fish and amphibian species, especially salmon and trout that can leap over the dams. Indeed, beaver dams are a huge boon to salmon spawning. The ponds also raise the local water tables and help prevent drought. The areas in and around ponds see a large increase in plant species diversity that encourages local grazing animals and migratory species to visit. Because the areas around beaver ponds are so wet, they act as natural fire breaks, helping mitigate the damage from fires. The dams also help prevent floods downstream by slowing the amount of water that passes, thus helping prevent erosion. The dams act like sieves, filtering out silt, debris, excess nitrogen, and pesticides and other chemicals that get into the water. Bacteria living in the dams break down cellulose in plant matter and release nitrogen gas into the atmosphere. On the downside, beavers have been extending their range north as the arctic warms and their ponds are melting permafrost, which releases methane into the atmosphere.

(Image ID: a beaver in a forest environment gnawing a tree. The tree trunk is slightly thicker around than the beaver. The Beaver is chewing at one side of the tree while the other side is already chewed, resulting in an hourglass shape. End ID)

(Image ID: two beavers sitting on top of their dam and working on building it. One beaver is gnawing on a log while the other one is carrying a bundle of roots in its mouth. End ID)

(Image ID: a beaver dam seen from above. The dam is a large pile of sticks, longs, rocks, and mud that stretches across a stream. The water level on one side of the dam is significantly higher than on the other side. End ID.)

Both species of beaver as currently classified as Least Concern by the IUCN, meaning they are not at risk of extinction. This was not always the case. Beavers have historically been heavily trapped for their meat, fur, and castoreum. The castoreum was used in many forms of medicine. Nowadays it isn't used anymore except in homeopathy and other forms of quackery. The fur trade vastly reduced beaver populations and it was only due to new laws and conservation efforts that the two species were saved from extinction. Since then conservation efforts have largely revolved around trapping beavers and reintroducing them to new areas. Probably the most famous example of this is the 1948 beaver drop, when the Idaho Department of Fish and Game dropped beavers in crates from planes, where they parachuted to the ground and were released. Despite how silly this sounds, it had a much higher survival rate than other relocation methods. Only one of the 76 beavers died due to forcing its way out of the crate during the drop and falling to its death. Beavers can damage infrastructure by damming streams near human activity and can damage trees people want to keep alive. There are ways of mitigating this. Pipes can be used to keep the water levels of the ponds from getting too high and fences or other deterrents around trees keep the beavers from cutting them down. If the beavers are causing too much of a problem, trapping and relocating them can help. On the other hand, sometimes environmental managers trying to attract beavers will make artificial beaver dams to try to entice beavers to adopt a stream. This is sometimes done in streams with too much erosion or water that flows too fast for beavers to settle. The artificial dams start the work and set things up for beavers either relocated to the stream or that pass by and settle down. Beavers are used as symbols of hard work, industry, and families. The beaver is the national animal of Canada. If Canada appreciates the beaver, shouldn't you too?

(Image ID: a group of three beavers being released from a crate. End ID)

youtube

(Video ID: archive footage of the 1948 beaver drop. End ID)

#wet beast wednesday #beaver #rodent #mammal #beaver dam #beaver lodge #biology #zoology #ecology #freshwater ecology #animal facts #long post #educational #image described #Youtube

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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Back to the 118 // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Buck meets the firefighter he replaced as the reader transfers back to the 118. The reader never expected to fall for a co-worker the first day back at the 118 after two years spent at the 155 in Los Feliz.

Warnings: Swearing, sickness, hospitals, health issues, pregnancy, angst and a shit ton of fluff

Words: 5.9k

A/N: So this is obviously a modern au for jatp to fit in the 911 universe. To make this work, Buck replaced Reader instead of Tommy after many failed probies. Eddie then later replaced Tommy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your e/c eyes scanned the outward appearance of the first firehouse you’d worked at fresh out of the Academy. The place that had become a second home from the increased tension-filled house your parents still lived in. A place you had escaped as quickly as you could for a dream career. A career your parents hadn’t been proud of in the beginning, with the danger that came with being a firefighter paramedic.

“You the new recruit?”

Your eyes fell from the building to the male individual standing near the open bay the engine and ladder truck both used. The male in question must have joined the 118 after you transferred to the 155. The stranger towered at least six feet minimum with blue eyes and short blonde hair with the slightest wave.

“No-”

“Flint!” The excited voice of the only other female paramedic called out. You only saw dark navy before you were pretty much tackled.

Hen and Chimney had equally taken you under their wings when you initially joined as a rookie. You’d been the second female firefighter-paramedic at the 118 and the youngest by far. As if you’d summoned him, you felt the arms of Chimney sandwich you against Hen.

“Flint?” The stranger parroted, blinking his eyes at the rather unusual scene of Chimney and Hen wrapped around an unknown girl.

“What are you doing here?” Chimney questioned, stepping back. Hen scoured your entire form for any differences that had occurred.

“Y/N decided to come home,” Bobby spoke from a few feet behind the reunion with the beaming smile on his features. His lips pulled into a smile directed at the first recruit he’d taken on his first year at the 118.

“Bobby!” You grinned, meeting the father figure in the middle of the distance between you two. Bobby wrapped you up in his arms tightly, a certain lightness cocooning the Captain as he took in his friends.

“You’re back here?”

“Everything is squared back at home now, thankfully, and while I loved working with the 155, it wasn’t home. This will always be home.”

“Buck, this is Y/N Patterson. She worked her first two years with the 118 before transferring to the 155 in Los Feliz. Y/N, this is one of our newest members, Evan Buckley.” Bobby gestured towards the previously nameless firefighter.

“Who would leave the 118?” Buck questioned, unable to come up with a valid reason to leave the family at 118.

Buck’s opinion didn’t stand with his only workplace after successfully becoming a firefighter solely was the 118. Never had he worked in another firehouse. He’d been a fire marshall and volunteered his time in the Austin wildfire, but he always came home to the 118.

“Family issues.”

2018, Firehouse 118, Los Angeles

A fresh-faced, albeit dirty from sweat and soot, jumped down from the engine truck’s high steps. The synchronized slam of doors sounded from your colleagues and friends Hen and Chimney. All three individuals famished for the casserole Bobby had premade during the slow morning.

“Baked Mac n’ Cheese.” Tommy breathed from his position by the driver side. Tommy Kinard was a stoic man towering over six feet. He was always a gentle giant after you’d bonded after a hard call.

“Clean up, and I’ll have it in the oven. It’s Chimney’s time to make the salad and Flint’s turn to set the table.” Bobby spoke with barely a glance to the ground ahead of him.

Your Captain jogged towards the stairs, whereas his team made their way to the locker rooms for a well-deserved shower. You and Hen split away from Tommy and Chimney to the women’s locker room that had gotten an upgrade.

Well, before you joined the Academy, the locker room had been used as a glorified game room, all thanks to the misogynist Captain from hell. Hen often had over the years mentioned how lucky you got with Bobby being your first Captain.

“Chimney better not put those onions like he did last time.” You spoke from under the stream of warm water. Nothing beat the warmth of a shower near the end of your shift erasing the evidence of your job.

“Man needs to learn the complimentary salad to the main dish.” Hen piped up from across the shower room.

You and Hen had both showered and redressed in a fresh uniform in under five minutes, the dirty one placed in a laundry bag. You’d managed to beat the boys to the upstairs by a few seconds. Enough to set half of the able before Chimney began to making his salad of choice.

“Looks great, Cap.” Tommy complimented the gooey homemade pasta Bobby religious made every third Thursday. He alternated between pasta recipes with the odd new recipe every once in a while.

“What are you waiting for? The bell?” Bobby quipped to the unmoving bunch of hungry individuals. His words started the boisterous meal time preceding the end of shift.

“So, we’re halfway through dinner and Amber-” Your phone interrupted the disaster date Tommy had begun telling. He continued as soon as you waved him to go ahead while you took the call.

“Hello?” You breathed into the phone.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The warmth infused in your mom’s voice soothed the ruffled feathers from the call you’d come back from, “How are you?”

“I’m good! We just finished eating. My shift is almost over, and I’ll have to go straight to the store for groceries-”

“Y/N, we found him.”

The him was easy to figure out given your brother had run away from home three months prior with only his dreams in mind. You’d spent most of your off time, sometimes even during shift out on a call, to scan the environment for Luke. You became a regular in questioning hospitals and homeless shelters.

“Where was he?”

“His band had been about to play at some big venue last night.” Mom’s word choice concerned you. Her voice dripped with sadness instead of the typical disappointment and annoyance on anything to do with Sunset Curve.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“A few nights ago, the boys got hotdogs-”

“Streetdogs.” You interrupted with evident anger in your tone at the mention of those death dogs Luke consumed. You can’t even give a number to how many times you had told him how unsanitary and dangerous the food is.

“Something was wrong with the food. They got ill fast. Alex and Reggie are being kept for observation but will be found with a few days of rest.”

“What about Luke?”

“He tried to call 911; he was weak and fell. Y/N, he hit his head. He’s in the ICU in a coma.” Emily Patterson’s voice cracked as soon as she acknowledged the current state of her youngest child.

The colours of the world dulled as soon as your mind clicked that Luke was in the hospital. Your little brother had put himself in danger all because he had a big dream. Your mind flashed through your life growing up with him.

You remembered talking to your mom’s growing bump when she was pregnant with Luke. You remembered five-year-old Luke unable to settle unless you sang to him. Your voice was nothing special, but it soothed the little boy when he had a nightmare. You could vividly recall teaching Luke how to play the guitar when he was thirteen; the brunette a complete natural at it.

“What’s his prognosis?”

“Too early to tell. The doctor is hoping Luke will be in a general room after tomorrow if the swelling goes down. I wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“How’s Dad?”

Emily hesitated from her position by a hospital bed. Her brown eyes carefully scanning the male sleeping soundly in the bed.

“Mom?”

“Your father had a heart attack last night. That’s why I haven’t been able to tell you sooner. He’s currently sleeping, but he’ll have a barrage of tests later today-”

“I’ll be there as soon as my shif-”

“No. Don’t drop anything. I can keep you up.”

“Excuse my language, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying away from my family. I’ll take a few days off. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Your thumb tapped the red circle on the bottom of your screen.

The 118 didn’t bother pretending they hadn’t been watching your form during your phone call. Bobby felt like something had drastically changed in a few minutes you’d been busy on the phone.

“Everything okay?” Bobby inquired from his position at the kitchen sink. His hands in the sudsy water to scrub the empty pan.

“My brother and my father are in hospital. I’m gonna need some days off.” You informed your boss with a look of utter defeat coating your expression.

Those few days transitioned to transferring to the closest firehouse to your childhood home and the hospital. The medical bills from both your brother and father had begun to overwhelm your mother with the current single source of income. Emily didn’t ask you for anything, but you started renting the home you’d bought for extra money.

It was a silent agreement that you paid rent as a cover to helping with the bills piling up.

Present Day, Firehouse 118

Buck followed behind the welcoming group to the girl that seemed larger than life. Buck was impressed by the sacrifice you’d made for the good of your family. You’d willingly given up the family of the 118. Buck didn’t know if he could do the same.

“Welcome back.” Hen cheered on her guidance to the heaven everyone called the kitchen. Your department issue duffle bag dropped out of the wall on the top level.

Your eyes zeroed in on the spread of your favourite foods prepared by the only person aware of your return. It was only one look of gratitude towards the father figure before everyone dug in.

A few changes had occurred since you’d last sat at this table. Tommy Kinard had left the 118 for the 217 shortly after your departure. He’d been replaced by the ready to impress Buck. One thing that hadn’t changed was the delicious food Bobby made.

Your eyes found the sole empty chair at the long table, “Didn’t you say the house took on two new recruits since I left?”

“Buck took your position when you left. We had a revolving door of firefighters before Buck permanently joined.” Chimney supplied with a mouth full of lettuce and grated carrot. Hen whacked his arm for his lack of manners.

“You’ll meet Eddie on the next shift. He took the day off. It’s his son’s first birthday since his mom died.” Bobby informed you with that pinched wrinkle between his eyebrows, “He joined after Tommy left.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet the entire team.” You replied, looking past to the circular table behind Bobby’s spot. Sam and Ryan both waved happily upon catching sight of you back at your unspoken seat.

You listened intently as Hen shared the changes Denny had gone through in the time you’d been away. Chimney was ecstatic to point out the faint scar on his forehead.

“You had rebar go through your skull, and you’re completely fine?” You questioned, floored by the pure luck Chimney had.

“Oh, it was nasty. Went in from the back of the skull to the front.” Buck spoke enthusiastically, recounting the scene. Chimney deadpanned a look at his younger coworker, “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s like you never had it happen.”

“Doc was shocked at how positive the outcome and healing was. I was back at work within a month on light duty. I beat my record getting in my turnout gear.”

“And yet my little brother was comatose for two months.” You grumbled under your breath. None of the people could make out the words, but the grimace on your face was enough to show them it was personal.

In true 118 fashion, the bell rang throughout the firehouse with the disembodied voice declaring the type and location. Yoru e/c eyes found Buck climbing into the driver’s seat where Tommy had once commandeered. It was odd not having the man who’d became an older brother to you.

“How’re your parents?” Hen questioned, sitting diagonally from you. Her fingers repositioning the radio on her chest.

“Dad’s recovering pretty good. Mom’s started attending her knitting club again.”

Buck’s eyes raised to the rearview mirror to meet yours in interest, “What happened?”

“Uh...my dad had a heart attack a couple years ago. He took a long time to recover with the further stress that caused it.” You piped up, understanding the news would come out at some point, “My little brother was in an accident that left him in a coma. Life was just as messy after he woke up.”

“He’s okay?” Chimney questioned, “I know we’ve never met them, but it really gutted you.”

“Well, physically, he’s fine, but emotionally he’s upset. He was in a band, and when he came out of the coma, he found out some devastating news.” You continued to explain, but unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, you’d come to the scene.

It was a little known place most teenagers discovered as a hang out spot just on the edge between your county and the next. The location was the infamous spot of cliff jumping; you knew because this was something you’d recklessly done in high school.

“He’s over here!” A blonde male of average height called from the edge of the cliff. His blue eyes were bright even from this distance, matching the detailing on his swim trunks.

Surrounding the edge with the boy was a group of teenagers his age, all in different versions of swimsuits. You found the scared brown eyes of a beautiful girl you vaguely knew from the few shows of Sunset Curve you had watched. Her dark blonde hair plaited out of her face. Her face clicked as Carrie Wilson, Bobby’s sister or cousin.

You jogged towards the edge of the cliff to look over. It was easily between fifteen to twenty feet from the edge of the cliff to the water. You recognized Hen crouching by your side, looking at what you were looking at.

On the rocks was a prone body of a teenage male with bruises already forming on his face from where you could see. His thick shoulder-length hair laid still half in the ponytail and around his head.

“Head trauma.” You murmured to Hen, scanning from a distance, “I can’t tell much from this height and angle.”

“Either a broken tibia or fibula. Spinal injury is definitely a concern.”

“Okay, his name is Willie Young. He’s eighteen years old. His sister Kayla was dared to jump off by doing some kind of flip. Willie took her dare and didn’t jump far enough or tripped over a rock.” Bobby listed having been talking with the group of teenagers all shook up.

“I can rappel-” Buck began to speak before you cut him off firmly.

“It would take too long, and the angle is difficult. Nobody rappels down it; the cliff isn’t stable enough. It crumbles pretty easy, and the unofficial name of this cliff is Devil’s Dive.” Your eyes found Carrie’s tear-filled once and the utter devastation in who you pegged as Kayla.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve jumped off this cliff for years as a teenager. You’re looking at the resident champion of self reckless endangerment at Devil’s Dive.”

Hen, Chimney and Bobby each stared, shocked at your revelation of stupid teenager decisions.

“Then how are we gonna get down there,” Buck questioned, staring at the unconscious teenager lying on the rocks.

“Easy, I can jump from here into the water and climb onto the rocks to where Willie is. I have the experience of how and where to jump safely.” You spoke to your Captain with complete confidence in your abilities, “You can lower down the kit, radio and backboard by a rope. There’s a mansion beyond the trees that you can ask to borrow a boat from the owner. He’s eccentric and questionable but nice enough.”

Bobby nodded his head to your plan. You unbuttoned your uniform shirt to strip down to the department t-shirt with the emblem on your chest and across your back. You kept the boots and emptied your pockets of anything. The butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the height of the cliff you hadn’t jumped from in years.

“I’ll jump where-”

“Excuse me?” You scoffed at Buck’s assumption he could follow you.

“You’ll need another pair of hands to roll him on the backboard. I don’t have anyone waiting for me at home. This is kinda what I do. Bobby cleared it already.” Buck shrugged with a half-smirk on his handsome face.

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly gave Buck a rundown on how to jump correctly before you tossed yourself off the cliff. The cold water momentarily shocked your system as soon you submerged under the water. You swam to the surface before swimming towards the rocks. Willie hadn’t moved an inch.

“Whoa! That was so cool!” Buck cheered once he’d appeared on the surface of the water, “No wonder you used to do that!”

His excitement both annoyed and amused you, “Eh. I was just an idiot kid who thought they were invincible.”

The two firefighters lifted themselves onto the rock formation, where blood stained the rock. While Buck retrieved the backboard and essentials from the rope, your hands moved across Willie’s body, checking for breaks. You caught the c-collar Buck tossed without looking. You quickly but gently put the collar on Willie.

“Hi, Willie. My name is Y/N, and I’m a paramedic. I’m gonna check you over for injuries.” You informed the teenager closely. You’d only just opened his eyes to flash a light on them, “Buck let Bobby know Willie’s pupils are reactive to light and the same size.”

“Got it!” Buck called out from the open medkit, “I’ll splint his leg.”

“W-what happened?” Willie wheezed sluggishly. His brown eyes were unfocused.

“You got hurt trying to jump off the cliff. You’re in good hands, Willie. I’m a paramedic with the Los Angeles Fire Department. This is my coworker Buck.”

“Kayla?”

“Perfectly safe, but you did give her a scare. Willie, can you feel this?” Buck questioned, gently touching his right foot. Buck and you both gave a sigh of relief as Willie confirmed he felt it.

“Okay, we’re gonna roll you on to the backboard. On three: one, two, three.” You counted before rolling Willie on his side with Buck. Willie’s cry echoed around the surrounding as you settled him on the board.

“Need a ride?” Chimney asked as a very nice boat floated towards the three people on the rocks. Hen and Bobby helped load Willie onto the boat, “Mr. Covington agreed to let us use the boat if we don’t get blood on the seats.”

“Can you call my boyfriend?” Willie sluggishly asked when he was loaded into the ambulance on the cliff. Kayla sliding into the seat in the back of the ambulance with their items.

“Alex is meeting us at the hospital.” Kayla told her older brother, “You absolute idiot! You should have just let me jump!”

“And let you be in the back of the ambulance? Dad would kill me if I had let you do it.” Willie scoffed. Their conversation was silent as Chimney and Buck closed the back doors of the ambulance.

Bobby, Buck and you climbed into the fire truck to follow the ambulance to the closest hospital. Hen and Chimney rolled the gurney to the doors with Kayla hot on their heels. You’d just turned to head back to the truck when you saw three teens loitering near the entrance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled, marching away from Bobby and Buck to the teen who was supposed to be in class.

Luke had been forced into private tutoring to catch up to his friends in his grades, meaning every afternoon. The watch on your wrist confirmed Luke was definitely supposed to be with his tutor at the community centre.

“Luke!” You shouted, stomping right up to the wide-eyed teen.

Luke’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his older intimidating sister caught him like his hand was in the cookie jar. You didn’t give Reggie or Alex a second look while you gripped Luke’s ear to tug him away.

“Ow!” Luke whined from the angle you dragged him at.

“What the hell are you doing across the city? You’re supposed to be in your session that our parents are paying a great deal for.” You snapped, crossing your arms in your wet t-shirt.

“We need every chance we can to-”

“Make it big in the industry.” You parroted the past discussions on Luke’s dream as a band, “Do you remember how I got mom and dad off your back? An agreement that you finish high school on time. Not dropping out.”

“So many musicians have dropped out! Green Day’s frontman dropped out his senior year to focus on the band. Several others like Elton John and Kurt Cobain!” Luke enthused, gesturing with his hand to emphasize his words.

“Luke.” You warned, “It’s either catch by with a tutor with some time dedicated to your band, or it’s a military school.”

Luke’s hazel eyes minimally widened, “They would-”

Your stoic expression stayed the same as the energetic seventeen-year-old bounced in his spot across from you.

“There’s only so much I can do before you lose everything. I know you feel anxious after what all happened, but music isn’t going anywhere.” You reached to squeeze Luke’s hand in yours, “So, I’ll clear it with my boss to have you ride the bus to the station. You’ll have your tutor sessions with my supervision, so I know you’re attending.”

“Y/N!” Bobby called from next to the firetruck, “We gotta go.”

“I’m guessing the Alex that Willie is dating your best friend?” You questioned with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in response, “Let mom know you had to be there for Alex. She’ll let skipping your session go this once.”

“Thanks!” Luke chimed, lunging to hug you. Your mouth barely opened before he was racing towards a jittery Alex and a grinning Reggie.

Reggie lifted his arm to wave with his flushed cheeks a darker red colour. You found Reggie’s crush on you to be absolutely adorable. He was a friendly kid.

“He looks good for a kid who was in a coma not long ago.” Hen breathed as the teenager entered the ER with his best friends beside him.

“Oh, he healed quickly. He was crushed after he fully recovered from his head injury.”

“That was your brother?” Buck inquired, and he was just as focused on your features as he had since he first met you.

“Yeah! He was in a coma for ten months when he was sixteen. He’s spent the last two years catching on on school to graduate with his friends. Well hopefully. He’s dead set on dropping out.” You heavily sighed, leaning your temple on the glass window, “He was supposed to be at a tutoring session. I’ll be chaperoning to make sure he goes.”

“If you need to have them at the station, send me a schedule, and I’ll make it work. Luke’s just as much family as you are.”

The rest of the shift was smooth sailing as Buck followed you around with the sole purpose of getting to know you. The friendship came naturally to the two of you. He didn’t hold back with you like he did with others. Fridays off became hangouts that varied from just Buck and you to spend it with Eddie and Christopher.

Everyone could see Buck had developed feelings for you and vice versa. Unlike the man Buck used to be, he was cautious. He wanted to do this right. And Buck did. With the help of Christopher, he asked you out.

Months Later

Buck’s eyes fluttered open in the dim lighting of your new home’s bedroom he often found himself in. Before, you had alternated staying at his apartment or yours before a significant change happened. Luke moved in to finish his senior year with the help of your tutoring, as agreed with your parents. That led to you giving up your former home, the one that coincidentally Buck’s sister Maddie had rented from you.

“Luke! You better be awake!” Your voice came from the main floor of the home. Your voice alone seduced the firefight to leave the warm sheets.

His bare feet pattered down the hardwood floor stairs into the kitchen coated in all different kinds of breakfast food. Waffles to imported maple syrup to bacon spread across the counter.

“Morning,” Buck grumbled, stepping up behind you to tug you against his chest.

Unlike Buck’s softer footsteps, your little brother tore down the stairs like a stampede of elephants. Luke wore a vintage band shirt modified sleeveless; you’d be getting a voicemail about dress code violations. The chains hanging off his black jeans.

“You have to hurry, Lu. Buck and I can’t be late. He needs to get to his apart-”

“I don’t see why he doesn’t just move in. He’s here almost every night. He helps buy groceries.” Luke’s hazel eyes stared at the plate he towered food on.

Buck raised one eyebrow in response, “You just moved in. You should be settled before we make-”

“Dude. Your lease is up in like a month; just move in already. No feathers will be ruffled. Besides, the band’s taking off now that Nick got his dad Ryan to check our music out.” Luke sprouted with a beaming smile at the good news his new band received.

After Luke had recovered from that coma, he’d woken up in a world where Alex, Reggie and Bobby, no Trevor, now continued the band. Then when Alex and Reggie couldn’t go on, the rhythm guitarist betrayed Luke. He stole every song he could get his hands on and proved successful.

“Ryan Evans, right? His sister’s some bigshot on Broadway? Sharpay, right?” You questioned recalling in the early 2000s the success of Sharpay and Ryan in some kind of Disney films based on them.

“You’re about to be the sister and brother-in-law of a certified rockstar.” Luke’s attempt at smirking made him look like a chipmunk with full cheeks of food, “I don’t need a ride. Alex’s picking me up.”

“Straight to school, Luke. You’ve got two weeks left before you can leave that behind.” Buck pointed his coffee cup in the direction of the passionate musician. Luke returned a smile of acknowledgement.

The kitchen was quiet as Luke shoved as much food in his mouth in such little time while you watched. In a flash, he’d stuck his dishes in the dishwasher before sprinting out to the van beeping continuously.

“Think we can have you moved in by tomorrow? Your one-bedroom place will be a little cramped for five people.” You simply spoke as you rinsed your coffee cup out. You could hear the wheels in Buck’s brain turning as he thought.

“Five people?”

“Yeah. Luke, Albert, me, you and baby Buckley.”

The entire home went completely still as the announcement bled into the house you’d made a home. One hand resting against the smoothness of your belly. That hand covered by the calloused one of Buck’s. His blue eyes gleaming in utter adoration and excitement.

“Baby Buckley?” Buck marvelled, turning you to face him with tears running down your cheeks, “You’re pregnant?”

“I am. I guess we’re giving Maddie’s daughter a cousin.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now I’m obligated to see your parents regularly, and I still grimace at the first introduction.” Buck winced, recalling the foot in mouth syndrome he’d developed.

Buck had never been as nervous as in this moment. Not when he had to tell his parents the first time he got kicked out of college. Or when his teenage self sat beside one of his flings waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. Not even on his first date with Abby.

“You’ll be fine.” You soothed the anxious man standing by your side on the doorstep of your childhood home. The door opened, revealing Luke standing with a grimace, “Oh Mom, made you wear that.”

Luke had been stuffed into one of the only long-sleeved shirts he owned by your mother. It was a magenta maroon hued corduroy shirt and set off his chocolate hair perfectly. Apparently, your mother hadn’t been able to get him into a pair of pants that weren’t skinny, black or ripped.

“We’re meeting your boyfriend, not the damn Pope-”

“You wouldn’t be wearing that if the Pope was involved.” You retorted, stepping to tug the younger Patterson into your arms. The only thing you adored about your little brother was he never denied a hug. Physical touch is his love language, so he never went through a phase.

“Lucas, don’t let them freeze on the front porch!” Emily shouted from within the Patterson home. Luke rolled his eyes at his mother’s request.

“Luke, this is my boyfriend, Evan Buckley. Buck, this is my not so little brother Luke.” You swiftly introduced the most important males in your life.

Luke and Buck got along better than any previous partner you’d brought home. He got along with your parents really well. Even when he slightly embarrassed himself as the time came to go home, whether it was his place or yours. He kissed your mother’s cheek and shook hands with your father.

