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halloweeneveryday · 10 months

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Now a believer

I want to start off by saying I never believed in paranormal things until these events occurred. Everything that I am going to write I have only shared with close family and a couple of friends. I've been wanting to put it down on paper and get my story out hoping it will help ease my mind a little.

The time frame in which these events took place is from 2010-2011. Location, Portsmouth Virginia.

My Wife and I had been married roughly a year at this point and she was pregnant with our child. We had been living in a high-rise apartment complex along the river but with the new child, we knew we needed something a little more substantial. I was deployed for most of her pregnancy and I encouraged her to go find us a house we could rent with a few bedrooms and a decent yard in a safe area. She was born and raised locally, so she knew the area and had an idea of what was best. She picked out a nice little house built in the early 1960's. Roughly 1200 square feet with a garage and decently sized yard and it met our budget.

I was deployed when she signed the paperwork and set up the move. An interesting tidbit that really rattled us at the end of all this was that the landlord said since we would have small children and the carpet needed replacing he wouldn't worry about any damages that occurred if she was fine keeping the carpet currently in the house. He was going to replace it but did say he just had it cleaned. There were a couple of bad spots in the carpet which was very comparable to typical hotel carpet, you know the short stuff with funky patterns and a lot of darker browns and reds... She agreed it wasn't worth worrying about if it kept us from having to pay to replace it eventually.

Since she was pregnant a moving company was hired to handle all the heavy lifting and her family was happy to help as well. This included her uncle, a local homicide detective. When he arrived at the house he got out of his car and looked around almost confused and my wife picked up on that. She asked what was wrong and he said he's pretty sure he worked a case here at this house. Seeing the obvious look of panic set in on my wife's face he stopped and played it off and said actually he just parked here and worked one a couple of houses down, his mistake. (Spoiler alert... He did work a case at that house we rented).

So that somewhat lays a little groundwork. My wife had been living in the house trouble-free for a few months. Our child was due to be born in late May and I got really lucky to have the opportunity to fly home early from deployment to be there for the birth. This is when everything started changing. The first night I was in the house, and really for me from the time I stepped in I just felt like I didn't belong in the house. Like I was in some stranger's home using their stuff, and enjoying their hard work. It is really hard for me to describe that feeling.

That first night, at around 0255-0320 we heard impossibly real footsteps in the attic directly above our room. Now the house was a typical small ranch-style house. Long floor plan. The attic ran the entire length of the house. I only say that because it needs to be understood what we were hearing. It was 100% someone walking from one end of the attic to the other end, pacing. Somewhat rapidly almost as if they were thinking about something that had them irritated and they needed to figure out how to fix it. This went on for a solid 3-4 minutes. My wife started to panic a bit and told me I needed to go investigate. I was trying to play it off figuring it must be a raccoon or something that got in the attic. At this point, I still didn't really believe in the paranormal. I grabbed my pistol, a Glock 26 chambered in 9mm, and a light and went to the access point for the attic.

Now there is only ONE way in or out of the attic. It's the typical drop-down door you pull with a string from the ceiling. I 100% believed when I went into the garage to go up that I would see the attic door had been opened and someone was legitimately up there. I really believed I was about to have to shoot someone. When I got there, the attic was sealed. No one around. The back door to the garage closed and locked, the garage door down... Just as I had left everything. I hesitantly pulled the attic door down and somewhat to my surprise I found that the lights in the attic had been left on. Now it is entirely possible they have been on a while because she never went up there and neither had I until this point. But it did make me think I had a homeless guy camping in my attic so I proceeded with caution. I went up with my sidearm and light as carefully as I could but my search turned up nothing. There was no one in the attic, no signs of anyone having been in there, just nothing. Nothing.

I went back downstairs, told my wife the coast was clear maybe it was something like pinecones falling on the roof which is literally the biggest stretch in the world for what we heard. I knew it, she knew it.... But what the hell was I suppose to say?

This happened several more times over the course of the next year. I'm not going to go into as many details about the other events that happened but I will lay them out. If anyone has any thoughts on all this id love to know what yall think.

-Sounds of conversations in other parts of the house while watching tv. As soon as I mute the tv, I could hear the conversation still taking place but only for a split second. Almost as if whatever was talking realized I muted the tv and could hear them. It definitely was not an echo either.

-Stuff disappearing. Literally had things like bananas or batteries on a countertop. Go to get them, they are gone. Come back through the kitchen an hour later and they are right where I knew I had left them. This made me feel crazy when it happened, but I was the only one in the house so its not like my wife had moved them.

-Dishes crashing in the sink... Except we never left dishes in the sink. Everything was always cleaned, dried, and put away. But we would randomly hear what sounded like pots and pans falling over in the sink.

-Motion-activated lights in the garage would go off all the time when I was home. Eventually, my wife noticed it ONLY happened when I was home.

-My wife started to have really negative energy and anger issues in the house that started to cause issues in our marriage, at first we assumed it was postpartum depression however this changed immediately the day we moved out and she hasn't ever felt that way since and we now have 3 kids.

-Doors open and close on their own. Doors that were shut and the locking mechanism engaged in the frame. This never happened when we were at the house. It was more when we went out and came home to a door opened that wasn't when we left.

-Random sounds, smells, cold spots.

I think that pretty much sums up our experience in this house. Now, where it all comes to a head for us was when things started going south with our landlord. He started treating my wife rudely when I was gone out to sea and if she had issues she needed help with he was a complete jerk. To be clear I'm not talking about problems like a clogged toilet. I am talking about things like our AC not working and the house being 90+ inside... He was really being a dick. This set me off and we opted to move out of the house.

While packing up a moving truck our neighbors across the street who had always been friendly in passing wanted to know why we were leaving. They said the previous renters moved out after a short period of time and had complained about the house being off and something not being right. She asked if we had any experiences in the house and I shared a few of the things we had experienced. What she proceeded to tell us shocked us. She told us that there was a family of 4 that lived there for a long time. I guess several years from the early 2000's until about mid 2008. The husband was apparently a known alcoholic with anger issues and cops would be out at the house routinely. Sometime around the summer of 2008 he lost his job and the landlord was evicting his family. The dad/husband ended up taking his life in the living room. On the same carpet that my family walked across every day. The landlord never had the carpet replaced, he had it cleaned. The day we moved out her uncle came clean, he worked that case. He was at our house and made the call that it was a suicide. He also confirmed that was the same carpet. Really freaked us out.

So at the end of all this, I am now a believer. I also (thankfully) have not had any other negative experiences. We had one really small thing happen at another home but it was a one-time incident that never occurred again.

source: https://www.reddit.com/r/ParanormalEncounters/comments/sb8lvf/experience_that_made_me_a_believer_portsmouth/

#My life is creepy #halloweeneveryday #halloween everyday #ghost #haunting #haunted #spirit #paranormal #spooky

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ceruleanchillin · 3 years

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5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans imagine #reader insert

120 notes · View notes

breanime · 3 years

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Intentions

Okay, here’s my shot at a Tommy Shelby fic... Let me know what you think, please!

Prompt: “You think I would do this for just anybody?”

You weren’t entirely sure what possessed Tommy Shelby—the Tommy Shelby—to assist you, but you decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and just appreciate it. Ever since he’d overheard you telling Ada about the men who harassed you on the streets, Tommy had taken it upon himself to make sure you always had an escort home.

And for the last five days, that escort had been him.

“Really, Mr. Shelby—” you began, holding your purse in front of you as Tommy locked up the office.

“—Tommy,” he corrected you, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Tommy,” you repeated, “you don’t have to keep doing this, really. I can just walk.”

“You live 45 minutes from the office,” he said back, “and that’s not counting having to stop for fucking protests or some pieces of shite trying to pick you up. Then it’s around 56 minutes if it’s raining or snowing,” he went on, “More if it’s doing both at once,” he led you to his car, opening the door for you, “You work hard; you ought to have your boss make sure you get home safe.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your growing smile in check. Tommy had no way of knowing that—the time it took for you to get home—unless he walked the walk himself. “Well,” you said, climbing into the car, “I really do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well just appreciate it quietly, eh? Don’t need the other girls thinkin’ they can get a free ride out of me,” he glanced at you, giving you a small smile that made your heart flip in your chest. You watched as he started the car, and he turned to you, “Why do you stay in that neighborhood, anyway?” He asked you. “It’s so far from town, the buildings are old, the landlords are pricks…”

“It’s the only neighborhood that houses Blacks,” you answered, “Or at least it’s the only one that houses us at an affordable price.”

“Hm,” he nodded, looking ahead as he drove, the smoke from his cigarette billowing from his lips, “Am I paying you that poorly?”

You laughed, and you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched upwards as you did. “You pay me well above the usual rate. I’m just saving it up, is all. I can’t have you driving me around forever, Mr. Shelby—”

“—Tommy,” he corrected you.

You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle, “Tommy,” you amended yourself.

“I don’t mind it, you know,” he said, turning the wheel, “driving you. These last few days, it’s been… nice,” he paused, “I don’t get a lot of time for good company or conversation on me own.”

“Oh, so I’m good company, am I?” You said with a grin.

Tommy turned to you, those diamond blue eyes staring right into your soul, “You’re a smart girl,” he replied, “Loyal, Trustworthy. Hard working. And you’re bloody gorgeous so. Yes. You make for good company.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and your eyes darted down to your lap. You’d heard that Tommy Shelby was a charmer, and that he’d had pretty much every woman who’s worked for him—minus his aunt and his sister-in-law, of course—but you’d never seen him so… forward.

You liked it.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” He asked casually, as if he was asking about the weather.

“No,” you answered, looking over at him, “You make for good company too.”

He gave a wry smile then. “Fishin’ for a raise, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Either I’m loyal and trustworthy, or I’m bootlicker. Which is it, Tommy?”

He laughed, and the sound made you warm all over. Tommy didn’t laugh nearly as often as he should. “Fair enough,” he nodded, “You’re not a bootlicker, that’s for sure,” he glanced over at you again, “I haven’t figured out what it is you are yet…”

“I’m a girl who isn’t gonna let you fuck her just cause you’ve given me a few rides,” you said back, speaking before you could stop yourself.

He raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Is that what you think is going on here?” He asked. “My driving you home from work? You think I’m doing this for sex?”

You licked your lips, nervous now. “Well, I mean no offense, Mr.—Tommy—but I’ve worked for you for three months now, and I think I know you well enough to know that you never do anything for nothing.”

Tommy smirked. “That’s true,” he stopped the car, letting a mother and her kids pass in front, and looked at you, his eyes staring into yours brazenly, “So, let’s have it. Give me your theories,” he started the car again, glancing back at you as he spoke, “Why, then, do you think that I do this?”

You paused. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Maybe he didn’t want to sleep with you. Just because he called you gorgeous, didn’t mean he wanted to fuck you, after all. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said—although Tommy always meant what he said. Maybe, though, he really was just concerned about your wellbeing. A woman walking home alone at night could be vulnerable to all kinds of dangers, and given the amount of enemies the Shelbys had… You looked over at Tommy. “You do this for everyone,” you surmised.

Tommy turned to you, an eyebrow raised. “You think I would do this for just anybody?”

Again, you paused. “Yes?”

“Well, I don’t,” he said back, “I’ve never driven any of the girls home—except for Lizzie, but that’s only because I fucked her,” he went on, blunt as ever, “This takes up a portion of my time, and I’m not a man who has a lot of time to waste,” he looked over at you, “I like being around you,” he confessed, “I like the way you talk. I like the way you think, and when I think of you alone at night… I can’t sleep. I can never sleep, but still…” He took his cigarette and tossed it, giving a humorless chuckle. “You make me ramble,” he went on, shrugging one shoulder, “I don’t ramble, least not since France...” He paused for a moment. “When I’m busy, and one of the lads takes you home instead, it ruins me night. It irritates me that I missed out on that time with you, and that another man got it instead,” he glanced at you again, “Is that alright to say?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I prefer it when you drive me,” you admitted, “Not that the others aren’t nice and all—they are—but… I do like this time with you, being alone with you…”

Tommy looked at you, his sky-blue eyes staring into yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wordlessly, he pulled the car over, turning to face you fully. “Tomorrow is Friday,” he said, and you blinked, confused as to why he was telling you something you already knew, “Pay day. I’d like to take you out to dinner. Maybe see a picture after. Would that be alright?”

You felt your lips spread out in a smile, and Tommy smiled back, chuckling a bit at the excitement in your eyes. “Yes,” you answered, “yes, that’d be alright.”

“But I want to be honest with you,” he went on, “I respect you as an employee, and you’ve been a good friend to me these past months, and regardless of what happens tomorrow night, I will still make sure you have a safe way home after work,” he leaned forward a bit, his voice low and deep, “but I want it known that I very much do want to fuck you.”

His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you had to remind yourself that you were a lady, not a whore…no matter how much Tommy Shelby’s glimmering eyes and sharp jawline made you want to be… Biting your lip, you smiled at him, “I’m not going to open my legs for you on the first date, Tommy.”

He laughed, taking out another cigarette and lighting it, the flame reflecting in his ocean-colored eyes. “Mm, we’ll see,” he murmured, “So it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

The rest of the drive passed quickly—too quickly for your taste. The two of you discussed work and your families and what movie you’d like to see, and before you knew it, he was parked outside of your building.

He opened the door for you and walked you to the front door like a gentleman. And you thanked him—

—with a kiss.

If the kiss took him by surprise, Tommy didn’t show it. As soon as your lips touched his, his arm was wrapped around you, keeping you close. The kiss was soft, but firm, and Tommy’s slender body felt magnificent against yours. You wondered, at the back of your mind, what your neighbors would think, seeing you necking with Tommy fucking Shelby of the Peaky fucking Blinders, but you couldn’t be bothered to care about what the gossips may say.

You were too busy trying to keep yourself from floating off in a haze of bliss.

You pulled back first, and Tommy let you. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “I’m not letting you up, Tommy.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” you smirked, making him laugh.

“I’m a patient man,” he said back, taking a step back, “I can wait until tomorrow.”

You laughed at that, but the truth was, you were quite certain that tomorrow night, when Tommy pulled up in front of your apartment, he wouldn’t be driving off until the sun rose.

In fact, you were counting on it.

You watched him drive off from your window, a sigh escaping from deep in your chest, the taste of him—mint and smoke and a hint of whiskey—fresh on your lips. Tommy fucking Shelby…

…what had you gotten yourself into?

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! You guys know how I get when I write a new character; I always think it’s shit. So if it is, tell me! And if it’s not, tell me why, please! Should I write for him again, or nah? Cause I kind of have an idea for a Part 2, but IDK if anyone would be interested.

And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip here, I would greatly appreciate it!

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby x black reader #black reader fic #tommy shelby imagine

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

Text

Alexei (Part 2) Lemon

Rating: Mature Relationships: Female Human/Male Satyr Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Satyr, Arranged Marriage, Fake Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Reader Insert, Illness Words: 6143

A commission for @thebimess! A sudden illness changes the nature of the reader's and Alexei's relationship. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You left the next morning before Alexei woke, as usual, but the walk to the bathhouse, which was only across the street, was more difficult than it had been before. Within an hour, you felt exhausted and weak, as if there were steel bands constricting your chest, preventing you from taking a full breath. There was a sharp pain in your side every time you breathed in.

“You don’t sound well,” Your work neighbor, Ellie, said. “There’s a nasty whistle when you take a breath. Are you alright, lovie?”

“Yes, I’m alright,” You lied. “Don’t worry about me, I can carry on.”

“If you say so.”

At some point during the day, you were called out of the laundry room.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked the matron.

“No, dearie,” The matron said, looking concerned. “We went and called on your husband to take you home. You’ve looked like you’re going to fall into the tubs all day.”

“I can work, Madam, I’m fine,” You protested.

“Nonsense,” She said. “Let your husband take you home. The last thing I need is a corpse on my working floor, you got me, missy?”

“Yes, Madam,” You said.

Alexei stood up from where he was sitting in the front room. As soon as he saw you, his face pinched in concern.

“You’re terribly pale,” Alexei said, coming close. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” You gasped. “I just have a little cold or something, it’s nothing to worry about.” It was unfortunate that at that moment, your feet decided to trip over themselves and you stumbled into him.

“Oy, oy,” He said, helping you right yourself. He put a hand to your head. “My word, you are boiling, pet! Let’s get you back home and lay you down. Madam, thank you for sending for me. Will you need compensation for the time she’s not working?”

“We’ll figure that out later. Get that child in a bed.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Alexei managed to drag you back to your room and helped you out of your short cloak and shoes. He steered you toward your bedroll and lay you down in it. As soon as your body hit the blankets, it gave out and you lost consciousness.

When you woke, it was dark. You had a wet rag on your forehead, your body feeling as though you’d been trampled by horses. Though you were bundled up, you felt like you were going to freeze. Breathing was like being stabbed with knives. As you inhaled and exhaled, there was a gravelly rasp that you could feel in your lungs. You made a sound of discomfort, and suddenly Alexei’s face came into your field of vision.

“You’re awake,” He said, taking the rag from your head. “Can you sit up? You need to drink.”

“Help me,” You croaked. He wedged his arm under your shoulders and lifted you. Your body screamed in agony and you gave a pained cry. “I can’t breathe,” You told him. “I feel like I’m drowning.”

“I know,” He said, his face scrunching in sympathy. “The physician has been ‘round to see you. You have pneumonia, he says.”

“Pneumonia?” You repeated.

“Yes,” He said, tipping a cup of water for you to drink. “He doesn’t think you’re infectious, since no one you’ve been around has developed symptoms. He left me some medicine to give you, powdered willow bark and peppermint.”

“That must have been expensive,” You wheezed. “How much did it cost you?”

“Let me worry about the expense,” He said, urging you to drink more. “Just concentrate on getting better.”

“But my job…” You protested. “I’ll be sacked...”

“Stop fussing,” He admonished. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything. Just rest.”

“I’m cold,” You said piteously, beginning to cry.

“I know,” He said again, stroking a strand of your hair from your forehead. “It’s the fever. I can’t make you warmer or you could die.”

“It hurts,” You said. “Let me die.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll be alright,” He soothed, laying you carefully back on the bedroll. “Let me get your medicine.”

Every day, Alexei woke you four times a day for your breathing treatment, which consisted of steeping the peppermint leaves in boiling water and having you inhale the vapor, and to take some fluids, usually water, tea, or broth. He stuck to this schedule without fail, and while it irritated you, you knew somewhere in your subconscious that he was saving your life. The peppermint vapor helped ease your breathing some and the willow bark prevented the fever from becoming dangerous, but it still felt as though you were dying.

Five days in, he woke you for your treatments.

“No, I can’t,” You cried weakly.

“Yes, you can,” He said patiently. “But I want to show you something first. Let’s sit you up, pet.” He lifted you up gingerly and sat behind you so that you were resting with your back to his front and your head on his shoulder. “Can you open your eyes?”

Your eyes felt glued together, but you managed to pry them open. “What do you want to show me?”

“Look,” He said, pointing at the wall where the fireplace was. “Can you see?”

It took a moment for your eyes to focus, but when it did, you saw flowers. Hundreds, thousands of tiny flowers painted on the wall. It was a field, a meadow, and a sweet little cottage sat in the middle next to a small pond. Every color you could think of waved in the painted breeze. It was dusk, and the sky was pink-gold with fluffy clouds of silver floating along it. Little ducks, chickens, and baby goats gathered around the steps to the cottage, and there, a woman who looked much like you stood scattering seeds from a basket on her arm. She wore a crown of flowers on her head.

“Oh,” You breathed, a tear rolling down your cheek as your body trembled weakly against his. “It’s beautiful.”

He rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “I’m glad you like it. I worked on it while you were sleeping. I was going to just paint a small piece of wood with flowers and fruit for you to carry in your pocket, but… it didn’t feel good enough.”

“I would have loved that, too,” You said. “Won’t you get in trouble with the landlord for this?”

“I asked permission,” He said softly into your hair.

You began to sob. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I just wish I weren’t dying so I could enjoy it properly.”

“You’re not going to die, love,” He said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and rocking you gently side-to-side. “I won’t let you. You have a fiance to piss off; you can’t die before then. I’m looking forward to the day when I can watch you tell him to stick that contract where the sun don’t shine.”

You laughed through your tears. “Why couldn’t I haven’t been promised to you instead?”

He laughed, too. “You’re too independent and headstrong for me, love. I like women who can’t fend for themselves. They don’t realize what I twat I am.”

You chuckled. You spent a few minutes in silence, staring at the lovely gift Alexei had made for you. And then it was time for tea and treatments before he let you rest again, all the while he stroked your hair and hummed a soft tune under his breath.

It took eight days for the fever to break. Thankfully, you were unconscious for most of it, since consciousness was nothing short of torture. You couldn’t eat and could barely swallow. Every breath was like your lungs were catching fire over and over again.

Once the fever broke and you were able to stand up, Alexei paid a substantial amount to rent you a private bathing room with soaps, shampoos, fruit, cheese, and wine. Every luxury had been seen to and Alexei had spared no expense. When you offered to pay him back, he simply ruffled your hair and told you not to worry about it, saying that you’d earned a nice day for yourself.

He asked your coworker, Ellie, to help you wash up and to watch over you, since you were still weak and had a terrible cough. It was nice to have another friend sitting with you to talk; you hadn’t really had a girl-friend before.

Thanks to Alexei, you didn’t end up dying, but recovery was painfully slow. By the time the six months of the marriage was up, you’d only just started to feel like your old self again, but you still tired easily and couldn’t push yourself for too long.

The two of you packed your room to travel back to Red Landing, selling the furniture you’d purchased when first arriving in Dunmountain.

“Are you ready to go back?” Alexei asked as he helped you up into the driver’s box.

“Not really,” You said. “I’m not looking forward to facing my parents. Or Gregory. Just because I know he’ll be utterly obnoxious about it.”

“Well, don’t worry about a thing, pet,” He said. “If the bastard tries to make off with you like a prowler in the night, I’ll be there to stop him.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m glad to have you as a friend, Alexei. I’m sorry if I ever insinuated that you weren’t.”

“Water under the bridge, my pet,” He said, patting your hand before trotting around the mule and hopping up to sit next to you. “Shall we?”

“Eh?” You said with a noncommittal shrug. Laughing, he took that as a yes and snapped the mule to movement.

The trip back was comfortable, despite your nerves, and took far less time than the trip to Dunmountain had, since you were walking for half of that one. The two of you either slept in the vardo or rented a room at an inn. After six months of sharing a space, sleeping in the same room was second nature by now, so there was no reason to rent two rooms.

When you reached the boundaries of Red Landing, you wrapped your arms around yourself and took a large breath.

“You’ll be alright, pet,” Alexei said. “If things get too badly out of hand, I have no qualms about loading us back up and doing a legger.”

You smiled. “That’s good to know, I’ll keep it in mind.” You pointed at the crossroads. “Take a left at this fork.”

He nudged the mule left, and it took you out of the marketplace and down the residential track.

“Here. We’re here.”

He stopped the wagon in front of a modestly built wooden house with shuttered windows open in the breeze; your mother had always said that glass was an unnecessary luxury and not worth the cost. There was a simple garden and an apple tree planted next to the walkway up to the front door surrounded by a low stone wall and a wooden gate, which was open.

“That’s odd,” You said as Alexei helped you down. “The gate is never left open.”

“Could they be expecting someone?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” You replied. “All of the windows are open, too. That’s unusual.”

“It’s a nice day,” Alexei said. “They could just be enjoying the fresh air.”

You shook your head. “No, this isn’t like them.”

“Do you think something could be wrong?” He asked, taking you by the forearm and stopping you cautiously.

Before you could respond, your mother appeared at one of the windows, crying out.

“Oh!” She said, her hands to her mouth. “You came back! John, she’s back!”

She disappeared from the window and a few seconds later, the door flew open. She launched herself out of it and into your arms, brushing past Alexei to do so.

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you!” She cried into your shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d ever return.”

Your father, a gruff looking man with a short beard, came out too. He was less talkative than your mother, but he gathered you up in his arms and held you tight for a moment, releasing you with nary a word, though a small tear fell down his cheek and disappeared into his whiskers.

“Hi, Papa,” You said. “Hi, Mama.”

“Oh, darling, we were hoping you’d come back! We left the windows open, so we could hear you coming. They’ve been open every day since you disappeared.”

You sighed, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry I vanished on you without saying anything. But you understand why I had to do that, don’t you?”

You mother regarded you warily. “Darling… you know how important the investment is for us. We had so many plans.”

“Mother,” You said sternly. “I’m not marrying that man.”

“Be reasonable,” She pleaded. “We can do so much once our business gets off the ground. For you, as well.”

“I don’t think there’s anything unreasonable about wanting to be treated like a human being and not a possession to be sold,” You said, your voice raised. “What happened to you two? What happened to working for what you want? What happened to never trusting a gift? Do I mean so little to you that you’d make a deal with the devil so that you don’t have to work anymore?”

“I can’t believe how ungrateful you are!” Your mother replied, scowling. “Do you know how long we had to wait for this? Do you know what we sacrificed for you?”

“I never asked you to sacrifice anything for me!”

Your mother slapped you. “Don’t raise your voice to your mother!”

Suddenly you were yanked back. Alexei had pulled you behind him and stood between you and your parents.

“I understand family matters can get heated,” He said evenly. “But I must insist that you not strike my wife. She’s still recovering from being quite ill.”

“Wife?” Your father repeated, the first thing he’s said since you returned. “What’s this about a wife? Who are you?”

You heard that but not that I was ill? You thought bitterly.

“My name is Alexei,” He said, his voice deep and imposing. “I’m your daughter’s husband.”

There was an awkward silence as your parents took that information in.

“Why don’t you come in and we can… discuss this,” Your father said, motioning for your mother to follow him inside.

Before you could follow after them, Alexei stopped you. He touched your chin and tilted your head, examining the cheek where your mother had struck you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You replied. “Let’s get this over with. It’s going to be painful, either way.”

He grimaced and opened his mouth to say something, but thought the better of it and shut it again, stepping aside to let you pass.

Inside, your mother was setting out tea. Your father sat in his usual chair with his arms folded, looking at Alexei unfavorably. You frowned at him. It’s a little late to be playing the concerned father, isn’t it, Papa?

Your mother sat down next to your father across the table from you. You took the marriage license from your bag as she set out the teacups and unfolded it showing them.

“You can inspect it and send a letter to the magistrate, if you wish.”

Your mother cleared her throat, not looking at the document. “So… how did the two of you… meet?”

You tried to answer, but you felt your mouth dry up.

“She took shelter from the rain in my carriage one night, actually,” Alexei said, laughing a little. “I didn’t even notice her until the next day halfway through my journey. But when I did, it was love at first sight. I did everything I could from that moment on to woo her.”

“How soon after you met did you marry?”

“Three days.”

Both your mother and father’s eyes shot to you suspiciously. You felt the weight of their scrutiny, but didn’t flinch.

“What is it about our daughter you fell in love with?”

You were slightly concerned that Alexei wouldn’t be able to come up with anything, but to your surprise, he answered without hesitation.

“She’s a self-starter, fiercely independent, and has an amazing work ethic, which I imagine is thanks to you.” He gestured at your parents. “She’s headstrong and funny and makes faces when I tease her and is genuinely fun to be around. Not a dull day since I met her.” He turned to look at you fondly. “She’s spent all of our marriage taking very good care of me. Better care than anyone ever has. She’s the only family I’ve ever had, and that means more to me than I can ever express. I count myself blessed to have met her, and doubly blessed to be her husband.”

You couldn’t help but smile softly. He sounded so sincere.

“What about you, dear?” Your mother asked, still looking unmoved. “What is it about Alexei you fell in love with?”

You sat and thought. “I’ll admit, when first the idea of marrying Alexei was presented, I didn’t want to do it.” You didn’t mention that it was you who brought it up. “But Alexei has never been anything but kind to me. He’s silly and talented and he laughs a lot and is never bothered by anything. Not until…”

You stared at your hands, trying to recall the time you’d been ill. “I got sick. Very sick. I almost died, I think. He took care of me. It took a long time for me to get better, and he was there the entire time. He painted an entire wall with flowers and ducks and pretty things for me to look at, just because I’d said I wanted a little painting to brighten up our room. He spend a lot of money for several months on medicine to help me get better. He never got mad at me, never impatient, never frustrated. He didn’t give up on me even when I wanted to die so that the pain would stop. He’s my husband, but he’s also my best friend, and I’m lucky to have him as both.”

That was a hell of a revelation to come to sitting right in front of your parents being interrogated about your fake marriage. Without looking at each other, Alexei flipped his hand and reached for yours, and you took it. He squeezed your fingers firmly. Don’t worry, He seemed to say. Just say the word and we can run.

“So, are you a man of means, Alexei?” You mother asked. “Can you take care of our daughter financially?”

“She’s more than capable of doing that herself, you know,” He said levelly. “But yes. I’m a fairly well known painter and I have a decent nest egg set aside to build a home. If the underlying question is, ‘am I going to give you money in exchange for your daughter as if she were goods to be bartered for,’ the answer is no.”

Your father got red in the face and your mother sputtered. You didn’t even try to hide your smug smile.

“Darling,” Your mother said, turning to you and pleading. “It’s not too late to fix this. You can still annul the marriage and marry Gregory. He’ll straighten up after he’s married, most men do!”

You sighed and rubbed your temples in frustration. “Look,” You said, pulling out your coin purse. “This is all the money I took, plus a little more. Since money seems to be the only thing you care about, take this. I don’t owe you anything anymore.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to us,” Your mother said angrily, shoving the license back across the table. “After everything we’ve done for you.”

“What? What have you done for me, Mother? You did what you were supposed to do when people have children? Had a child and then raised that child? You don’t get a reward for doing what you’re supposed to do; you taught me that, for God’s sake!”

Your father slammed his hand down on the table and you jumped, letting out a startled squeak. He stood up, his eyes dark.

“Perhaps…” He said slowly. “It’s best if you leave.”

You felt stung. “Happily,” You said, snatching the license from the table and stuffing it in your bag. “I have a feeling that I won’t be back this time.”

“Are we off, then, my pet?” Alexei asked casually, standing and reaching to take your bag.

“Yes,” You said through your teeth. “For good.”

“As you wish, pet,” He replied, taking your hand and wrapping it around his arm. “There’s a lovely tavern a little east of here we might stay. It’s less…” He turned back and looked your parents up and down pointedly. “Money-hungry.”

You asked Alexei if you could ride in the vardo and he was agreeable. As soon as Alexei snapped the reins and the mule lurched forward, you began to sob. You knew he could hear you, because the window near the driver’s box was open. He whistled loudly as the cart rolled, perhaps to disguise or drown out your weeping so you felt less awkward about crying noisily on a crowded street. You appreciated it.

The vardo stopped, you assumed in front of the tavern Alexei spoke of, though he didn’t hop down right away, simply sat in the driver’s box and continued to whistle as you cried. After a time, you pulled yourself together and forced yourself to stuff down the rest of your tears.

“Alexei, I’m alright now,” You said faintly.

He stopped whistling. “I’ll give you some coin. Would you mind getting us a room while I see to the mule and wagon?”

“Sure,” You said tonelessly. You climbed out of the vardo as he came around and held out your hand. Before he handed you the money, he took your chin and tilted your head up, looking at you in concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright, pet?”

You nodded but you didn’t meet his eye.

“I’ll see you inside. Wait for me downstairs and I’ll buy us dinner, alright?”

You nodded again and walked off wordlessly.

Inside, you paid for the room and bought two mugs of ale. Alexei came in after a few minutes and bent down.

“Anything you want specifically?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You replied flatly.

He walked off, and after several minutes he came back, picked up his mug and took your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“Come on, pet,” He said. “I’m having it sent up to our room. You look like you need rest. It’s been a long… trying day, and you’re still not well yet.”

You didn’t argue and allowed yourself to be led upstairs. Once inside, he put your mugs on the provided table while you sat down on the very small bed. You pulled the license back out and stared at it.

“I suppose we should find a magistrate in the morning,” You said. “Six months is up. You held up your end of the bargain. We can have this annulled as early as tomorrow afternoon and be on your way.”

He sat next to you. “Is this a conversation we should have now?”

“There’s no reason not to. I have to think about where I’m going to go.”

“Go?” He echoed.

“I’m not going home, clearly,” You said. “I have an aunt up north, but I don’t know if she’d be any more interested in taking me in than my parents were at listening to me.”

“You could always stay with me,” He said. “Annulling the marriage doesn’t mean we stop being friends.”

“It’s improper for a man and a woman to live together if they’re not married.”

“Who cares what’s improper? We’re adults, we can do what we like.”

“It’s alright, Alexei, I’ll figure something out. I’m resourceful, you know that.”

“I do know that,” He said, reaching over and taking the license, inspecting it. “What if…” He said slowly. “What if we didn’t annul the marriage? What if we stayed married?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked looking up at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was saved from answering by a knock at the door.