“No offence, but thank you for having a heart attack and a coma. If you hadn’t, I’m sure I would have never met Y/N.”

Luke snickered at Buck’s odd choice of words, as did your parents. A part of Buck dreaded the next time he’d see your parents.

The gentle press of lips against your cheek pulled you from your thoughts of the first family dinner. Despite the issues between Luke and your parents, they were great people and parents; Buck had felt like he finally fit in. Even with that awkward thankful he gave your brother and dad, he was family the minute Mitch and Emily saw the mutual looks.

“How are we gonna do this?”

“Well, as the pregnant one, I’ll carry the little Bean until it’s time for them to enter the world. Then we’ll-”

“I get that but with our jobs?”

You felt guilty at the dread of not getting to do what you love, but you were excited, “I’ll keep working as a paramedic. I’ll stay away from fires, and then I’ll go on mat leave. We’ll make this work, Buck.”

Buck leaned down to rest his forehead against yours with his eyes closed, envisioning how life was about to change. Buck adored children. He had loved Christopher from the moment he’d first met him. Buck himself was a kid at heart.

“I didn’t think I could fall more in love, but you continue to surprise me each time,” Buck murmured with that gorgeous smile that utterly melted your heart from the first time you saw it. Back when you tried to deny any feelings beyond friendship.

“We’re so lucky to have you, Evan Buckley.” You breathed as you leaned up to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Although it was mostly clashing of teeth with the matching wide grins on your face.

“This little girl is gonna be a heartbreaker but no boyfriends or girlfriends until they’re thirty.” Buck declared, tugging you into his arms. His blue eyes twinkling in the natural lighting.

“It could be a boy.”

“Or maybe neither. Boy, girl or non-binary, I’ll love them just as much.” Buck spoke once more.

Gideon Buckley was born in the early morning to the pride of his parents and extended family. He was a healthy solid 8 pounds with sparse dark blonde hair and the trademark grey-blue newborn eyes. You everyone but Buck and your surprise Gideon wasn’t alone. Grace Buckley followed her older twin brother eight minutes later.

You rested against the propped up pillows spent from the exhausting hours of labour, but it was worth it. The two tiny babies snuggled beneath the swaddling blanket concealing your bare chest. Skin to skin contact was absolutely the best part of being a parent.

“Did you steal a baby?” Chim joked upon entering the hospital room with Maddie in tow. Right behind them were your parents and Luke.

“I’d like you to meet our twins Gideon and Grace Buckley. Surprise!” Buck quietly cheered in the nearly silent room. Buck’s curated newly parents playlist gently playing in the background.

Mitch and Emily came closer to look at the little loves they proudly got to claim as their first grandchildren. Emily’s heart melted upon hearing Gracie coo in her sleep. Grace and Gideon’s fist pressed against each other.

“Congratulations.” Maddie breathed, bending to catch a peek at the twins’ faces.

“Luke. Would you like to meet your goddaughter and godson?” You questioned the nervous musician. The nineteen-year-old tiptoed his way to the hospital bed.

“I’m both their godfather?” Luke choked as soon as Buck gently transferred Gideon onto his uncle’s chest.

“There’s no one else in the world I’d choose to help guide them in the right direction. You always found your way back onto the right path. You’ll do the same for them.” Buck answered with Gracie nestled on his chest.

Buck was the first to hold them followed by you and then their godfather Luke.

Gid and Gracie, although unseen, had been in Luke’s graduation pictures and watched as Julie and the Phantoms signed with a record label. Where Gid was, Luke wasn’t far beyond; the special bond melted everyone. Likewise with Gracie and Alex.

Gid overall was a happy baby compared to Grace. Loved visiting the firehouse. Loved the people working with their father and previously their mother. For the entire first year of Gideon and Grace’s life, you stayed at home with the utter support of Buck.

“First day back.” Hen spoke from beside you on the bench in the women’s change room. As a fellow mother, she’d been watching your behaviour.

“I miss them. I feel guilty that I abandoned them-”

“Okay, your feelings are valid, but you aren’t abandoning Gideon or Grace. You’re teaching them that you can be a great mom while also being a badass firefighter. I was the same when I went back to work after we got Denny.”

“Do you ever wish you could be a stay at home mom?”

“I love Denny with my entire heart, but I couldn’t do that. I was meant to be a paramedic firefighter as much as Denny’s mother. Besides, I can see Maddie pushing in the double stroller.”

Your head snapped to see your sister in law beaming with the double stroller carrying Gideon and Grace. Maddie’s daughter sitting on the seat made for a toddler. Maddie and Chimney had come to a decision for Maddie to work part-time.

Hen watched as you bounded out of the changeroom in uniform to scoop the twins into your arms. In a split second, Buck was down the stairs cooing at the absolute loves of his life. His partner and two children.

Buck would forever be grateful for finding his way to the 118, where he found his true family. A place of acceptance, love, trust and loyalty. Buck found his place in the world, and that was beside you.

Tag List(s): (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#evan buckley imagines #evan buckley x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #patterson!reader x brother!Luke Patterson #sunset curve #911 imagines #911 oneshots #oliver stark #evan buckley oneshot #luke patterson #jatp au #jatp modern au #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #911 imagine #caitsy and ash productions

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leatherednlace · 3 years

Text

Hot Pink

Any Fandom Kink/Any Fandom Goes Bingo Squares Filled - Lingerie/Sugar Daddy AU

Pairings - Sugar Daddy!Zemo x Male reader

Word Count - 1.4k

Summary - You please to impress, so when your sugar daddy buys you some pretty lace panties, you put on a show

Tags - NSFW+18, MxM, Smut, Dom!Zemo, Sugar daddy!AU, Dom!Zemo, Lingerie, Panties, Kissing, Rough anal, Raw, Slight Praise, Zemo being rough, repeated use of “Pretty boy”, Aftercare

A/N - Finally my first Zemo fic, Please enjoy!

Taglist - @myybebe @superfanficnatural @wonder-cole @flamencodiva @reborn-rekall @syven-siren

Ratings - 18+

Created for: @anyfandomkinkbingo @anyfandomgoesbingo

——————————————————————————

“Liebe?” Zemo questions, trudging through your shared home, placing the box he had in his hands.You immediately whisked yourself around the corner, a playful smirk on your face.

“Yes daddy…” you trail off, awaiting a response as you look up into his darkened eyes, lust filled, he wanted nothing more than to ravish you right now. You looked tired, hair stuck up in many directions, a weak smile…Zemo found it a rather attractive sight.

Looking down at you he smiles, lips turning up as he picked the small box up.Your curiosity peaked as he places it in your open arms, watching your features turn in confusion.

“What is it?”, you shook the box, hearing nothing but the slight rustling of the paper within. Zemo adored the way you seemed to be so occupied by a plain old box, he couldn’t wait until you opened.

“You always spoil me Zemo…” he chuckles, a gloved hand cupping your cheek as he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip. “I spoil you because I can…because you deserve all the pretty things in the world”.

You blush at the comment, he always referred to the beautiful things he bought you to your appearance, no one can match your beauty…nobody. Taking away his hand you whine at the loss of contact.

“Go ahead pretty boy, open the box” he whispers cockily, much like his aura you enjoyed his attitude, it was something that you found attractive about him. Your fingers eagerly pull the lid open, revealing nothing more then Hot Pink laced panties.

You couldn’t help the blushing, once again your cheeks now heated. You shy away, smiling to yourself as your fingers trail over the soft material. Zemo watched, anticipating your reaction. Nothing prepared him for the tight hug you supplied.

Your free arm wraps around him, face snuggling into the crook of his neck. “These are perfect…daddy” you whisper, hearing him growl had you smirking against his neck, his hands wrapping around your back, holding you close for a few seconds.

“Go and change into them, put a show on for Daddy” he whispers. You squeak, pulling away and running into your room. Zemo smirked at the reaction as he himself starts to undress, his combat boots and trousers discarded in the corner of the room, yanking his black turtle neck off reveals his hairy chest, he kept it untidy just for you, knowing how much you loved running your hands through it.

His naked form stands, looking at the jacket he wears daily on the floor brings back many memories of your pretty pleads for him to keep it on during your alone time together…he does just that. Placing his jacket back on, the material wrapping around his body like a blanket.

He sits on the couch, his whole body on show, hands resting on the back of the couch, legs spreading, anticipating for you to come out the door.

“Close your eyes!” You shout through the closed doors, Zemo does as told, eyes closing as he laid back into the couch, shaft twitching at your words and the cold air, a mix of emotions.

The sounds of the door unlatching changed the atmosphere almost immediately, Zemo moving slightly, knowing you were standing before him only wearing those panties and those panties alone. You walk ever so slowly over to him, eyes averting to his semi-hard erection stood between his legs.

Smiling, you crawl into his lap, a groan escaping his lips as you place your legs either side of his thigh. Snuggling back into the crook of his neck, his aftershave filling your senses had you breathing deeply.

“Open”

His hazel orbs settle on your cheeky grin, smiling already at your nakedness. Gazing downwards is when he could feel himself twitch once again, this time at the sight of you in those pretty lace panties.

“Oh darling…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, enjoying the sight before him. You were timid, not all that confident but in front of Zemo it was a different story, always so willing to please.

He kisses you, catching you off guard, hands coming up to press your lips closer, the space between the two of you non-existent, body’s pressed against one another as you grind your already hard member against his thigh.

The kiss lasts longer than usual, his tongue clashing with your own, deepening it as his hands now travel down your arms to your hips, forcing you to rock back and forth. A whimper sounds out into the big room which had Zemo stop his activities.

Darkly, he watches you, eyes scanning your body always glancing back to the lingerie. “You look so handsome in them Liebe” he growls, nipping at your jaw. That was enough to push up from his lap, moving to the otherside of the couch as you lay flat on your stomach, arching your body, ass up face down.

Zemo’s features were alluring, licking at his lips he moves into position, knowing all you wanted was for him to fuck you good, it’s what sugar daddies do right?

“Always so willing to please me pretty boy” he growls impotently, losing every will in his body to hold back, large calloused hands carefully pulling aside the pink panties, showing off your hole.

Nothing could prepare you for his assault, flicking his coat back he rested his hairy chest against the flat of your back, it tickled you slightly with every movement, his head resting on your shoulders. Spreading your cheeks he thrusted up into your tight heat.

You let out a satisfied mewl at the instant pain, the sheer thickness of his cock stretching you wide, the stinging pain growing as each inch is accommodated into you, but the pleasure as the tip prodded your Prostate already had your thighs trembling.

You grasp at the couch cover, knuckleheads turning white as Zemo sheaths himself fully inside, balls pressed up against your round cheeks. You arch your back as you feel him pull out slowly. He brings a hand to pull your legs further apart pushing back into you with a snap of his hips.

“How’s it feel?” Zemo half moans, half growls, already losing himself in your hole. Your lack of speech has Zemo once again smirking, his hips meeting yours once again as he stretches you out well, filling you entirely.

His hands move down to wrap around your hips, a grip sure to leave bruises, even handmarks. He’s fucking you with eagerness, a string of curses escaping his lips as he fucks up into you now setting a brutal pace.

One of his sweaty palms grip onto your panties, tugging on the material as it scraps against your sensitive cock head, pre-cum soaking the lace at the front.

A whine tells Zemo he’s doing a good job, his thrusts now hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the tip of his cock delicious brushing past it with each thrust. The sounds of skin on skin echoing off the walls and in your ears had your head spinning.

“D-Daddy” you groan, eyes screwed shut tightly as you cum, this spurs him on, his thrusts impossibly quicker as he aims to send you into overdrive whilst chasing his own orgasm.

“Always a good boy for daddy” the material of his jacket brushes past your hips, your body twitching as you bask in the bliss of your orgasm. Continuous moans left his lips as he too was close, you could tell by his thrusts and how sloppy he’s gotten.

He thrusts harder than before and you watch his face contort as he removes the hand from your lingerie, it now settled over your soaking bulge, it’s too much for you and with a whimper and a cry of his name you’re climaxing in his hand, you tighten which was enough to send him over the edge, reaching his peak quickly after you, spilling his seed into your hole.

His body collapses into your own, his sweaty chest clinging to your back as he silently moans into your ears, load after load covering your insides.

He kisses along your neck, over the mark he left a while back, you flinch at the contact but remain lazily flopped against the couch cover, your semen soaked panties sticking to your soft shaft.

You feel him pull out, chest lifting from your back, cum dribbling from your fucked out puffy hole, Zemo watched with a smirk, fingers coming slowy up to push his cum back in, toying with your entrance.

“You did me proud Liebe” he passionately whispers into the air making you smile shyly…he really knew how to treat a man.

#anyfandomkinkbingo #x male reader #male reader #baron zemo #zemo #tfatws #smut

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Dᴏꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴏ Dɪꜱᴄɪᴍᴜꜱ

The reader tries to paint the Colossal Titan from memory, and Bertholdt seems to know more than most people.

Requested: no.

Word Count: 2092

Docendo Discimus is a Latin proverb meaning "by teaching, we learn." It is perhaps derived from Seneca the Younger, who says in his Letters to Lucilius: Homines dum docent discunt., meaning "Men learn when they teach”.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The human body is home to somewhere between six hundred and eight hundred muscles. There are two hundred and six bones, seventy-eight organs, one hundred thousand miles of veins, and roughly ten pints of blood. Every individual cell has a purpose, important and needed for the body to continue to function.

Assuming the anatomy of a titan was the same to that of the average person’s, the Colossal Titan should be easier to render than this. You’d sketched the face of muscle and teeth over a hundred times by this point, and each one of them seemed to draw further away from realism than you liked.

Sure, it was arguable that the Colossal just didn’t have the same anatomy in his face as the average human. But then there should’ve been more factors in his face that shouldn’t have worked.

For example, the monster didn’t possess a muscle called the orbicularis. You could remember that specifically from the time you and your fellow cadets had gotten a bit too close for comfort. But based on the lack of orbicularis, he shouldn’t have been able to blink. And yet, he had. There was also a strange muscle in his temporal region with horizontal fibers, that couldn’t have simply been his temporal. It doesn't seem to have any particular function, either.

God damn it. It’s appearance should’ve been the one thing about this bastard to make sense, but instead it had confused you just as much as the rest of it. Never mind how smart you were. If you couldn’t solve this simple turned complex mystery, why hold out hope for studying anatomy when the world would return to normalcy?

In your frustration, you slam the paintbrush back into your cup of water. A stain of red clouds erupts in the liquid at once, angry from how direct the solid hits the surface. In front of you, the canvas shines with the new layer of red paint. Beside it is a coat of salmon, also fresh and lined with the titan’s muscles.

“So stupid,” you hiss, half to yourself. You grab your cadet corps jacket, shrugging it on swiftly before crossing your arms and stepping back.

It was supposed to be a gift for Eren. He knew you were something of a painter and had once jokingly asked you to make a dart board for him. The moment you conceived this idea, you knew it had to be a stroke of genius. But you wanted to get it right, and for that, the artist and realist inside of you seemed to be punished for it.

Was it something with the eyes? No, it was definitely the anatomy of the titan overall. “For fucks sake,” you wave off finally, turning on your heel to walk away for a while. But when you turn around, you’re face to chest with one so broad you nearly stumble back.

The figure tenses up immediately. You tilt your head up to see who it is, recognizing the nervous, kaleidoscope eyes of your comrade. Bertholdt, you’re sure his name is. You haven’t talked too many times, but you’ve seen him in your circle of friends. There’s a memory in your brain of asking your bunkmate, Annie, about why Bertholdt would hang around someone so upstanding and obnoxious as Reiner, but you can’t recall her specific answer.

“O-oh, Y/N!” Bertholdt nearly wheezes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand so close.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your head as you step away. “What are you doing here?”

Yes, what was he doing here? A little closeted off room by the girl barracks? And aside from that, how does someone as tall as he even sneak his way inside? It’s suspicious, to say the least.

“I was just-” Bertholdt stares down at you, sweat already beginning to form on his face. Oh, goddess. How is he to get out of this one? If Reiner was with him, he could just lie his way out of it. But now, looking down at your apathetic, borderline tired, frustrated face, he knows he’s never had much luck with girls. Especially not pretty girls like you.

His gaze shifts to behind you. There, on a perfectly square parchment of thick paper, is a rough sketch of a long face without any skin. It seems to be all muscle, labeled and detailed. Half the sheet is colored in with pinks, browns, and scarlets, with the other half marked with insane little scribbled patterns that remind him of words.

You’re still waiting for an answer. He sees your steady, patient eyes and your balled fists by your hips, and Bertholdt wonders if you already know. “I saw you bring in those cans of paint, and I guess I got curious.”

“Oh,” you reply flatly. “Yeah. That.”

“It’s um...” Compliment her. Compliment her painting. “It’s a nice painting. What’s it supposed to be of?”

“The Colossal Titan,” you tell him as you rub the back of your neck. Then you turn on your side so you can view your art, immediately narrowing your eyes in disgust at it. “It’s not my best.”

Bertholdt’s words come out a bit louder than he intended. “Actually, I think it’s really, really great, Y/N!”

You turn back to meet Bertholdt’s nervous, almost quivering eyes. You certainly wouldn’t call yourself an expert on the male gender, but this tall bastard was exactly the stereotype of someone who wasn’t an expert on the female gender. It was almost funny. No, it was almost ironic.

“I just mean that... it’s really good. It’s easy to see that you have heaps of talent,” the brunette reiterates, seemingly calmer this time.

What a nice thing to say to someone.

“That’s not really my point though,” you borderline sigh. “The point is that no matter what I seem to do to him, it doesn’t seem realistic does it?”

“What do you mean by that?” Bertholdt questions, his eyebrows furrowing. That’s right, he wouldn’t be able to squint without his orbicularis. Something your art model was currently lacking.

Do you even bother to explain it to him? It’s not like either of you are close, or like he’d exactly understand what you were saying to him anyway. But where was the harm, really?

You walk back towards the parchment, with Bertholdt just a few steps behind.

“See this area?” you ask, gesturing to the Colossal Titan’s eye area. “There's a muscle here that’s supposed to let people close their eyes. But the colossal titan doesn’t have that.”

“W-why is that?”

You shrug. “Damned if I know. But doesn’t it look wrong on him?”

Bertholdt observes the painting. He sees all the details, all the time you’ve put into it. While you are right about the image and the titan’s strange features, it’s now that Bertholdt realizes just how intelligent you really are. Unlike other people, you actually knew things. If he were an enemy, he might be starting to feel threatened right about now. Ironic indeed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” the boy says shyly. “Why does it have to be perfect, though?”

Good question.

“No real reason,” you tell him, trying to hide the hint of smile. “I guess it’s just how it is. Eren is the one who asked for this.”

“O-oh... you mean like a...”

Your eyes flit back to Bertholdt. “Like a what?”

Bertholdt can feel the sullen wave of anxiety wash over him. He hadn’t meant to let the stray thoughts fall from his lips, but now he can’t take it back. Now what does he say? “I just mean, is it a gift or something like that?”

“Sure.”

Were you and Eren...?

“I might be able to help you with it,” Bertholdt stutters, again, louder than he’d intended. He’s lucky at least one of you is level headed during this interaction.

“How so? Do you paint?”

“No, but I think I might know some things about the Colossal that you don’t,” Bertholdt offers. His right arm reaches behind to rub at his sweaty neck. In that instant, you can see that the boy has an almost identical structure to that of your subject. You’d have to note that the tall boy would make a brilliant model for something like this.

“Like what?” you question. “Could you give me some feedback on my piece then?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You were going to find out.

Bertholdt pretends to be in deep thought for a minute, knitting his dark eyebrows together. His green, blue eyes sweep over the picture, watching the slick settle. “Well, you’re right about the muscle around the eye. I’d take that out, but maybe place the shadow of it?”

“The shadow?”

“The outline. And maybe make his eyes more glossy than this. Titan’s have a second set of eyelids.”

You don’t have time to question him further. Bertholdt continues the onslaught of information.

“I think you should also make some of these areas here a bit lighter,” he says, pointing to the side of the Colossal’s face. “From the steam and the high body temperature, it would get a bit smoky.”

“Yeah,” you begin slowly, watching the shine in Bertholdt’s previously nervous eyes. “I hadn’t considered that.”

The lanky male in front of you lets his lips curl into a sheepish smile, closing his eyes as his fingers thread themselves between his hair. “I doubt most people do, so you’re not really in the wrong.”

“How do you know so much?” you ask. “You’ve been quiet with everyone up until now. Do the higher ups even know all this?”

“I mean, they’d have to right? I guess I just took a lot of notes in class.”

You hadn’t remembered your professor mentioning most of these things during your Titan Studies period. But maybe it wasn’t really worth questioning him over. Maybe Bertholdt was just more observant than you had ever really considered. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Your eyes are fixated on him. Bertholdt was kind of cute, actually. His eyes are both big and slim, with pale green orbs. His skin was always a bit illuminated with a nervous sweat, and he was incredibly mild mannered. But maybe that was actually a good thing compared to all the boys in camp who seemed to lack any conception of manners. Pouty, chapped lips, a gentle smile, messy dark hair. He seems like someone reliable. Kind. Trustworthy.

“Yeah,” you say again, breaking eye contact. “So, are there any other suggestions you have for me?”

Bertholdt is still for a moment, thinking it over. “No, other than don’t think so hard about it, probably.”

“You two sort of have a similar face,” you say, staring at the muscled beast you’d attempted to replicate. “Maybe you should pose for me sometime.”

Bertholdt tenses.

“I’m only joking,” you assure. Bertholdt’s broad shoulders fall as he relaxes, and a soft exhale leaves from between his lips. “But I would like it if you’d let me model after you.”

“Me?” Bertholdt stutters, shocked. “You mean you’d want to really paint me?”

“‘Course,” you say, nonchalant as always. “You’ve got one of those faces.”

Bertholdt smiles naturally. Soft, but noticeable. You return it after a few seconds, feeling your previous frustration and anger at the piece begin to wander away.

“I should get back to work,” you say as you turn around. Bertholdt watches you unclip the parchment from your sturdy easel, place it on the stone floor, and grab another paper from a pile.

“Y-you’re starting again?”

“Of course,” you say. Your dominant hand laces around a piece of charcoal, preparing to drag it across the page. In one swift and scratchy motion, an onyx line appears at the top of the paper.

Bertholdt’s cheeks dust pink from behind you. He’s about to offer if you want him to pose for you so you can memorize what’s underneath his shy skin, but he stays quiet. Instead, Bertholdt is happy that he even got to speak to you in the first place. He wanders out of the room with butterflies in his stomach, and guilt in his heart.

And you, with your eyes narrow, basing the monster that ruined your life off the boy who had just helped you.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I didn’t proof read this. I feel like I’ve just been cranking stuff out lately. someone remind me to go back and edit thank you

#bertholdt x reader #bertholdt imagines #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertholdt fubar x reader #bertholdt fubar imagines #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin masterlist #aot masterlist

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raibebe · 4 years

Text

Invoke

Genre: Mystery? Thriller? Slightly gore? With some fluff? And eventual smut? Words: 13.315 Prompt: Warlock Yuta, familiar Ten, female reader Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of religion, blasphemy (our warlock doesn’t like the church and made a deal with the devil), blood, devil summoning, murder with magic, actual murder

A/N: This has a couple of darker themes, if you’re sensitive to any of them, please be careful or just sit this fic out and don’t read it. The abuse is only implied and is not happening to any of the main characters. This seriously went out of hand and holy fuck I love warlock Yuta?? Thank you so much for requesting this @def-sol! Ruby I loved this idea so much, I hope you enjoyed this. The beautiful moodboard is by @min-inu as always, thank you darling! Another big thank you to @burtonized, Jo you’re the real MVP for listening to me whine all day long.

Warlock: A male practitioner of witchcraft. The word comes from the Old English word wǣrloga meaning “oathbreaker” or “deceiver”. The terms were associated with witches and warlocks as they were seen as someone who made a pact with the devil and thus had betrayed the Christian faith and broke their baptismal vows.

It was a rainy autumn afternoon, the clouds had sunken into the valley your hometown was located in and covered everything in a layer of grey fog, washing away every color. You adjusted the hood of your cloak to shield yourself from the moisture after you stepped out of the little bakery you worked at when you heard the hooves of multiple horses on the beat up street that lead to the little town. Knowing that nothing good ever came from those horseman, you quickly hid the loaf of bread in your ratty coat and headed to the town square. A small crowd had already gathered when one of the knights pulled loose what seemed to be a lump rolled into a cloth from his horse that fell to the ground with a low thud. Only when it started to move, you felt the horror creep up your back. A couple of people quickly scrambled to see what was inside the cloth, even though you all already knew it. Beneath the thick linen, a girl’s face was revealed. You hadn’t known her when the knights had taken her with them just a couple of weeks prior but you could feel nothing but sincere pity for the girl. Her face was unnaturally swollen, her skin more the color of violets than her actual skin tone, blood clinging to her features and she was shivering in the arms of one of the women, completely silent. You turned your back towards her, not wanting to see the state the rest of her body must be in. The last girl that had come back from the royal court had only lasted a week before she had died due to the multiple injuries she had. She also hadn’t spoken a single word. But everyone had known what that men of the court must have done to her in the castle that overlooked the little valley, sitting high up on a nearby hill.

The knights just kept sitting in their saddles, completely unfazed. How could a person be this cold? How could they just follow the orders from their sires to keep taking girls away from their families to bring them back broken and beat, unable to continue to live a normal life? And how was no one doing anything against this? Why were the lords of these lands above the law? Why didn’t the priests do anything with all the power they had? The sight made you sick to the stomach and you couldn’t stand to look at the scene even a second longer, walking back to your home, trying to ignore the screams of the girl the knights must have picked out to take with them. You grabbed the cross hanging around your neck tightly and spoke a prayer to protect the girl from the worst.

That night you couldn’t fall asleep, your thoughts twisting and turning inside your head. Your anger towards the royals only grew more and more with each girl they took with them and you were sick of everyone just accepting their fate. The girls lived in fear that they would be the next one taken and the fathers and mothers were desperate to keep their daughters safe, praying every evening inside the small church. But with every day that passed you lost faith in your god. How could a just god let all of this happen? And the people of the town alone couldn’t do anything to stop this abuse. If they would speak up, they wouldn’t even be able to finish their words because their head would be rolling from their shoulders as soon as they opened their mouths.

Sighing, you rolled onto your back, staring at the holes in the ceiling. You refused to accept that you should patiently wait until the knights unfortunately picked you to take you to the castle where the royals would completely break you, shattering your being to the core. There must be a way to stop all of this. To put an end to the injustice that was happening. When the new lord had been initiated, he had sworn with his hand on the Sacred Scriptures that he would protect the people caring for his lands. If this was what him caring looked like, you didn’t even want to know what it would be like if he was turning a blind eye. It really seemed like you and your town needed some supernatural help or otherwise the royals would just keep playing with the lives of their subjects like they meant nothing.