“That’s our dinner, I expect.” He stood up and opened the door, taking a tray from whoever delivered it and closing the door again, putting the tray down on the table.

“Alexei,” You said, standing up. “What do you mean, stay married?”

“Well…” He said, not looking at you and bending over the table, busying himself with placing the food out. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. And we’re good friends, we take care of each other. I can’t think of a single good reason not to stay together.”

“Well, I mean…” You started. “It’s not like we love each other, right?”

He didn’t answer, just continued fussing with the food. You stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him upright.

“Right?” You asked again.

He met your gaze, his face a little sad and anxious, and took a big breath.

“When we first got married,” He began slowly. “It was a laugh, something funny and silly to occupy my time. Teasing you was amusing, and I got someone to cook and clean for me as a bonus. I figured that at the end of the six months, I’d just walk away with the money having done my part and never have to see you again. I’d be one step closer to my goal of building a house for myself. I didn’t expect to end up as friends.” He dropped his eyes and took one of your hands in his. “I grew up alone. I expected to live my life alone, and I was happy with that. But when you got sick…”

“Alexei, it’s okay,” You said softly, squeezing his hand.

He shook his head, grimacing as if in pain. “When you got sick, I know I kept telling you to keep your chin up and that you’d be fine, but deep down I was panicking. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it and I was terrified…” His voice shook. “…that I was going to lose the only family I’d ever had. I didn’t sleep at night and watched you all the time to make sure you were still breathing. Whenever I’d try to rouse you to drink and you wouldn’t wake, my heart would stop. I was willing to spend every penny I’d ever earned to fix it. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and I wanted more than anything for you to live. I wanted you to stay with me. I still do.” He looked up at you again, and there were unshed tears in his eyes. “So stay with me.”

Stunned and moved to silence, you nodded slowly.

He swallowed hard, leaned in, and kissed you. He seemed jumpy, as if he worried you might slap him and he’d need to hop back quickly, but you didn’t slap him. You stepped closer and put your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to you. He sighed in relief and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush with his. He was only slightly shorter than you, so you had to tilt your head down a little to kiss him, but it was nice. It was comfortable.

Ignoring the food now, he took you to the bed, shedding his vest, tunic, and undershirt. He’d worn his best clothes to meet your family, but now they were left in a pile with your dress on the floor. He unstrung your bodice and you slid it off, pulling your chemise off after it. God, why did being a woman come with so many damn layers?

Finally, you were both undressed and crawled into the bed together, your limbs tangling together. He laid you down on the threadbare blanket and kissed you deeply, touching your body and spreading your legs with his knees. After a moment, though, he stopped and popped up in his hands, peering down at you.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked, looking concerned. “I may have been a little overeager when you didn’t push me away, but are you well enough to… do this… with me? Are you feeling tired or sick?”

You giggled softly, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “I feel incredible,” You said. “Better than I have in a long time. It’s alright, Alexei. I want this. We never had a wedding night, after all.”

He laughed. “I think you’d have thrown a pan at my head if I tried.”

“You’re right,” You replied, pulling him down for another kiss.

He took his time exploring your body, touching and kissing and sucking. He nipped at your skin as he made his way down your belly, tickling your sides to make you giggle and squirm.

“I wish I’d known how soft your body was,” He murmured. “And how warm. I’d have confessed my feelings sooner if I could’ve just curled up next to you at night.”

“Flatterer,” You said, smirking down at him.

“Honest,” He said, kissing your hipbones. “To think, so many cold nights with this beautiful body lying mere feet away. It’s enough to chill a man’s heart.”

“Or something else,” You snickered.

“Speaking of which,” He replied, spreading your legs and kissing lower. His lips touched your… lips… and you inhaled at the new sensation. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just strange since you’d never felt it before. You looked down at him as he teased you, and he looked back up at you. You bit your lip and watched him as he finally pressed his tongue to your pearl, and he watched your flushed, thrilled reaction with fascinated intensity.

Shivers rippled through your body and you let your head fall back onto the pillow as he went to work pleasuring you, gripping your inner thighs tightly to keep your legs wide open. His beard tickled the sensitive skin as he pressed his face firmly into the hollow, pushing his tongue deeply inside you and wiggling it up and down. You moaned and tilted your hips so that he could get even deeper.

“Alexei, please,” You rasped, pulling his hair.

He raised back up, wiping his beard and reaching between his own legs to gently stroke himself. He kissed his way back up your body and braced on one hand as he pressed his cock to your entrance, pushing inside you. Your body opened to his eagerly, taking him in to the hilt. He moved slowly at first as he kissed you over and over, making a loose fist in your hair, but when you wrapped your legs around his and thrust your hips up to meet him, he began to speed up.

His lips never left your skin and neither did his hands. It was as if he couldn’t touch you enough, couldn’t get enough of how your skin tasted, and gripped you as if you’d evaporate if he let go. There was a strange, anxious tension in his body that you could feel in his muscles as he slammed into you over and over.

You were getting closer to the peak of your pleasure, you could tell he was, too, because he buried his head in the crook of your neck and clung to you as if he were drowning. His movements were precise and rigorous. His grunting grew louder and faster, joining with your moans and gasps. You gripped his back and dug your nails into his skin, whimpering “yes! yes!” over and over.

He suddenly popped up on his hands, thrusting frenetically before giving a shout and going completely rigid, his forehead pressed against yours. You cried out right afterward, grinding your clit against his body and riding out your orgasm as he released inside you.

The two of you were locked in place, gasping for air. He finally collapsed sideways, sliding wetly out of you, and drew in deep breaths. When the two of you had cooled down and caught your breath, he pulled you into his body, your back to his front, and locked his arms around you.

“Pet?” He said softly.

“Hmm?”

“In case I hadn’t made it clear, I do love you,” He said.

You laughed. “You couldn’t have done much more to make it plain short of shouting it out the window.”

“Do you want me to? Because I will!” He made to release you and reach up to open the window, and you grabbed him back, giggling.

“You silly thing!” You told him, rolling over to look at his face. “In case you were wondering, I love you, too.”

“Oh, that’s good,” He said with a smile, stroking your hair. “Was a little worried.”

“Well, don’t be.” You went in for a soft kiss, and then another, and another. “I’ll stay. Wherever you go, I’ll be with you. Because I want to be.”

He cuddled you in and the two of you slept.

A short few hours travel brought you to a meadow with a small pond. The field was full of flowers of all sizes and colors.

“I know this place!” You said as Alexei helped you down off of the driver’s box. “This is from the painting!”

“Very perceptive, my love,” He said, grinning. “I’ve owned this little stretch of land for a while. I think I finally have enough money to build our home. We might be sleeping in the vardo for awhile until it’s finished, though.”

“I don’t mind,” You said, turning and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I love it here. I wouldn’t even care if we slept in a tent as long as we could live here.”

He chuckled and kissed your temple. “I think we can do better than that, Pet,” He said. “Welcome home.”

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#exophilia #monster boyfriend #satyr #strangers to lovers #Fake Marriage #arranged marriage #reader insert

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perfeggso · 3 years

Text

I don’t want a lot (Johnny x Reader)

I wrote this as part of @suh-insane’s walking in a winter wonderland collab, so thanks to her for hosting! Happy holidays and I hope y’all enjoy ❄️☺️

Genre: domestic fluff

Characters: Johnny, fem! reader, Ten

Warnings: nothing really just mentions of bad things that have happened this year lol. It’s a very...2020 fic. Also I guess some language. Also, smoking pot.

Rating: teen and up

Length: 3.5k

My movie quote is “They can’t evict you on Christmas! Then you’d be ho-ho-homeless!”

December 18th 2020, 4:37 p.m.

“Knock, knock!” You pound your fist against the wooden door in front of you, then pull your coat tighter around you. You’d moved to Chicago five years ago for college, and you’re still not sure if you’ll ever adjust to the snowy winter months. It was at said college that you met,

“Johnny Suh!” You bang a fist on the door three more times. “I know you’re in there. Take your headphones off, you dumbass.”

You’re about to pull your phone out of your pocket and go to the trouble of removing a glove to text your boyfriend when you hear the door unlock from the inside, a metallic tumbling sound.

When the door opens all the way, Johnny is standing just past the threshold of his apartment, his catlike lips curled up at the edges. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a blue flannel, and his freshly dyed blond hair falls to where his headphones rest around the base of his neck. You can hear Nirvana coming from them because you are dating a stereotype.

Johnny leans his large frame against the side of the door where he had been holding it and smirks, but there’s nothing but softness behind the expression.

“Long time no see, sicko,” he teases.

You roll your eyes as he moves to let you pass into the entryway of his and Ten’s shoebox dwelling.

“You look even more like a deadbeat than you did a month ago,” you say, not moving because your clothing is starting to drip melting snow onto the floor and you don’t even know where to begin with taking it off. “This is proof you need me around taking care of you.”

Johnny pushes off the door and closes it, pausing his music. He crowds close and starts unwrapping your scarf so you don’t have to think about it anymore, shakes some of the slush off it so it pools at your feet, and hangs it on the coat rack. He does the same with your puffer jacket.

“Aw,” he pouts, “you don’t like the new color?” He tries to remove your beanie too, but it was part of your Outfit, so you yank it back down onto your head and give Johnny puppy dog eyes, choosing to ignore the way your heart rate picks up a little from the proximity. Hey, isolation was rough, okay? Johnny tucks your hair behind your ears instead.

“No, baby,” you say, starting to toe off your snow boots. “I love it. It’s very Disney prince, but simultaneously very… Kurt Cobain.” Johnny smiles and lets you finish stripping your winter gear, walking his way back towards his sofa until he’s sitting, legs wide. Snow falls in flurries past the window behind him. “It’s just that, I dunno, you look like you’ve been spending more time on Reddit or something.” Johnny sulks jokingly at your ribbing as you hang up your purse and try not to fixate on how cold the indoor air still is. “I can tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while,” you continue. “Oh wait! I forgot you have Ten around for that.”

Now it’s Johnny who’s rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t seem too offended because he beckons you over to sit with him. You follow his gesture, skipping towards him until you can curl into his side on the couch. He removes his headphones and lays his head against the crown of yours, taking your hand softly.

“It’s not my fault my girlfriend abandoned me for a month,” he complains, rubbing his thumb over yours.

This makes you chuckle. Oh, how you’ve missed him. “If that’s what you call ‘considerately protecting you from the Novel Coronavirus’,” you joke, “then I guess, but I refuse to apologize for doing my civic duty.”

Your case hadn’t been bad, but it was a logistical nightmare. You’d spent two weeks in total isolation, nursing a cough, guzzling hard alcohol straight to see if you could taste it, sending your best friend out to shop for you, and thanking your lucky stars for having a job that would let you work from home. You’d spent the next two waiting to test negative for the virus and a positive for antibodies. Johnny was initially distraught when you told him, sending you cloying messages and calling everyday to see if your symptoms were getting better or worse. Once you’d convinced him you weren’t dying though, he went back to his usual obnoxious self, joking about planning your funeral and accusing you of faking it to avoid him.

Johnny pulls you tighter into his side. “Whatever,” he concedes. “Is it safe to kiss you yet?”

You look up at him and shrug. “Nothing’s 100% but…”

That’s all the reassurance he needs to pull you into his lap and connect your lips. It's soft and languid, and you hold each other through it. His arms are so solid around your waist it simultaneously makes your heart flutter and makes you feel like you could relax and take a nap right here and now. When you pull away, Johnny runs his hands along your figure, as if to reassure himself you’re really there. The smile he gives you glows, but only for a moment. You curl yourself into the crook of his neck and place the back of your hand on his cheek, tender. His skin there scratches yours just the tiniest bit.

“I missed you,” he says, chuckling.

“Mm-hm, I missed you too,” you reply. “How are you, anyway? You said you had something to tell me?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. He maneuvers you off his lap to sit by his side, and from this angle you can truly tell that he’s going sheepish. Suddenly it feels like there’s an alien hand in your stomach. What could this possibly be about? Johnny’s nervous silence gets your brain spinning – a zoetrope of stupidity. Am I being broken up with? No – obviously not. Does he have a family member dying of COVID? I fucking hope not; that’d be complicated on multiple levels. Maybe it’s good? Maybe he finally got a job offer but he has to move away or something.

Johnny starts talking before your mind can come up with any other ridiculous hypotheses.

“We’re getting evicted.”

You furrow your brow. Had you misheard him? You shake your head, incredulous. Johnny and Ten had always maintained a good relationship with their landlord. It didn’t make sense for everything to turn on a dime, even if they were struggling financially.

“You’re kidding,” is all you manage to say.

Johnny just purses his lips and raises his eyebrows as if to say, “it is what it is.”

What he really says is that he wishes he was kidding, but he’s not.

“Oh my god,” you respond, crossing your arms in irritation at, well, at everything lately. “Fuck! When is this happening?”

Johnny sighs. “Technically in a week.”

You feel the cogs of your post-COVID brain start to crank against each other. A week from today would be…hold on,

“Wait,” you say, as the situation starts to appear more and more ridiculous. “Like exactly a week from today? Like on Christmas? You’re being evicted on literal Christmas?” You’re trying really hard not to raise your voice, even if it’s clear that if you did, it would be out of indignation on Johnny’s behalf. You’re obviously not upset with him.

Johnny’s eyes roll around in their sockets as if this is the first time he’s contemplated the exact timing.

“Well, yeah, I guess a week from today is Christmas…”

The absurdity of this all is getting to you, and you can’t help it, you start to laugh. It’s that kind of nihilistic, fuck-all laughter that’s been one of the few things getting you through this year.

“They can’t evict you on Christmas!” you quote. “Then you’d be ho-ho-homeless!”

Johnny looks at you blankly for a second, so you contort your face into that open expression universally recognized as the “get it?” face.

“From Go?” You hint. “C’mon, Johnny boy.”

And before his nickname can fully escape your mouth, your boyfriend is cutting you off with a long sound of recognition and doubling over his lap in giggles.

“Good one,” he says into his right knee, and you giggle along with him. “Wholly inappropriate, but clever nonetheless.”

“Why, thank you,” you say, enjoying the levity, but unable to uproot the feeling of dread in your gut at Johnny’s conundrum.

Go is one of you and Johnny’s favorite movies to watch around Christmastime, mostly because it’s only tangentially related to Christmas, it’s kitschy and ridiculous, and has a plot that is 90% crime. You’re surprised he didn’t catch the reference more quickly, but to his credit, he has more pressing worries taking up mental space.

“Where is Ten, anyway?” you ask, looking around performatively at the messy and claustrophobic room. A silver plastic Christmas tree twinkles on a table in the corner. “Have you two talked about a plan yet?”

“He’s grocery shopping,” Johnny explains. “He’ll be home soon. And yeah, we have an idea.”

“You do? Because you could always move in with me.”

Johnny scrunches his face up. “I would love to live with you.” Your heart rattles a little in excitement, even though you know there will be a ‘but.’ Johnny goes on, “but you know both of us wouldn’t fit in your apartment. Where would Ten sleep? Or put his stuff? We’d all be on top of each other.”

You nod, defeated because you know he’s right.

“Hey,” Johnny says, “but we can always have the ‘moving in’ conversation again, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing his hand. “Sounds good.”

It suddenly feels very dark in the apartment (it’s still chilly enough you think you might be able to see your breath, but you aren’t about to complain because you know there’s a very good reason for that), so Johnny pushes himself up off the couch to turn on a couple of lamps.

“So,” he says, facing you from across the room, “we’re gonna be evicted on Christmas, no matter what the cinematographic masterpiece that is Go tells us is right or wrong. Christmas is just as much of a capitalist construction as our rent, after all.”

You’re about to pipe up again about how fucked that is and how surely they can come to some sort of agreement with the landlord, but Johnny anticipates this and keeps talking.

“We tried to argue, babe, but as I know you know, we don’t exactly have much of a leg to stand on.”

Johnny is right. Again. How many months behind were they on rent at this point? They’d gotten a few months delayed back in spring, but they still owed everything that built up from that before the end of the year, and they’d blown through their stimulus check a long time ago. Johnny has tried to find work, but the theater business hasn’t exactly been booming. Ten, for his part, is able to make a bit of money doing freelance illustration and teaching dance classes over Zoom from his room, but his studio’s engagement has dropped since March and he still unfortunately gets paid per student. You can’t help wanting to punch a wall in frustration at how unfair this all is, but it’s not like any of it comes as a shock. You’re not naïve. You and Johnny met at a leftist theory club for Christ’s sake.

“We’re helping organize a rent strike,” Johnny says, calming you down. Finally, a glimmer of hope. “We’re not the only ones in the building going through it right now, and we know a lot of the tenants who aren’t being evicted well enough we can convince them to join.”