That was when an idea shot into your head, making you sit up in your bed. After the last girl had come back and the healers of your village hadn’t been able to arrest her bleeding and the prayers of the priests hadn’t helped either, her mother had sneaked away to find a man that lived alone in the woods who was rumored to be gifted with certain powers that allowed him to give and take life. Of course the mother had to do it in secret; if the priests ever found out about that man, he would be burned on the town’s square just like the red haired woman who had wanted to travel through the town. Sometimes you could still hear her screams when the flames ate away her flesh. The next night you had seen a figure wearing a dark cloak sneaking into the home of the family. Curious as to what was going to happen you had sneaked over as well, watching the scene through a crack in the back door: The man had sat down on the bed of the girl and took off his hood to reveal long unruly strands of a red brighter than you had ever seen. He had spoken a couple of words in a language unfamiliar to you, keeping his voice level and his gaze down towards the girl. After a while, the girl had begun to shake and thrash only to suddenly stop mid movement before deflating back onto the mattress. The man then had let out a deep sigh before he put the hood of his cloak over his head again. He only said four words to the parents on his way out: “Her struggle is over.” When the parents ran to the body of their daughter, he had picked up a bundle the father had set up on the desk and left without looking back. That night you could hear the mother cry until the sun crawled over the trees of the forest again and the nature came back to life to cover her pain with beautiful symphonies.

That man had liberated the girl from her injuries and pain by taking her life just from talking to her. He must have some special powers people attributed to witches and warlocks. He must be powerful enough to help you. And if the family of that girl was able to pay him to use his abilities in their favor (even if it hadn’t turned out how they wanted to), he must also have a price for killing the royals. Or at least send them a warning. You had to find this man and at least try to win him over. As far as you were concerned he might be your only chance to put an end to this.

After a rough night of twisting and turning in your scratchy sheets, you got up more determined than ever to find the mysterious warlock. You quickly got dressed in your warmest cloak and left the house you had rented your room in, sneaking past your snoring landlord who smelled like he had spent his night in the tavern yet again, drinking too much and then lusting after the skirts of women that were way too young for him. You couldn’t help but feel relieved when you left the house and could breathe in the fresh air of the morning. Once your lungs were filled with air smelling like a mixture of freshly cut grass and baked bread, you turned to leave the town. You had no idea where exactly you could find the man. But rumors about him had traveled around the town since the day you were born. Coming to think of it, he seemed to have been around for as long as you could think which didn’t match with how young he had seemed to be when you got that glimpse of him a couple of weeks prior. But the priests always preached that those who had broken their vows and abandoned the right path had many different wicked tricks to disguise their true form.

Mindlessly you followed a trail that lead deeper into the woods and away from the fields where the workers were cultivating different plants both for themselves and for the damned royals. If the priests had never bothered to pay the man a visit, he must live in a place they couldn’t reach, up higher the hill where the paths were narrow and steep. So those were the paths you were taking, paying attention to never lose your footing and keeping your eyes open for anything suspicious.

You were about to give up when the underbrush became thicker and thicker, clearly untouched when you heard the jingle of what seemed to be a little bell. Why would there be a bell ringing in the middle of the forest? Cautiously you listened and crept closer to what seemed to be the source of the noise. It wasn’t long until you found the cause: A small black cat was rubbing its head against a branch in what seemed to be an attempt to get the collar off but it was wrapped too tightly around its throat. “Do you need some help, little one?” You softly asked as to not startle the feline. The cat immediately stopped whatever it was trying to do and stared up at you from big, amber eyes. You carefully approached it and kneeled down, slowly extending your hand towards it so it could see that you meant no harm. After it carefully eyed you up and down, the cat crawled over to first sniff your fingers before it pressed its head into your palm. Giggling you scratched it behind its ears which earned you a loud purr. “Let me get that collar off of you,” you murmured, carefully tipping the cat’s head so you could examine the leather band the bell was fastened onto. With nimble fingers you undid the intricate knot and the cat could slip out of it. Once it was free, it curved its back and hissed loudly at the little object resting in your palm. “You really didn’t like that bell, huh?” You smiled. “Who do you belong to, little one? I’m looking for a man with red hair. I was hoping he could help me with a problem.” Why were you talking to a cat? It wasn’t like it could understand and lead you to the warlock.

Strangely enough the cat crooked its head as if it was listening to your words and thinking about what it should do. “Do you know him and can take me to him?” You asked carefully, eyeing the cat carefully. It meowed loudly before it got up to disappear deeper into the underbrush. You sighed deeply. Of course the cat had neither understood you nor would it be able to help you. Whether you liked it or not, you might had to ask the family who had lost their daughter where you could find the warlock. It was useless to stray through the forest like this, hoping to stumble upon a house or the man himself. You were about to turn around when another rather annoyed sounding meow tore through the sounds of the forest and a pair of amber eyes looked at you from the bush the cat had jumped into. “Are you trying to help me find him?” You disbelievingly asked the cat who actually rolled its eyes at you. When did a normal cat ever roll its eyes? Could cats even roll their eyes? What was happening? Before your thoughts could spiral any further, the cat made its way through the underbrush again, and you scrambled to follow the black creature, not taking chances of losing it between the bushes and trees.

Soon you reached a clearing the cat eagerly crossed, climbing onto a big stone surface in the grass where it curled up in the sun. Further back between a couple of big oak trees sat a small hut that surely had seen better times. “Where have you taken me?” You quietly asked the cat. Of course it didn’t respond, it just lazily turned its head towards the house where a figure clad in black clothes just emerged, their red hair reflecting the light of the sun that was peeking through the trees. “You little shit!” The person called, clearly a male voice, “How did you manage to get it off?” The cat didn’t even react to the screaming, just stretching its lithe body in the sun. “And who are you?” The man asked when he came closer, his green eyes so piercing it made you shiver. “I- Your cat showed me the way,” you stuttered. “That’s not what I asked, woman.” The warlock angrily crossed his arms in front of his chest and arched one of his eyebrows, waiting for an actual answer to his question. Taking a deep breath, you explained your situation to the man: Beginning with the story of how the knights kept kidnapping girls from your town and in which state they brought them back, if they brought them back at all. Then you told him how helpless the people were, how everyone with a daughter lived in constant fear that she would be next. You told him that you had seen him all those nights ago when he took the girl’s life to rid her from her suffering. Through all of it his face remained blank just the cat got up from where it was curled up, walking around its owner’s feet. “I need your help. We all do,” you ended your speech, “I know it’s within your powers to take lives. We need help getting rid of these royals. We can’t keep living like this, they will keep taking girls until there are no more left and I can’t just watch and wait until they take me. Please, we have no means of doing anything against them.”

“No.” “What do you mean no?” You asked the warlock who had scooped up his lithe cat into his arms and turned to walk back into his house. “I’m not doing it. It’s no use to interfere with royals, they never change.” “But you could help the whole town. We are being terrorized, every week the guards come and take another girl with them and they either never come back or they are so traumatized they can’t even speak about whatever has happened to them and we can only tend to their wounds. I am begging you,” you pleaded but the warlock didn’t turn back around, only his cat seemed to listen who had climbed onto his shoulder, looking at you from its big amber eyes. “I’ll do anything. Take me, take my body, I don’t care. I just don’t want them to break me.” “Anything you say?” The man asked, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t want them to have control over my body,” you whispered, “You can’t do anything worse to me than what the royals are doing to those girls.”

After a beat of silence, the cat meowed loudly, jumping down from the man’s shoulder to walk over to you again, cocking its head as if it was evaluating you. “I’m not going to do it,” the warlock repeated but before you could protest, he turned around again, locking his piercing green eyes with yours, “But I am going to teach you so you can do it yourself.” “It’s not going to be nice or easy,” he continued, looking you up and down once, then twice, “Take that thing off, we won’t need it where we are headed.” He motioned to the cross you had dangling around your neck; your only possession of any worth. “It has protected me from evil up until now,” you protested, closing your fist around it. “Woman. What did the priests tell you where me and my brothers and sisters have gotten our powers from?” The warlock asked, his green eyes almost glowing. You had never heard a man saying the word ‘priest’ with so much hatred and disgust. “They say you’ve made a deal with the... With the devil,” you stuttered. “For once that is a piece of truth that those fat men are speaking,” he snarled, “We are not born with these powers, we have to offer Satan a piece of ourselves in exchange for the powers he grants us with and he won’t be pleased to see that symbol of lies and oppression around your neck.”

For a while you stood still in front of the warlock who had come so close to you that you could count every single chain link on the chain that was hanging from the cartilage of his ear. “How badly do you want to make those good-for-nothing-royals to pay for what they have done?” He spoke lowly, lifting his hand to slowly caress your jaw. You took a shaky breath and met his eyes again. “More than anything in my life.” “Then this shouldn’t be a problem,” he rasped before he grabbed your necklace and ripped it straight off, throwing it into the woods. Shaking off the shock, you quickly followed him and his cat into the little house that seemed to burst from its seams: Herbs, candles and different bones hanging from the ceiling and sitting on almost every available surface.

“Just sit on the sofa and don’t distract me,” the warlock said, starting to rummage through drawers. “Are you going to tell me your name?” You carefully asked after you had sat down on the only free space of the sofa, the cat quickly joining you, “In the town they just call you ‘the outcast’ if they speak about you.” The man snorted loudly. “I like that title but you can call me Yuta.” Yuta. You had never heard that name before. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” “I am not. Not that it is any of your business. I am just going to help you to get your revenge on those royals. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You nodded, idly stroking the black cat in your lap who had started purring loudly. You hadn’t expected the warlock to act like he did. You had come here expecting to bribe him with either money or even your body. It hadn’t fully sunken in that Yuta would turn you into a witch by making a deal with the devil. But you had a mission. You couldn’t just watch another girl getting taken by the knights to become a toy for some royal asshole that would throw her away like a broken shield. You really hoped that the whole process wouldn’t take long. The longer you needed to wait with your revenge, the more girls would get taken and never be the same again.

“What’s its name?” You asked curiously after you had been stroking the cat’s fur for a while. “He’s called Ten,” Yuta answered while grabbing different stones and skulls from the drawers of his giant cupboard that was covering the length of a whole wall. “Like the number?” “He’s the tenth child of a tenth child. Don’t underestimate him just because he looks like a cat.” “But what could he do?” You were confused. “A lot more than your mortal brain could imagine,” a smooth voice answered instead of Yuta’s and it took you a second before you realized it had been the cat who had spoken. “Did the cat just speak?” You squeaked. “I didn’t hear anything,” the warlock grinned and left the room to search for more ingredients. “He did just tell you my name, don’t go around calling me ‘the cat’ now,” the voice spoke again. You looked down to the cat that was curled up in your lap to find him looking right back at you with a stare that should have been way too intense for a mere cat. “How do you do that?” You whispered. “Does he know you can talk?” “You think he would survive out here on his own for years on end if he didn’t have me to talk to?” “But he said he doesn’t hear you.” “Because I am talking to you right now and not to him,” Ten stated as if this was the most normal thing in the world while he was cleaning his fur.

“Don’t believe anything he is telling you. Everything he’s telling you about me is made up,” Yuta said when he came back to the room, a dagger in his hands. “I sincerely hope you aren’t scared of blood because otherwise this is going to be difficult.” You swallowed dryly, looking at the size of that dagger, but slowly shook your head. Yuta’s green eyes fixated on yours for a couple of moments before he nodded, wrapping the dagger in a cloth with multiple questionable stains. “I’m assuming you have saved your virtue?” You felt the heat rise to your face at his question, never had you met such a man who would ask questions like that so directly and unashamed. “I- I have,” you stuttered, feeling the need to cover your burning cheeks. “That saves us a lot of trouble,” Yuta nodded, grabbing some more things that he had scattered around the house.

“We need to walk for a bit, I am not opening a gate to hell in my garden again. The smell is horrible to get rid of,” the warlock called after he had found everything he needed and had rolled it into a cloth for transportation. “The smell?” “Have you ever been present at a burning of a supposed witch? That’s the smell. But amplified,” Ten provided from his space on the sofa cushions. “Already scared?” Yuta asked with a smirk on his plush lips when he saw your scandalized expression. “No,” you answered, squaring your shoulders, “I’ll do whatever it takes.” “You better,” he grinned and opened the door of his home, leading you into the forest, further up the hill.

Soon you reached a little clearing where the soil seemed oddly burned where Yuta dropped his bundle of supplies. “You do this here often?” You asked curiously, looking around the area. “Opening a gate to hell? No. But sometimes it is fun to mess with demons,” he answered, winking mischievously, making your heart skip a beat. “Demons are a thing?” “Of course they are,” the warlock giggled, wiggling his eyebrows while pulling a smaller sachet from his makeshift bag, “Just stand in the middle of the burned area and don’t move.”

Nodding you followed his orders and watched him paint a perfect circle around you with the white powder from the sachet. After he had finished the circle, he painted lines through it, creating a pentagram. Satisfied with his work he pulled candles and crystals from his bag next, placing them at the edges of the pentagram and lighting the candles with a mere flick of his wrist. Next he grabbed a skull from his bag, placing it at your feet. “Now to the less comfortable part,” Yuta mumbled, pulling the dagger from its wrappings, “Hold out your arms and don’t move whatever happens. Your innocence is what keeps this whole thing from falling apart.” Slowly you held up your arms and he rolled up your sleeves. You prayed that he wouldn’t notice how you were trying to fight the way your arms were shaking but of course it didn’t slip his sharp eyes. “Nervous?” He grinned. “You are about to summon the literal devil, telling me I am what makes or breaks this ritual. Of course I am nervous,” you stammered, balling your hands to control the shaking. “Cute. Nervous about the ritual and not about losing your humanity for a petty revenge,” the warlock laughed. Before you could reply, he had quickly pulled the dagger across his palm without even batting an eye. “Now brace yourself.” He walked along the perimeter of the circle again, speaking in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice carrying a different weight than before, like he was speaking with multiple voices at once. When he had completed the circle, he closed off his wound with another flick of his wrist before walking towards you, still chanting the foreign words. Once he stood in front of you, he slowly raised the blade, locking eyes with you once before he dragged it over your exposed arms, making your blood seep from the cut.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the whimper inside that was trying to fight its way past your lips. You were not showing the warlock any more weaknesses than you already had; you could do this. Yuta kept his eyes to where more and more blood was coming to the surface, watching the droplets come together to drip off your arm. As soon as the first droplet hit the ground, the atmosphere around you changed: There were no more birds singing or wind ruffling through the leaves of the trees and it seemed to have gotten darker, almost unnaturally so, the candles supplying the only light on the clearing. A heartbeat later, the flames shot up high into the air, causing you to flinch. You fought your instinct to turn on the spot to run away. You needed to do this. Needed to do this for the sake of your town’s people. “Relax,” Yuta whispered into your ear, slowly turning your arms so the cuts were facing down, making more blood drop, “The devil is a lot nicer than the priests make him out to be.” You took a deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart which turned out to be a mistake: Your lungs were filled with the smell of burning air and sulfur, the smell so overbearing that you felt like you were suffocating. “Even breaths, in the mouth and out the nose,” Yuta whispered when he sensed your panic, gripping your arms tightly from where he was standing behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to even out your breathing while the scent of fire and burnt flesh got stronger with each breath you took. “Yuta, I can’t”, you heaved. “You can and you will,” he replied, voice stern, his nails digging into your skin. You tried to focus on the pain he was inflicting on you, the way the cuts stung and the way the blood was seeping from your flesh. You had no idea how much blood you had lost but your head was getting dizzy and your legs weak. “Don’t quit on me now,” you heard Yuta hiss through the fog that started to cloud your brain, “We’re almost there.” His grip on you tightened significantly when a loud crack resonated in the air not unlike to when a strike of lightning had hit its target. If it was possible, the smell only became more potent and the heat the candles gave off intensified tenfold. When you heard a deep rumbling laugh, Yuta turned your arms back around so the wounds on your forearms were facing upward again.

“My lord,” you heard the warlock speak, addressing whoever he had just summoned with the help of your blood. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, it was all too much: the heat, the smell and the stinging in your arms. If you were to see whatever was happening right in front of you, you were sure your brain would either forget how to breathe or how to keep holding your body up. You were already resting most of your weight on the warlock. “You brought me a new lamb,” a deep voice filled the space around you that seemed to come from every direction at once, covering you like a cloud. “Her cause is a noble one.” The voice chuckled. “Ready to give yourself over to me?” When you didn’t reply, Yuta pinched you again and you managed to squeeze out an affirmation even though your throat felt as if it was made out of sandpaper, your voice sounding gravely and foreign to your ears. “It’s over soon, my little lamb,” the voice rumbled, “I take good care of what is mine.” Whatever who you assumed to be the devil did next, filled your body with excruciating pain. It began from the cut in your arms and it felt like he had filled your veins with liquid fire that burned its way through your every fiber, taking over every thought in your brain. A silent scream left your lips and all you could remember before passing out were a pair of piercing green eyes and the smell of sulfur.

When you regained consciousness it was in the comfort of a soft mattress beneath a thick blanket. You carefully blinked your eyes open a couple of times, trying to get the herbs hanging from the ceiling into focus. Once you could make out the little flowers on the branch of lavender, you let your gaze wander. Opposite of you stood a big mirror in front of what you assumed was a closet made out of mismatched wood with intricate carvings. Yuta must have brought you back to his cabin. Which meant that you were currently laying in his bed. The thought made blood rush to your head and you instinctively hid yourself in the softness of the blanket even though no one was around to see you. Like this his smell invaded your senses. It was earthy yet spicy. Dangerous. You sighed and let the smell comfort you, closing your eyes again.

Your limbs still felt heavy but after checking quickly, the wounds on your arms were gone, not even the smallest scar left. How long had you been unconscious for? With how tired you still felt, it couldn’t have been for long, but the sun that was shining through the curtains told a different story. Outside you could hear birds chirping and if you focused just enough you could hear a cat meowing, probably Ten. Smiling you let your mind wander, letting the sounds of the animals relax you. But while you were counting your breaths to empty your mind, you couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. With every breath you took, you mind didn’t become more empty, instead you were feeling more and more: First it was just the way the blanket was scratching your bare arms and legs. Then you thought you were able to feel the herbs that were strung up to dry above your head. And somehow you could tell that Ten was no longer meowing in the garden, probably talking to Yuta but that he was walking towards the window of the bedroom.

You quickly opened your eyes and sat up straight in the bed just as his paws met the windowsill. “You’re awake,” his voice filled your head. You could just nod, staring at the cat in disbelief. How had you been able to predict that he was jumping into the room the exact moment that he did? “Feeling different yet?” Ten asked on, smoothly jumping onto the mattress. “Not really but you do,” you confessed. From up close he still looked the same but something was different. He felt bigger? Older? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But what you knew for sure now was that he wasn’t just a talking cat. Yuta had been right, Ten was much more than his body made it seem. “I’m still the same,” he chuckled, neatly folding his tail around his sitting form, “But you certainly are different.” “How can you tell?” “Just take a look at yourself.” Both scared and curious you looked up and met your reflection in the mirror but the eyes that were looking back at you, weren’t your own. Your image in the mirror eyed you with deep emerald green eyes and if the light was not tricking your eyes, your hair had changed color as well. It wasn’t as vibrant as Yuta’s but it was definitely red. “So it is true that witches have red hair,” you mumbled under your breath, raking your hands through your hair to feel the strands. “Most witches have red hair but not all with red hair are witches and warlocks,” Ten confirmed.

Just with Ten before, you had a feeling that Yuta would enter the room before the door moved to reveal his body. “It’s about time you wake up, little witch,” the warlock grumbled. Today he had his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strands of his unruly hair escaping it and curling at his nape. His piercing eyes scanned over your body quickly before he met yours. “Do you feel them yet?” “Feel whom?” “The energies around you,” Yuta replied as if it was a self-explanatory thing. When you kept quiet and just looked at him from big, unknowing eyes, he groaned and ran a hand over his face. “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.” “It would probably be easier, if you didn’t speak in riddles,” you mumbled under your breath but he must have caught it anyways. “Don’t give me this attitude or you won’t learn anything at all. I might be responsible for you now but I won’t feed you your lessons with silver spoon, you have to work for it. Starting now. Get dressed and meet me outside,” Yuta clarified and turned to left the room but halted in his steps. “And you won’t help her either, Ten. She needs to do this on her own.” Ten just meowed loudly and for some reason you could tell that he did not agree with how Yuta planned on training you. Were this the energies Yuta was talking about?

Once both the warlock and his companion had left the room, you quickly got dressed and headed outside only to find out that you were alone on the clearing. “Come on, this isn’t funny,” you groaned, looking around the house, “I didn’t come here to almost bleed out in a stupid ritual and then to be mocked.” But no one answered you. Yuta and Ten kept hiding. Wait, hiding? Why would they be hiding? Where did that thought come from? You let out a frustrated groan again and sat down on a patch of grass right in the middle of the clearing. “This is stupid, Yuta. I don’t know what to do,” you grumbled, picking at the grass and ripping out little pieces. But that did nothing to calm you down, it only got you more worked up for some reason.

“Take a deep breath and listen to your gut,” you heard Ten’s gentle voice resound inside your head. When you didn’t react and kept ripping out grass, he added: “Yuta is just as stubborn as you, he’ll not come out and I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” “This is so stupid!” You groaned again, letting your body fall back into the grass. When Ten didn’t answer, you took a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself back down. Why were you so irritated anyways? It really wasn’t like you. Closing your eyes, you started to count your breaths to calm your temper. That was when you felt it. Like a flame burning inside you: Bright and flickering wildly. Carefully you reached out to the flame and strangely enough it didn’t burn you, it felt welcome. Like coming home and you couldn’t help but smile. “Are you going to help me find Yuta and Ten?” You whispered. As if the flame was answering, it twitched slightly and calmed down a little. In turn you also felt calmer than you had been seconds ago. Taking another breath, you kept your eyes closed, focusing on the light your little flame shone and from your peripheral vision it seemed like there was another flame. It was a different color and seemed bigger than yours from what you could tell. Opening your eyes again, you quickly got up and walked over into the treeline where you had felt the flame.

“Are you going to throw a temper tantrum every lesson?” Yuta called you out when you had found him, lounging high in a tree eating an apple. You couldn’t fight the heat that crept up your neck, it had been rather childish in retro sight. “You gave me zero instructions,” you tried to rationalize it. “I didn’t have much more to go off from either when I gained my powers,” he argued and jumped down, “So lesson number one.” He patted down his pants once which did exactly nothing for the stains in the fabric before he placed his palm flat on your chest, making your breath hitch. “That in there is your energy. Get to know it. Learn how to read it. It’s where we draw our powers from, where every living being draws their energy from, they’re just not aware of it. If you concentrate and learn how to utilize it to your advantage, you’ll be able to feel other’s energies much more clearly and you will be able to manipulate them.” You nodded along with Yuta’s words even though you couldn’t quite grasp what it all would mean for you. “It’s overwhelming at first,” the warlock smiled, patting your chest before dropping his arm, “But I am here to help as long as you are willing to work with me and not throw a temper tantrum.” “Thank you,” you mumbled, smiling back at Yuta. “It’s thank you, master now,” he grinned. “Now go find Ten, I can tell he’s getting irritated.”

Nodding, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “His hiding spot is a bit far away, I’ll guide you,” Yuta promised, taking one of your hands in his and you felt warmth spread through your body, comforting you. Smiling, you took another breath. You could do this, if Yuta was there to guide you, you could learn to use your powers.

Over the course of the next days and weeks, you stayed with Yuta and Ten. The warlock taught you how to handle all the new things you were able to feel and how to manipulate the different energies around you. At night while you were lying on the little old mattress Yuta had dug up somewhere, Ten often joined you for some ear scratches and told you stories about old witches and warlocks who had become mad in their hunt for power or about incredible pioneers that had written the big spell books Yuta had yet to show you. You had gotten somewhat close with your master as well but you never quite understood him completely. One moment he seemed like he’d rather be literally anywhere else when you were struggling with molding the energies like he had both explained and showed you and the next moment he told you the most shocking made-up stories only to laugh at your face when you had actually believed him. But since he was the only other human you had contact with in a while, you grew attached to him quickly, always gravitating towards him even when he was doing mandatory tasks like cooking or cleaning (which admittedly wasn’t very often).

One rainy afternoon though, the warlock seemed more grim than usual. He had yet to teach you anything today; he had just asked you to grab a few herbs he was running low on. When you had asked Ten what was going on with Yuta, he had only given you a very cryptic answer before he had disappeared. “Something is different today,” you tried to initiate a conversation when the warlock wouldn’t talk to you while he was stirring something in a small cauldron over the fire. “What makes you think that?” “You haven’t taught me anything yet and refuse to talk to me. Ten is also nowhere to be found and he hates the rain.” “Wrong answer,” Yuta cut you off, “You’re still thinking like a regular human.” “I am still human,” you argued. At that your master just snorted, closing the lid on the copper cauldron louder than he needed to. “You’re so much more than just a human; you just need to finally acknowledge it. You came here seeking revenge on those who wronged your people and who abused their powers.” “And I still want them to pay for what they did to those girls.” “You want them gone.” It wasn’t a question. Yuta locked eyes with you: Piercing green meeting yours that were a little more muted. “They don’t deserve to keep living their lives like that. They need to be taught a lesson.” The warlock slowly nodded before he lowered the heat of the fire with a flick of his hand. “Get your cloak.” “Where are we going?” You asked, slipping on the thick fabric and following Yuta outside.

“You tell me,” he answered, motioning for the forest. “Stop toying with me.” “Use your senses, woman,” he spat, “Figure it out.” Huffing in annoyance, you closed your eyes, concentrating on your own energy that swirled inside your chest, feeling it like a small flame before you turned your eyes outward, feeling Yuta’s energy right next to you. His flame was bigger and seemingly less controlled than your own, a little deeper in color and burning hotter than yours. “Stop spying on me,” he spoke lowly, sounding almost amused. Slowly you expanded your sight, feeling the animals hiding from the rain beneath the leaves of the trees and in little caves, feeling the power of the stream that lead into the valley, feeling... Feeling something that was not right. “What is that?” You asked, trying to pinpoint where this energy was coming from. “You tell me,” Yuta spoke lowly, careful to not break your concentration. “Something isn’t right. Near the stream.” The warlock hummed, slowly approaching you to place a hand on your shoulder. Bit by bit you could feel the warmth of his powers mingle with your own, sharpening your senses, his energy guiding yours in the right direction. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only intensified but the comforting warmth of your master made you push further, looking for the source. “See it now?” “It’s a man,” you gasped, your senses almost recoiling when you found him. He was unlike any energy you had ever felt before. His energy felt off, you couldn’t quite describe it. “How does he feel?” Yuta’s low voice calmed you down again, encouraging you to look closer. “Wrong. Something is not right about him. His energy is small but it feels like it’s too warm. Like he’s about to burst.” “Do you know where he is?” “Near the bridge that leads to my town.”

“Alright,” Yuta spoke, sounding content with your analysis and you could feel his energy leave you, signalizing you to come back to the little house as well. Slowly you blinked your eyes open. “What is wrong with the man?” “He is not a good man,” your master spoke, “We’re going to kill him.” You wanted to protest, to tell him that you couldn’t just kill a man. But something, maybe a voice in the back of your head, told you that you could. And more importantly that you should. Wordlessly you followed Yuta to the path that would lead you towards the bridge.

“Remember what I told you about energies when you first felt them?” “We can neither create energy out of nowhere nor can we just make it disappear. We can just change the nature of the energy,” you recited dutifully. “And what does that tell you?” “We can’t rule over life and death.” “Not exactly,” Yuta agreed. “But you took that girl’s life when you came to heal her,” you argued. “I used up all the energy her body had left in it to heal the wounds that were hidden beneath her skin. I killed by healing her. After all her energy was used up, her heart stopped beating just like that.” “Is that what you’re going to teach me?” “No. that man’s body is healthy as far as I could tell,” Yuta shook his head, halting in his steps so you could meet his eyes again. “You might recognize him when we meet him. I need you to keep a level head and do exactly as I say or you might never get the revenge you want to get so badly.” You throat suddenly felt dryer than it had ever been and you tried to swallow down the feeling of fear that had begun to crawl up your spine.

“Swear that you’re going to do as I say,” Yuta pushed, holding out one of his arms. From what Ten had told you, Yuta was asking you to make an oath and those were not to be taken lightly. But you trusted Yuta. You trusted your master. He might have questionable methods to teach you certain things but he was a capable and strong warlock. Nodding, you held out your hand as well and he forcefully grabbed your forearm which you quickly copied. You could feel energy coming off of him, weaving around where you two were connected. “Say it.” “I swear I will do as you say as soon as we meet this man,” you said, your voice sounding deeper than it usually did, carrying a weight it only did when you tried to cast a spell. “And I will in turn swear to protect you and guide you through what we’re about to do,” Yuta promised, squeezing your arm tightly before his energy recoiled and he loosened the grip. “You’re going to make me kill him,” you breathed into the silence that stretched on. “I will,” he confirmed and turned around to keep making your way towards the strange man.

To say you were absolutely terrified was an understatement, your heart was hammering wildly inside your chest and you were sure Yuta must feel how unruly your energy was becoming. “Calm down,” he spoke, “Once you see him, you will feel differently.” “Can’t we start with something a little less drastic?” You pleaded. You weren’t ready for this. “What use does it have? You have learned everything you need to know about manipulating energies. The energy in humans is no different than the energy in a fire or in a plant and you’re doing well manipulating those. You’re ready for the next step.” “Yuta, I can’t,” you begged, swallowing down the taste of bile you suddenly had in your mouth. “You can and you’re going to,” he replied, a tone of finality in his voice, “Now be quiet, we’re almost there.” You had half a mind to scream so the man would run away when there wouldn’t be this voice in your head telling you that this man was no good. Taking a deep breath, you quickly followed your master until you arrived at the bridge, hiding between the bushes.

“He’s not far,” Yuta promised, “I’ll explain it once, listen closely: You will wait for him on the bridge. Make him stop so it’s easier for you to get a grasp on his energy. Just like you do it when you’re putting out a fire, you’re going to tug. Expect resistance because while every energy has the will to exist, human energy usually resists a little harder than just fire.” “What am I going to do with his energy?” You asked, proud that your voice wasn’t breaking. “It’s going to be a lot more energy than you can hold unlike with fires. You need to release it. Find something you can direct it to.” You bit your lip and nodded shakily. Sensing your discomfort, Yuta reached out and grabbed your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. “I’m right behind you. I swore to protect you. If you fail to redirect it, I’ll do it before it eats you alive. But I do not want you to not try. Keep a level head.” Taking a couple of beep breaths, you tried to calm down. Yuta must have his reasons he wanted you to kill this man. He wasn’t unjust. You trusted your master. “Now go out there and wait for him. Maybe stretch your senses to find something to redirect the energy to,” he smiled, making your heart flutter for completely different reasons.

Following your masters orders, you stepped out onto the bridge, pulling your hood further into your face so it would be obscured to the man and briefly stretched out your senses like Yuta had suggested. You could feel the weird energy of the man approach, accompanied by another energy that might belong to his horse. Other than that you couldn’t feel much. The safest way was probably to redirect the energy to the water flowing in the stream. You couldn’t think about any other possibilities because the sounds of hooves approached quickly, revealing the horseman. He abruptly stopped his horse when he saw you blocking his path. “Move!” He yelled but you didn’t budge. In fact you were frozen in place when you recognized the man.

He was one of the knights of the king. But not just any knight. Images from summer flashed your mind: The man had stayed at the inn when it was too late to make the travel back to the castle after he had laughed at the girl he had brought back. In the inn he had drunk enough for three men and boasted about what a great lover he was and that the women could never get enough of him. You felt rage rise inside you. This man was rotten to the core. Yuta had been right, he had no rights to live a comfortable life after he had destroyed the life of so many girls and women. “Move!” He called again but you stayed right where you were, slowly lowering your hood so he could see the dark red color of your hair. “A little witch bitch,” the knight spat, dismounting his horse, a big grin on his face, “The lord will be delighted when I bring you to him.” “You disgust me,” you growled, feeling your energy burn brighter inside you, itching to rip the rotten flame from this poor excuse of a man. Behind you, you could feel Yuta’s own energy shift but you paid it no mind. He wouldn’t interfere. This was your test.

The knight slowly approached you, step after step and you could already smell that he reeked of alcohol. “Stop right there,” you demanded, focusing on his energy. Against your expectation he actually halted in his steps before he started to laugh at you. That was it. You wouldn’t allow him to harm another person anymore. Determined, you reached out with your own energy, gripping his firmly and tugging just like you had learned it. The man promptly choked on his laugh, clutching his chest tightly, looking at you with wide eyes. His lips moved with silent pleas and it only made you feel more disgusted than you already were. How did he have the audacity to beg for forgiveness after all he had done? “You disgust me,” you spat before you tugged for a last time, feeling how the energy separated from his body that limply fell to the ground. A great sense of satisfaction filled you and you couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled from your chest. You could feel his energy course through and around you, seemingly growing now that it wasn’t trapped anymore, latching onto your body as it was the closest living thing. The feeling was indescribable. To feel this much energy coursing through you was incredible but after a moment you knew that you couldn’t hold it, the foreign energy trying to force itself inside you alongside your own energy.

Redirect. You had to redirect it before it ate you alive. Your eyes flickered from the trees to the end of the bridge to the sky above you, covered by dark storm clouds. Without thinking too much, you balled up your own energy, giving the foreign one a firm push upwards, forcing it out of your body and towards the clouds instead. Like a thread that suddenly snapped, the energy left you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

A loud rumbling noise could be heard from above and you knew that you hadn’t made the smartest decision with where you had redirected the energy to. The next thing you felt was a firm chest that you were pressed against and the smell of burning wood and static filling the air. “My little apprentice,” Yuta whispered fondly, gently cupping your cheek. His green eyes were sparkling and if you didn’t know better, you would say that he looked proud of what you had done. “Did I do good?” You asked, looking around his shoulder to see the damage on the bridge. A flash of lightning must have hit it exactly where you and the man’s corpse had been just moments prior, the wood now black and burning. “You did better than I had ever whished for,” Yuta answered, pressing your shivering body tightly against his chest, whispering words of praise into your hair as the reality of what you had just done came crushing down to you, making your body shake with the sobs you let out. You hated yourself for crying. But you weren’t crying for the man. He had deserved what had happened to him. You were crying because it was you who had done it. You weren’t just a human anymore and Yuta had forced you to accept it. You weren’t what was considered normal. You had special powers now, dangerous powers and the only other person that could ever understand and shared the weight that came with those powers was holding you in his arms right now.

“Let’s go home,” Yuta gently spoke, pressing a kiss to your hair and you could only nod and try to not get lost in his eyes when he loosened his grip on you.

“You’re ready.” Puzzled you looked up from where you were reading in one of the big spellbooks in the armchair in front of the fire, Ten curled up in your lap. “You’re ready to get your revenge. You know all you need to know,” Yuta explained himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest where he was leaning against his kitchen counter. When you still couldn’t find the words to tell your master how you were feeling, he continued: “It’s not far to the castle from here. The lord is having a banquet in the evening; all of the royals will be gathered. It’s a great opportunity. You shouldn’t miss it. Ten can show you the way.” “You’re not coming with me?” You asked in a small voice. As much as you still wanted the royals to pay, you had thought that Yuta would help you when it came down to get your revenge. The castle was filled with guards and knights after all. How were you supposed to get in and out of there without being seen? Especially when your plan was to kill the rotten men in charge. “I told you I wouldn’t kill anyone for you. I promised to teach you everything you needed to know so you can get your revenge. And I have done that. There is much more to our powers than just this but I did what I promised and now it’s time for you to do what you need to do.” Before you could argue or voice your concerns, Ten stretched his body in your lap so he could glare at Yuta, a disapproving sound leaving his throat. “Shut up, cat,” Yuta just growled when Ten wouldn’t stop complaining, angrily hissing by now. “I don’t care what you think,” the warlock exclaimed, throwing on his cloak, “Take her to the castle.” After taking a deep breath, he turned to lock eyes with you, a sad smile playing on his lips and added: “Make me proud my little apprentice.”

With that you were left alone in Yuta’s house that had become your home as well. You couldn’t understand the words he had just said. He was throwing you out. Had it all just been this to him and nothing more? Was he just trying to fulfill his promise all these weeks? Did you mean nothing to him? “He is a headstrong idiot,” Ten sighed, his smooth voice like honey for your soul, “You belong here with us and he will realize that eventually.” “Thank you,” you whispered, scratching Ten behind his ears until his purring filled the silence of the room. “And I am not just saying that because Yuta can’t seem to get that spot right there,” he added. You couldn’t hold your giggle, fondly smiling at the cat that you had gotten so close with. “He is right about you being ready though. We should leave soon.” “I have no idea how I should get in and out though. The place must be bursting with guards,” you voiced your concerns. “You would be surprised by how careless the royals are sometimes, they think they’re invincible.” Taking a deep breath, you felt out your own energy, feeling your fire burn brighter with excitement that you could finally give the royals what they deserved. “I’ll show them just how vulnerable they still are,” you said, your voice sounding more determined than you could have wished for. “That’s my girl,” Ten cheered you on, jumping from your lap onto the floor. “I’ll bring you to the castle but I won’t be a big help in this body.” You just nodded, gathering some things you had wanted to take with you: A couple of charged gems and the little dagger Yuta had given you a while back with a slender blade but sharpened to perfection. Lastly you got your cloak to conceal your red hair and green eyes that were a dead giveaway of your true nature. “Ready?” Ten asked, waiting for you outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answered, following the creature inside the forest.

When the castle came in sight, you said your farewell to Ten, squeezing his lithe body against your chest to his great dismay. Many people were bringing different things through the big gates and carriage after carriage brought in more supposedly rich and important people. For a while you just leaned against the big walls that surrounded the castle, feeling out the different energies. Of course there were the ordinary energies from the servants and most of the guards that were patrolling mostly on the high walls but the deeper you felt inside the castle, the more rotten energies you could feel, making you sick to the stomach. Your rage was only fueled when you carefully made your way into the courtyard and you could feel distressed and terrified energies further into the castle as well, some of their flames so terrifyingly small that they must belong to some kidnapped girls who were barely holding on to their life.

Waiting for a chance to slip into the more private rooms of the castle, you watched the servants scrambling around behind their masters who for the most time either ignored or scolded them and when a lady screamed at a little boy who had tripped and let some of the stuff he had been carrying drop to the floor, you couldn’t help yourself but to give her energy a quick push only enough to make her heart stutter once before she lost her footing and fell herself. The secret smile the boy quickly hid behind a blank expression was enough thanks for you.

“When is this fortune teller coming around?” One of the guards suddenly asked another one who had just come out of the castle. “She should have been here since the morning and the lord is getting restless, he is snapping at every servant who is coming into his chambers.” A fortune teller? That seemed almost too perfect to be true. Pulling your hood further into your face, you slipped from the shadows and made your way towards the guards. “Good afternoon,” you greeted the guards, honey dripping from your voice, “The lord of this castle sent for me, he wished to know about his future.” The older of the guards slowly let his gaze wander over your form before he reached out a hand to lower your hood. “Don’t,” you hissed, taking a step back. “Come on, leave her alone,” the younger groaned, “I can’t take the lord’s bad mood anymore.” The older one gave you one last once-over before he deemed you no threat and shrugged his shoulders. “You bring her to him, I’m going to the kitchens.”

If you had known how easy it would be to see the lord, you wouldn’t have been this nervous before entering the castle. “Wait in here for him,” the guard told you after he had dropped you off in a small saloon that was just filled with a big sofa and a vanity that displayed big jewels. In the middle of the room stood a small table with a crystal ball on top and you could only barely hold in your laughter. The only problem with this room was that there was nothing you could redirect the lord’s energy to once you had killed him. No fire or plants. This was anything but ideal. Hastily you sat down in front of the crystal ball when you felt the lord approach. You needed a different plan. Either you needed to let this perfect opportunity pass and try to kill him later or you had to do it without your powers. Suddenly the dagger in your pocket felt like it was as heavy as a bag of stones, the handle digging into your hand. You couldn’t let this opportunity pass. You had to take it. Even if it meant that you had to kill him like this. You could do this. This was no different than the guard you had killed.

When you felt the energy of the lord approach, you took another deep breath, searching out your energy for comfort. “Leave us alone,” the lord’s voice commanded the guard who had lead him inside and just like that you were alone with him in the room. You had never seen the lord in person and you didn’t know what you had expected but you thought that his appearance suited his energy: He was a rather small man with greasy black hair. His stomach was rounded and he smelled like he had bathed in perfume to gloss over how bad he smelled. “Finally you are here,” he spoke and even his voice was unattractive, his tone nasally and off pitch, likely from too much alcohol. You just wordlessly nodded your head, not deeming him worthy for words of greetings either. “Sit down so we can get started.” “I don’t like your attitude woman,” he snarled, looking down at you from his reddened eyes, “You are different than the last one that came.” “I have my special ways to see what the future holds for you,” you simply answered, dragging your dagger from your pocket and placing it onto the table. At that the unruly eyebrows of the man shot up. “Are you threatening me?” “I would never dare to,” you gritted, fighting the sarcasm from creeping into your tone, “But nothing is purer than what your blood could tell me.”

The lord seemed to think about your words for a while, if he was even capable of that. But his energy seemed to calm down after a while when he sat down opposite of you. “Very well,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of the gems you had and placed them on the table, “Please hold your palms up.” When the lord did as you asked, you took a deep breath and willed your hands to not shake when you were grabbing for the dagger. It was rather small in comparison to Yuta’s favorite ones but it should do its job just as good as any other dagger he had in his collection. You really hadn’t thought all of this through. But you needed to do this. For all the girls living on this lord’s lands. You weren’t close enough to him to hurt him much with the dagger and if you weren’t quick enough and he’d sense your true intentions, he would call for the guards. And when you had nowhere to redirect their energy to, you were basically helpless.

“I don’t have all day,” the lord complained when you hadn’t moved after a while. “I was concentrating on your energy, you disgusting piece of shit,” you spat out, making an on-the-spot decision to stop the charade. Quickly, before he could even completely fathom your words, you gave his energy a push to render him breathless for a while which gave you just enough time to leap over the table to ram your dagger into the fat of his neck. With a furiously beating heart, you watched his eyes widen and his throat gurgle with the blood that was flowing into his lungs and seeping from the wound when you pulled your dagger back out. Unable to move your body, you watched him convulse in pain until he stopped moving altogether, his eyes open wide and unseeing. Slowly you could feel his flame getting smaller and smaller until you couldn’t detect it anymore. You had done it. The lord was dead.

Just like the last time when you had killed, the reality came crashing back down to you after the adrenaline had seeped from your body and you felt your hand shaking that still clutched the dagger tightly. When you looked down and saw it covered in the lord’s blood, you instinctively let the dagger fall, the noise unnaturally loud in the silent room. Your breathing picked up and you felt panic rise in your chest. How were you going to get back out of here? You were drenched in blood and people would surely start to miss the lord soon. Yuta had been wrong, you weren’t ready for this. Bile rose too your mouth and tears were collecting in your eyes. You were done for; they would burn you in the courtyard while laughing at you for your foolish plan to take all the rotten royals out.

“My little apprentice,” a voice said behind you and through your tears you looked up into Yuta’s familiar face. “What are you doing here?” You sobbed, balling your blood smeared hands to fists, your nails digging into your palms. “I thought you had left me.” “Watching out for you, what else?” He smiled, pulling you away from the lord’s corpse and against his chest, not minding that you were staining his cloak with blood. His calming energy engulfed you like a cloud and slowly evened out your own untamed energy and eventually helped you to even out your breathing. “There are a lot more people here than I expected,” you mumbled when your tears had stopped falling, growing basically boneless in Yuta’s hold. “We’re going to take care of them together,” Yuta promised, pressing a kiss to your hair before he loosened his hold on you and took a look around the lord’s room, picking up some of the expensive looking jewelry that was laying around.

“The banquet has already begun,” you spoke after you had felt out the remaining rotten energies, all bundled up in the big hall, “They will become suspicious if he’s not coming down soon.” “I have always had a thing for dramatic entrances,” the warlock grinned, loosening his cloak so it fell to the ground, “How about we interrupt this boring dinner they are having right now and heat this place up a little? There is this nice little fire in the fireplace to keep them warm but I feel like it could use a little more energy.” His words made you mirror the wicked grin that had started to spread on his lips. “Lead the way,” you spoke, ready to teach all the rotten royals a lesson. With Yuta by your side, you knew that you couldn’t fail.

Together you stood in front of the burning castle, a little further up the hill and hidden by trees, listening to the people screaming in agony. When you turned your head to look at Yuta, the orange flames of the fire beautifully illuminated his features despite the ashes that were clinging to his cheeks and the fact that he was missing half an eyebrow that must have gotten burned off, his lips crooked into a cocky grin. “Nothing more beautiful than the chaos some little flames can cause,” he spoke before he tore his gaze from the castle and looked at you instead. Tenderly he reached out to wipe the splatters of blood on your cheeks away, just smearing them further onto your skin in the process. “You look beautiful like this,” he whispered, his green eyes sparkling dangerously. “I’m a mess,” you argued, feeling how the blood on your hands was slowly drying. “The most beautiful mess I have ever seen.” Before you could argue any further, the warlock connected your lips in a bruising kiss, pressing your body close to his. He tasted of smoke, blood and danger but to you it tasted like the most intoxicating drink you ever had the pleasure of tasting.

“What are you doing, Yuta?” You breathed against his lips when his hands had slipped beneath your shirt, nails raking over the skin of your stomach. “Unleashing your full powers,” he groaned, all but ripping the garment over your head before roughly connecting your lips again. “What do you mean?” “Stop asking so many questions,” the warlock growled, sucking harshly on the skin of your neck, obviously not bothered by the blood clinging to your skin. You could just mewl and desperately clutch onto him, afraid your legs would give out. Once Yuta was satisfied with how dark the mark on your neck had turned he gripped your hair to yank your head back so he could kiss you again. Still high on the adrenaline from before, you shamelessly moaned into his mouth when he kept your strands of hair in a firm grip to angle your head just how he wanted. Grinning against your lips, he used his chance to slip his tongue between your parted lips, turning the kiss downright filthy. “Yuta,” you sighed when he parted from you, both of you panting heavily while staring into each other’s green eyes. Blood was smeared onto both of your faces now and you had stained his shirt with the blood clinging to our hands. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his hands wandering to where the wrappings around your chest were fastened, “Tell me to unleash your full potential, my little witch.” Before you could answer, he leaned in to steal another kiss while he tugged on the cloth that had kept your breasts covered. “You don’t even know how fucking hot you are like this,” he groaned against your lips, roughly grabbing your boobs to massage the soft flesh, sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Do it,” you moaned, arching your back towards the warlock, “Do it, Yuta.”

A deep growl came from his chest and with quick movements he rid himself of his singed shirt and stepped out of his pants to stand before you completely naked safe for the ashes and blood clinging to his skin. His cock was already hard and hanging heavy between his legs. With a dangerous smile on his spit slicked lips, he crowded you against the trunk of a tree, the bark digging roughly into your back. With only so much as a flick of his wrist, the warlock had you naked as well and raked his widely blown eyes over the exposed skin. “My little witch, so beautiful,” he rasped, pressing his lips to the mark he had created on your neck, making you hiss in both pain and pleasure. Chuckling he grabbed one of your thighs to wrap it around his waist, exposing your most private part to him. But before you even had time to think about what you were about to do and how improper it was, Yuta had snaked a hand between your bodies to cup your sex, slowly grinding the heel of his palm in your clit which tore a loud moan from your lips that mingled with the screams you could still hear in the distance.

A grin spread on Yuta’s lips when you threw your head back and moaned unashamed when one of his fingers played around your entrance, teasing but never slipping inside, making more and more wetness seep from your core. “You want it?” He asked, pinching the skin of your thigh that he still held tightly to get your attention. “I already told you to do it,” you whined, grinding your hips in an attempt to finally make his finger slip inside you. “When will my little apprentice finally learn to answer my questions properly?” He sighed, bringing his hand down on your wet folds, creating a wet slapping noise that brought blood to your face. The mixture of pain and pleasure made your head swim even more than the adrenaline had minutes ago. “Answer your master,” Yuta growled, bringing his hand down a second time, causing you to jolt in his hold. “Do it already,” you groaned, burying your hands in his unruly red hair to kiss him again, wasting no time to lick into his mouth. If anything you were a fast learner and tried to match Yuta in the kiss. While you were distracted with kissing the life out of him, he finally slipped one of his fingers inside you, making you gasp and break the kiss. “Feels good?” He grinned as he began to move his finger at a steady pace before quickly adding a second one, stretching you out. “Yeah, feels good, master,” you breathed. You could feel Yuta’s breath hitch against your lips before he let out a row of colorful curses, speeding up the motion of his fingers. “Say it again,” he growled. “Say what again?” You hiccupped, holding onto his shoulders tightly, the pleasure making your head swim. “Call me your master,” the warlock growled, crooking his fingers inside you so you saw stars behind your eyes, punching all air from your lungs. “Master, please,” you choked out, burying your nails in his shoulder to drag them down his back, leaving angry red lines and a trail of smeared blood.

Cursing, Yuta pulled his fingers from your core, making a distressed mewls leave your lips. He just chuckled breathlessly at your reaction but before you had the time to even feel ashamed, you felt the blunt head of his cock slip inside you, the feeling so foreign and overwhelming that you had to close your eyes. Yuta slowly pushed inside deeper and deeper until your bodies were as flush together as the position was allowing you to. “Fuck you’re squeezing me so tightly,” Yuta cursed and breathed heavily into your ear. You could only mewl instead of answering properly; you had never felt like this in your entire life. You felt your energy bounce around wildly in your chest, slowly expanding and turning deeper in shade. But before you had any chance to take a closer took, Yuta pulled his hips back and thrust right back into you, pulling loud moans from both of you. “You feel it?” He groaned, slowly picking up his pace, “Feel how your powers grow?”

“I couldn’t care less about any of my powers right now,” you whined, yanking Yuta close by the hair on his nape to crash your lips together to stop yourself from moaning out loudly. “So feisty,” he breathlessly chuckled against your lips, “Hold on tightly.” In a heartbeat he had twirled you around to lay you down into the grass instead. Watching your expression closely, he thrust back inside you, causing you to moan loudly with how deep he was inside you now. The feeling was so overwhelming that you clamped your thighs tightly around his frame and threw your head back with a loud moan. “That’s it, let me hear you,” the warlock moaned, caging you between his arms before he started to move his hips in quick thrusts that made stars spark behind your closed eyelids. You didn’t have any brainpower left to even remotely feel embarrassed by how loud you were being, instead digging your fingers into Yuta’s shoulders to pull him back down into a messy kiss that was more tongue and panting into each other’s mouths than anything else.

“Look at me my little witch,” Yuta panted when his trusts were getting erratic and you felt like the energy inside you was ready to burst and explode in thousand little stars. Just when your emerald eyes met his piercing gaze and you saw how his eyes were filled with so much more than just lust, you couldn’t help yourself anymore and let go of the coil inside your stomach, letting the pleasure overwhelm your body while moaning your master’s name. Seconds after you heard Yuta moan your own name while he pressed inside you for one last time, his back arched and lips parted. Around you, the air was buzzing with energy, almost singing with how potent it was. For a while you just looked at each other, breathing heavily, silly smiles on both of your lips before Yuta leaned down to connect them in a tender kiss.

“You two disgust me,” a familiar voice suddenly broke the delicate silence but this time it wasn’t inside your head. When both Yuta and you looked to the side, you saw a slender man with jet black hair sitting in the grass not far from you, looking back at you with familiar amber eyes. “But I can’t say I hate what you managed to do,” Ten added, looking at his delicate hands. “Go stare at some other people fucking, you creep,” Yuta growled, covering your body with his. “But I finally had something different to see than you sadly beating your meat or trying out questionable spells,” Ten teased, poking out his tongue. “If you don’t leave right now, I will find a way to trap you inside a frog next time.” “I’d love to see you try, honey,” Ten laughed before he actually left to give you some privacy.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled into Yuta’s chest where you had hidden your face that must have the same color as his hair at this point. “Don’t mind him,” Yuta smiled, kissing your forehead, then your nose and both of your cheeks before pecking your lips. “I can’t look Ten in the eyes anymore,” you groaned, making the warlock laugh. “Let’s not talk about him when I’m still inside you,” Yuta whispered, grinding your hips together to prove his point. “Let’s make him wait for a bit longer.”

#yuta #nct #nct 127 #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta fic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #halloween au #halloween series #yuta fluff #yuta mystery #yuta smut #nct smut

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ellitx · 3 years

Note

I know this is mostly a venti blog but will you write for albedo again? would love to see more of him with your writing.. oh also I hope this doesn't come off as pushy haha I was just wondering

I did made a snippet of another albedo x reader and the draft is sitting here for months now ajskks

It has 1.7k words and albedo still hasnt appeared yet orz so uhm, here ya go even tho its not yet finished im sorryy

This looks like aether x reader at the start

The soft clouds of Mondstadt were a wonderful sight to see. Hues of white and blues scattered across the horizon, making it seem like a smudge of a paintbrush, beautifully painted on the canvas.

You were wandering at the town square of Mond, mindlessly checking the shops that will ever catch your interest. You passed by Marjorie’s souvenir shop, boring. Checking Timaeus’s alchemy, yeah you’ve already learned a lot, no need to go back there.

Unfortunately, there was none at all.

A tired sigh slipped from your lips and furrowed your brows. There was nothing to do and you’ve already done all your tasks. Klee was still stuck in her confinement, so you can’t play with her today.

What a bummer…

Another sigh came and your stomach released a sound hungry grumbling. You squirmed and wrapped your arms around your waist to silence the noise. Walking around the town made you starve for sure.