Right then, the front door flies open and thwacks a startled Johnny in the back.

“I’m home!” Ten calls from behind a sack of groceries. You can’t even see his face yet. “I’m terribly sorry,” he directs at Johnny, then heaves the bag of food onto the kitchen counter which is also sort of in the middle of the living room.

“Ooh,” he coos when he sees you, still sat on the couch. “The missus is back!” He strips himself of his winter coat, ignoring your scoffing and revealing an oversized red and white striped sweater. He shimmies against the cool air and lets out a sort of squeal. “I was not built for this actual winter shit.”

“Hi, Ten,” you say once he finishes his theatrics. “Missed you.”

Ten shoots a sappy pout your way. “I miss you too. I’m so glad you’re feeling better! You have no idea how morose Johnny got without you constantly around. Can I give you a hug?”

You nod and try to warm up Ten’s tiny frame with yours while Johnny mutters something about Ten not knowing what “morose” means. When you break away, Johnny is rifling through the week’s haul to put things away.

“I see you didn’t go off-brand for the ramen,” Johnny remarks, stacking several Shin bowls in the cupboard. He turns to Ten with a raised brow. “Big spender.”

“They didn’t have anything else but if you would answer your damn phone I could have called and asked you about it.”

“I answer my phone,” Johnny grumbles, stowing some orange juice away in the fridge.

“Besides,” Ten continues, ignoring his roommate, “since I’m the only one making any money in this household I figured I’d give myself some discretion for spending it.”

Johnny grimaces, and you figure this is where you should probably step in.

“We were just talking about the rent strike, Ten. Johnny was filling me in.”

Ten turns his attention back to you, letting Johnny house the food items in peace.

“We’ll see how it goes,” says Ten, looking out the window just past your shoulder, “but I’m letting myself hope a little bit. As far as I’m concerned, they’ll be kicking my corpse out of here before they put me on the streets.”

Johnny scoffs. “Always so dramatic.”

“Says the former theater major.”

“Touché.”

You’d missed the ‘old married couple’ dynamic your boyfriend has with his roommate.

“But really, just, please try not to get the cops involved,” you plead. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” says Johnny as he closes the last cabinet and crinkles the brown paper bag up for storage.

Ten shrugs. “No promises.”

You sigh.

Once everything is good and settled a few moments later, Ten decides the apartment needs a more festive atmosphere, so that’s how you end up getting dragged down the short hallway to Johnny’s room while Ten belts Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” from the living room and accuses Johnny of being a scrooge. Even still, Johnny sways playfully from side to side as he walks backwards, shimmying his shoulders and mouthing the words with a smile between protestations that this is “not how I envisioned finally spending time again with my girlfriend!” The way he buries his hands into the sleeves of his flannel to make sweater paws makes your heart so full you want to curl up and die. But, moving on.

Once in his bedroom, Johnny flicks on a warm-hued lamp and watches fondly as you collapse on the bed.

“I really did miss you guys,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time in an hour.

Johnny’s lips press into a little smile. “Yeah. We missed you. A lot. Especially me – you have no idea.”

You laugh sardonically. “Based on your text messages, I think I actually do have an idea.”

Johnny flops down on top of you, crushing you a bit.

“Oh really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His golden hair is falling in your face and it tickles, but Johnny halts any laughter with a kiss, then dots tiny kisses all over your cheeks and nose. They tickle too.

“You wanna smoke?”

“Sure.”

Johnny has a pre-rolled joint on his bedside table, and you watch him light it, feeling like you’re in a snow globe with the fall of snowflakes outside. The sky is that weird greyish off-yellow that only comes with a snowy night.

After a couple of hits, Johnny lies back down next to you and hands you the joint. The smoke brings you that usual tight feeling, like your lungs are shrinking but at the same time swimming in radiant heat. You don’t know if you should technically be doing this right after COVID, but you’re young and your body is resilient; you figure you’ll be fine. Besides, you can already feel the pleasant lightness setting in around your mind. It’s a placebo at this point, no doubt, but the relaxed anticipation is nice. You take note of the fact that Johnny had started playing music while you were thinking about lungs. The Strokes’ “Under Control” is doing battle with Ten’s Christmas tunes still seeping in through the cracks in the door.

You hand Johnny his joint back and roll onto your side, supporting your head with one hand and curling the other into Johnny’s abundant hair.

“I just want to say one more time,” you begin, “if worse comes to worst, you can always move in with me.”

Johnny takes another hit and holds it for a second, leaving you in anticipation.

“I know,” he says simply. “But I really think this’ll work. I have to, right? Besides, if Ten had to hear us fucking multiple times a week we would all start to regret living together. That, I can promise.”

You laugh, burying your increasingly silly-feeling head into Johnny’s chest. “Okay, fair.”

There’s stillness for a few beats where you just count your and Johnny’s breaths, trying to synch them up. This doesn’t work though, since Johnny’s lungs are bigger. Then,

“There’s no way your parents would lend you some money?” Your voice comes out quiet. “Or let you stay with them for a while?”

Johnny looks down at you, letting out a heavy sigh. “No, no. That wouldn’t be a good idea for…so many reasons. Besides, they don’t exactly have an extra few months worth of Chicago rent lying around either.”

You nod against Johnny’s chest. “I figured,” you say. “Just checking.”

Johnny brushes his fingers through your hair and kisses your part. “I appreciate your concern,” he says, offering a slightly sly smile.

You kiss the white fabric of his undershirt. It’s been so long since the two of you just laid together, and it feels better than you could have hoped, Johnny’s body heat helping to alleviate some of the cold of an apartment gradually losing its utilities. You wish you could get closer than chest to chest. You kind of wish you could burrow into him, but not in a weird way, you know?

“I believe in you guys,” you say. “However I can help, I will.”

“Thanks.”

Apparently, Johnny is done with talking, because he pulls you in for a warm kiss. Then, he gets the brilliant idea to shotgun the pot smoke. This activity quickly devolves into a very giggly makeout session, only to be interrupted by Ten’s voice outside the door.

“I’m opening the door in five seconds, you guys,” he says, “and if Johnny’s dick is out when I get in there, I’m evicting both of you myself!”

You and Johnny fall together laughing as Ten cautiously cracks the door. He swats at the air in disapproval.

“Stinks…” he remarks. “Oh, thank god you’re decent. Anyway, John, if the lady is staying for the evening, you both need to come help cook dinner, because I am not your housemaid, even if I do look good in a maid costume. Chop-chop.”

It takes way too long to get up out of bed because Ten, as usual, has made both you and Johnny absolutely lose it. Eventually, you manage to rise, but Johnny pulls you quickly back against his lap.

“Hey!”

“Just a minute.” He presses one last kiss under your left ear. “I love you.”

You can feel your skin tingle, although it might just be the weed. Either way, you’ll never tire of hearing that. “I love you too, Johnny.”

“I think Mariah was right,” Johnny whispers, voice displaying mock awe as if he were coming to a mind blowing realization. “All I want for Christmas is you.”

You give him a sympathy chuckle because that was kind of cute, in a corny way, and Johnny just swats your ass a little in response to get you back up to standing.

“Well, you and some basic shelter would be ideal,” Johnny deadpans. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask but I guess we’ll see.” You smile sympathetically. This strike is no doubt going to make for a stressful week, but you’re glad it’s starting like this.

“Hey, love birds!” Ten hollers from the kitchen.

“C’mon,” you say with a laugh. “Let’s not leave him waiting any longer.”

#my fanfic #my work #nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct johnny #johnny suh fanfic #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh #christmas fic #neothestars #johnny x reader #nct ten #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul

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tuanhood · 4 years

Text

the property manager

pairing: landlord’s son!mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, kinda everything, strangers(?) to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, power imbalance (kinda yes?), oral sex (male receiving), face f*cking, thigh riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex.

word count: 7,400+

summary: when you get a letter from your landlord about a rent increase, you decide your only option is to try to talk to his property manager and son, Mark.

a/n: um i have nothing to say. actually yes i do. this is kinda of ALL over the place so i’m sorry about that and if it doesn’t make much seNSE but i just had a craving to wrITE THIS! leave me alone. thx bye.

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It had been a stressful day at work. You wanted nothing more than to go upstairs to your apartment and climb into bed.

You had been all over the city looking for a specific kind of cake that your boss had consumed almost a year ago and couldn’t remember where it had been. More often than not, you found yourself doing ridiculous chores as a personal assistant and after the first year you had told yourself it would get better, but it hadn’t. You thought you could prove yourself and get more recognition, possibly working your way to a bigger role at the entertainment company you worked for, but as time passed it seemed more like a dead-end.

Which is why you were considering quitting and looking for something else. You had connections through friends and old contacts, but you weren’t sure if it was worth it to see if they would ultimately pan out or not.

Checking your mail, you flipped through the letters finding mostly bills, until your eyes settled on a letter addressed to you from your landlord and his son, the property manager.

NOTICE OF RENT INCREASE

Dear Tenant,

Due to general cost increases, we are required to increase your rent. This letter is to advise you formally that your rent is being increased to $1,250 per month as of next month.

This increase does not affect any of our mutual obligations under your lease. For example, your rent due date will remain the first of the month or before.

Thank you for your understanding of the cost pressures on us as we do those upon yourself. We appreciate your tenancy and hope you will remain for a long time.

Best regards,

Raymond Tuan | Landlord

Mark Tuan | Property Manager

You read the letter three times. How could they increase your monthly rent by almost three hundred dollars? You had just enough each month to pay for your already overpriced apartment. But perhaps what annoyed you the most was the short notice and their attitude in the letter. They thank you for your understanding and appreciate you, and yet gave you barely any notice for a $250 increase in rent.

It took you a moment to collect yourself, especially after such an exhausting day, but somehow you found yourself marching upstairs to the second floor and angrily knocking on the door of Mark, the landlord’s son and property manager.

There’s no response at first, and you swear you hear noises coming from the apartment, but soon all that’s heard is silence. All of a sudden you hear a “Just one sec!” being yelled through the door along with shuffling.

Before today you hadn’t really paid much attention to Mark. Being the property manager, you of course had met him when you first moved into your apartment over a year ago and often saw him in the building. You would exchange pleasantries when you passed him in the hallway or ran into him when he was getting his mail. But you had never really known much about him besides the fact that his father was the owner of the building and he was there to make sure things ran smoothly in case tenants needed anything.

There was supposedly one interaction you had with him that you found yourself barely remembering. It had been a late night after drinking and your friends had decided to dump you in the hallway of your building, leaving you to fend for yourself and make your own way upstairs to your apartment. The memories you had were hazy, but you could picture yourself sitting on the floor inside of the building’s entry way, drunkenly sobbing about how you were never going to make it home.

The only reason you thought you had interacted with Mark was because the next thing you knew you woke up in bed with a note resting on your bedside table.

Y/N,

Remember to take an ibuprofen or two when you wake up, along with A LOT – and I repeat – A LOT of water. Thanks again for the… uh compliments and I hope you feel better.

- Mark

That was months ago and you had no clue what “compliments” you’d said to him or he fact that Mark was even the one who helped you up to your apartment and into bed. After that you were very adamant about avoiding conversation with him.

When the door finally swung open you were met with Mark’s sweaty face, some of his hair sticking to his forehead and his breath a little shallow. You wondered if he had been working out based on his appearance. Craning your head, you attempted to look past him into his apartment to locate any evidence that could confirm or deny this suspicion, but he followed your motions, blocking the view inside.

“Um what’s up?” He asked.

“It’s about this letter,” you began, but Mark soon stuck his finger out and began shaking it as if remembering something. “Apartment 8A right?”

You nodded simply, “yeah… that’s me. Anyways-”

“You have that cute doormat out front with the kittens on it,” he stated more as a fact rather than a question. You found yourself nodding again and his interruptions led you to believe that he may never let you speak.

“Listen Mark… I got the letter from you and your dad-”

“The landlord,” he corrected and you felt your teeth clench at another intrusion of your sentence. He waved his hand as if to say “go on,” which inherently caused you to crack your knuckles in frustration.

“I got the letter from you and the landlord,” you repeated, this time correcting yourself which Mark smiled at, “and I don’t see how you can increase rent starting next month.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms, leaning against his open doorway, “what do you mean you can’t see it? We wrote it in the letter.”

You looked at him blankly, and couldn’t understand if he was teasing you or if he was actually dumb. Judging by the way he had a slight frown on his face, head tilted to the side and lines forming between his eyebrows, you had your answer.

“No yes, I see that. I just don’t understand how you would even decide to increase the rent $300.”

“We didn’t. It’s only a $250 increase.”

Only?

That made you angry.

“Do you understand that to some people that’s a lot of money? It’s not easy for everyone to just find an extra $250 a month. I already overpay for my shoebox; I don’t see how I’m going to be able to give you an extra $250 this month at such a short notice or really… every month for that matter.”

Mark clicked his tongue as if thinking of some sort of solution for you until he simply shrugged, “then find a new place to live I guess?”

The tone of his voice didn’t come off as rude or with an attitude. More or less, he said it as if he was just thinking of an “easy” solution to your problem. It almost seemed like Mark had no perception of actual issues that people are often plagued with.

“Mark how the fuck am I supposed to find a new place to live by the end of the month?” He doesn’t flinch at your tone or language, but simply countered back, “okay then… so stay.”

You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t imagine how the other people in your building dealt with broken appliances or faulty plumbing if this was who they had to come talk to.

“Can’t you talk to him about it? Or at least give more of a notice?” You found yourself willing to even be okay with just an extension of the increase. Maybe you’d finally get a promotion or recognition at work, or maybe you could look into getting another job as an assistant.

“Sorry… My hands are tied,” Mark murmured, uncrossing his folded arms as if he thought the visual of seeing his hands would make the statement more believable.

“He’s your dad! He owns the whole goddamn building. What do you mean your hands are tied?” You jabbed.

His face shifted, and it almost seemed like he felt sorry for you, “that stuff isn’t really up to me… It’s up to him.”

You found yourself tapping your foot in irritation and as you found perhaps a new way to reason with him, “I mean you don’t really want to pay that much more a month, do you?” Mark just looks at you confused, once again, “I live here for free… I’m the property manager.”

“Okay yeah or do you live here for free because he’s your dad?”

He shook his head in protest, “No I definitely live here for free because I’m the property manager.”

“Listen let’s just talk about this more. Can I come in? I’m sure I can convince you that it doesn’t make sense to raise the-” Just as you were about to push yourself past him, he positioned himself forward to stop you.

“Is there some kind of problem?” You asked.

“I- You can’t come in,” he frowned.

“I just want to talk!” You explained, throwing your hands up in desperation. What was this guy not understanding? Wasn’t he supposed to be here to answer to the tenants needs and make sure things were running smoothly? Even if it meant you having a nice sit down in his apartment to chat about how you were going to murder him if he kept acting so clueless about the rent raise?

“We can talk out here.”

“Well I have a lot to say.”

“Oh, I know that,” Mark pressed, rolling his eyes a bit. He thinks back to when he found you drunk in the hallway crying. He panicked because he thought you had been hurt or something bad had happened, but you were just completely wasted. As he had hoisted you up off the ground and into his arms, carrying you – not completely willing – to your apartment, you had begun to talk his ear off.

Most of what you had blabbed on about was how miserable you were at your job and how much you just wanted to quit, but soon as he reached the second flight of stairs, he heard you change subjects. Instead, the topic of conversation became about him and his dating life.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You had asked. Mark remained silent, using that as his answer, “because I never see you with one. Which is crazy since you have such a well-defined jawline.”

“Um thank you?” Was the only response he had found to be acceptable.

You continued, “If you were my boyfriend – but you’re not don’t worry – I would tell you how good your jaw was all the time. Aren’t I nice? Wouldn’t I make a nice girlfriend? I think so, but some people don’t think so…” You drifted off; the sadness evident in your voice.

Mark had found the conversation you were having – pretty much with yourself – funny and by the time you reached the front door of your place, he realized he didn’t want it to stop. You had begun to search your bag for your keys, which you would stop doing ever so often to begin talking about something else, getting distracted and ultimately forgetting about the task at hand.

By the time you had both made it inside, it felt like hours had passed and you wandered to the kitchen, Mark following behind closely, wanting to make sure you were okay. “Do you want something to eat? It’s around that time, huh? Like for a late-night snack?”

He shook his head at you, “Y/N, I think you should head to bed,” Mark was concerned to say the least for your body as you had told him somewhere between the first flight of stairs and the second that you had work in the morning. You had ignored him, “what kind of animal do you think you are in a relationship? For me I think I’m… a cat. No, no actually I’m more like a kitten, because I can be playful and energetic, but I still have that “leave me alone” energy, ya know? I bet you’re something cute like a puppy or I don’t know gopher?”