You noticed a lot of people have been crowding at Sara’s restaurant. Was there an event or something? You shrugged your shoulders to brush those thoughts off, more focused on getting food than the commotion that is happening in front of you.

“Excuse me—“

“Please, traveler!! I’ll give you a meal for free!”

Your brows raised in surprise seeing the Honorary Knight was here. “Ooh, free meal?! Traveler, say yes! Say yes!!” His floating companion, Paimon, exclaimed whilst floating around and wiggled her little legs in excitement. “F-fine… we can’t say no to a free food.”

Aether placed his hand on his hair and ruffled it with a sigh of defeat. From the corner of his eyes, he saw you waving at him.

“[Name]!” You approached them and gave a big grin. “Hey! Didn’t know you’re already back here in Mondstadt.”

He chuckled and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, we just recently arrived.” Before you could respond, Sara called out your name. “[Name]! Perfect timing, I also need your help.”

You tipped your head and hummed. “Sure. Is it another delivery?” The waitress shook her head and jutted her thumb behind her. “Lots of customers are coming and we need you two to give these orders on their table.”

Your eye twitched and squinted at her in wariness. “I don’t mind but please don’t tell me I still have to wear that uniform.”

“Even though it’s a must, there's no need to. There's not enough time to change. Just give these meals to their respective tables.” She clasped her hands in front in a begging manner. Breathing in relief, you went to the counter to take the plates and set off to serve them.

“You owe me a free Flaming Red Bolognese!” The outlander chuckled at your words and mimicked your action, ready to do the task.

The duty actually went smoothly than you thought it would be. With Aether helping you out, it was fast and steady but with a few slips here and there. Just as you were already done, another pack of customers came rushing in.

“Woah!! [Name] really is the waitress again in Good Hunter~!”

“Hey! First come, first serve!! And no skipping lines!”

You stopped in your tracks and slowly turned your head. This is bad. Really bad.

Your throat bobbed seeing lots of customers gathering in the diner. Then you slapped both sides of your to shake off the nervousness. Paimon glanced at you and floated over. “Woah, lots of people came. Shouldn’t you two handle it?”

Aether seemed like he was about to pass out from exhaustion and hunger. “I…I just want something to eat…” Head clouded and hazy, he unknowingly grabbed the emergency ration by her legs and opened his mouth ready to take a bite to get rid of his starvation. It surprised her as she wriggled out from his grasp and stomped her foot in the air.

“Get a hold of yourself! Sticky Honey Roast is almost there waiting for you!”

“Huh?! Says the one who just floats around and does nothing to help!”

This is going to be a long day.

—

“Good work, everyone!” Sara clapped and wiped her head to remove the sweat that was slipping on the side of her head. The waitress then put out a meat dish coated with sweet honey sauce. The fragrant of the freshly cooked dish wafted through their noses making them drool.

“Finally!!” Aether cried and took a big munch of Good Hunter’s beloved dish.

“And here’s your Flaming Red Bolognese, [Name]. They’re freshly cooked, so eat it while it’s still hot.” She winked and gave you a fork. You thanked Sara and twirled the spaghetti with your fork, letting its long noodles snake around it.

“Ah, by the way, I have another request for you.” You quirked a brow at her as you chew your food, signing her to continue. “A client asked me to prepare a banquet and since we’re currently low on staff, do you mind if you do the baking?”

You grabbed a napkin and wiped the red stains on your lips. Her request made you raise a question though. Why you and not someone who’s good at baking? Well, you can bake too but at an approaching proficiency level only.

The first person who came to your mind was Noelle. She can do everything perfectly well with ease. However, she seems so busy lately, so asking her to do it will make you feel bad and you don’t want to add another task to her hands.

And the other one is…

I-I don’t know anyone else who can bake…!

You can also ask Aether but you don’t want to trouble him any further especially since he just arrived here. You've already lost count of how many sighs escaped from you. Well, it’s better to help a friend who’s in trouble than just leaving them there struggling.

“Sure, but why me?” You asked. Her lips curved and grinned at you as her eyes gleamed like the stars at night. “Your Moon Pie was so heavenly! When I took a bite of it, all the taste came to me at once. And the meringue was perfect! Not too sweet and not too bland.”

“I would do anything to have another plate of it…” She placed her hands on her cheeks as she whined, drooling just thinking about the said pastry.

“So what kind of pastries am I going to bake? I hope it’s not too many.” Sara propped her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “Just a cake that’s all.” She then waved her hand, motioning you to come closer.

Aether looked at them who are whispering to each other. He saw your face turned beet red and before puffing up your cheeks and playfully slapping her arms. Whatever their chat was, he shouldn’t bother wanting to know it.

Food is here. Food is free, must eat it. Yes, only these thoughts must be inside his head. He continued relishing the delicious meal with Paimon across gnawing the plate clean.

—

“Flour, check. Eggs, check. Milk, check. Now all I need is… strawberries!” You were currently shopping for ingredients in Blanche’s shop. Your eyes scanned the racks, looking for a pack of that delicate pink fruit. With the continuous search for the red fruit up and down the shop, you're starting to lose hope at no signs of sight of that sweet berry.

Did they run out of stock?

You went towards the shop owner and asked. Sadly, she said yes, much to your dismay.

“There might be fresh strawberries in Springvale. You should ask there. Or—” Blanche suddenly smirked, making you feel unease about what’s behind that mischievous smile of hers.

“You could ask Albedo to grow one for you. He can easily grow out those with just his alchemic powers or something.” Huh, it can be. You closed your eyes and give a thought about it.

“Albedo? I mean yeah, but he’s busy right now.”

“Eh? But he’s right behind you.”

The mention of the said male standing behind you made you immediately whirled your head in excitement. You feel delighted knowing about it, but rather expecting to see his figure there, you see nothing. No one and not a thing was there. Only air greeted you.

The shopkeeper snorted and covered her mouth to hold her laughter as small tears started to create from the edge of her eyes. You can’t believe she just did that. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment that Blanche just tricked you into thinking the Chief Alchemist was really there.

“S-sorry sorry.” She said in between her giggles and shook her hand. You grumbled and took out a pouch of mora to pay for the ingredients and shoving it into her hands.

“Keep the change.”

And with that, you marched your way off to Springvale with your face still flushed. Blanche looked over to the waitress of Good Hunter and gave her a thumbs up with that impish grin still glued to her face.

i have to cut it off here since its not finished yet. It’s just klee and reader are baking. idk what happened to my motivation in writing for albedo ;; but if you read the snippet you can get the whole idea of this oneshot

#anon ask #ellianswers #elliwrites #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact albedo x reader #albedo x reader #unfinished #albedo #genshin impact albedo

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wayward-dreamer · 3 years

Text

The Right Direction

AO3 Link: Read Here

Square Filled: Dog walker!Jensen

Pairing: Dog walker!Jensen x Female!Dog walker!Reader

Word count: 2,839 (Wow! I wrote something under 5K lol!)

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes the wrong direction can turn out to be the right one.

Warnings: Some swearing, a bunch of cute dogs, fluff.

Created for @spnaubingo

A/N: This is written for @downanddirtydean‘s 500 followers challenge! Prompt is in bold. I hope you like it twin!! Thank you @deanwanddamons for being a beta on this! As always, I’d love to hear what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

A wet nose and soft fur were the first things she felt on her hand every morning. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, a groan leaving her as they adjusted to the light in the room. She felt the bed shift and heard the sound of a collar shaking, her smile growing as the furry ball landed in her lap. She stroked her little Corgi’s fluffy hair, kissing the top of his head.

“Morning, Ringo.” She planted another kiss on his head, her hands alternating between squishing his face and running over his light brown and white fluffy coat. “Someone hungry?”

Ringo licked his lips, signalling he was more than ready for breakfast.

“Alright, come on,” she muttered as she gently dropped him down on the floor of her bedroom.

Y/N got up from her bed, laughing as Ringo scurried out of the door ahead of her, stopping to wait impatiently near his bowl. His round behind wiggled, excited to be receiving his breakfast as Y/N picked up the bag of dog food, dropping some into the metal bowl.

“Stay,” she commanded, watching his innocent brown eyes look up at her. Waiting for a few seconds, she smiled. “Eat.”

Ringo gave his lips another lick, bending down and gobbling up a few pieces of dry food at a time. She smiled at him and then went about getting ready for the morning, quickly changing into her sweatpants and oversized sweater, throwing her hair up in a messy bun. By the time she was ready, Ringo was finished eating.

“Alright, shall we go?” she said, bending down in front of him and petting under his chin. She clipped his leash onto his collar, patting him at the same time. “Now, I’m trusting you to be good with the other dogs, so you better listen to me. Okay?”

Ringo gave her a little whine, causing her to lift an eyebrow. “Ringo.”

His paws started to tap excitedly against the floorboards, making Y/N give him a smile. “Good boy,” she said, scratching behind his head and standing up.

She quickly grabbed her keys, phone and wallet, heading out the door of her apartment, and walking down a few flights of stairs, Ringo in tow. She knocked on the door of an apartment, smiling as Mrs. Morris greeted her. She held the leash of her 6-year-old Border Collie, Betty, in her hand and smiled at her.

“Morning, Y/N. How are you?” she asked, as Betty’s tail wagged excitedly when she saw Ringo, more than ready for her walk.

“I’m great, Mrs. Morris. How are you?”

“Oh, you know, can’t complain,” the older woman said, handing her the leash. “Betty’s a little too excited this morning.”

Y/N patted Betty a few times, shaking her head. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

With a goodbye, she walked Betty and Ringo down the last two flights of stairs, and out onto the sidewalk. She held onto the leashes, enjoying the sun but there was as a slight chill against her face on the bright autumn morning. They walked for about ten minutes, picking up more dogs along the way. A Bulldog, a Pomeranian and a Chihuahua. Y/N walked them into the dog park, knowing how much they loved to run around and play with each other. They were all from the same neighborhood and socially used to each other, making her job much easier. However, Y/N was in desperate need of caffeine, having forgone a cup at home to get the dogs. Making a quick stop at a vendor, she paid for her steaming cup of black coffee and continued to walk them all down the path in the park, trying to find a clear spot to sit down and let them run around.

Y/N kept the dogs in front of her, all of their leashes in one hand, and her drink in the other, trying to get away from unfamiliar pets they hadn’t interacted with yet. As she smiled down at her fur friends for the morning, she basked in the peacefulness of the walk.

Suddenly, Y/N screamed as she collided with another dog walker, a man completely distracted with his phone and not watching what the German Shepherd and Golden Retriever he was walking were doing. Her shoulder got knocked backwards, her arm coming up and spilling her piping hot coffee all down the front of her sweater. She screamed again as the liquid seeped through the material, making contact with her skin. Thankfully, the sweater she was wearing was thick and she didn’t get severely burnt by the hot beverage.

“Oh my god! I am so, so sorry!” the man apologized, steadying the dog’s leash as he stashed his phone away.

“Sorry?! Watch where you’re going next time, you asshole!” she yelled, using her free hand to wipe the front of her sweater with her sleeve. She hadn’t even looked up at the man yet, focusing on cleaning herself. Her ever loyal companion, Ringo growled at the other dogs, who were slightly bigger than him and were growling back.

“Ringo, it’s okay,” Y/N said, calmly as she pulled lightly on all the leashes, moving the animals behind her legs. They were all starting to bark, getting riled up by the man’s German Shepherd and Golden Retriever.

“I really am sorry,” the man said, as he pulled the dog he was walking back, “He gets really excited when he comes here, and I was trying to message someone-”

“Well maybe don’t do that,” she grumbled, soaking up the coffee with her sleeve as best as she could. She finally looked up, her eyes blinking as she took in the guy who bumped into her. He was incredibly gorgeous, with green eyes that looked guilty and soft and plump lips that he was biting into. She looked like an absolute mess in her casual attire, and here he was, towering over her and looking like a male model in a dog park.

“Please let me buy you another,” he said, sheepishly as he pointed to her shirt.

She shook her head, a little stunned by the good-looking man in front of her. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I feel terrible,” he muttered, frowning as he gestured to the German Shepherd “He pulled suddenly while I was texting. It’s no excuse, I know, but he must’ve gotten excited when he saw your dogs.”

“It’s really okay,” Y/N reassured him. She felt awful for yelling at him now that she saw how apologetic he was, “They’re not mine. I’m a dog walker. Only the Corgi belongs to me.”

“I am too, but this guy is mine,” he smiled, gesturing to the German Shepherd next to him, who was now sitting and looking up at Y/N. “His name’s Jagger.”

“Jagger? As in Mick?” she asked, chuckling.

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling. He patted the top of the Golden Retriever’s head, smiling. “This is Astro. Neighbor’s kid is a big Jetsons fan.”

Y/N laughed, gesturing to her best friend in the whole world, “This is Ringo.”

“As in Starr?” he asked, smirking.

She laughed again, nodding. “Yeah. The Border is Betty, the Bulldog is Jackson, the Pom is Mimi, and the Chihuahua is Coco.”

“Ringo and Jagger… we sure know how to pick some good names,” he said, smiling at her.

“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling back at him. “Anyway, I should get going.”

“I really feel awful about this,” he muttered, frowning. “Can I make it up to you some time?”

She bit her lip, smiling as she shrugged. “We’ll see.” She would have to think about it, considering they had just met, and it wasn’t exactly the greatest first meeting.

“I’m Jensen, by the way.” He offered his hand, smiling softly at her. She took it in hers and felt the butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter.

“Y/N,” she said, smiling back at him. She looked down when she felt a wet nose against her hand, seeing Jagger nudging at her hand. She crouched down and patted him down, scratching behind his ears. The dogs tried to move around her to get to him, but she kept nudging them away, lightly. He whined when she stood up, pulling on his leash as he tried to follow her.

“Jagger, no. We gotta go, man,” Jensen told the dog, steering him in the other direction with Astro in tow.

With one last look at the man who she was totally caught off guard by, Y/N led the dogs away, unfortunately having to cut their walk short. Jensen smiled as he turned and watched her walk away, hoping that he would see her again. He felt terrible and just hoped he had another shot to get to talk to Y/N. He had seen her from across the park before the collision happened. She was beautiful and despite the horrible circumstance, the moment their eyes met he knew he was done for.

They always say dogs have the best instinct about people, and Jensen was happy to know that Y/N was a good person according to Jagger’s eagerness to go with her. He just hoped there would be no hot coffee in the way of him getting to talk to her the next time he saw her.

A few days had passed since the incident in the park. Y/N was back there again, this time only with Ringo, and it was just after lunch. She handed in her article for the week, meeting her deadline a day early and decided to take her fluff ball for a run around in the dog park once she had submitted the article to her editor. She laughed as he ran circles around her on the grass, a blur of brown and white fur. As he continued to run, Y/N’s attention was suddenly taken away from him, as she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned and smiled, seeing the handsome dog walker who bumped into her a few days ago, a white cup in one hand, the leash to his beautiful German Shepherd in the other.

“A peace offering?” he stated.

“You didn’t have to,” she said, shaking her head.

He held out the cup insistently, smiling when she took it. “Yes, I did.”

She held her palm out, allowing the dog to come near her. The animal sniffed her a few times and licked her hand. Y/N instantly moved her hand behind his ears to pet him. “He’s gorgeous.” As is his owner she thought to herself as she looked at Jensen, “How old is he?”

“He’s four,” Jensen told her, smirking. “Still acts like a puppy sometimes, though.”

“Aren’t they always a puppy no matter how big they get?” she asked, chuckling. Jagger started nudging against Y/N, wanting her to play with him. Jensen smiled, glad that his dog approved of her.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and looked down as Ringo came running to her, interested to see who her new friend was. Ringo hopped excitedly towards Jagger, not intimidated by the size difference between them at all.

“Hey buddy, you remember Jagger?” she asked, smiling brightly. She crouched down, calming him slightly as Jagger began to growl. Jensen got down to the dog’s level, holding him back slightly.

“Hey, behave,” Jensen commanded.

Comforting both of the dogs, Jensen let Jagger move forward a little first. He sniffed Ringo as Y/N let him go slightly too, to do the same. They tried to figure each other out, and one lick from Jagger had Ringo running off, turning to see if he would follow. Jensen let him off the leash, watching as he ran off, both of them play- fighting as they rolled over on the grass. Y/N and Jensen stood back, watching their dogs become fast friends.

“He doesn’t take to small dogs so quickly,” Jensen remarked as he watched his German Shepherd play with the small Corgi.

“Ringo loves every dog he comes across,” Y/N said, smiling as she watched them play. “So, I’m glad he found another friend.”

“Me too,” he muttered, smiling. “Jagger’s been lonely. I keep thinking I should get another one just so he doesn’t feel it anymore.”

“Well, until you do… he’s welcome to play with Ringo,” she stated, smiling at the gorgeous man next to her. The butterflies had returned, and she was finding it hard to keep her cool around him.

“Thanks.” Jensen smiled back at her, trying not to hold eye contact with her for longer than necessary, suddenly nervous to be near to her again.

After that afternoon, Jensen and Y/N had a standing meeting every Thursday afternoon in the dog park. As Jagger and Ringo played together, Y/N and Jensen would talk about everything they could before the dogs exhausted themselves. They discussed how they got the dogs, what they did for a living apart from dog walking (Jensen told her he worked at a brewery and Y/N told him she wrote for the paper), their favourite movies, books, music and more. By the fourth meeting, Y/N was hoping that he would ask her out on an official date. She knew she couldn’t be the only one feeling an attraction between them and wished more than anything that he would pluck up the courage and ask her. Maybe she would have to if he didn’t, but that was something she had never done before.

On the day of their usual meeting, Y/N and Jensen strolled the length of the park, walking Jagger and Ringo side by side. Every now and then, they would turn and smile at each other, as Jensen kept telling himself to open his mouth and ask her out on a date. Letting the dogs off their leashes, the owners watched on as they did every week, the dogs now absolute best friends. A brown leaf fell from the tree branch above Jensen and Y/N, landing on her nose and getting stuck there. Jensen laughed as he leaned over, using his thumb and forefinger to remove it.

“Thanks,” she whispered, looking up at him. Their bodies were close, both of them in slightly warmer clothes now that the weather was turning.

“No problem,” he mumbled, smiling. He looked out ahead at the park, worrying his lip as he thought about how to approach the subject of asking her on a date. “Okay, so…”

“What’s up?” she asked, her stomach fluttering at the thought that the moment had finally arrived.

“I, uh… I really like you, Y/N,” he told her, his smile becoming wider as he turned to her.

“I really like you too, Jensen,” she said, beaming up at him.

He sighed in relief, nodding. “Okay, so then… I would love to- I mean that is if you want to, I really want to take you on a non-dog park date.” Dear Lord, this isn’t going well he told himself as he cringed at his bad attempt to ask her out.

“You know…” She laughed as she looked into his eyes. “Must be hard with your sense of direction. Never being able to find your way to a decent pick-up line.”

Jensen chuckled nervously, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” she said, smiling as she winked.

A moment passed as they continued to look at each other. Jensen backtracked, a little more confident this time.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at her. “Y/N, would you like to go out for dinner with me?”

She smiled up at him, finding him so adorable in that moment. “Yes.”

The first date turned into a second. The second into a third. They would meet up in the dog park, some days with Jagger and Ringo, and others with all the others they would walk on a regular basis. With huddles of dogs of different breeds, they walked closer and closer to each other, stealing kisses and loving looks.

Dates and dog walking turned into getting down on one knee, the ring box clipped to Ringo’s collar as Jensen asked Y/N if she wanted to spend her life with him, with Jagger in tow.

They married in a small ceremony, with Jagger and Ringo at their feet, more than happy to be best fur friends forever.

And eventually… the news of an addition to their little family came, with Jensen and Y/N completely over the moon with the dogs getting a human brother or sister.

Y/N sat on the couch, smiling as she patted Jagger and Ringo’s heads, both of them sitting on either side of her, their noses close to her growing belly. Jensen walked in, a bowl of popcorn in his hand, settling into the couch next her, putting Ringo’s body over his legs. Y/N turned to him and leaned in, kissing his lips softly as he turned to her.

They say that dogs have great instinct.

And for that, Jensen and Y/N would always be grateful to have two fur companions that brought them into each other’s lives.

-x-

If you’re crossed out, Tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester

#spnaubingo #downanddirtydeans500followerscelebration #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen x female!reader #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fanfiction #dog walker!jensen #dog walker! reader #supernatural one shot #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfiction

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supernatural-jackles · 4 years

Text

Owe You One - Part 1

Title: Owe You One - Here’s the Deal

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,290

Warnings: Bad Sex, Fluff, Playful Banter, Smut, Female and Male Receiving, Bit of a consent kink, 18+ only.

Summary: Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Square Filled: Neighbors!AU for @spndeanbingo, Free Space for @spnkinkbingo

A/N: It’s finally here!! I’m very excited to take you on this rollercoaster ride! Please leave your thoughts in the reblogs and replies! Feedback always keeps me going! Happy Reading!

“Fuck! I’m gonna come!” he called out, bucking his hips up into yours. You rolled off of him, taking the empty side of the bed as ripped the condom off, stroking his hard length. He rolled over, getting onto his knees so he could finish himself off on your body.

The sticky liquid coated your stomach as he let out a loud grunt, still stroking his cock. One of his hands came down next to you, trying to balance himself as pleasure zapped through him. You lay there, trying not to utter a word about it. Did he really have to be that extra about it? Did he really have to rip the condom off and coat your skin in his - stuff?

“Damn, you are something else baby,” he let out a chuckle. “I mean really something. Did you come?”

“If you had to ask, then the answer is no,” you scoffed, rolling off the bed, completely unsatisfied. “Look, I’ve got things to do so you gotta go.”

“Sure thing, baby. Can I call you later?” he grinned, looking over to you.

“If you want to,” you said lowly, making your way into the bathroom. You heard movement on the other side of the door. It sounded like his jeans being put back on. You willed him to move faster. You wanted him out of your apartment. Nothing like shitty sex and a guy that lingered. You had no idea why you even tried with this one. He was as stupid as they came. Carl, or Keith? You couldn’t remember what his name was. You met him in a diner a few weeks back. He took you on one date, and fucked you the rest of the time. He wasn’t a good lay, and he was selfish as hell on top of that. There was nothing worse than that.

You heard the front door shut with a click, notifying you that it was safe to leave the bathroom when you were ready to. You felt dirty and not just from sex. His hands were on you and they definitely weren’t the cleanest. You headed over to the shower, turning it on hot. You wanted to wash the gunk feeling off, along with everything else he left. What a waste of your time you thought to yourself. Why were you wasting your time with every guy that came along?

You stepped under the stream, letting the water hit directly on your stomach. Washing away his finished product. You couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to ask you if you came. The man was lazy as hell, and didn’t know the difference between the clitoris and vagina. It was a complete and utter disappointment yet again. You had no idea why you kept him around when all he wanted was sex. He didn’t care whether or not you came, let alone about your life outside of the bedroom. There wasn’t a point in continuing when you weren’t happy with him.

The hot water lulled over you muscles, relaxing you along with the apple scent of your shampoo. You always felt better after a good shower. No matter what the day held, or what went down. A shower made you feel clean and reduced your worries. There was a part of you that wanted to let your hand wander between your legs, just to finish yourself off. You had done it so often that it was becoming boring. Like a sad routine. You needed something more to get you there. Maybe you needed a new toy to play with.

You shut the water off, stepping out of the shower and onto the grey carpeted mat. You reached for the blue towel on the counter, wrapping around your body before moving in front of the mirror. The mirror was fogged up, not that you needed it urgently. You felt a lot more refreshed.

You dried yourself off, pulling on your black robe to cover yourself up until you grabbed actual clothes from your bedroom. You stepped out of the bathroom for a second, waiting for the mirror to clear up. You knew you had to get something out to cook for dinner before it got too late. It was already late enough.

Your kitchen smelled of the apple cinnamon scentsy you had plugged in. It was supposed to help you get in the holiday spirit. At least, that was the point of why you put it in your cart when you saw it. It mostly made your apartment smell good. You walked over to the fridge, looking to see the chicken you had picked up at the grocery store the day before. You had some leftover salad to go with it. Enough dinner for tonight.

You took the chicken out of the fridge, placing it on the countertop for when you got dressed. Three loud knocks at your door pulled out out of your thoughts. You had no idea who it could be at this time. You prayed it wasn’t doucheface showing up again. You weren’t sure you could handle anymore disappointment today.

You twisted the knob, pulling the door open, only to reveal your next door neighbor standing in the doorway. He had a half smile playing on his lips as he stood in henley with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly.

“You always answer the door in your robe?” he smirked. “‘Cause if so-”

“What do you want, Dean?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Mhh what?” he furrowed his brows, clearly getting a good look at you in your black robe.

“Dean, really?” you raised your eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re just,” he pointed at you. “Sorry, I came over to ask you if I could borrow your microwave for a second. Mine broke this morning and I’m trying to heat up my dinner.”

“Yeah, c’mon in,” you nodded, opening the door a little wider for him to step in. Dean stepped in with a smile.

It wasn’t the first time Dean had been in your apartment and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. You had been neighbors for a little over a year. Eight months ago, he and his long time girlfriend Cassie broke up and he was a mess. You invited him to come over to distract him, and he ended up staying an entire weekend. You binge watched Friends and ate about a gallon of ice cream. That was when the two of you became really good friends.

Dean was in your apartment at least three times a week, depending on his week that is. Dean was a mechanic at a local garage that he and his dad owned with a few other guys. Most nights he finished around six and dropped by with some food for dinner. Other nights, he was working his other job. He and his younger brother Sam, owned a bar in town called Jefferson’s Starship. Dean named it of course.

He was a good guy. You got that vibe off of him instantly the day you met him. He helped you carry a few boxes into your apartment, which you needed. When you saw him upset that day he and his girlfriend broke up, you couldn’t stand it. He was a really good friend to you. One of the best actually. You weren’t the best when it came to guys, or friends for that matter. But Dean? Dean was special. There was no one that got you or your sense of humor like he did.

“I take it Doofy was over,” he teased, nodding once more to your outfit as he opened your microwave door.

“You really like calling him Doofy, huh?” you shook your head as you made your way over to the stool by the kitchen counter. “Yes, he was over.”

“I heard,” he smirked. “Well, him anyways.”

“Dean!” you raised your voice, shaking your head once more, trying to hide your smile.

“We share a wall, sweetheart. Your bedroom, my kitchen. Walls are thin,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he placed his hands on the counter in front of you. “So, let me guess this time. He came and left?”

“He came, asked if I did, then I asked him to leave,” you corrected him.

“Ouch,” he said sheepishly. “High and dry. That explains the robe and the wet hair.”

“How hard is it to pleasure a woman?” you called out. “I genuinely want to know. I haven’t found a single guy who knows the difference between my clit and my vagina, Dean! How hard is it?”

“Pretty hard if he doesn’t know the difference between buttons,” he let out a laugh.

“I’m just going to order a new toy off amazon at this rate. It’d get the job done,” you shrugged, feeling defeated.

“Can I watch?” he joked, opening the microwave door to stir his food. “Oh by the way. I wanted to ask you something which may or may not have been the real reason why I’m here. My microwave isn’t actually broken.”

“And here I thought you were here to comment on my sex life,” you breathed out, adjusting your robe a little more. “I’m all ears.”

“So my mom is having a birthday party this year, and they still think I have a girlfriend and invited us. I was kind of, sort of, maybe hoping you’d go with me to keep my family off my back for that anyways,” he said lowly, swirling around his food before shoving it back in for another two minutes.

“Me?” you raised your eyebrows. “Of all people, me?”

“You’re the only one I know that I can be myself around. I don’t have to force myself to get along with some random girl in front of my family. You’re one of my closest friends,” he pointed out. “You just have to pretend to be my girlfriend for the night. I swear I’ll repay you.”

“Will you though?” you side-eyed him playfully. “Look Dean, you really don’t have to. We’re friends and I’m happy to do it.”

“Really?” he beamed.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” you smiled politely. “I’ve met your brother a few times so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I owe you big time, Y/N. You have no idea how much you are saving my ass by doing this,” he breathed out as the microwave beeped at him again. “I have shown up to the last three birthday parties alone and I’m not going through the ‘oh Dean, when are you finally going to settle down’ comment from my cousins, and aunts. Granted I was still dating Cassie last year, but she was away on some journalism trip. Not that they ever showed interest in meeting her. I’d just rather not deal with that again. I’m tired of the comments.”

“I would say I know the feeling, but I don’t. I’ve been on my own since I was pretty young. I didn’t get along with my mom and it was just the two of us.” you shared. “You’re making me feel pretty thankful I’m on my own.”

“Really?” he cocked his eyebrow. “I always thought you got along with your mom?”

“No. Not even close,” you scoffed.

“Well, it’s you and me now, girlfriend,” he winked. “I’m serious about repaying you though. You’ll see why when you meet my family. Sammy is the only normal one.”

“Name your offer, Winchester,” you said, crossing your arms over your body.

“Uh, let’s see,” he raised his eyebrow, looking up to the left. “I’ll let you drive baby?”

“Really?” you rolled your eyes. “That buys you handholding and that’s about it.”

“Oh we’re playing this game now?” he chuckled, opening up your drawer to grab a fork for his dinner before taking a seat at the counter next to you. “Fine. How about - oh - how about I show you that not all guys are clueless when it comes to sex?” he said with a smirk.

“And how are you going to do that?” you cocked your eyebrow.

“How do you think, sweetheart?” he wiggled his eyebrows before taking a bite out of his food.

“You? You’re going to have sex with me?” you asked in confusion.

“Why not right? I mean, you’re gonna have to kiss me in front of my family. Not that you haven’t dreamed about kissing me,” he pointed out. “And besides, I know the difference between your clit and your pussy, how to pleasure you, and I’m not going to stick it in the wrong hole unless you ask me to.”

“You said you were never going to bring that up,” you let out a dry laugh.

“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t?” he grinned. “I’m serious though. I’ll show you a damn good time, and treat you right. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, of course. But I won’t leave the room until I know you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

“Dean, are you sure?” you questioned. “I mean, we’ve gotten really personal with each other but this is different. I don’t want to cross any lines here. I’m not putting our friendship at risk here.”

“I know, but I think we’re both mature enough to handle this. Nothing will ruin our friendship, ” he stated. “‘Sides, you have to know by now that I think you’re hot, and I’d nail you in a second given the chance. Call it practice for my mom’s party.”

“So if I untie this robe and drop it to the floor, you’d be cool with that?” you played, trying to gage his reaction as you stood up, stepping away from him. His eyes went dark as he froze, watching your every move.

“More than cool with that,” he muttered.

You reached for the tie, pulling it loose before opening up your robe. You could feel a lump forming in your throat. No going back now. Dean thought you were hot, you reminded yourself. You let the material fall over your shoulders, and drop to the floor around your feet. Dean swallowed hard, not daring to tear his eyes away from you.

“Son of a -” he breathed out.

“I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done,” you teased,

“Oh I’m done,” he stated, getting up from the stool. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” you cocked your head to the side, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Your voice was confident, but inside, you were dying to cover up and hide away forever. You weren’t gorgeous, or sexy. You weren’t the kind of girl a guy like him fawned over. You found guys like doofy. It was almost like you needed confirmation that he thought you were attractive.

“Oh god, yeah,” he licked his lips. “Can - can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you nodded. Your eyes locked with his breathtaking green orbs as he stepped closer. You were expecting his hands to either reach for your breast or your ass. You knew he was going to touch you. He asked and it was to be expected.

He reached for your hips before slipping his arms around your waist, resting them on the small of your back. That was completely unexpected to say the least. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but there wasn’t the typical I can’t wait to shove my dick inside you, lust that everyone else had. You were standing completely naked in front of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off your face. It was different and you liked that.

“Seriously, you are fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, leaning in closer to you. You felt his breath mingling with yours. Was he going to kiss you? One of his hands reached up to your cheek, his index finger brushing the wet strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek in his palm. You melted against his touch, just a little as you glanced up into those breathtaking green eyes of his. He inched closer, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, hesitant kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest. He was gentle, which is the opposite of what you were expecting from him of all people. If anything, he was making you feel more comfortable. You kissed him back with the same hesitancy he had. You slipped your hands around his back, tugging him closer to you out of instinct.

“Mhh, we should probably move this into the bedroom,” you muttered against his lips.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he smirked. His calloused hands slipped down the curve of your ass, reaching the back of your thighs. He lifted you off the ground with ease, earning a tiny yelp from your lips. You giggled as he carried you into your bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. He placed you carefully on the messy bed, letting you adjust yourself so you were comfortable while he stood tall.

“You’re wearing far too much clothing, Dean,” you smiled up at him. He cast his head down with a smile playing on his plump lips. “Off with the shirt and show me what you’re working with.”

He took the hem of his henley, tugging it over his head to reveal his upper body. God, he was a fucking sight. You had never seen him shirtless before this. You thought he was hot before this, but you had no idea just how hot he was until he shed some layers. He wasn’t completely toned. He was soft in some places and that only made you want him more. You wanted to trace your tongue over every inch of him.

“Damn, you’re hot,” you commented as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. He didn’t say anything to you. In fact, he looked a little nervous about it. You didn’t want to make a comment about it because this was a hook up and he wasn’t your boyfriend. You were going to let it slide this time and bring it up the next time you had a movie night or something. “Take it all off, baby.”

“You’re such a dork,” he let out a laugh. You watched as he unbuckled his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down his legs, revealing himself to you for the first time.

And oh my fucking god, he was perfect.

He has the nicest looking dick you had ever seen on a man. Big, thick and he kept himself well taken care of down there in terms of grooming. You were actually looking forward to this one. Not just for how hot he was. Dean was a good person, and not to mention a man of his word. You were looking forward to seeing what he had to offer you in terms of owing you one.

“Dean, you’re-“ you paused. “Fuck.”

“Like what you see?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Eh,” you giggled. “I’m not on the pill, just so you know. I do have condoms in my drawer though.”

“Good to know,” he nodded. “Listen, don’t be afraid to tell me what you like and don’t like. By all means, tell me what to do and I’ll listen the best I can. I just want to make you feel good.”

“The very same goes for you too,” you told him. “I wanna be able to make you come too.”

“Trust me sweetheart, you are going to have no problems with that,” he assured you. “Now, are you sure you want to do this? I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I’m sure I want to do this,” you confirmed. You smiled at his words. It was nice of him to ask you. He wasn’t forcing you by any means, or making you feel like you had to do this. It was actually really nice of him the more you thought about it.

He carefully climbed on your bed from the bottom. Your eyes never left his body as he moved up the bed. His muscles flexed as he fit himself between your legs. His body hovered over yours, his cock pressing against your inner thigh. He captured his lips with yours almost unexpectedly, pulling your bottom lip between his, sucking down softly. Your hands traveled down the length of his back. You could feel the arousal pooling in your core. A delicious ache you couldn’t wait to satisfy.

His hand traced up your torso, his thumb brushing underneath your breast as his lips moved along your jaw, making their way to your neck. You let out a sigh, melting into the mattress beneath you. Your hands slipped into his hair as he kissed his way down to your breasts.

“F - Dean,” you breathed out. His lips latched around your nipple, his warm tongue flicking over your hardening bud. His touch gave you goosebumps and part of you thought that it was because you hadn’t been touched this extensively in a long time. He was fucking woreshipping you compared to the rest of them. Dean knew exactly where to touch you without a hint of guidance. He ignited something in you that no one had before. Maybe you were going to get an orgasm out of this after all.

“Feels good, don’t it?” he cooed, kissing along your abdomen as his hands soothed down your sides, filling your stomach with anticipation of what was to come.

“Damn good,” you panted. Your heart rate was speeding up, and he had barely even done anything to you yet.

He climbed off of you, taking a spot at the end of your bed. His hand gripped your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he could begin the first real act of the night. He took his time and that was something you enjoyed about him. There was no rush like there usually was for you. His hand trailed along your inner thigh, tickling you in the best way, causing your core to clench around nothing. His soft, wet lips kissed along the opposite side of his hand and that drove you insane. You desperately wanted to feel him directly between your legs.

“Dean, I swear to god if you don’t -”

“Don’t what?” he chuckled. “Don’t rush a professional.”

“Where’s the professional?” you giggled, earning a bitch face from him. “I’m kidding!”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, sweetheart,” he winked, growing closer to where you needed him. He settled directly between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips. He pushed your legs open a little wider. The anticipation was killing you and he fucking knew it too.

He inched forward, flattening his tongue against your folds, licking a long slow strip upwards, stopping just before your clit. God, did it feel good. His tongue was warm and wetter somehow. The initial touch sending a wave a pleasure through you. You threw your head back against the mattress, your fist grasping at the comforter. You wanted him to do it over and over again.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, staring up at the ceiling, awaiting his next move. You released the comforter, allowing yourself to relax. Dean did the exact same thing, this time going even slower and reaching your clit, causing you to jerk just a little. He kept up with that for another couple of strokes, and you could feel yourself growing more and more slick as he did.

He pressed a kiss to your clit as his finger circled around your entrance. Your eyes clamped shut the second his tongue flicked swiftly over your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked upwards, needing more and more of his touch. You could feel him smirking against you. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He pushed a digit inside of you and you let out a breathy moan. He curled his finger as his lips enclosed around your clit, sucking just enough to drive you insane. You arched your back, needing more of him.

“De-Dean,” you groaned. “To the left.”

“Your left or mine?”

“Mine,” you panted. His tongue flickered over your clit to the left in a repetitive, but unpredictable motion that had your toes curling. Your hand reached for his head, your fingers fisting his hair tugging him in the right direction as he sucked down on you.

You could feel that familiar burn pooling in your lower abdomen. You knew it was mere moments before Dean worked you into your first orgasm the night. He removed his finger from your center and moved both his hands underneath your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as his tongue worked it’s magic.

“Fuck Dean, I’m gonna - I’m -” you could barely even get the words out before warm pleasure pulsated through you. You twitched against him, your fingers pulling at his hair to try to keep him in place, and he never let up. He worked your through it, making it last as long as he possibly could.

He pulled away and you felt lifeless. You had no idea how to even move, let alone breathe. Dean wasn’t lying when he said he knew what he was doing. You tried to focus on breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

“Y/N, you alive?” he asked you.

“I- I think,” you answered, your voice high pitched as your eyes opened, meeting his gorgeous green orbs. “Barely but alive. Just give me a minute after that one. Fuck!”

“Told you I’m good,” he winked playfully.

“Oh shut up!” you let out a laugh, rolling onto your side, pressing your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand instinctively reached up to your hip, drawing you into him as he kissed you. God, did this man know how to kiss. He had your toes curling at the thought of continuing like this. But you knew he had other plans for the night, and quite frankly, so did you. “Your turn now, Dean.”

“You definitely don’t have to do that, Y/N,” he shook his head.

“I know. I want to. It’s only fair to for one, and two, I really want to taste you,” you played. “You want to move up the bed a little more?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. You managed to sit up, allowing Dean to lay in the middle of your bed. His hard cock rested against his stomach, and honestly, you couldn’t wait to taste him. You couldn’t wait to feel him on your tongue. Dean positioned himself so he was comfortable, and you gravitated between his legs. It was going to be easier for you to take him this way. You knew there was no way you were going to fit all of him in your mouth, but you were going to try your very best to pleasure him the same way he did you.

You took his velvety length in your hand, your mouth watering at the sight of him. Dean’s eyes were on you, and somehow, that didn’t make you nervous. You stuck your tongue out, licking the tip of his cock, instantly tasting the salty, almost sweet, precome that pooled at the slit. Dean hissed at the contact and you knew you did something right.

You moved down to his balls, flattening out your tongue before moving carefully along each one. Then you traced a line up his length, reaching the top, taking the entire head in your mouth. Your eyes flicked up, looking at Dean’s face directly and you could see that he was enjoying what you were doing so far. You sucked down lightly, spit collecting in your mouth as you did so. You released him, using your saliva as lube to slick up his cock, making it easier to pleasure him without worrying about hurting him.

You took him in your heat, sinking down a little lower this time while your hand jerked off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You could feel each ridge and vain along your tongue, and damn did he taste good. A taste you wouldn’t mind having more than once if it were up to you.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growled. His hands made their way into your hair, half holding it back, half kind of tugging. You circled around the tip, running swiftly into the slit before teasing over his frenulum. He let out a loud groan, trying his hardest not to buck his hips up.

“Y/N-” he cried out as you took him deeper, the tip hitting near the back of your throat as your hand jerked him faster. You sucked down, causing him to moan once more.

“Y/N - fuck, you gotta stop,” he urged you. You pulled off of him with a pop, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. He was panting, his chest heaving. You smiled, knowing you did a good job.

Dean rolled off to the side, opening up the drawer of your bedside table, grabbing one of the condoms out of the box of twelve. As nervous as you were before, you weren’t now. Not even close. If anything, you were excited to be doing this with Dean. No pressure or unrealistic expectations. He cared whether or not you were enjoying yourself, and you were. But most of all, you were comfortable with Dean. Maybe it was for all of those reasons, or the fact that you had never trusted someone the same way you did your best friend. He wasn’t some random guy you met in a bar or a diner.

“You sure you want to do this?” he questioned once more, playing with the condom between his index finger and his thumb. “We don’t have to. I can just pay you back some other way if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah. I want to,” you nodded. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, ripping the condom package open. He took the condom out, rolling it down properly over his hard length. You lay down on the bed, opening up your arms for him to climb on top of you. He spread your legs a little wider as he positioned himself between them. You couldn’t wait to feel that stretch when he pushed into you.

He took his thick cock in his hand, running it swiftly through your folds. You instinctively moved your legs further apart, your eyes meeting his, waiting for him to move. You nodded your head, reassuring him that he could proceed. He smiled softly. The tip of his cock lined up with your entrance. Your hands traced up his arms, settling on his shoulders. He pushed himself gingerly inside of you, stretching your walls more than you expected as they accommodated his length. You took a sharp intake of breath, your eyes shutting as your head pressed to the pillow beneath it.

Dean positioned his hands on either side of your body. His lips met yours as he bottomed out inside you. His kiss putting you at ease. You wrapped your arms securely around his shoulders and bent your knees to give him more room to begin moving. He felt fucking perfect inside.

“You good?” he breathed out, trailing his lips along your jaw.

“Yeah,” you swallowed. “‘M good.”

He drew his hips back before moving back in at the very same pace. You felt your walls fluttering at the new sensation of him. He felt fucking amazing when he moved. His length hit all the spots you needed him to, and all the spots you didn’t know you needed touched until now. His muscles tensed just a little when he moved, and his lips never left your skin, only added to the overwhelming satisfaction he was already giving you.

“You have no fucking idea how good you feel around me,” he growled into your neck.

“If it’s anywhere near how good you feel inside me then I think I know,” you groaned, your hand shifting into his hair, keeping him at the sensitive spot on your neck that drove you crazy. “Keep kissing there.”

“Curl your fingers in my hair again,” he asked lowly, his hips pushing back into yours.

His thrusts picked up the pace. You rolled your hips against his in tune with his and that familiar burn made itself known. Your breathing was getting shallower, and a thin layer of sweat coated your skin, especially in the places Dean’s skin was touching yours. The heat from him, along with the incredible aura you were creating together; it was bound to get a little hot.

Dean was panting against your skin, and he had to adjust himself, leaving your neck. He held himself up on his hands once more, his chest abandoning yours. His eyes traveled up and down your body, drinking you in as his cock quivered inside you. You didn’t want this to come to an end. He made you feel so fucking high; like every other emotion didn’t exist. It was just pure euphoria.

You readjusted yourself, hooking your ankles around his ass, giving him a different angle. He pushed into you and hit your g-spot dead on, you almost came right then. That coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter as he moved. You could feel every dip and ridge of his cock. Your mouth was growing dry as you struggled to breathe.

“Dean, I’m so close,” you straggled out.

“Good,” he panted. “Me too. What do you need?”

“Faster!”

He picked up his pace, pounding into you. You let out a loud moan and suddenly you were thankful it was only Dean’s apartment next to yours and no one else was next to you. Dean pecked your lips once more, and you could see the drips of sweat beading on his forehead and the top of his freckled dusted nose. His green eyes were damn near black, hooded with lust and pleasure that you had never seen before. You wanted to make him come. You wanted to hear him.

He hit your sweet spot once more, throwing you over the edge. You arched into him as your fingers dug into the flesh of his back. He collapsed on top of you, and you buried your head in his neck, muffling your cry just a little. Pure ecstasy flowed through you, causing you to shake beneath him. Your walls clamped down around him so tightly, you were afraid he wouldn’t be able to move.

“Fuck - Y/N, mhh,” he groaned, slamming his hips into yours as he spilled himself into the condom. He twitched, moving just a little as the waves of his orgasm worked through him. You were shaking, but at the same time, you felt completely lifeless. Like he had fucked every ounce of energy out of you, and in a way, he had.

He pulled out of you slowly, holding the base of his cock where the condom was. You pointed to the tissues on the nightstand for him to use. He quickly discarded the condom into the trash bin next to your bed before he settled down next to you.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “That was better than I imagined it would be.”

“You imagined it?” you let out a chuckle.

“Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” he let out a laugh. “In all honesty though, it was some good sex.”

“It was,” you agreed, adjusting your head on your pillow as you glanced up at the ceiling.

“Did you come?” he laughed.

“Shut up, asshole,” you shook your head.

“Oh I know you did,” he teased. “More than once. I’m just that good.”

“Yeah yeah,” you licked your bottom lip. “You held up your end pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

“I’m glad,” he smirked. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems convincing my parents we’re together.”

“Me either,” you breathed out.

He rolled off the bed, reaching for his boxers on the floor at the end of the bed. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as he tucked himself back in his boxers. You weren’t expecting him to stay in the slightest. It was a good time and it would’ve been awkward if he did.

“So where and when for your mom’s party?” you asked, moving the pillow to cover yourself up a little.

“Saturday night,” he said, pulling on his jeans. “I’ll pick you up at seven. It’s kind of fancy so you’ll have to wear a dress. I’m wearing a black suit if that helps you at all.”

“I have a classy black dress that should work,” you nodded.

“Perfect,” he nodded. “I am really thankful you’re helping me out. I don’t mean to fuck you and run, but I’ve kind of gotta get to the bar.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “Not like we’re together, bestie.”

“I know, but I like to treat my women better than that when we do something like this,” he frowned.

“I’m your best friend and I know where you live. Trust me, it’s cool. I’m not really one for cuddling after sex and talking about feelings anyways,” you shrugged. “Thanks for making me come, not once, but twice. You treated me better than any guy. Now get out of my apartment and go to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled. “You could always come with?”

“Nah,” you shook your head. “I’ve got plans with my one true love, Netflix.”

“Sorry I’m getting in the way of that,” he let out a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”

“That you will, Dean,” you winked. “Thank you for this. You do know how to satisfy a woman.”

“You’re damn right I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 coming Sunday!

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing stories like this! I will not be sharing anymore without it.

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lihikainanea · 3 years

Text

The Accident - Part 2

Oh, hi there. Do you like...need something? Are you waiting on me for something? Whatever could it be?

:-P

This is one of my longest pieces for them, Parts 1 and 2 clocking in at somewhere around 17,000 words.

Tiger has a car accident and has some pretty lasting damage.

Trigger warnings: there’s mention of a car accident, a few broken bones, and of course, the after effects of the accident. I didn’t go into detail on any of it but as always, if you think I missed a trigger or if you’re not sure and have questions before you read, just shoot me a line :-)

This one was a long time coming so I hope you enjoy. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for being so loud about it when I needed the support and encouragement to finish it.

Part One is here.

Thank you guys, for loving these two idiots as much as I do. Enjoy, and be loud if you love it xoxo

****

You swore that you had never seen any of these people before in your life. You knew that Bill had spoken to them beforehand, warned them that you looked a little banged up and that you wouldn’t recognize anybody, and while part of you was annoyed the other part was pretty thankful. He hadn’t mentioned it to you, but he had also warned them that you got frustrated and overwhelmed pretty easily, and that you still couldn’t handle loud noises or bright lights. No music, no loud conversations, no coming at you from all angles. They promised him that they would keep it small at the beginning—just the close group of friends—and they would set up quietly in the living room for at least an hour, just chatting and answering any questions you may have before other people arrived.

“There’s going to be eight people when we get there,” he had told you in the car, “The rest will come after.”

“I’m nervous,” you admitted softly, fidgeting with your coat, “I want so bad to remember people.”

“You won’t kid,” he said. He had meant it kindly, but you bristled. He sighed.

“Tiger listen to me,” he put the car in park and turned to you, “If at any point you want out—for whatever reason—you say so, okay?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“I mean it,” he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, “Just look at me and like…tug your ear or something. Say pineapple. Anything. Just give me a sign and I’ll get you out, deal?”

He held out his pinky.

“Deal,” you mumbled, hooking your finger around his.

“Seal it,” he commanded. He held his thumb out to tap yours, but instinctively you leaned forward and pressed your lips softly to his. When you pulled away, you were both wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered, “I don’t know why I just did that.”

“No no, it’s okay,” he grinned wide and happy, “That’s uh, how we used to seal it. Good job, kid.”

“Right, of course we used to kiss to seal it,” you sighed, but there was some humour behind it, “Look bud, maybe there’s still a lot I need to learn about us, but it sounds like we got some shit we need to figure out.”

His wry smile ended the conversation, as you unbuckled your seat belt and took a deep breath.

Your friends were incredible about the entire thing. The music was on very low when you walked in, nobody rushing to greet you but instead saying a polite hello and giving you space. Bill took your jacket from you, hanging it up in the hallway closet before leading you to the living room. Your friends were gathered there—sitting on the floor, on the sofas, on chairs placed across the room. You wondered how to break into conversation, but Bill eased you into a chair and put a hand on your shoulder.

“So we figured it would be helpful,” he started, “If everyone just re-introduced themselves to you. These are our closest friends, tiger.”

You surveyed the group, kind faces and easy smiles staring back at you.

“That would be great,” you gave a sheepish shrug, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of you.”

Your comment wasn’t met with judgment, and thankfully you noted that it wasn’t met with pity either; just understanding nods and reassuring smiles. Bill took a seat next to you and you shot him a grateful look, but there was a clambering as someone—a guy, not as tall as Bill but still somewhat handsome—dove for the seat on your other side. He smiled at you but it instantly made you uncomfortable—something in the way he leered, the way he kept his gaze fixated on you, struck a bad chord. You shrugged it off, focusing on the person speaking as they went around one by one to introduce themselves. They told you a bit about who they were, how you had met, what they did in life. You snickered at some of the memories of you they shared, looking to Bill who would nod in confirmation that it did indeed happen.

But sure enough, when it came around to the man on your right, as he introduced himself he placed a hand high on your thigh and squeezed. You stiffened immediately, a jolt of discomfort shooting through you for a reason you couldn’t name, and you grabbed onto his wrist and lifted it from your leg.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said curtly, placing his hand back by his side.

Not wanting to overwhelm you or make you feel like you were the centre of attention, after initial introductions were made, the small crowd dispersed to mingle amongst themselves. You chatted with a few of them and your heart swelled at how kind they seemed to be—you felt safe. Nobody was judging you, nobody looked worried or anxious around you, nobody regarded you strangely when you would ask them for details about your own life. Bill always stayed in your line of vision but didn’t hover, even allowing himself to relax a little when he heard your laughter ring crisp through the air.

It was only when you took a small break from chatting; when your stomach rumbled so you headed to the snack table, grabbing a chip and scooping it through the dip—that you heard him call out.

“Tiger wait!” Bill said rushing to you. You paused, your mouth open in preparation for a bite, your hand stilled in mid-air.

“What did I do?” You asked cautiously.

“You hate green onions kid,” Bill said. You looked at the chip, drenched in the dip and absolutely smothered in green onions.

“Maybe—” another male voice rang out behind you, and before you could even turn around there was an arm around your shoulder, “Maybe we let her decide what she likes, for once.”

It was the same guy as before, the one who just seemed a little too close or a little too forward. It was the first time you had ever seen Bill actually look mean—his shoulders squared, he stood just a little taller, his jaw clenched and the glare in his eyes was terrifying. You didn’t remember who this guy was, you honestly couldn’t say how you had felt about him before—but in that moment, you hated him. You hated him just for the sheer reaction that he seemed to incite in Bill.

“Try them,” the guy coaxed, knocking your hand gently, “You’re a whole new girl now. Maybe there are things you’ll start to like, some things you’ll stop liking too.”

Bill’s jaw ticked. You watched his reaction carefully, how alert he seemed, how angry he seemed—and you trusted it. You didn’t know why, but you did.

“Okay, first of all,” you grabbed the guy’s arm, lifting it from your shoulders, “First of all, I trust Bill. I hate green onions. Second of all, stop touching me.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, “We used to do this all the time.”

You didn’t look to Bill for confirmation—you didn’t need to. If you had, you may have seen the way his fists clenched, the fire that flashed in his eyes. But it wasn’t even necessary.

“I doubt that,” you snapped, glaring at the guy. He huffed a little, gave a cocky smirk, before turning and getting lost in the small crowd.

“Thank you,” you said to Bill, and his shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath. Still holding the chip in your hand, you grabbed his arm and dragged him to an empty room, closing the door behind you.

“Tiger is everything—“

“I still want to try this,” you held up the chip, “I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

Bill smiled, a big one that relaxed his whole face, and shook his head wistfully.

“Go on then. But for the record, when you get your memory back, you cannot blame me for it,” he chuckled.

“I hate green onions?” You asked, for confirmation.

“Tiger, hate is too gentle of a word.”

“I trust you. But I’m still curious, so…” you trailed off, popping the chip in your mouth. Bill pursed his lips to stop the snicker, crossing his arms as you chewed thoughtfully.