He hadn’t even argued with you about what being a gopher in a relationship meant or how it was a cute thing to be. Somehow, he had convinced you amidst your next rant that heading to bed was indeed a good idea. As soon as your body had hit the mattress, you were fast asleep and he managed to find a piece of paper to leave you a note for the next morning.

After that, Mark thought maybe the two of you would become friends. Which looking back at, Mark suddenly thought it was a lame thing to think. He didn’t have many friends or people he truly knew in the building as most tenants just saw him as an extension of the landlord – his father – and didn’t really treat him like an individual. More like a spoiled brat.

However, as months went by and you avoided his gaze in the hallway, he could tell that your drunk escapade had been forgotten altogether. Now looking at you frustrated, a raise in rent being the only reason for you to come and talk to him, he felt sick to his stomach, because he thought you were different somehow.

“It’ll only take a second I swear,” you muttered, and somewhere lost in his thoughts, Mark didn’t have a moment to react at your swiftness to push pass him into his apartment. “Wait stop, don’t!” He protested, turning around quickly to see you looking around his place.

You took it in and you were surprised. For some reason you had pictured it to be much bigger since he was the landlord’s son, but it was probably only a few square feet bigger than your own apartment. The next thing that left you bewildered was how clean and organized it was. Every apartment that you had been that belonged to a male, often looked ransacked as if a thief had been through. However, when you turned your head towards his living space, a simple couch and coffee table positioned in front of a TV, that was when you felt your eyes widen the most.

Up on the screen of the TV was a paused video of a woman on her kneeling in front of a man, mid blowjob. Okay so he wasn’t working out when I knocked on the door, you conclude. Seeing the image on the screen and Mark’s bright red, panicked face looking for the remote on the couch, surprisingly doesn’t make you feel disgusted or awkward. It makes you feel… intrigued?

“I- uh, fuck- I- I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” Mark stuttered after he finally finds the remote and switched off the television.

“I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t want me to come in?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous, “yeah…”

You suddenly felt bad for barging into Mark’s place uninvited when he had clearly been in the middle of a personal moment, so you figured it would be best to make the situation as uncomfortable as possible. You wanted to show him that you didn’t care about what he had been doing before you knocked on the door, and there was no reason to feel weird about it. It was natural after all. So somehow you found yourself flopping down on the armchair perpendicular to the couch, making yourself comfortable, attempting to “lighten the mood.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, “but don’t worry, I don’t care. What you do on your own time is your own personal business, not mine.” Mark brought one of his hands to the back of his neck and massaged it as if the new found situation causes him enormous amounts of stress. Which he certainly believed it did.

You didn’t want to come across as rude or nosey, but for some reason that original impression of being intrigued finds its way back into your mind, “aren’t you supposed to be available 24/7? Shouldn’t you be prepared for something like this? I don’t know shouldn’t you always be expecting someone to knock on your door?”

For the first time since entering the apartment, Mark gave you attitude, “It’s not like I’m expecting them to barge their way into my place.”

“Still you should at least turn off your TV! Or I don’t know watch it on your laptop or phone? I honestly don’t know anyone who watches porn on their TV anymore,” your back and forth diffuses the situation somehow as Mark finally moved closer to where you’re sitting and he leaned against the side of the couch.

“Well why else would I use the TV?”

“I don’t know to watch literally anything else?” You yelled out to him. He moved around the couch to sit down, “that was a joke,” he explained.

You laughed and he joins you, grateful that this isn’t as terrible as he expected it to be. It’s when the laughing finally subsides that you feel your eyes drift down to the crotch of the grey sweats he’s wearing. You know it should be the last thing you’re thinking about in this moment, but as he shifts his weight on the couch to get comfortable, you swear you can just make out the outline of his cock. It causes you to squirm in your seat and you instinctively pressed your legs together not wanting to think about it.

After a moment, “Um… back to the rent… Like I said there’s really nothing I can do Y/N.”

As he brings the discussion back to the original topic at hand, he runs his hands through his hair once again, and it’s then you take notice of the veins that are clearly on display on his forearm. The sight of them makes you press your legs together even more, your mind soon drifting to how breathless Mark was when he first opened the door. You wonder how close he had been before you had interrupted him, how his hair had probably stuck to his forehead and how hard his hand must have been working to pump himself at the sight of the porn actress blowing the guy she was in the scene with.

What was Mark into? What kind of porn was it? How did the woman in the scene find herself in that position? So willing and compliant? Had she needed something from him? Like you needed something from Mark?

You feel yourself grow wet at the thought of what situation you and Mark would be in if this was porn. He would be your only option to getting what you want and being able to stay, so you’d put him in your mouth and let him fuck your face to convince him.

“Hello? Are you there?” Mark asked suddenly, waving his hand in front of your face from the couch.

Getting lost in your erotic haze, you feel as though you should think twice for what you’re about to do, but you feel so turned on by the idea and sitting here knowing what Mark had been doing right before you entered couldn’t make you stop yourself.

Mark watched you get off the chair you had been sitting on and slipping yourself in between the couch and coffee table. He looks at you with his head tilted to the sight and eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what you were doing. As you sink down to your knees in front of him, he feels his cock twitch in his sweats. He thinks he surely must be mistaken.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked, his breath hitched.

You looked at him innocently, placing your hands on his thighs, “what does it look like I’m doing? Let me convince you that you shouldn’t raise the rent.”

He feels like his heart has stopped beating and that maybe this is all a dream, an erotic fantasy and his mind is just drifting off. That he’s actually still fixated in front of the video he was watching earlier with his hand rubbing up and down his length.

Mark had to be honest with himself, he had never been a situation like this before and his mind was running a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out what the right way of going about this was. Not that there is a right way, he thought to himself.

He knows that he shouldn’t even be in this situation and that it’s his own damn fault for somehow not stopping you from entering his apartment, but he can’t help but look at you so willing for him and wonder what if?

Immediately he shook his head and decided to put a stop to this. He didn’t want this to take advantage of you.

“Y/N, I-I don’t think we should do this. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you or taking advantage of you because of-” you cut him off, sharp as a knife. “If you don’t think we should do this, then why are you hard?”

At your words, Mark finally acknowledges how hard he’s become at the sight of you being so obedient for him and he feels his cheeks grow red, “I-I-” he began to stammer, perplexed by the uncertainty he felt.

He wanted this, oh god how he wanted this, but he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this.

As if you read his mind, you interrupted his daze, “Mark I’m doing this because I want this, trust me,” you found yourself rolling your eyes at him, “just let me play the role of desperate tenant who’s willing to do anything to stay, okay?”

Mark nodded wordlessly, and realizes all he can do is take your word for what it was and trust you. Allowing himself to do so, he felt freed from his thought filled head and finally be in the moment. The moment where all you wanted was to suck him off.

At this allowance, you drifted your hands up Mark’s thighs to the elastic waistband of his sweatpants to finally expose his hard cock. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips instinctively, feeling a pulse in your core at the sight. He positioned himself closer to the edge of the couch as you moved forward enough on your knees to breathe on the head of his cock, “fuck,” he hummed.

Licking your lips one last time, you parted them to suck lightly at the tip. Your tongue slipped out from your lips to lick around the head, moving in slow strides and glancing up to find Mark staring down at you. At his gaze, you felt yourself involuntarily whimper at how innocent he looked as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening which to a certain degree you couldn’t either.

Never had you imagined in all the times you passed by him in the building that you’d be in this position, your tongue dragging up and down his length slowly. Now, you would let him fuck your face however much and however hard he wants.

You take more than just the head into your mouth, coating his length with saliva and letting your lips glide against the sensitive skin. “So good,” you heard Mark softly murmur and the quiet praise made you want to take even more of him into your mouth.

It doesn’t go unnoticed to Mark at how you move a little faster or take more of his length in every time he words how good you are. He wonders what else you would want to hear. You continued your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered to you was hearing Mark’s moans and his praise he hoarsely whispered. You were pulled out of your trance as Mark gripped a handful of hair to pull you off of him. You whined, but liked his sudden force.

He chuckled and you noticed how different his eyes now looked. Before, his hesitancy to the situation shined through them, but now they were glossy and much darker. It was almost as though Mark had been replaced while you had him in your mouth.

“Just look at you, so fucking eager. So ready to get down on your knees for me to get what you want… so greedy to have as much of me as you can. As much as it takes.”

This new Mark was certainly doing things for you.

“Mark fuck my face,” you practically groaned. For a moment you see a glimpse back to the Mark who had been looking down at you innocently just a little while ago, but soon you’re once again met with this new Mark who was so sure of himself and seemed like he enjoyed being in control.

He smirked, “what did I do to deserve such a good girl?”

Without hesitation, Mark stands up in front of you and shoves himself back into your mouth, slowly wanting you to feel him in every part of your mouth the same way you would feel him later.

“How bad do you want to stay?” He asked, pushing himself in further until all of him was in your mouth, feeling him at the back of your throat “I know you can take it all kitten.”

At the pet name, you moaned around him, not being able to hold it back. Your reaction caused him to begin thrusting himself into your mouth, his hand going to grasp the back of your head, setting a harsh pace and thrusting quickly, he groaned at the sound of you choking on him. As tears began to form in the corner of your eyes, Mark wondered if he should ease up and began to slow down. You noticed this and simply reached your hand up to rub his leg gently as a sign for him to continue.

He soon returned to his original pace and kept his eyes fixated on himself going in and out of your mouth. He felt himself grow closer and closer to release, especially when he thought about how compliant you were being for him, how you had been the one to initiate this and how if your mouth felt this good, your pussy would feel even better.

The thought brings him to cum in your mouth, and he becomes embarrassed at how sudden his climax was. Part of Mark thinks you’ll be mad, but part of him also thinks that maybe that’s what you wanted all along.

The latter thought proved to be correct as you took all of his release in your mouth with ease and swallow, showing him your tongue as proof of a job well done.

Mark’s heart skipped a beat.

You smiled at the bewildered look on Mark’s face and used the back of your hand to wipe the saliva and cum that had dripped onto your chin and lips during Mark’s brutal plunge into your mouth.

Mark felt overwhelmed with exhaustion as a result from his orgasm and collapsed onto the couch behind him, spreading his legs and shutting his eyes after pulling his sweats back on. At his actions, you stood up from your space on the floor in front of him and watched him for a moment.

Fuck, he really is beautiful, you found yourself thinking. How peaceful and pristine he looked post-climax made you want to take care of him and just run your fingers through his hair until he was fast asleep.

The sudden want caused you to feel like that maybe it was your cue to leave Mark’s apartment. However, just as you turned to go, you feel Mark grabbing your wrist from his spot on the couch. “Hold on just give me a minute,” he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

You scanned your eyes back and forth around the room, and noticed the “best uncle ever!” drawing sitting against one of the bookshelves in the corner. You took this as your second sign to leave this man’s apartment.

“Fine if you can’t wait one minute while I put myself together, just have at it I guess,” Mark stammered, gesturing to his lap as he felt your attempt to leave once again.

His eyes are still closed, therefore you’re not sure if he’s even aware of his words and movements, “uh… what?” In that moment, Mark shot his eyes open quickly, “My thigh. Ride it,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Being honest with yourself, you hadn’t expected this little rendezvous or whatever it was with Mark to include more than him fucking your face. When you had seen the length and size of him through his sweatpants along with what he had been watching before you angrily knocked on his door, all you could think about was getting him in your mouth. You hadn’t considered your own needs for even a second. The sudden realization of this made you think you were going insane.

Mark pats his lap and set you into a blur of removing your pants, hesitantly setting yourself down on his thigh. It’s almost as though he could sense your uncertainty and he positioned you down onto him, grasping your hips to move them back and forth slowly. He does this for a moment and you let out a groan at the friction you feel against your core. “Can I kiss you?” Mark asked you with his head leaning against the back of the couch, hands still grasped on your sides.

Your practically snorted at his request, “asks the guy who’s already had me swallow his cum.” He brings his head up instantly as if shocked and ready to defend himself to you, “I’m sorry okay!? I couldn’t help myself,” he paused and quietly, “you were too good.”

You feel yourself smile at his praise once again and you nodded your head, “of course you can kiss me Mark.”

“Okay I just had to make sure!”

“You know I’m not a prostitute, right?”

“I-I know! That’s not what I meant! I meant-” You cut him off laughing, stopping your movement on him completely to collect yourself, “Mark I’m fucking with you. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not very nice,” Mark huffed.

You placed your hands at the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, “now kiss me you idiot.” You could have sworn you heard him mutter something like “that’s still not very nice,” but as soon as his lips reached yours for the first time of the night all other thoughts left your head. The contact was enough to leave you lightheaded, and with every lick and bite of your lips you felt yourself instinctively begin to move your hips again.

Mark’s kisses trailed from your lips to you jaw to your neck, and his soft sucking, along with the feeling of your clit rubbing against him through your panties caused you to forcefully grip onto Mark’s broad shoulders. The feeling overcoming you from the way grinding on just Mark’s thigh felt and the way he was sucking that spot on your neck, caused you to what nothing more than to reach your high fast and hard. You wanted to completely fall apart from riding this gorgeous man’s thigh and let him know how good it felt.

Mark unattached himself from your skin and simply laid his head and arms back down on the couch as he had done when he was exhausted. He became so transfixed in your grinding on him and all he wanted to do in the moment was enjoy the show.

Arms still on his shoulders, “Mark,” you moaned, suddenly wishing you had even less than just your panties between and his sweats between the two of you.

“Show me how much you want it. Show me how much you want to stay so you can ride my thigh every single day,” at his words, Mark tensed his thigh and your eyes immediately shoot open at the new feeling that overwhelms you further. Mark is already hard again at the sight of you getting yourself off by using him and he realizes that he would be okay with you using him as much as you want, whenever you want.

Mark’s hands wander forward from the couch and begin to trail themselves up and down your body, playing with your breasts through your shirt and palming them softly. It’s when he reaches around to the back of your panties and pulls them tighter against you body that you feel the high you had been chasing begin to hit you. The material riding up, gives your clit the final bit of friction you need to send you spiraling into an orgasm.

You let out a final “Fuck!” as exclamation as your fingernails dig into Mark’s shoulders, your head falling backwards and causing your breath to catch in your throat. Mark’s hands returned to your hips, grinding you down onto him to make you ride out the aftershocks that course through you.

“Fuck,” you heard Mark say as you fell forward into his arms, “that was so fucking hot.”

He rubbed your back soothingly and you smiled into his shoulder at his response to you just having an orgasm from his thigh. “Hotter than the porno you were watching?”

He playfully hits your back, “Way hotter, trust me.”

When you finally regain strength, you lifted yourself off of Mark’s chest and looked down to notice the dark patch on his grey sweats where you had been pressing yourself against him. You looked away from him, face growing hot from embarrassment. Mark tilted your chin towards him, “aw did my kitten leave behind a mess?” he asked you cooing in a soft voice.

Despite reaching orgasm only moments ago, you feel the space between your legs begin to drip with arousal once again and judging on Mark’s demeanor, he can sense it.

He pressed himself further against you until you can feel his hardness against the side of your own thigh, “does she want more?” Once again in a Mark Tuan induced trance, you nod your head mindlessly.

In a haze of motions and movement, Mark pulled you off of his lap to remove his sweats, his cock springing free and looking painfully hard and ready to be inside of you. You lick your lips at the thought and it’s not until Mark pats his lap for you to get back on that you realize he wants you to ride him.

Any other situation you would jump at the opportunity, loving the control, but you whined at him still feeling a bit spent from working yourself against him before, “can we do more of a ‘you put most of the work in’ kind of position?”

He puts his hands up jokingly as if surrendering, “okay, okay, okay.”

You lay down with your back against the couch, removing your shirt and bra as Mark goes to the bathroom to retrieve a condom, but to your dismay he comes back holding an empty box, flipping it upside down to show you the issue.

“Wow are you that busy?” You asked Mark, then suddenly it occurs to you that maybe you should have asked if he as a girlfriend. Mark didn’t really seem to be the kind of guy that would do that to someone.

He shakes his head, “no, it’s just… It’s been a long time okay? And there used to be more than half a box left, but I’m pretty sure all of my friends have secretly been taking them when they’re here, because how else could they disappear if I haven’t had sex with anyone in forever?”

It’s clear that Mark’s worked up by the situation and isn’t sure what to do, so you try your best to calm him down, giggling at his demeanor, “Mark it’s fine. I have an IUD, don’t worry.”

“What?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes at him, what was up with this kid? “An IUD… an Intrauterine d-”

“I know what an IUD is! I just meant… you still want to have sex with me even though I’m dumb and all my friends apparently take my condoms?”

You swear your heart swells at innocent Mark appearing in front of you once again and you laugh again, “well I have to show you how much I want to stay, right?” You wiggled your hips at him from down on the couch and sighed contently, “plus I just really need you inside of me or else I feel like I’m going to explode.”

Mark laughed at you and throws the empty condom box to the side of the couch, which he climbs back on positioning himself in between your legs, “yes ma’am.”

He gently ran his index finger up and down, over your clothed entrance, the feeling causing you to shiver. Mark smirked at your reaction and pushes underneath your underwear until he rubs his finger directly over your slit, letting it collect your wetness. When he removes it, you whimper at the feeling and he places his digit into his mouth to taste you.

He let out a lustful sound at your taste, “my kitten tastes just like candy. I could spend all day with my head in between your legs and I will, but I need to be inside you. Now.” At his emphasis on wanting to sink into you, Mark for some reason decided that it would make more sense to use his hands to rip apart your underwear to grant him entrance rather than simply taking them off of you. You made a mental note to give him shit for it later. $250 and new underwear? No thanks.

Delicately, Mark lifts both of your legs up until they’re situated on each of his shoulders. You feel yourself exposed to him in a new way, his cock brushing against you slit, making you feel the need to beg for him to enter you. At his pause, you tried to slide yourself down towards him impatiently, but he holds in you in place, “I thought you were tired?” Mark smirked right before he enters you slightly. Only part of him is in, but you groaned at the stretch.

“Fuck kitten, are you even going to be able to take me?” Mark wondered out loud.

He continued to push into you, and your body adjusted itself to get used to the way he was stretching you and the way he was filling you so deliciously. You barely ever went without a condom despite your IUD, but with a lack of barrier separating you and Mark and the sensation it brought, you found yourself wanting him to enter you like this as many times as he wanted.

He pushed himself forward until he bottoms out, fully inside of you and groaned. He starts off slow and you whimpered, just wanting to feel him pound into you already. You think you’re going to cry at how you can feel him practically everywhere and in every single part of your body, when he has barely even moved. Mark feels himself go dizzy at how tight you are around him. It’s bordering on painful, the squeeze of your walls around his cock, but he doesn’t really care as he listens to the sounds leaving your mouth asking him to move faster.

Mark’s pace picked up and as he thrusts into you at a faster and faster rate, your lifted legs move with him and your knees practically begin to hit your chest every time he pulls back to delve into you again. With the angle his plummeting into you at, it’s not long before he hits your sweet spot and as you shutting your eyes tightly, unable to focus on anything except how good it feels. It’s when Mark’s hands leave your hips and wander to your breasts, cupping them, swirling your nipples in between his thumb and index finger that you feel yourself clench dangerously hard around Mark. He moaned, feeling like he could cum again at any minute, but he held himself off wanting to make sure he had taken care of you first.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me?” Mark asked in his gruff, low voice, his probing into you giving no sign of stopping, “Are you sure you just didn’t want to feel me inside you this whole time? You don’t care about staying or going, you just wanted to feel yourself wrapped around me. Be honest.” At his words you let out more lustful sounds, unable to form any real response due to how fucked out you felt. Mark, however, wouldn’t take your silence at an answer as he thrusts in even harder, “Be. Honest.”

It’s then when he pushes you over the edge, and you feel your second orgasm of the night course through you. “Mark… F-fuck Mark, oh god I- fuck,” you pant at the same time your walls squeezed around Mark one final time, your lower body arching off of the couch. For Mark, that’s all it takes for him to reach the peak of his own orgasm, the sight of you falling apart in front of him. You feel him release himself inside of you, feeling him make you so full with his warm cum coating your walls.

As you caught your breath from your own climax, you watch Mark come down from his, making note of the final noise he lets out before he almost collapses himself on top of you. He pulls himself out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulder, a soreness that wasn’t present during the fucking starting to make itself known in your body.

You feel more exhausted than you had after your first orgasm and you don’t even realize you closed your eyes until you feel Mark nudging your shoulder gently with his hand, “huh?” you mumbled, half-aware.

“I’m going to clean you up, is that okay?” Mark asked tentatively.

For probably the hundredth time of the night you wanted to laugh at the boy. He had already fucked you, but he still felt the need to ask if it was okay to do things like clean you up.

Okay he was cute.

Nodding at him, you feel Mark wiping up the mess he made inside of you that was beginning to seep out. When he’s finished, he lifts your legs and sits down on the couch beside your laying body, dropping your legs over his lap. He caresses them.

There’s a peaceful moment between the two of you and it’s nice, it soothes you and you feel yourself drifting off once again, but Mark interrupts your fall into slumber, “you know I probably could talk to my dad about everything.” At this point you didn’t care about the money anymore, and you hoped Mark truly knew that the rent wasn’t the reason why you fucked him.

Using your legs, you playfully kick Mark, “I really don’t care about that anymore. This was worth way more than $250.”

He chuckled, “Like how much? $500?”

You hummed in thought, “I honestly couldn’t even put a price on it if you held a gun to my head.”

“Dark… but I get it.”

There’s another moment of silence and you take this as your chance to fall asleep, but suddenly you feel yourself being lifted off of the couch and into Mark’s arms, “where are you taking me?”

“My room, so you don’t have to fall asleep on an uncomfortable and overpriced couch.”

Your eyes shoot open, “so you think it’s overpriced too!” He shakes head at you playfully in protest and lays you down on his bed when he enters his room. You can’t help but inhale the scent around you. It smells like him.

He sits down beside you and places a kiss on your forehead, “I’m still going to talk to my dad regardless. It’s kind of ridiculous.” A smile slowly starts to creep up on your face just as you agree with him, “Okay, okay. Fine!”

“Now get some rest.” You felt the weight shift up on the bed, signaling Mark’s departure, but instantly with your eyes still closed, you reached out to grab his wrist, “wake me up in twenty minutes for another round, okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you, “It’s going to cost you.” You opened your eyes and smiled up at him, thumb gently stroking his wrist.

“I’m not worried, you’re priceless after all.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan smut #mark tuan

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marsmoonqueen · 4 years

Text

Red

WinterSoldier!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Mentions of blood, nightmares.

Prompt / Summary: Bucky has been dreaming with a mysterious girl, and it seems that he is not the only one missing her.

Note: Hi everyone, two in a row, that’s a miracle jajaja. “I could take you anywhere you want” is the continuation of this fic.

Bucky saw, in his dream, how the sea in which he was drowning changed colors and became blood instead. The blood from the people he had killed as the winter soldier, covering everything around him, including himself.

He was about to scream both in his dream and in real life, but the ground changed again, and the thing between his fingers wasn’t blood anymore, it was hair, red hair.

Red hair decorated with green leaves, pink daisies and wildflowers.

A laugh, a laugh took him out of his nightmare and into another dream. A sweet one, this time; in which he found himself with his, now literal, ‘dream girl’. A dream in which he was the happiest.

“Red” he murmured between dreams, loud enough for Wanda to hear. She had gone to his room to wake him up from the nightmare he was having, and that was projecting also in her head; but found him instead dreaming with a red-haired woman whose face she couldn’t see.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, Wanda closed the door, and went back to her room.

“Steve, do you know if Bucky had a girl, he called Red?” She asked one morning, days after Bucky’s first dream. Three pair of eyes found her face.

“Red?” Steve tasted the name on his lips. “No, I don’t think so…”

“Why?” Sam was quick to ask.

“He has been dreaming with a woman… he calls her Red, and he seems happy around her”. Wanda explained as she took a sip from her tea.

“Maybe it’s me…” A tension settled in the air around the four friends. “Maybe that’s how he called me when he was the winter soldier”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?” Steve asked defensively

“Yes woman, what do you mean maybe? Did he call you like that or no?” Sam followed, irritated.

“Well, I don’t remember him calling me that way…” Natasha started “But maybe that was my nickname for himself”.

“Unlikely” Wanda responded “He was calling for her in his dreams, why would he call her by a name she didn’t know he used for her?” Natasha stayed silent for a while.

“I don’t know, but who else could it be if not me? Who else does he know with my hair tone?” She counterattacked

“You are not the only one with that hair color” Sam stepped in.

“Enough” Steve declared, clearly irritated.

It wasn’t unknown that Natasha and Steve’s relationship had been passing through some serious patches since Bucky ‘came back’. The problem was that she wouldn’t stop talking about meeting him in his ‘winter soldier phase’, and everybody was tired of it already. Of course, Steve was a coward and wouldn’t talk about it, or the direction of their relationship; they were a lost case.

Two or three morning later, when Bucky realized that Steve was avoiding him a little, and Natasha was giving him longer gazes, and only then, he dared to ask the two ‘experts’.

“Who is Red?” was the response he got from Wanda.

“Red? What does this have to do with her?” He asked, with a straight face and a defensive voice.

“So, there is a ‘Red’… Is it Natasha?” Sam exaggerated ‘is’.

“What?” Bucky shacked his head no.

“What Sam is trying to ask is if the woman you call Red is Natasha?” Wanda tried now, with both her hand around her cup of tea.

“No, no, for God’s sake, of course no… she is my mate’s girlfriend… I would never” Bucky seem disgusted to the idea of betraying Steve, which made Sam and Wanda smile.

“The who is she?” Sam pushed him again.

“How do you know about her? That’s a better question”

“I asked first” Wanda laughed at the duo.

“It’s a girl I met… in Romania. At that time I had just escaped hydra, and was starting to recover my memories when I found her… she was in trouble, and even being mostly the winter soldier, I helped her… and she helped me in return” A smile painted on his face, without him noticing. “She gave me a place where to stay and helped me remember who I am, she did a lot of research even though she had a lot to study” He now laughed whole heartedly. “She also always had music in her flat… specifically a boy whose name I don’t remember”.

“Then, what happen?” Wanda touched his shoulder when the light abandoned his eyes.

“I had to leave her when all the ‘civil war’ between superheroes and the government started… I left a note for her, but couldn’t say goodbye properly”

“Wait, Romania… Is that why you have been dreaming with her lately? Because of the mission we are going in some days?” Sam babbled. Wanda gave him a ‘shut up’ glare.

“Dreaming? How did you know that?” Bucky got up from his seat on the table, between them.

“Sorry Buck, I heard you the other time calling for her, and asked Steve, he and Natasha are kind of sure you were talking about her.” Wanda stood up.

“That’s why he has been ignoring me? That punk… I should go and talk to him, thanks for the help guys” He took his jacket from behind his empty chair and walked to the door.

“Wait! What was her name?” Sam shouted, but it was too late, Bucky had already left the kitchen. “Damn it” Wanda laughed.

The day of the mission arrived, and Steve still would not talk with Bucky for more than five minutes. He was getting frustrated… but he understood, he would act the same if he thought somebody was trying to steal his Red.

Now, speaking about the mission… it was a mess. It couldn’t have gone worse. For starters they crashed the jet, were ambushed, and Bucky got separated from his group by five hydra agents that took him to ‘the chair’ every hydra base had; they started speaking the words, they didn’t finished them, but the own fact that he was seated in that god damned chair made him become someone he was not. After that, he was no longer in control. The winter soldier was.

A series of events and actions, mostly took by the soldier, brough the team to an empty street in front of an apartment complex. Truth to be told, Wanda and Sam weren’t trying to stop him, they had a vague idea of where the winter soldier wanted to go, after Bucky had told him more stories about him and the red beauty that plagued his dreams.

But Steve and Natasha were trying everything in their power to stop him from going any further.

“Okay… I have an idea” Steve tried to find her in the dark “Let me talk to him”

“No”

“Steve, you and I know he will listen to me, he knows me… you heard what he told Wanda and Sam, I am the only one that can control him”

“Oh really? then why hasn’t he stopped yet? Also, what conversation are you talking about?” Sam asked by the intel, with a roll of his eyes.

“He hasn’t seen me completely… he hasn’t heard my voice” She responded, ignoring the second question.

“That won’t make any difference” Wanda jumped from a building to another, far behind Natasha.

“Of course, it will!” Natasha fell on her feet in front of the soldier, who was trying to climb the wall, to get to one of the apartments.

“Nat no!” Steve yelled. She took her ‘in ear monitor’ off and walked closer to him.

“Hi Buck, hey it’s okay” she took his hanging foot and pulled him. “C’mon Bucky, get down” When she finally pulled him down, he wasn’t so happy about it. Bucky looked at her in the eyes and his metal hand made its way to her throat.

“Nat!” Steve yelled from somewhere, but he was still far behind. The three friends tried to arrive as fast as they could to help her… but a voice beat them.

“James? Is that you?” A girl with a black coat hiding her nightgown asked from the foot of the door. He didn’t hear her… and she realized that she wasn’t talking to him. “Winter! Stop that!” She walked away from the door and the light that was inside, but the soldier recognized her. He teared his gaze from Natasha to the girl, and as usual, he was awestruck. “Let her go” (Y/n) got closer “C’mon boy, let her go, she is a friend” she had seen the black widow many times on the tv to know she was on the good guys side.

“I don’t have friends” He answered, with that raspy voice she remembered so well. And contrary to his words, he let her go; and walked the distance left between them with his imponent steps.

If Sam hadn’t been so worried about Nat, he would have laughed at Bucky’s words. He, Wanda and Steve had arrived just in time to watch the girl get out from the building.

“Oh yeah?” she interrupted their thoughts “Then what am I?” As soon as the words left her lips, the soldier tackled her in a big hug, but moved her between his arms so he could see Natasha if she decided to attack.

“You are my girl” He whispered to her ear, but because of his earpiece, everyone heard him.

The girl laughed “Good to know you still remember… won’t you introduce me to your friends?” she asked once she caught a glimpse of them. Bad idea, Bucky rapidly turned around and hided her behind his back, ready to attack.

“They are not my friends” He took a defensive position when Sam landed in the floor in front of him with Wanda and Steve by his side.

“Yes, they are silly, you just don’t remember them… but is fine” she tried to get in front of him, but Bucky thinking that he was protecting her, didn’t let her. “Okay, change of context: they are my friends, boy, so calm down”

He turned his head to watch her “You are lying”

“No, I’m not” She walked away from him, before Bucky could put another hand on her. “Now, let’s all go inside, shall we?” she opened the door from where she had gotten out and waited for them. Bucky was the first one to enter, but stayed next to her watching every move of his friends as they came inside too.

Once they were all inside, the girl took them to her apartment, receiving an angry glare from the landlord because it was forbidden to have ‘stray’ people stay the night in the apartments, but a look to Bucky’s own angry face made him shut up.

“Would you like some dinner? I can call a pizza or something” The girl suggested as she closed her apartment door, just to be received with Bucky arms, who was glaring at everyone.

Natasha seemed mad about something the girl couldn’t point out, the captain seemed lost in his own head too, but the other pair, the witch and the falcon looked ecstatic.

“I’m (y/n) by the way” she extended her hand, but before Sam could shake it, Bucky slapped his hand.

“Ouch! Control yourself Barnes”

“Winter!” the girl turned around to see him to his eyes, but his gaze was fixed on Sam.

“Don’t touch her” He hugged her tighter, as he wanted to hid her inside him.

“Sorry guys, he can get very overprotective when he wants” her voice came out muffled because of her lips being pressed to his chest.

“Oh really?” Natasha said sarcastically.

“So, you are Red?” Steve spoke for the first time, Wanda glared at him.

“Red? Yes, that’s how he calls me, you know… my hair” she said, moving between Bucky’s arms until he let her face his friends.

“Forgive us, I’m Wanda, this is Sam, Steve and Natasha… and as you know we are friends of Bucky” Wanda smiled at her, but dared not to come closer, in case Bucky slapped her hand too.

“And yes, we would like some pizza” Sam added, making the girl laugh and Bucky look at her with a frown.

No one made another sound until the pizza arrived.

“So… how did this happened?” (Y/n) asked from between Bucky’s legs as she pointing at him, who by the way, hadn’t let go of her since he saw her, and was currently eating pizza from her hands. The soldier was still alert, but more relaxed. “Did someone say the words in your mission or whatever?”

“Something like that” Steve started. “From what we heard, they didn’t finish, but I don’t know, I think the room was enough to well… program him?” He mumbled the last part unsure.

“Mhh, I get you” The young woman started “Sometimes, James would become the winter soldier because of a memory, or a dream”

“Did he tried to hurt you?” Wanda asked, worried.