“I mean, I don’t hate them right now,” you said after awhile, “I don’t love them, but I don’t hate them. I’m…indifferent.”

“Noted,” he smirked, “I feel like I should have caught that moment on video.”

And you couldn’t resist—that boyish smile on his lips, the protective streak you had seen in action. You quickly tugged on his shirt, dragging him down for a deep kiss. His hands came to rest on your hips, squeezing softly, but all too soon—you heard him inhale sharply, a soft moan to it, and he pulled away.

“We should get back,” he mumbled. You nodded, a little disappointed.

And maybe it was that you were finally getting to see Bill in a situation surrounded by other people—the way he still always looked out for you, the way you caught him glancing around the room every once in awhile looking for you. You saw how everybody genuinely seemed to like him, how much he stood out from the rest of your friends. Maybe it was the way that you recognized how safe you felt in his presence—especially around other people. You caught yourself actively looking for him too, seeking him out just for that reassuring smile of his or that small boost of confidence you got from it. Maybe it was the way that he checked in with you so often that night, making sure you were okay, that you felt alright and you weren’t getting too overwhelmed. It might have been the way that this was the first time you had seen him in nicer clothes; jeans that hugged his long legs so perfectly, a fitted long sleeved shirt that was rolled to his elbows. He was cleanly shaven, his sharp jaw line making his profile unmistakable. A loose curl flopped casually on his forehead and you found yourself trying to hold back from giving it a playful tug. He smelled fantastic, he looked even better, and the way he calmly fussed or looked out for you the entire evening had caused a knot to start forming in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe it was also the recollection of a real good dream a few nights before, one involving him that seemed more like a memory than a dream—the way he knew your body, the way he knew what you liked. Maybe it was the comfort and the warmth that you remembered from a few nights ago, when you had crawled into his bed—how safe you felt, how comforted you were. Maybe it was the soft press of his lips against yours both that night and this night in the car before you entered the party, how warm and timid and plush his lips were. Maybe it was the kiss that ended far too soon, earlier in the night.

Either way, whatever it was, by the end of the night—your body was screaming for it.

You had tugged on his sleeve when you had enough at the get-together—more people were arriving, the noise was getting louder, and your stress levels were starting to rise.

“Time to go?” He said immediately when you appeared at his side. You nodded—and within an instant he had your coats, calling out a general goodbye to the crowd, and then you were safe in the car and on your way home.

But he was just so close—you could still smell the faint scent of his cologne, and you tried to listen as he murmured soft praises to you. That he was proud of you, that you had done so well, that this was a big step. You drank all of it in—his velvet voice with the soft lilt to it, the beauty of his profile, his big hand on the stick shift as he confidently switched gears. After awhile, it got to be too much—so you reached out, resting a hand gently on top of his.

“Thank you,” you said, “For tonight. And for uh, everything.”

And there it was again, the small dimple in his cheek, his boyish lopsided grin. By the time he had parked in front of your place, by the time he had put a hand on your back to lead you gently up the stairs—you couldn’t take it anymore. You were ready to explode.

“Bill, um…” you stammered. His brows furrowed in concern but when he tucked a knuckle under your chin, raising it to meet his eyes—you lost control. Fisting a hand in his shirt, you pulled him down and crushed your lips to his. He squeaked in surprise but you didn’t let up, stepping into his chest as you pulled him closer. You moved your lips firmly against his, his hands coming up to rest on your hips before looping around your back, crushing you to him as you moaned into it. Your feet lifted off the ground as he pressed you more into him and you returned his fervour, raking your hand through his hair.

“Tiger wait,” he broke away suddenly and you wobbled, “We can’t.”

“Yes we can,” you said breathlessly, launching at him again. He stumbled back as he caught you, your mouth slamming onto his in another heated kiss. You tugged at his jacket, pulling it from his shoulders before you grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to pull it up.

“Tiger,” he stopped, actually pushing you away from him to put distance between the both of you. He dragged his hands over his face, letting out a shaky breath that sounded more like a wheeze. “No.”

“Yes,” you insisted, stepping towards him but he took a step back, “Bill, I want to.”

He held up his hands when you reached for him again.

“Tiger, no. We’re not doing this. I’m not having sex with you. You don’t even remember how you feel about me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed, “I’m sure I was attracted to you before. But regardless, I can tell you one thing, I’m sure as fuck attracted to you now.”

“Tiger—”

“No. Listen to me, Bill,” you interrupted, holding your hand up authoritatively. “You are hot as hell. You really are. And you’re very kind. And frankly—I need to get my bell rung real good. Real good. There’s a lot of…needy feelings happening in me right now that I need to get out. The fact that I don’t remember having sex with you does not at all take away from the fact that I want to have sex with you right now.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he mumbled lowly.

“How is this taking advantage of me?” You asked, “People have one night stands all the time. I don’t need to know you to have sex with you. The fact that we do have a history is just an added bonus.”

“Tiger—“

“Bill, look. It really is this simple. I do not remember ever having sex with you. But you are very attractive, and I am very attracted to you, and I would like to have sex with you right now. I’m horny. I need to get laid. And it can either be you, or it can be that guy at the party who seemed pretty enthusiastic about touching me. I’m offering it up to you first. Who’s it gonna be?” You challenged.

Bill’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh it’s gonna be me kid,” he seethed, “It’s gonna only be me.”

It was all that you needed, before you launched yourself at him and yanked his shirt over his head.

“Promise me that you want this kid,” he urged between heated kisses.

“I want this,” you murmured against his lips.

“Promise me that you’re genuinely attracted to me,” he whispered, nipping at your top lip.

“Bill, I want to fuck your brains out. Me. Right now. With zero memories. This girl, right here, wants to be all over that.”

He groaned, grabbing your face in his hands as he pressed his mouth to yours. God, he could kiss. His lips soft but insistent, his tongue flicking across your bottom lip to gain entrance. You moaned into it as he squeezed at your hips, lifting you and carrying you to bed as he pressed his weight down into you.

“Tiger,” he pulled away breathlessly, “Are you sure this is—“

“Show me what I used to like,” you nipped at his chin, grabbed his hand and brought it under your shirt. His eyes stayed closed, his chest heaving with the air he was trying to get in. You nipped at his lips, pulled him down into another forceful kiss as you raised your hips to grind into his, He groaned into your mouth, his hand trailing up your rib cage.

“You used to like it when I did….this” he broke from you, bringing his lips down and sucking gently at your neck as you drew in a sharp breath.

“And you have a real sweet spot right…here,” a flick of his tongue had you gasping, and he bit down on the sensitive area while you grinded against him. He sucked a deep mark into your neck and you moaned, but you needed his mouth on you again. You tilted your face and he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re also really sensitive when I do this,” his palm cupped your breast through your bra, and you moaned softly. He squeezed, kneading you through the material as his lips caught yours again. His hand was so big, so warm and gentle, and you squeezed your knees together as you started to feel a knot low in your belly.

“Off,” you pleaded against his lips, “Get it off.”

He raised back on his haunches and you saw the effect you were having on him—his eyes crazed, the bulge tenting the front of his jeans. It had been so long for him, so long since he had felt you, that he wasn’t sure he would make it all the way through. Pulling his shirt off, he reached for yours and got it over your head. You fumbled with your bra but he moved your hands away, popping it open and you quickly threw the material off as he worked to get your pants unbuttoned and off. You reached for him again, grabbing his hands as you pushed your breasts into his palms and pulled him back down on top of you.

“God tiger,” he moaned into your mouth, “I’ve missed you.”

His hands felt so good on your chest, kneading softly and rolling your nipples between his thumbs. You gasped when he pinched softly, moving his lips down to suck on the hollow of your collarbone. He waited until you relaxed before he pinched again, a little harder this time, rolling your nipples through his fingers.

“I really used to like…” he placed suckling kisses down your sternum, nuzzling the underside of your breast with his nose before brushing his lips over it, “Doing this.”

He dragged his tongue over your nipple before enclosing his mouth around it. You groaned and shot forward but he pushed you back, his other hand continuing to pinch and knead while he sucked on your pebbled bud. He nipped at it softly, flicking his tongue over it before blowing on it and moving to the next one. You grinded your hips against whatever you could reach, tangling your hands in his hair as his warm mouth surrounded your other nipple. You whimpered, reaching your own hand down between your legs to try and ease some of the tension but he quickly grabbed it with his, intertwining your fingers.

“All in good time sweet girl,” he purred, “I want you nice and wet for me.”

You whined, trying to get some friction and he rolled his hips against yours as he trailed his mouth down. He nipped gently at your lower belly, dipping his tongue into your navel.

“This is one of my favourites,” he murmured into your skin, “You’re always so soft here.”

He kissed along your lower stomach, one warm hand running over your body while the other one stayed tangled with yours. He licked at the waistband of your panties, nuzzled your mound, and it snapped you to attention. Before you could stop him, he buried his nose in the seam of your panties and inhaled deeply—you jerked in surprise but the groan he let out was feral. Out of instinct you moved to shut your legs but one hand grabbed onto your thigh, keeping them open.

“Um,” you looked down at him shyly, squirmy just a little, “You don’t have to…uh…”

He smiled, genuine and lopsided, and nipped playfully at your inner thigh.

“You said the exact same thing the first time we ever slept together,” another suckling kiss to your thigh, the brush of his lips across your panties, “And I’ll tell you the exact same thing that I said then: this is my favourite thing to do for you. To you.”

Your cheeks flushed, you should feel his warm breath on you through the soaked material. Before you could say anything else, he licked a broad stripe up your slit and groaned, resting his nose on your mound.

“God, the way you taste. The way you smell. I need it, kid. Please, can I have it?” He pleaded, looking up at you for confirmation. You bit your lip—you were a little shy, but god he looked like a man on fire. You nodded slowly.

“Use your words tiger,” he prompted.

“Yes,” you mumbled, “Okay.”

He didn’t wait another second. Grabbing the waistband of your panties, he ripped them from you in one yank and then dove forward. It felt like he was everywhere, his tongue wet and warm and firm, licking over you in broad swipes. You gasped and he moaned into you, the vibrations humming through your whole body. You watched him devour you, his eyes closed in pleasure, one hand still gripping your thigh to make sure you stayed nice and open for him. He licked at your entrance, pushing his tongue inside while his nose pressed into you before dragging his tongue up slowly through your folds, sucking his way up.

“Oh god,” you groaned softly, “This is fantastic.”

You squeezed tighter at his hand, relaxing more into the blankets and pushing your legs wider apart. He groaned in response, pressing his face into you more as his lips closed around your clit. He suckled at it, flicking his tongue over it as you twitched. The knot in your stomach was clenching, the groans coming out guttural as you tensed.

“Bill,” you squeaked, “Don’t stop.”

Your leg cramped up and shot out, but his lips stayed gentle and firm around your bud. He suckled with the same pressure, nipping softly at it.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged, and you were rewarded with another deep groan that sent a hum of vibrations through you. Reaching up, he glided his hand over your body and gently pushed two fingers into your mouth. The noise you made was inhuman, shoving your hips up and keeping a death grip on his hand. He gave a few broad licks up your slit, glided his tongue firmly through your folds before moving his attention back to your bud. He flicked over it before sucking it into his mouth harshly, and it was your undoing. With a loud cry you grabbed onto his hair, every muscle in your body tense and your eyes clenched so tightly shut that tears leaked from the corners. You nearly yelled through it, letting it crash into you like a freight train as you gasped. You collapsed onto the bed after it washed over you, your chest heaving and slicked with sweat, your face lax with pleasure.

You felt a soft kiss on your chin, another one on your lips, a gentle hand brushing the hair from your face.

“You okay?” He asked lowly—and you laughed. You let out an incredulous, pleasure-drunk laugh.

“So good,” you groaned, “So, so good.”

You felt him smile into the kiss, and felt another weight on you as he pressed into your body.

“Good,” he said, but he sounded strained, “Tiger, I need you. I really need you. Think you can handle a bit more, sweet girl?”

You opened your eyes lazily.

“Sweet girl,” you murmured, “I like that.”

He smiled again, but his face looked pained. Tense. You nipped at his lip, pulling his hips into yours and he moaned.

“I want more,” you said, “God you’re good at this.”

You helped him drag his jeans and boxers down as he kissed you again forcefully. You reached down and grabbing hold of him to line him up, you stopped abruptly and your eyes widened.

“What is it?” He asked, worried.

“Holy shit, you’re huge,” you blurted out. He laughed boisterously, burying his face in your neck as his chest rumbled.

“And you take it like a champ,” he smiled at you, “We’ll go slow.”

He captured your lips in a deep kiss, one hand keeping a loose hold of your chin while the other hand balanced his weight. He faltered as he pushed into you, his hips stuttering and he broke the kiss with a whimper as he pinched his eyes shut.

“Oh god tiger,” he moaned, “My tiger.”

You shushed him softly, scratching lightly at his back as you tried to relax your muscles to accommodate him. You didn’t remember but your body seemed to, taking him with ease until he bottomed out and rested his chest on yours.

“Bullseye,” he moaned. You wrapped your legs around his waist, relishing in the feel of him inside you—so heavy and deep, pressing against your inner walls in a way that made you want to clench around him. You could feel the beginnings of another release, you could feel that knot deep in your belly again, feel yourself getting wetter with him so deep inside you.

“Move bud,” you begged, “You’ve gotta move.”

Gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists, he kept his weight on you as he rolled his hips forward. His thrusts weren’t hurried, but god they were heavy and deep. He kept it slow, barely pulling back before he was pushing back into you, and you raked your nails down his back. His moans were gravelly and rough, his jaw slack as he tried to prolong his release just a little bit.

“My tiger,” he moaned again, and you pulled him into a heated kiss.

“Deeper Bill,” you begged, and he rolled his hips into yours with more force, slamming into you and you clenched around him. He moaned, the headboard knocking against the wall with every deep thrust.

“You feel so good kid,” he grunted, using his grip on the sheets for leverage as he plunged into you, “So good.”

Your muscles were squeezing him, the filthy sound of how wet you were and the deep drag of your insides were driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but neither were you. The stretch was intense but full of pleasure, the weight of him inside you and the way your body seemed to respond to him. You could barely breathe, couldn’t focus on anything other than the despair you felt when he pulled away and the the insane pleasure you felt when he filled you back up again.

“Give it to me tiger,” he panted, rolling his hips to rub onto your clit, “All over me, come on.”

You were there, your body clenching around him as you tried to drag in a deep breath.

“Now tiger,” he demanded, and you cried out as your nails dug into his back, dragging them down as you spasmed. He cursed, yelling out as he slammed into you and tensed. His chest nearly crushed you, his hips driving in deep and staying there as his fists clenched in the sheets. He gave a feral cry as you felt him fill you up, his voice giving way to rough, raspy groans as he let it slam into him. His chest heaved as he shook, and he eventually collapsed against you with his face in your neck, whimpering softly as the aftershocks shuddered through him.

You let the silence hang, kept your arms around him as he twitched and tried to catch his breath, your fingers dancing soft patterns over his skin. He eventually started to do the same, his lips leaving soft kisses in your neck, across your cheek, before landing softly on your nose. His eyes were bright, his hair sticking to his forehead, his lips tilted up in the laziest of grins.

“You know,” you started, “I’d be pretty down to do that again. Like, regularly.”

He laughed, and you craned up to kiss him.

“Was it always this good?” You asked him honestly. He went to roll off you but you stayed his movements, pulling him down onto you again. He kissed the corner of your mouth, tracing his finger over some of your features as he rested his weight on you.

“Yes,” he smiled boyishly, “I mean, speaking selfishly of course. It was always that good for me. But you also seemed to always enjoy it the way that you just did.”

“And we….only do this with each other?”

“Mmhmm,” he nuzzled the side of your nose with his.

“I can see why,” you reached for another kiss, “If it’s always this good, of course I’d want to be selfish about it.”

His laugh was breathy and soft, and you scratched lightly at his scalp. He rested his cheek on your chest, smushing his face in as his eyes closed slowly.

“I should get off of you,” he slurred. You just hummed, continuing to run your fingers through his hair.

“Why? This is nice,” you murmured, “I have therapy tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” his speech was slack jawed and warbled, “Afternoon. Then dinner with my family.”

You nodded, kissing his head.

“Thank you for tonight, bud. I really enjoyed it,” you mumbled, “All of it.”

But the only thing you heard was his soft snore, his mouth hanging open as his breaths evened out.

It was the first time you had slept through the night, the first time that your dreams left you alone, and the first time that a blinding headache wasn’t the first thing you felt when you woke up. Instead there was just a warmth, a weighted comfort that just seemed to envelop you completely. You shifted, sighing a little as the warm weight on your stomach started to rub back and forth.

“Go slow,” a deep voice murmured. You couldn’t help it, you curled up into the warmth more—seeking it out and tucking into it, nuzzling your nose into soft skin, as a hand stroked at your back and a soft pair of lips dotted whispery kisses across your face.

“We slept in a bit sweet girl,” the gravelly voice said and you almost purred, “We have to go to your therapy session soon.”

“Five more minutes,” you grumbled, and the rumble in his chest vibrated against your cheek.

“I wish we could kid,” he tapped your bottom lightly, “But we’ll be late, come on.”

It was a struggle. A struggle to open your eyes and not pout about it. A struggle to drag your tired body out of the warm blankets, away from the other warm body, and to get dressed. When the cool air nipped at your face on your way into the clinic, you huddled further into your jacket and grumbled.

“Go on,” he said, “I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”

Without hesitation, you kissed him briefly and then greeted your doctor as she ushered you into the room.

“Things seem to be going well?” She started, and you shrugged your coat off.

“Yes and no,” you sighed, “Yes, because he really is just…amazing. But no, because I still can’t remember shit.”

“What have you tried so far, to trigger your memory?”

“I ask him about me, like you said,” you told her as she scribbled notes, “He tells me a lot about who I was, what I used to like. We tried eating all the meals I used to love, and he tells me about why I love them or when I first tried them. We tried photo albums, but nothing got triggered there. I met my group of friends last night—good people—they shared some stories too, but nothing kickstarted my brain.”

“I see,” she said calmly, “What else?”

“We tried watching movies I used to love,” you chewed your lip in thought as you tried to remember, “He took me to a few places around town I used to enjoy. We got into old habits and routine, doing what we used to do on weekends together and whatnot. But nothing is working.”

“Routine is good,” she said, “It can be any number of things, that will prove to be your trigger. Sometimes the portion of our brains responsible for our memories can be given a much-needed kickstart by routine. By repeatedly doing the exact things that we used to repeatedly do. Sometimes, patients suddenly wake up one day and they just…remember. Sometimes it’s triggered by trauma. Any number of things can be responsible, so don’t lose hope and keep trying.”

“Trauma?” You asked cautiously.

“Unfortunately,” she continued, “The memories we have are only held in one place in our brain. A reaction to a past trauma is an incredibly intense thing to go through, and sometimes it reactivates every single part of our brain, including sections that were malfunctioning. A past trauma, a memory of a past trauma, or something that reminds you of a past trauma—whether or not you remember the incident—can trigger your memory to come back.”

“That sounds awful,” you mumbled, “God I hope it just comes back by like, eating spaghetti or something. If it ever comes back.”

“Have hope,” she smiled reassuringly, “You’re doing all the right things.”

True to his word, when you emerged from the room an hour and a half later and significantly more tired, he was there waiting and wrapped you up in a comforting hug.

“That one was hard,” you mumbled into his chest, and he squeezed you tighter.

“Tiger, if you just want to relax tonight—”

“No,” you interrupted, “I have to keep trying. And I want to meet them, so let’s not overthink this. Let’s just go.”

He nodded, tucking you under his arm as he led you to the car. You reached for his hand as he drove, pulling it into your lap and enclosing it in both of yours. It earned you a side glance, that soft smile that you loved.

“Are you nervous?” He asked.

“No,” you said truthfully, “I was more nervous to meet our friends. I’m…excited to meet your family. Again.”

You chuckled softly at the last part, squeezing his hand tighter.

“There’s 8 of them, you said?” You ran your thumb over his knuckles—his hand was huge, but it was always so warm.

“Yes, we’re 7 brothers and one girl. They won’t all be there today, though.”

“And you said some of them were actors too?” You asked.

“Four of us,” he nodded, “And dad. They’re all here today. One brother is a doctor, you’ll meet him too. The other two are very young. My sister works as a restaurant manager, but she’s back in Stockholm.”

“And are they all uh, tall like you?” You snickered.

“Oh god no,” Bill laughed and you sighed in relief, “….they’re taller.”

“How is that even possible? Family of giants.”

“Yeah something like that,” he pulled his hand loosely from yours, shifting the car into park and undoing his seatbelt.

“You ready kid?” He asked, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Yeah, let’s meet this circus.”

“Tiger, if at any point—“

“I know bud,” you interrupted, “I’ll give you a sign if I need to get out of there.”

He nodded, hesitating a moment before leaning forward in his seat. You met him halfway, gently pressing your lips to his and giving a tug to the curl on his forehead. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you laced your fingers with his as he led you up the long walkway. With one last look to you, and with your reassuring nod back, he opened up the door.

It was calmer than what you expected a household with that many inhabitants to be, but when Bill opened the door you were met with something akin to peace. It smelled delicious, wafts from the kitchen infiltrating the hallway and entrance area. In the living room you could hear someone plinking on a guitar, a soundtrack of soft jazz playing behind them. The house was bright but calm, natural sunlight filtering in, the entranceway painted a warm neutral tone and dotted with wooden accents. Bill rested his hands on your shoulders and you shrugged off your coat, handing it to him to hang up as he took your hand. To your relief, nobody had run up to greet you just yet—you had no doubts that he had warned them too, had told them beforehand that you needed to take it slow.

“They’re in the living room,” he answered your unasked question, “Come on.”

Taking your hand, he led you across a soft carpet and into a white open space—it was beautiful. Thick cable knit blankets adorned plush couches, minimalist accents, linear art on the walls—and three very, very big men strewn across sofas that looked miniature sized under their long bodies.

“Everyone,” Bill called softly, “Look who’s here.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to you, and you had to shake your head softly to make sure you were seeing clearly. They all looked like varying shades of the exact same person, each with distinct features but still all so identical. The blond one had Bill’s eyes, had his exact nose that you had come to love. The one with whispers of a beard on his chin had an immediate warmth about him, a kindness and peaceful presence that so resembled Bill’s. The older looking blond one had the same smirk, the same twinkle of mischief and mirth in his face that you would sometimes see on Bill.

“Oh my,” you said softly. Instinctively you reached a hand up, feeling for Bill behind you and he stepped into your space. You rested your hand on his chest, making sure he was still there. “You are all very large.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth in embarrassment at the comment that slipped out but you were met with soft chuckles as they all stood and made their way slowly to you.

“In order of age,” Bill said, “This is Alex, my oldest brother.”

Alex stepped forward, opening his arms widely and it seemed so natural and comfortable that you didn’t hesitate to step into them.

“Gentle,” Bill warned his brother, “She’s still all banged up.”

And the giant was gentle. He hugged you with caution, bending at the knees to be able to, and he kissed your cheek softly as he pulled away.

“Good to see you again,” he said.

“I don’t remember you,” you mumbled, “I’m sorry. But it’s nice to meet you, Bill version beta.”

Alex chuckled, gave Bill a knowing glance and stepped aside.

“This is Gustaf,” Bill introduced the next brother, and you liked this one. They all seemed nice, but this one had…something about him. You saw every bit of Bill’s gentle spirit, his softness, his caring in this one. Just like his brother before, Gustaf leaned down and wrapped his arms gently around you.

“Glad to have you back,” he murmured when he pulled away, “We have much to catch up on.”

"I don’t remember you either, Bill version beta 2.0,” you mumbled embarassed, but he squeezed your shoulders.

“Then how lucky am I, to be able to re-introduce myself to you,” he said kindly. Oh, you liked this one indeed. You also liked the warm, caring smile he shot Bill—the way he reached out and hugged his little brother too, ruffled his hair. The smile on Bill’s face told you everything you needed to know about their relationship.

“And this one,” Bill said as the blonde one came in front of you, “Is Valter.”

“Walter?” You asked innocently.

“With a V, genius,” the blond one snapped. You were a little taken aback, but he had spunk—you appreciated that. Bill muttered something in Swedish behind you—something that sounded angry—but Valter just cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t remember you,” you smirked, “And I think I’m pretty glad about that.”

It earned you some good natured chuckles from the band of brothers, and Valter still bent at the knees and hugged you.

“Whatever you say Dory,” he shot back, “You won’t remember me in another 30 seconds anyway.”

Another angry remark in Swedish from Bill, but you genuinely laughed. You appreciated Bill’s devoted care, but it was also nice to be treated a little more…normally. To be treated as if you weren’t made of glass.

“I thought you said there were four bud?” You asked as you pulled away, “Where’s the other one?”

“Probably cooking,” he took a few strides away, peering down the hallway. “Sam! Tiger’s here.”

You heard the footsteps, but your back was turned as you made some small talk with the brothers.

“Tiger,” Bill said, “This is my brother, Sam.”

You turned, and the moment you saw his face, a bright, white-hot flash of pain shot through your head. That face—that man—you knew that man. Your mind raced, your heart sped up, and suddenly—flash after flash of bright lights, searing pain. Memories, conversations, laughter—all of it poured into your head at the speed of light. You were dizzy, you could hear the voices of conversations past, your brain filling with memories and spiralling a thousand miles a minute. You gasped for breath, stumbling back.

“Tiger?” Bill said in alarm, “What’s wrong?”

Your feet kept peddling backwards as thoughts, more thoughts, more memories clouded every single function in your brain. You groaned as the searing, blinding pain clouded your vision.

“Bill,” you choked, “Bill get him away.”

“Tiger it’s just my brother—“

“He’s going to stab me with a needle again!” You cried suddenly, “Just like he did a few years ago!”

The entire room stilled, all of the eyes on you, as the silence became deafening.

“What did you just say?” Bill whispered.

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

“No,” you sobbed, “No no no no no no….”

“Tiger hey. Hey,” Bill stepped into your line of vision, grabbing your face in his hands, “It’s just me and you kid, just me and you.”

“Bill,” you continued to sob, clutching at his shirt as your mind spun. Everything—all of it—it was all coming back, and it was all coming back at the same time. Your knees buckled.

“Tiger, what did you just say?” He asked again.

“Him,” you sniffled, “He had a big needle a few years ago when we were visiting your family’s country place and I wasn’t feeling well. And he tried to stab me with it and I passed out and then he stabbed me anyway and I needed surgery.”

“Tiger—” Bill said urgently, his eyes wide, “How do you know that?”

“Because I remember Bill,” you shoved at him, “I hate needles.”

Bill hadn’t blinked. He still had your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks, as his eyes got impossibly wider.

“Tiger, when’s my birthday?”

“Does he have a needle?” You asked feebly. Bill glanced back—Sam was just carefully watching you both, and he raised his hands slowly.

“No needle,” he promised, “I won’t hurt you.”

“My birthday tiger,” Bill focused back on you, “When is it?”

“August 9th,” you said immediately. Bill let out a small incredulous noise.

“What was the name of the stray cat you took care of for a year?” He asked.

“Tofu,” you said without missing a beat.

“What happened to the coffee maker I bought you?”

“It broke,” you mumbled.

“What happened to the coffee maker tiger,” he deadpanned.

“I stabbed it,” you mumbled embarassed, “I thought it was haunted.”

“Which cousin do you hate?”

“Leila,” you sneered, “God, she’s a cunt.”

“And what did we do for your birthday last year?”

“We had sex in the Magic Kingdom at Disney World,” you mumbled, but the way Bill’s face contorted from shock to sheer embarrassment and the hand that he clapped over your mouth gave you a clue that perhaps you had said something wrong.

“They don’t know we do that,” he whispered urgently to you. You bit your lip sheepishly.

“They do now,” Valter chimed in, and you barely registered a rapid exchange of money amongst the brothers, some disgruntled grumbles. A quick glare from Bill, and then the piercing green orbs were back on you.

“Tiger, you remember,” he murmured. Tears flooded down your cheeks, as you nodded. He couldn’t help it—pulling you forward, he crushed his lips to yours as you held onto him.

“It came back,” you said as you pulled away, “I don’t know how. But I just kept getting flashes, my heart is still racing. Everything just flooded back.”

“For what it’s worth, if anyone cares about my medical opinion,” Sam chimed in from the background, “Amnesia from blunt force trauma is often reversed when the patient is re-exposed to a prior trauma.”

“The memories,” you mumbled in surprise, “Bill, my therapist said that. Even if I don’t remember a past trauma, my brain still has a knee-jerk reaction to it and that can provoke a kick start for my brain to access all of my memories. Just by being re-exposed to a traumatic one.”

“Exactly,” Sam said, but your eyes narrowed and you glared at him.

“So you stabbed me with a needle and you traumatized me?” You said accusingly. Bill chuckled, squeezing your shoulder softly in warning.

“No,” he said with a furrowed brow, “I traumatized you by stabbing you with a needle. It’s quite simple, really. And you saw me, and your brain remembered that trauma, and now you remember everything.”

“You son of a—“

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Bill held you back by pulling you back into him, “Tiger, you remember.”

“I remember,” you said softly, and when you raised on your tip toes he met you halfway, kissing you softly.

“So are we all just not going to acknowledge that this” Valter gestured to the two of you, “Is officially a thing, even when we all knew it was a thing?”

“I don’t know about that Valtermelon. It may not be a thing for long,” you muttered, and Bill looked to you curiously. You smacked his chest, taking a big step away from him as you glared.

“You fucking let me eat green onions?” You snapped at him, “Green onions?! Bill, you’re fucking fired.”

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfic #angst #family drama #soft bill

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 2, Male Reader][18+]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

No plot, just making Chilton watch while Bryan fucks his boyfriend better than he ever could. For @thatesqcrush’s summer bingo: cuckolding square.

Warnings: NSFW, threesome, anal sex, rough bj, degrading language, humiliation, cuckolding, cum licking. Bryan calls himself daddy. No talk about protection or consent, just assume it happened beforehand.

2,150 words

Bryan’s hands were broad and firm around your waist as he guided you down onto him, but nothing could prepare you for the size of his cock. Not the fingers he’d stuffed inside of you, long digits working you open and slicking you with lube. Not the relaxing afterglow of the climax you’d already reached in Dr. Chilton’s mouth.

Bryan was massive to the point of it being more uncomfortable than fun.

The throbbing dome of his head pressed against your entrance like a blunted battering ram.

“Easy now,” Bryan soothed. “Deep breath. There.”

You bit your lower lip as your slicked walls began to yield and stretch around it.

“That’s a good boy.”

He was at least experienced in taking it slow. Making it feel good. Chilton certainly had fun, though he was excited by things you weren’t. Pain, for example. Bryan tore into his ass with much less prep because he liked being thrown around and used. That was why Bryan was here, after all—to be rougher than you ever could. Despite the dramatic yelping and whining, Chilton loved when it hurt. It did something to him. Justified his scars, sexualized his trauma, or something like that. He was the psychiatrist, he could tell you. Maybe he just had a high pain tolerance.

The head of Bryan’s cock slipped a few inches into the first part of your core, and you gasped, almost pulling yourself out.

Leaning forward intently, Chilton watched with eyes captivated by your every facial tick and stuttered breath. He sat across from the couch, exiled to the ottoman from which he was instructed not to get up. “This is where fucktoys stay,” were Bryan’s exact words.

His cock was lengthening in his hand, but his brow furrowed at your sharp hiss of breath.

“You can do it, darling,” he encouraged. “You are doing so well.”

You nodded. You were facing out to him, your back toward Bryan, who reclined on the couch, his feet planted on the floor. Giving Chilton a show. He could see every expression of ecstasy crossing your face, every line of pain, the way your ass stretched so tightly around Bryan’s girth. So much thicker than Chilton’s. It made him feel so small and pathetic, and his dick burned in his fist.

He swallowed, practically drooling with his eyes glued to where your hole was spread taut around the invasion, your soft cock, still glistening with his saliva, twitching to life again above it. “You look so… so beautiful.”

“It’s so big,” you whimpered, but it was almost a moan now. “He’s stretching me so much.”

“This is what a real man’s cock feels like,” Bryan taunted. His hand reached around to stoke your hardening sex, letting Chilton watch as it made you writhe and let out noises of pleasure.

You sank down another inch as your body adjusted to his size, slowly opening up. Bryan’s legs were vibrating with the effort of holding still—of not plunging into your hot depths all at once—but he controlled his hips and let you control your descent.

“Oh fuck, Frederick. It’s so big. His cock feels so good!” Your voice strained as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelmed you—pleasure finally usurping the pain, the burning stretch settling into a warm fullness, with only a dull ache woven through it that heightened the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Bryan hissed. “Good boy, take it. Take daddy’s cock. Show that loser boyfriend how good I make you feel.”

Bryan’s hands returned to your waist, helping you bounce slowly until you were taking his entire thick length, seated on his thighs with his wrinkled balls hanging right below your fucked-open hole, with yours stacked just above it in the middle of your spread legs. From this position, Dr. Chilton could see everything—but he wasn’t allowed to touch.

When you started to rock up and down on his cock without assistance, that was when Bryan’s hips greedily began to pump up into you, slowly at first, but building rapidly when you didn’t protest, pushing the limit of your discomfort until he was bottoming out inside you with each stroke.

“H-how does it feel,” Chilton asked, his hot eyes lavishing over your erection, which bounced obscenely to Bryan’s forceful rhythm. He licked his lips, hand pumping in his lap. He wished it was your velvety cock he was stroking.

You glanced down at Chilton. The way he was watching you brought out your cruelty again. “He’s so much bigger than you,” you moaned, punctuated irregularly by involuntary gasps of pleasure. “The way he fills me is so good. Fu-uck—he’s going to split me in half!”

Forget the fact that Bryan was by far bigger than you, too. Chilton was the one with the ego. The one who took such pride in the way he fucked you. The one who wanted to be torn down and emasculated by a man he could never measure up to.

Chilton’s hand worked faster, frantically, but Bryan sat up against the back of the couch to fire a steely glare at him.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? You don’t deserve to cum, do you?”

“No, sir,” Chilton said.

His hand stopped moving, and Bryan gave a particularly vengeful thrust that made you cry out.

“That’s fucking right you don’t.”

A bead of pre-cum glistened on the tip of Chilton’s cock, now alone between his legs. It strained and bucked, aching for contact, to be buried inside you instead of Bryan. He was burning at the injustice of it, furious that someone else was fucking his boyfriend, and he couldn’t even touch himself—miserable that you liked it so much, knowing how empty you would feel if he took Bryan’s place. He was pathetic. Worthless.

Tears pricked the back of his eyes. Yet, watching you bounce on that monster cock, the breathless flush blossoming over your face as you grew closer to your release, watching you lose yourself in it—he had never been so turned on.

“So pathetic,” Bryan mocked. “A sniveling little author. You think publishing makes you a big man? Everyone is laughing at you, you know. I could see right through you the moment we met. A little weakling with a small dick. This is what a man does to your boy-toy.”

Chilton’s eyes began to visibly shimmer with unshed tears, and you winced at Bryan’s harsh words, but somehow your discomfort only made your walls clench down harder on his cock. He became the villain, his large, controlling hands almost predatory, taking you by force to humiliate your lover. Fuck, it sent sparks racing up your spine. Guilt swirled with arousal and heightened the throbbing of your cock, pooling molten heat in your lower back.

“You’re nothing but a filthy plaything for us to use and throw away,” Bryan continued the verbal onslaught as he drove you helplessly toward the climax.

“Yes, sir.” Chilton’s knuckles were white on the edge of the ottoman, eyes piercing you.

You wailed out as Bryan fucked you harder, his hips moving at such a wanton speed the motion blurred. Your body shook, reaching back to grasp at the couch cushions, at Bryan’s chest for balance. Every brutal stroke hit the sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside you, and he was filling you so deep you couldn’t think straight. Your jaw went slack, and your throat was too tight for words, but Bryan kept up the degrading bombardment, his voice strained and breathy as he pumped, but just as cruel.

“See how he loves this cock?” he sneered. “You could never satisfy him like I do. Good boy,” his tone changed to patronizing encouragement as he addressed you, though the show was still all for Chilton. “Yes… good boy, cum on your daddy’s cock. Show this worm how hard you cum for a real man. Show him what you’ve been missing.”

Suddenly, your guilt flared up. You opened your sex-hazy eyes and met Chilton’s, biting your lower lip and tried to fight your climax. The humiliation had gone too far now. You couldn’t imagine how devastated he would be seeing you cum on command for Bryan’s cock.

And yet, when you met his gaze, all you saw was fiery, raw lust staring back. His cock was thick and twitching between his thighs, pre-cum dripping down the throbbing purple head. “May I help?” he stammered, not addressing you, but asking Bryan’s permission. “Let me get him off.”

“You’re just the cum-dump. He’s all mine. He doesn’t want you,” he snapped. Bryan’s fingers pinched your nipples, circling his thumb over them, and a high squeal broke from your constricted throat.

But after five or six more lightspeed thrusts, you were still resisting being pushed over your peak, and Chilton jumped from the ottoman, knelt between Bryan’s legs, licked his hand and pumped the head of your cock. Bryan might have had the size advantage, but Dr. Chilton knew exactly what you liked, how you needed to get off. The right balance of gentle and force. You cried out—a raw, body-shaking moan—as you broke, the overstimulation of Chilton’s familiar touch making your hole clench around Bryan, and you came instantly. Your cum spurted under Chilton’s thumb, which was working the sensitive slit, coating his hand. He opened his mouth to catch some, though your whole body was bucking and bouncing with Bryan’s violent thrusts, and most of it spattered on his lips and cheek. But you tasted so fucking good.

Chilton stroked his dick furiously as he scanned your disheveled face, then down to the juncture where Bryan’s cock vanished into your tight hole. Sobbing out miserably, his lonely release shot from the tip of his cock, spattering onto the couch and yours and Bryan’s thighs.

“Oh, wow,” you gasped, walls still convulsing on Bryan’s shaft. You shifted your weight forward, taking the stubble of Chilton’s cheeks between each palm, and kissed him sloppily, lips hot and wet, his thumb still making lazy circles between your thighs.

Before his tongue could wrap itself in yours, Bryan was snarling, lifting you off his cock and dumping you onto the couch in the same movement that he grabbed Chilton by the throat.

“Ballsy, disobedient little whore,” he growled as Chilton gasped and choked in his squeezing fingers. “On your knees.”

He didn’t wait for the doctor to comply, shoving him down hard enough to bruise even with the plush carpet. Releasing his grip on his throat, Bryan shoved his cock into his open mouth as Chilton gasped for air. The taste of you flooded his tongue, and he began to suck hungrily, lapping at the familiar flavor. Bryan had expected more revulsion out of the prissy doctor—for this to be a punishment—but Chilton bobbed between Bryan’s legs like the dutiful plaything he was. Bryan slapped him. Left his cheek stinging for the cum he had gotten on his ass. It didn’t slow Chilton’s pace.

In fact, the cheek you had smacked earlier stung worse, despite Bryan’s more powerful hand. And Bryan stroked the base of his own shaft instead of shoving the rest of it into the doctor’s mouth.

“He can take more than that.”

Bryan glanced back at you, observing from the couch, and raised his eyebrows.

“Go on and fuck his face,” you suggested. “See how much his throat can handle.”

Despite his aggressive attitude, Bryan wasn’t as willing to suffocate Chilton between his thighs as you were, but he was getting close and desperate now. He canted his hips forward and was surprised at the doctor’s lack of gag reflex—how easily he swallowed such a large cock.

“Well, well. You really are a slut.” Bryan fucked his mouth harder now that he knew he could take it until Chilton was moaning and drooling, and Bryan was on the verge of breaking. Then he yanked Chilton off his spit-slicked length by his hair, pumping it with his fist instead. Chilton opened his mouth, tongue out, anticipating what was coming, but Bryan had no intention of getting it in his mouth. Hot ropes of cum plastered every part of Chilton’s face and chest, some of it sticking in his hair.

Bryan slapped his cheek with his heavy dick, then dipped it back in Chilton’s mouth to clean it off before stepping back and admiring his work.

“Like a work of art. You have never looked so beautiful—has he?” Bryan turned to you.

“Never,” you grinned.

Now that it was over, Chilton began to groan with discomfort, groping around for something to wipe up with. His eyes were squeezed closed like when he shampooed in the shower. Semen in the eye is not nearly as fun as it looks.

“I’ll help you clean up, sweetie,” you purred, kneeling beside him on the carpet.

Your tongue was wet and slippery but somehow slightly raspy, too, as it dragged up his sullied cheek. The salty taste of you and Bryan mingling. Chilton’s back stiffened and he shuddered, though he held in a whine. Complaining about you being gross would be laughably hypocritical right now.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #Frederick Chilton x reader #Bryan Kneef x Reader #Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef #male reader #my writing

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 16

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst, NSFW

WC: 2871

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘striptease’ square for @spnkinkbingo Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is more than two weeks ahead on patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Once inside, Y/N couldn’t fight Dean anymore and she let him crowd her against the wall next to the entrance. His lips quickly finds hers again, his tongue invading her mouth and she tastes him, swallows his moan, drinks in what he has to give her. Her senses are flooded by him.

She hears people working inside, hear them stacking bottles, scrubbing floors, but they are hidden behind a heavy curtain, nobody can see them.

Dean’s hands are on her thighs, skimming upwards along her skin, and he groans into her mouth when he feels that she’s wearing stockings. She bucks her hips against his touches, arches her back, wants him to touch more of her. Needs him to touch her fucking there.

But before Dean goes any further, he pulls his hand away and she winces at the loss. He knows, because he chuckles before he pecks her lips. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Dean thumbs over a number, dials it and pushes the speaker button. He holds it between them so she can see the caller ID.

Sam Winchester.

“Dean,” Another male voice could be heard through the speaker.

Dean smirks at her as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, his other hand on the side of her face, stroking her cheek. His eyes are on hers unblinking, as if he’s afraid that she’s not real, as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear with a blink of his eyes, “Yeah, uh, Sammy, I’m staying down here.”

“Okay, Jess and I have to leave anyway. Did you manage to find her?”

Dean tears his eyes from hers, looks down a little and she can swear that he’s blushing. It’s crazy how cute he is. He’s quick to lean forward though, kissing her nose to conceal the rise of color on his face, “Yeah, I did,”

“Good, tell her sorry. Jess feels absolutely horrible,”

Y/N has to frown at the statement. That was not her intention but in her defense, she felt absolutely shitty too.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean shrugs, “I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,”

“Lock the door, Sammy,” Dean reminds his brother.

“We will,” Sam says and adds, “Say hi to her from us,”

“She says hi back, says she can’t wait to meet you two,”

Her mouth opens to say something, but Dean hushes her by placing his index finger to her lips. Sam talks about something else for a brief while, but she doesn’t listen, because she has her hands around the wrist of his finger that’s right by her mouth, parts her lips and lets it slide over her tongue to the back of her throat. Dean groans and she twirls her tongue around it with a mischievous grin.

Dean swallows hard, clears his throat, “Sammy, gotta go, bye,”

He hangs up and places his phone back before he watches her tonguing his digit. Dean slides another finger in, his gaze is on her lips, watches her sucking in his fingers. She feels the heat rising in her face.

His one hand sneaks around her waist, works it down and under her coat. Dean groans when he feels that she isn't wearing anything else than lingerie. Pulling his fingers out of her mouth, he lets them trail along her chin and down her throat, until he strokes them along her chest. He lifts one side of the coat collar to peek underneath, sees the lace bra and lets out another audible groan, “Fuck, baby, you wore that for me?”

Admittedly, she feels a little embarrassed, but she nods her head while her teeth tugs at her bottom lip, “Wanted to surprise you,” She says, because it’s true. She wore it with the intention to show him, maybe as a thank you that he helped her, and really it’s a win for her too.

Dean’s lips widen into a bright smile, and he crashes his mouth onto hers, kisses her deep and rough and it’s all need and want . She didn’t know that she needs it right now but she does, she fucking does.Y/N melts against him. It’s hard not to.

After a while, he breaks the kiss. Her head’s spinning. His forehead rests against hers, his breathing is hard, ragged. “I need you to trust me,”

She does. It’s just… she doesn’t know? She’s confused. But yeah, she does. And now she thinks she’s a complete idiot for not trusting him.

“I do,” She mumbles, “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,”

His lips curve into a smile, “No, you had the right to be upset. I would be too, if it was the other way around,” He places a hand on the back of her neck, draws her close and kisses her forehead, “Do you trust me?” He whispers again, as if he wants to really make sure.

She nods with a smirk on her face, “Yeah,”

Dean takes her hand and smiles brightly, showing his teeth, his body relaxed visibly. As if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, “Come on, I have a surprise for you too,”

Before Y/N could ask what it is, Dean pulls her along with him, dashes up the stairs and she has to run to keep up, which is actually really hard with her heels. Some employees are staring at them, but they soon went back to minding their own business.

He slows down when he feels that she’s lagging behind. No wonder, he doesn’t know if he could walk in those heels either. Dean weaves his arm around her waist, pulls her close, helping her go faster. He’s fucking giddy, still can’t believe that she’s dressed up for him.

They walk through the VIP room until they reach the hallway to the rooms. He determinedly walks to a room and slips in with her clutched to him.

When he closes the door, Dean flops himself into a big chair and she walks in further. He watches her and takes the remote control that’s sitting on the table next to his chair, pushes a button for the music. It comes out loudly and they both jump and squint their eyes. He tunes the volume down with a chuckle.

Y/N walks to the pole that’s in the middle of the room. Her hand reaches out to touch the metal, letting them skim over the smooth surface.

After a while, she turns around, her lips curving up a little and he kind of knows that she likes it.

“Come on, show me,” His voice is raspy, his throat feels constricted, maybe it’s because of what he’s going to see, and it feels like fucking Christmas mornings where he wouldn’t get any presents but he’s excited anyway because he can watch Sam unwrap the present Dean got for him. But he’s even more excited now actually, because this time, he knows that it is all for him.

She trails her eyes over him, and there’s something unspoken between them. She’s still not sure and he knows that he’s not going to force her into anything. Hell, if she’d say that she wants out, he’d get up right away. The thing is, though, he knows — is actually quite certain — that she wants it. She’s just awfully shy and innocent and knowing that, makes his cock ache.

If she only knew how much she affects him and Dean’s kind of disappointed that she really thinks that he could fuck someone else when she’s really the only thing he fucking wants. Always have, probably. He just never knew it until now.

“Dean,” She whines, and stomps her feet, her hands up in the air and she lets them drop down to her side.

It’s cute, he can’t lie and he chuckles, “What?”

“I can’t dance,” Y/N pouts.

Cutest little fucking thing. He’s hard from just watching her throwing a tantrum because she can’t fucking dance.

“You don’t have to dance, just show me,” Dean leans back in his chair some more and watches her walk towards him.

She comes to stand right between his thighs. Dean’s close enough that if he would reach out, he could basically tug at the knot that binds her coat together. But he doesn’t. Instead, he rests the back of his head on the chair, looking up at her and smiles.

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” She mumbles and she pulls her bottom lip up. Fucking irritating, is what it is. Because it’s too fucking cute.

Dean’s eyes widen. He doesn’t understand how she can think that he would laugh? Does she really think that he won’t like it?

“Baby,” Dean’s voice is soft, he likes the sound of the word. Likes how it fits her and only her. It’s not just a thing he says when he’s trying to sweetalk someone into fucking. It’s sincere, has more meaning to him when spoken to her, and he doesn’t think that he could use it on anyone anymore now that the rightful owner of that word claimed it for herself, “I promise, I won’t. You could wear a furry costume and you’d still turn me on.”

She laughs at that.

Mission accomplished.

And he’s not even lying. Would have to try it to know if it would be the complete truth. He doesn’t think that she’ll agree to wearing one, though.

“Fine,” She scoffs, feigning annoyance, but he can see right through that facade. She’s smirking underneath those tight pressed lips.

Dean’s dick twitches when he sees her fingers working on the knot around her waist. He leans his elbow on the armchair, lays his head into the palm of his one hand, places his ring finger on his lips and he nibbles on it with his teeth to hide how excited he really is.

His eyes are on her face, he sees her looking down. She does not want to look him in the eye. At least not yet.

The knot opens up, and Dean’s watches in awe as she parts the coat. He starts to drool. It’s fucking embarrassing really. He swallows it down thickly before he exhales. He didn’t even realize that he was holding his breath.

She shrugs off her coat, lets it pool around her ankle. The lace of her bra doesn’t quite cover the peak of her nipples, the darker shade of her areolas. The fucking bra might as well not be there.

Don’t get him started on the panties. They cover enough, but they for sure leave too much to the imagination and boy, does Dean’s imagination run wild. His eyes widen some more when he sees that they are fucking crotchless. Jesus fucking Christ. He rubs his hand over his face, his heart doing somersaults.

Y/N’s shoulders sag down, and she tries to cover her modesty with her hands.

“Shhhhh,” Dean hushes her, “Let me see,”

He swallows again and his hand goes to his cock, strokes it through his dress pants, moans at the relief he feels by the friction his own hand provides.

Dean sticks his index finger out, twists it in the air while he grins cockily. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth again, rolls her eyes for the effect but he can see that little smile hiding behind it.

She turns around and Dean bites back a groan.

“Fucking beautiful,” His voice is heavy, thick with arousal.

Her ass is barely covered but the lace is clearly there.

When she completes her twist, she begins to pout again, not knowing what to do since she said that she can’t fucking dance and Dean doesn’t even expect it from her because it’s enough for him when she can dance on his fucking cock — which she’s exceptionally good at.

“Come here,” Dean takes his hands off his cock to pat his lap.

The pout is still there but she comes willingly and Dean pushes his thighs together to let her straddle him. Her knees are placed on either side of him and she sits right on top of his cock which stirs at the feeling of her heat.

His arm sneaks around her waist, one hand strokes at her skin, fingertips trailing along her cheek, the pad of his thumb paints along her bottom lip, evens out her pout.

She bites on this thumb playfully and Dean chuckles. He’d love to kiss her but he can’t quite take his eyes off of her body. His fingers trail downwards, past her throat and she cranes her neck. He grabs a hold, chocking her lightly and she fucking moans, the sound of it goes right to his dick. He loves how much she likes to be choked by him.

Dean closes his eyes briefly, imaging his cock buried deep in her throat, imagining the bulge he left there when he fucked her face last. He’s drooling some more at the thought, and swallows down his saliva audibly.

Hesitantly, he lets go of her throat with a whine from her. His hand has now reached her chest, and he feels the material of her lace beneath his fingers. Her nipples are peaking, and she shudders when he runs the pad of his thumb over it. Dean goes underneath the fabric, tweaks at it with his thumb and forefinger, making her arch in his grip but he’s holding her tight, his hand spans over her back.

“Fuck,” He mumbles, feels her wriggling in his lap, grinding down on his already leaking boner and he feels the material dampen. She’s turned on as well.

“You like it? She asks, moving her hips to coax another reaction out of him, that little minx, and Dean bites back a groan.

“Love it,” He answers, his voice deeper than usual.

His hand goes back up, places it on the back of her neck and he pulls her down, making her crash her mouth on his and Dean groans into her mouth at the slide of her wet tongue against his own. Groans because she’s fucking finally dancing in his lap, grinding down on his hard cock, wetting his goddamn pants with her slick.

The kiss is much anticipated. It starts soft and slow and grows heavier, grows more demanding. Dean kisses down her throat, and she has her arms around his neck, fists them in his hair, fingers digging at his scalp. Just on that right side of hurt.

Dean’s mouth finds her nipple, sucks at it through the material of her bra, uses his teeth to scrape over the hard little nub and she keens, grinding down harder into his bulge. He feels like seven-fucking-teen again when they make out like that and it isn’t bad. It’s like he’s making up for lost time.

He worries at her other nipple, pulls the fabric away this time so he can twirl his tongue around the peak, sucks as if his life depends on it, and she digs her nail deeper into his scalp while her movement picks up. He’s so close to creaming his pants and that’s not normal is it? She has no idea what she does to him.

Y/N’s panting hard above him and Dean wonders if she can come like that. If she can find release by only grinding on him. She’s close, he knows because she feels her body tremble. Feels her thighs squeezing together and his dick is trapped underneath her wet pussy.

Looking up at her, he rests his chin on her chest, “Come for me, baby, can you do that?” He licks a broad strip up her chest and her throat, nibbles at the flesh on her chin, “Be a good girl and come for me,”

“Fuck,” She lets out a breathy cry. His hands are on her hips now, helping her grind down on him, harder and faster.

“Come on,”

“Dean, fuck—”

His name sounds so fucking good when it comes out of her mouth in a choked moan. It makes his dick throb, can’t lie about that.

He claims her mouth, breathes “Come” into it, and she does, twitching and shaking above him and he has to actually hold her tight not to let her fall.

“Good girl,” He smiles, as he pecks her lips and nose, “Such a fucking good girl for me,” Dean sees her smiling back at him, her face laced with that afterglow, blissfully content. Abso-fucking-lutely pretty, “You look so beautiful when you come,”

He lets her come down from her high, hopes that she’s not too tired because the fun has actually just begun, “You okay?” Dean asks. Can not not ask. He’s so obsessed with knowing that she’s okay.

“Yeah,”

Her lids are heavy but she looks at him with lustful eyes. There’s a grin tugging at her lips — cocky is what it is — as her fingers start to work on his belt.

“Nuh-uh,” Dean says, and brushes the tip of his nose against hers.

“Nuh-uh?”

Her shoulders sag, there’s a slight pout and Dean kisses it away.

“You’re not too tired?” He whispers.

“Nuh-uh,”

There’s a smile on his face, “Then come with me,”

Chapter 17

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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