“Sometimes in the beginning, but later… I think he thought I was his handler or something, he would wait for me to give him an order” A shiver ran through her spine, Bucky hugged her tighter.

Sam, Steve, Wanda and even Natasha released a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“Anyway, usually after a good nap he would become himself, if the words were not spoken, if they were… it would take days to come back” She said absently, but then shacked her head no. “Aimlessly, you can pass the night in here, I don’t mind, we’ll see what happens tomorrow” She smiled at them

“Thank you, we appreciate your hospitality” Steve got up holding his plate, ready to take it to the sink.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter, any of James’ friend is mine”.

After the plates were cleaned and the pizza boxes were in the trash can, (y/n) divided the rooms, Nat and Steve would be going to the guest room, Sam and Wanda in the living room, Wanda in the couch and Sam in the floor; (y/n) tried to make him use her room along with Bucky but Sam said he’d ‘rather sleep in the floor than near him, even when he was himself’ which made her laugh. Finally, she and Bucky would stay in her room.

As soon as her back touched her bed, after she changed clothes, Bucky’s arms were around her, caging her against his chest.

“I missed you too, soldier” (y/n) whispered as she also hugged him.

“Sleep tight, Red” was the last thing she heard, as she fell asleep.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky fic #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x Female Reader

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nekolatte · 3 years

Link

Chapter 4: Pursuit

Preview: Dante noted the color of his hair, the curve of his nose and set of his jaw― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment. “What do you want?” Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. “To help you”

Oh, Dante was in trouble.

Well, he was always in some form of trouble. Either with his landlord, his local government. Lady, Trish, the world in general. The demon world in generalー

Pausing his increasingly derailing train of thought, Dante picked up a discarded shirt and moved on, both literally and mentally.

Point was, he was having feelings. Soft, playful feelings like those first few weeks when Lady blushed and stuttered at every other innuendo out of Dante's mouth or when Trish would smirk and tease at his attempts to make her laugh. Flirting came second nature to Dante, but other than getting an amusing reaction from the other party, there wasn’t much else he gained from it. Contrary to his public persona, he wasn’t interested in getting laid with a revolving door of men, women and miscellaneous.

Dante enjoyed the attention, not the intimacy.

But with Leon, some stranger he scraped up off the sidewalk and stitched back together? There was something there that Dante wanted to tentatively pursue, and the only person he ever actively pursued in his life was a brother he couldn’t confidently confirm was dead or alive at the moment. This was new and strange and Dante didn't want to stop despite the alarm bells ringing.

He tried telling himself that it was all in good fun, that even if he did get stupidly attached, Leon certainly wouldn't reciprocate. Wariness and hostility wafted off the man like the demon guts he had bathed in prior, and seemed oblivious that he gave off either stench. Dante wouldn’t be entranced forever at chasing after someone that wasn’t interestedー he may have been foolhardy but he wasn’t masochistic. Not entirely. Enjoying Lady’s company made him doubt that part of himself sometimes, but no.

In any case, maybe Dante shouldn't have hinted at the threat during their first little talk, been more open and friendly to a human side-stepping into Hell’s door― it had just felt urgent that the man understand the circumstances he was suddenly in. Too late for it now.

Preferring to confront problems with a sword and gun, of which neither was good in this particular instance, Dante decided to just ignore everything and get Leon some pants.

He knocked on the bathroom door just to be polite and let himself in without bothering to wait for a response. Leon looked irritated, to put it mildly, but had nothing to say when Dante presented the clothing he found.

“What, no leather?” Leon quipped, though seemed to regret it immediately as he took a sudden and all-consuming focus in squeezing and flicking off every bit of water on his person. Probably would’ve kept on going if Dante didn’t toss a towel at him, even if it was amusing to watch a grown man sulk in a tub with a shower curtain wrapped around his waist.

“You can’t pull it off like I can.”

Leon grumbled something under his breath that even Dante couldn’t pick up, and yet Dante didn’t move from his comfortable lean against the vanity despite how obvious Leon was at dragging this whole ordeal out. He wasn’t going to ask for help, despite having it allowed it before, obviously waiting for Dante to take the hint and leave but Dante wasn’t going to take it. He really did want to help, plain and simple.

Humans were so damn soft, so damn fragile. Dante left Leon alone for all of ten minutes and the guy nearly cracked his skull on the bathroom tile. Both too stubborn to concede, the minutes dragged like hours― Dante watching Leon for every second of it. Head tilted like a curious cat, he noted the color of his hair: darker, when wet, though the tips and the wispy hair that made up his fringe were starting to lighten already. The curve of his nose and set of his jaw, light stubble pushing through. Severe eyebrows at contrast with bow lips― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment.

“What do you want?”

Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. He recovered quickly, though.

“To help you, what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”

Something in Leon seemed to break, maybe his pride, because he slumped in place, face gone dark and pinched, and looked about ready to accept his death rather than a helping hand up. Dante frowned, the victory leaving a confused, bitter taste in his mouth, and failed to come up with a comment to lighten the mood.

All he could do was step forward at Leon’s quietly raised hand, ignoring it entirely to lean down into the tub and scoop the stubborn man right up. Since he was already feeling guilty over the whole debacle, not realizing how far he pushed Leon past his comfort zone, Dante went right ahead and took more liberties than given.

Leon, worryingly, said nothing, though Dante found some quiet solace in the bright red of his ears that stuck out almost endearingly from flat hair. Clothes snagged on the way to Trish’s room proper, Dante cleared out a space for Leon on the bed before setting him down. The man in question did everything imaginable to avoid Dante’s line of sight, and Dante still felt too thrown off to do anything but respect the man’s privacy as best he could.

It involved a lot of looking to the side while going off muscle memory to bandage Leon up and help him into a shirt and sweats, a few pained hisses here and there, but the lack of communication was wearing. Dante wasn’t much for silence, especially when he was responsible for part of it. He still didn’t know what he did― the way he saw it, it was the same back and forth they had just a few minutes prior. Except, well, he was ogling a man that couldn’t get away from the unwanted attention, that was his implied prisoner. Offered to help when Leon obviously had issues with it.

That last part Dante didn’t understand.

Still, he didn’t want either of them to tiptoe around each other for however long Leon was forced to stay. Dante rubbed his forehead for just a few extra moments to collect himself before he got down to kneel between Leon’s parted legs, an attempt to be in his line of sight― feeling chastised despite Leon not having said a single word. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t want to know what face Leon was making because Dante knew his own was scrunched up with guilt and embarrassment. This was not a good look for him, and one he knew anyone in his immediate acquaintance would never let him live down.

“Listen, I know what this all seems like― I know you’re feeling cautious, and with good reason, but I really am just trying to help. You’re better off not knowing the things I know, and I just need you to trust me that I’ll tell you if that changes. This… It screws up people’s heads, makes day-to-day life just a little more harder to deal with. I don’t want to put you through that.” Dante dragged a hand through his hair and disrupted the slicked-back style so it fell back over his eyes.

Dante was forced to look through them when Leon made a noise that sounded like a question, catching a gaze that was focused on Dante and Dante alone. It felt different, something he could sink into, and a baser, more primal part of his mind wanted to nudge in those last few inches forward and rest his head on Leon’s knee. He reeled from it.

Leon rubbed at a shoulder, careful with the bruising under the borrowed t-shirt. “Why. That’s what I want to know. Providing first aid, giving me a place to recuperate, is one thing. Everything else is another. Making sure I’m not infected,” Leon flinched at the word, though didn’t seem to notice his own action, “doesn’t mean you have to… help me bathe.”

“Because I like you.” The answer came easily, far before his brain could catch up to his mouth after its earlier reprimand. He hadn’t meant to admit to it― they knew each other for three days, at best, and Leon was unconscious for most of it.

But all Dante could think about was how Leon fought for survival against something that was far beyond his capabilities, refusing to back down despite having the opportunity to turn tail and run. The grit of his teeth and the glare of his eyes when cornered, bloodied but not broken. How he sunk into Dante’s arms as if he was a safe haven, a comfort against the quick torment Leon had been subjected to. The many hours Dante spent watching the man sleep, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest― listening to the steady beat of his heart and losing precious moments of peace when it stuttered. Wanting nothing more than the ability to make Leon better instead of his arsenal of slaughter and destruction.

Maybe his pursuit wasn’t quite so tentative.

“What I mean is―” But he didn’t have to actively admit it. “―I can tell you’re a good person, Leon. I want all this to be easier for you. I know you don’t believe me, but it isn’t going to stop me from trying.”

Feeling all manner of wrong from admitting to so much emotion without a sarcastic or stupid comment, Dante got to his feet and moved around Leon to get to the bed. He grabbed at every scrap of loose clothing and tossed them into the pile by Trish’s closet, anything to make the area a little more inviting, and gestured to it.

“You should get some more sleep, probably on a bed this time. I’m gonna go and find some food for you.” Dante fled before Leon could get a word in otherwise.

#guns and roses #devil may cry #resident evil #dante x leon

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malewifegrantaire · 3 years

Text

The Birthday Thing

READ PART ONE HERE

PART TWO: Guess who’s coming to dinner hang out for no apparent reason (as far as Grantaire can tell)?

Combeferre had inadvertently ruined the rest of Grantaire’s week. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He couldn’t be blamed for Grantaire’s Incredibly Bad Brain. But still, “I just know Enjolras and I know he likes you” is a very reckless phrase to pepper into a conversation with someone of Grantaire’s constitution. He could hardly fall asleep that night because the words I know he likes you were clanging too loudly against the bars of the jail cell he called a mind. He didn’t mind too much though. The clanging was because Enjolras liked him, which made all of the noise sound a bit like music.

Grantaire picked out an outfit for the party and laid it out like he was a little kid excited for a school trip. Embarrassed with himself, he threw the entire outfit into his clothing hamper so he wouldn’t have to look at it lying out on his dresser anymore. Which was obviously a mistake, because now the clothes were are wrinkled and they were touching his actually dirty clothes. Which meant now he had to do a half load of laundry on a weekday, which he really didn’t like doing.

As he folded his laundry, Grantaire felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Huh. It was from Combeferre. Odd.

hey, are u free? sorry lol i am bored and wanted to know if u wanna hang out ??

Very odd. Maybe the wrong number? Just to be safe, Grantaire texted back:

grantaire is folding laundry right now, like a responsible adult.

Two texts back:

very interesting use of third person..

i can help if u want! i love 2 fold things

So this was Grantaire’s life. He used to be young and wild, and now he’s the sort of person that makes plans with people who text him sentences like “i love 2 fold things.” He typed his response.

uh, sure? might get boring, but i’ll never say no to an extra set of hands.

About fifteen minutes later, Combeferre was inside of Grantaire’s apartment. “You got here fast.” Grantaire said.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Aren’t you always?”

Combeferre took in Grantaire’s apartment, which gave Grantaire such a wave of self-consciousness that he thought he might be sick. It was a fine apartment, kept clean mostly because Grantaire hardly spent any time in it. The ceilings were far too low for Combeferre.

“This is a really nice place.” Combeferre said. “Have you lived here long?”

“Five years, I think.” Grantaire said. “I think the landlord thought I’d have left by now, but, well. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s nice. Good windows. Not easy to come by.”

Grantaire laughed at that. “Hey, was there something you wanted to talk about? Or are you just here to admire my big beautiful windows?”

Combeferre looked slightly embarrassed. “Uh, the latter, I guess.” he said. “I mean, just what I texted, I was bored, and I guess . . . I don’t know. I guess I thought we could just hang out?”

Now it was Grantaire’s turn to be embarrassed. Of course. Combeferre is the sort of person who’s actually, you know, decent. He was just trying to be nice and Grantaire was accusing him of having an ulterior motive. Way to go. Grantaire cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for coming. Feel free to park wherever. I only did a half load of laundry so I’m finished folding, sorry. I know how much you love to fold.”

“I went through a very intense Marie Kondo phase.” Combeferre grinned. “Let me know if you ever need your closet to be reorganized.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Grantaire said. It was dawning on him that, being more of the roaming type than the nesting type, Grantaire almost never had people over his apartment, and therefore had very little hosting experience. So he did what he always did in situations like this - said what people say in movies and books and all that.

“Can I offer you a beverage of some kind? I’ve got . . . tap water. And orange juice. And maybe beer?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Combeferre said kindly. Combeferre’s fridge was probably fully stocked with sparkling water in every flavor for guests to sip on, the bastard. He sat down in a little chair by the kitchenette. “What, what is it?” he asked, looking at Grantaire’s expression. “Why are you - what’s funny?”

“Everything is too small for you in here. It’s like shoving a Barbie doll into a Polly Pocket house.” Grantaire said with a laugh. Combeferre tucked his long legs a bit closer to himself.

“Well, Barbie is a good role model, so I’ll take that.”

“I think an averaged sized woman or two might disagree. Anyways, you’ve got impeccable timing.”

“What do you mean?” Combeferre inquired.

“I mean that someone must have wanted us to hang out today. God, the Fates, some non-denominational arbiter of Destiny.” Grantaire was doing that thing he always did where he ended sentences in a way that begged the listener to ask him to explain himself. Why he chose to speak in these irritating circles? We will likely never know. Grantaire sure as hell didn’t.

Combeferre rolled his eyes, but he seemed more amused than annoyed. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s been said before.” was Grantaire’s reply. “What I mean to say is I’m literally never home. Not literally-literally, but, you know. This apartment is basically a glorified storage unit that I visit when there is absolutely nothing else to do. So the fact that you happened to be passing by on a laundry day...”

“... a work of divine intervention?” Combeferre finished.

“I’d go so far as to call it a miracle if I believed in that sort of thing.” Grantaire said.

Combeferre’s next question caught Grantaire off-guard somewhat. “So you’re an atheist, then?”

Grantaire had never actually seen a shrink, but he had the passing sensation of being sprawled out on some brown leather fainting sofa. Maybe that’s what this was, a psych eval. He’d get a message from the official Les Amis de l’ABC e-mail account later in the week saying “sorry, R, you’ve been deemed mentally unfit to be a part of this organization. We know the Musain is public property, but if you could avoid the premises during our scheduled meeting times we all think that’d be for the best.”

“Well, yeah, aren’t all of the lefties heathens nowadays? At least that’s what Twitter tells me.” he said. His paranoia would not rob him of his (debatable) sense of humor.

Combeferre just shrugged. “I guess if I had to call myself something I’d say I’m agnostic.”

“Huh!” Grantaire said, genuinely surprised. “A member of the ‘namby-pamby, mushy pap, weak-tea, weedy, pallid fence-sitter’ brigade, are we?”

Two things occurred to Combeferre at once: One, that Grantaire was quoting Richard Dawkins, and two, that Grantaire could not have been certain that Combeferre would recognize the quote when he said it. Grantaire was both the sort of person that committed Dawkins to memory and the sort that didn’t really care if someone mistook his references for a string of improvised insults. The more Grantaire spoke, the more Combeferre became aware of how little speaking they’d ever done.

“I guess I just think one can never be sure.” Combeferre said.

Grantaire thought now would be a good time for a subject change. “So, how is party planning going?” he asked.

Combeferre sighed. “It’s . . . it’s going.” he said. “Well, okay, I’m being dramatic. Courfeyrac is actually the one doing most of the planning. I just get weird about stuff like this. I want Enjolras to like everything, you know?”

“I don’t think Enjolras is capable of disliking anything you do.” Grantaire said in a way that to the untrained ear might sound like a veiled insult, but that Combeferre suspected was an attempt at genuine sincerity.

“Well, thanks.” Combeferre smiled gratefully. “I just want him to have a good time.”

“He will. It’s the rest of us you’ll have to work to entertain.”

“Well, Courfeyrac has a slew of party games he’s preparing. Oh, and, uh, Enjolras mentioned he’s glad you’ll be able to make it. By the way.” Combeferre said, which made Grantaire blush, which made Combeferre smile.

Grantaire hated that. Not just when Combeferre did it, when any of them did. Making faces or little comments, as if they were in on some big secret. It’s like they were proud of themselves for noticing Grantaire’s little crush, like they knew something funny or scandalous or cute. But they didn’t know anything, not really. Grantaire didn’t have a crush on Enjolras at all. It was more like a religion. Maybe he’d been too quick to brand himself an atheist earlier.

His annoyance with Combeferre soured the rest of their conversation. He became mean, curt, and downright humorless. This wasn’t at all fair, he knew. Grantaire probably annoyed Combeferre every third sentence (maybe every third word) and that had never stopped Combeferre from being his usual amiable self. There was another difference between the two: Grantaire lacked both grace and graciousness, and Combeferre, it seemed, never ran out of either.

“Well, I guess I should be leaving.” Combeferre said after a while, rising from the squat chair he was sitting in.

“I guess.”

“Uh, thank you for having me over. We should do this again some time. I had fun.” Combeferre lied.

Grantaire smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Yeah, why don’t we all do brunch some time? You can bring your friends, it’ll be a real party. Everyone can sit around admiring my huge windows. What a blast!”

Combeferre knew he was joking, but he couldn’t decipher the punchline. What would be so bad about having all of their friends over for brunch? Why did he say the word “friends” like that, all sardonic and italicized? Combeferre almost asked him, but instead he just shook his head and smiled.

“Okay. Well. Bye!”

Grantaire waved lazily. “See you around.”

Under normal circumstances, the phrase “Enjolras mentioned he’s glad you’ll be able to make it” would have found itself fluttering in the pit of Grantaire’s stomach. Instead, there was something else sitting in there. Something that felt a bit like failure, a bit like guilt, and - most surprising of all - a bit like affection.

This is precisely why he didn’t like having people over.

#LOL this was fun.#next up: the actual birthday thing!#ok tags time #grantaire #combeferre #les amis #les miserables #my fic #uhhhhh what else....#cw alcohol mention #it’s sort of blink and you miss it but you know #again it’s peripheral but might as well:#e/r #i’ll come back if i think of anything else

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catfishingwithlife · 3 years

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We all change as we age. I'm of course not the same person I was at 16.

Though what really concerns me (well, not me but I dont want others to know) is how I have changed in the past three years.

I think this started when I was around the age of 13 or 14. My father had sexually assaulted me for a period of two years and then he had raped me at 14 . This, had hit me hard. The man who was supposed to protect me from the monsters outside, turned out to be one himself. And then, I had other things going on too, a harassing landlord, bad teachers, financial problems, bad friends, a bad "love" life.

Academically, physically, financially, emotionally and mentally I was at a loss at that period of time. I was weak, I was fragile.

I think that is when I started to change. I remember when something bad happened, something frightening, threatening, I would be excited. Something of those nature gave me excitement, a kick, it almost aroused me in a non sexual way! During fights or watching others fight, it was something I enjoyed.

Then my uncle died. Well, that was a few years ago but I wasnt sad. When the call came to my mother, she sat up in the middle of the night (3 am to be precise) and so she started crying and blabbering and ofcourse I had to get up. At that moment, all I could think of was how I wanted to go back to sleeping, also I was supposed to see my crush that day amd i knew now, i wouldn't, bit I was glad I would miss math class, I also wanted to get my.good clothes and bag. Yes, that was all in my head. When we went to the funeral it was all adventure for me. We went via car, so a roadtrip, got good food and all. Yes, I didnt feel bad. Not even once. My mum even yelled at me for being so happy but I couldnt help it.

The next few years I felt no harm in lying to people, cheating, creating chaos quietly, using them, manipulating....I couldn't stick to one relationship.

I didnt carry out my responsibilities as a friend, daughter, niece, grandchild, student.

Finally, at the age of 17, after class 10th, I dropped out due to financial problems and was at home for an entire year. I realised I was pansexual, i dated both genders, found that i cared a little less about the problems around me, i just couldnt be bothered.

The following year, I went to High school in another state, I was free. Living almost alone, with money in my hands, a new college, new people around.

From day one I started my.manipulation. I represented myself as this perfect version of me that had tje good clothes, shoes, bags, house, food, parents. I was treated like some superior. I loved it. Somewhere I realised that it did affect my life and I was malig improvements. So, I continued it all.

My life standard improved, I became more capable of talking to people, yes, I didnt like them very much but I needed humans.

I didn't seem much bothered with either people and their emotions.

I just couldnt feel love for anyone else but my.mother and pets. I didnt feel guilty, I didnt feel sad about others. I felt everything that came from me, but not what tje outside world was going through.

Recently, my.mother has been upset over a few things and it irritates me. All I can think of, what's there to stress ? There are ways of fixing stuff!

Why am I turning into this emotionless piece of flesh?

#diary #life #self love #self accepectance #thoughts #journal #moments #family #psychology #psychopathy #ANTI SOCIAL #ASDP

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talicat713 · 4 years

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It's Always Been Molly

John Shelby x OC story

Part Three

A/N: Two updates in one weekend! Who am I lol! Another part is up! You get a glimpse of the Mollys past in this one. I apologize in advance if I offend anyone. Thank you to the person who made the GIF above. I think it might be perfect for this part. Links to the other parts are below. Happy reading!

PART ONE ; PART TWO

Warnings: language, mention of abuse, mention of murder and death, mention of pregnancy and childbirth, angst, alcohol (I’m trying really hard with these btw. If I leave something out I’m so sorry)

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

Two days after her meeting with Thomas, a friend was bringing the rest of her things from London. She had to meet him at the train station.

Molly had woken up earlier than usual that day. As she walked down the hallway, she saw Jacobs door open. Walking down the steps, she could smell breakfast being made. She was surprised to see her brother standing by the cooker.

“When the ‘ell did you learn how to cook?”, she said as she sat down at the table and started making her plate.

Jacob came to sit down with the rest of the meal,” The nice nanny Tommy hired to watch me after you left taught me. I think her name was Helen. I just called her Nan. Dad wasn’t happy when he came back, and she was here instead of you.” He looked up at his sister waiting for her reaction.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, “Are we really going to talk about this now? I’ve been back for three days!”, she exclaimed.

“You were never on the receiving end of Richards abuse. Mum and I protected you from that. He killed our mother, but paid off the police to rule it an accident. Then he tried to kill me the same way Jake. And don’t think I don’t know about the time he came home drunk, like he always did, and almost bloody shot you.”

Jacob looked over at his sister with wide eyes. That had happened about a year after she had left. He didn’t know she knew about that. He begged Tommy not to tell anyone, especially her. And a few days later Tommy and Polly had come over to sign him into Helen’s custody, on Molly’s behave and told him his father was never coming back to hurt anyone again.

“I was the one who told Tommy to have the Peaky Blinders finish him. Tommy told me they did it slowly and painfully. A way to punish him for what he did to me and our mother. For all the mental, physical, sexual abuse he bestowed on us. Tommy said in the end, John was the one who pulled the trigger. His way of a vengeance for being half the reason I had left,” Molly continued as she stared right at the brother with no emotion on her face.

Jacob reaches over the table to grab her hand, giving it a squeeze,” I was never sad. I was more relieved. And I’m not mad you called the order. Back then I hoped it would bring you back, but I’m happy you are here now. Even though, it’s my fault.”

“I told you not to worry about that. I’ve got everything settled. We are going to the train station this afternoon to get the rest of my things and then I’m officially here for a while,” she smiled. “Tommy said he called a family meeting to announce my homecoming and employment as the maid for the betting shop. We are both invited. At this meeting you will apologize and Tommy will then make you an offer. You’ll either become a Peaky Blinder or you’ll go to work with their horses. You have the afternoon to decide. And then tomorrow, we both start our new jobs.”

Jacob nodded in agreement knowing he didn’t have a choice. He was the one who let it slip to his friends about his relationship with the Shelby’s. He was going to help his sister make it right.

As the clock struck noon, Molly and Jacob were at the train station waiting for the train from London to arrive. Soon Terry would arrive with the rest of her stuff, and they would never have to see each other again. Terry and Molly had an on then off kind of relationship. He was the landlord of her apartment building. When she got the call, they were off again, so he was relieved when she said she wouldn’t be back for a while. Unfortunately, he didn’t sign up to bring the rest of her stuff to her, so she knew he would be irritable when he got here.

As the train pulled into the station and people started to exit, she could hear Terry grumbling in the distance.

“Molly fucking Payne where are you?”, he screamed across the platform.

“Well hello to you too Terry. This is my brother Jacob. Jacob this is Terry”, Molly said as she introduced them. Jacob stuck out his hand for a handshake, but Terry ignored him.

“Just give me the fuckin’ money, so I can get the ‘ell back to London,” he said dropping her bags at their feet.

Molly handed him his money and he walked away. “I don’t know what the hell I ever saw in him. Must have been all the good alcohol he fed me and the cheap rent,” she chuckled and rolled her eyes.

As they were gathering her bags, Molly looked up to see a man on one knee proposing to his lady with an older woman standing next to her. She thought to herself how cute that was and when they walked past the trio, she called out,” Congratulations.”

This made the older woman look up, and she and Molly’s eyes met. Molly quickly, then looked away, hoping Polly didn’t recognize her, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

“Molly Payne. My sweet Molly!”, Polly exclaimed happily. She then grabbed the girl and wrapped her in a hug and kissed her forehead.

Molly then realized the other two people with Polly were Ada and Freddie. She smiled when Ada pulled her into a hug as well. She gave a small hello nod to Freddie and mouthed sorry for ruining their moment. It wasn’t until Ada squeezed her really hard that she felt something poking between them.

Molly pulled away with a giant smile on her face, “You’re pregnant!” She reached to put her hand on Adas small bump.

Ada when leaned into Freddie, “We are! And just in time because by the looks of these bags, it could only mean auntie Molly is back in town.”

“When did you get back? Does anyone know you are here? Does John?”, Polly asked.

Molly then explained that Tommy was the only one besides her brother, who was forgotten during the reunion, that she was here. But everyone, including John would find out tonight. She made them promise not to say anything until then. After they all agreed, they went their separate ways.

As the evening approached, Molly watched out the window as all the Shelbys arrived for their family meeting. Thomas called her after she had returned from the train station to tell her to come over around half past six. He wanted her to knock on the door and wait for him to come get them.

She looked over at the clock. It was just after six. She got up from the sofa to head upstairs. “Hey, let’s start to get ready. We need to leave soon,” she said as she walked past his room on her way to hers. She sat at the vanity to fix her hair and then went over to the wardrobe to pick a dress.

With one last look over herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath to calm the nerves that had suddenly appeared. She walked through the hall and down the steps, she notices it’s twenty past six.

“Jake, please hurry up. I really don’t want to be late,” she said in an anxious tone as she fumbled around trying to get everything together but her hands were shaking.

Jacob came down the steps moments later chuckling,” We are walking across the street. We won’t be late.” He then grabs the girl by her shoulders to stop her, “Molly, Molly! Stop! Everything will be fine. You look great. Everyone will be so happy to see you.”

“Yeah. Okay,” she said not convinced and took another deep breath.

The two then put their coats on and walked out the door across the street. As they approached the Shelby house, Molly was frozen with fear and anxiety. Jacob then took the initiative to knock on the door signaling they arrived. Moments later Thomas answered the door and ushered her and Jacob in.

“Wait here for just a minute”, Thomas whispered, walking back into the kitchen.

“Now, onto the second reason I gathered you all here today. A few weeks ago, someone had broken into the betting shop after hours and took some money we left laying out,” Thomas looked around at each of his siblings and aunt,” Now part of that was our fault, but me and the Blinders found the boys that had done it and took care of them, except for one. I asked him to come here tonight to speak to us about how he will pay us back. Jacob, please come in here.”

Jacob followed Thomas into the room. “Hello everyone. I would first like to say I am deeply, deeply sorry for stealing from you. I fell into the wrong crowd, and they used my relationship with you all against me. I hope you all can forgive me. We will do everything we can to pay everything back.

“We? Whose we?”, Arthur piped up.

“Yeah, whose we? You mean you and the redhead leaving your house every morning,” John said jokingly as he stood to wrap an arm around the boy.

Now with Johns back to her, Molly thought it would be a good time to walk into the kitchen. All eyes were on her except for Johns, who didn’t hear her walk up behind him. Polly and Ada were smiling, Thomas was smirking and Arthur’s mouth just dropped open.

She then cleared her throat,” No, it’s me.”

Hearing the voice John hadn’t heard in eight years, his eyes widened with shock, and he turned around. There was no way he was seeing and hearing correctly. He was speechless.

“Hello everyone. Hello John,” Molly going to grab a hold of her brother.

“Now that Jacob has apologized. I hope you all don’t mind, I’ll be working here, as the maid and nanny for Finn. I’ll also help with your children when needed John,” she said looking at him. His expression still shocked that she was standing there after all these years.

“Jacob here has decided to take a job as a Peaky Blinder, with everyone’s permission. I hope that him joining will help pay back everything you all have done for us. I want you all to teach him how to keep the city safe. I hope to keep this place tidy and up to your standards, as well as keep Finn out of trouble,” Molly continued.

Polly then stood up and came toward Jacob,” He’ll be a good man to help keep the pubs in check,” she then turned to Tommy,” You keep him away from the fighting for now. I can still sense the scared child in him.”

She then made her way over to Molly. She looked at her with sad eyes, sensing the fear in her heart. Polly then again turned to Tommy,” She doesn’t need to be involved. She doesn’t owe us anything,” Polly then moved her eyes over to John, who was now stood leaning against the wall,” She was almost family. She should have been rising with us not under us. Jacob being a Blinder should be enough to cover the damage.”

“A deal has already been set Polly. She and I sat down a few days ago and agreed to the terms,” Tommy said back.

“Well then undo it. The poor girl is still broken, I can sense it. Why would you make a decision like this and not consult the rest of us,” Polly spat back.

Molly then reached for Polly’s hand,” It’s okay Pol. I’ll be alright. It’s just cleaning and watching over the children”, she then reached her other hand out for Ada,” Just think, I’ll be able to help deliver the baby. Just like we did when Finn was born.”

Polly smiles at the memory. Her sister had been having a hard time delivering the little boy, so she had Ada run across the lane for Molly’s mother. Molly had insisted on going with her leaving Jacob with Ada. That was the first time she had ever seen a baby be born. After, Molly had told John that’s what she wanted to do with when she was older. Have babies and deliver them.

“I have something to look forward to, so I won’t be running away again,” Molly continued while smiling at the memory as well. She had looked over at John and their eyes met. He remembered that day too. It was the day he promised himself he was going to make that happen for you. But of course, as time went on, things changed.

“Okay, you both win. I won’t fight it,” Polly says raising her hands in defeat.

Tommy then clears his throat,” Alright then, all in favor of Molly and Jacob coming to work for us raise your hand.” Everyone raised a hand except for John.

He then kicked himself off the wall and walked back over toward Molly. “I know you better than anyone else in this room. Look me in the eyes and tell me you want this. I’ll raise my hand if you really want this,” he said, wrapping his hand lightly around her shoulders, making her look at him.

Molly reluctantly looked up at John, “I don’t just want this John, I need this. I need to do this to help my brother. He is the only reason I came back here.”

And with that, Molly shook Johns hands off of her and backed away. She then noticed John raise his hand.

Arthur then stood up and made his way over to Jacob,” Well, I guess this calls for a celebratory drink,” he then proceeded to pour everyone a drink,” Welcome to the Peaky Blinders kid”

And just like that, it was official. All the Shelbys agreed and it was set in stone.

They all spent the rest of the night catching up and drinking. Molly couldn’t help but notice how quiet John was. She knew he wouldn’t be happy with the decision and what she had said. But he was going to have to deal with it. It was the truth. She came back for her brother.

Or at least that’s what she thought.

(posted 07/05/2020)

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagines #john shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #talicat imagines

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vtscasefiles · 3 years

Text

Case File 762-4

Trigger warnings: Isolation, suicidal thoughts, violence, blood, depression, animal bites, animal injury, cops, racism, homophobia, conversion therapy mention

A note before reading: I am unsure if I have tagged all potential triggers properly.

Case Begun: 2/07/20**

Case Concluded: 2/12/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Washington

Marked as Closed, Payment Declined

This is one of the rare occasions where I am perfectly happy not to receive payment for a job. The value of a life always beats cash, period.

It started a bit...underwhelming, to be honest. There’s a secret message board for Eliminators. It’s not easily accessed, and there’s a rigorous vetting process to even be allowed to view the posts. I was well into my sixth year working before I received an email invite. Since then, it’s become a welcome resource.

The first post on my feed was addressed to me, personally. This wasn’t new, I’ve built up something of a name for myself. I get regular work, but I still can’t afford to get out of this shithole apartment. I mean the door doesn’t even fucking lock. And the fucking “landlord” is so strung out on cocaine that --

[Editor’s note: Personal information revealing where VT lives followed. I have removed it for her safety.]

Anyway, the post was simple enough: a werewolf gone berserk. It’s not an uncommon thing, a new werewolf can take to the wolf too much. The wolf takes over and, feeding off of the human’s anger or indignation, attacks. First, it’s everyone who hurt them. Second, they attack their family. After that...it’s a bloody free-for-all.

Let me preface by saying I hate these hunts. It’s no different than putting down a rabid dog, honestly...the human is too far gone and the wolf operates entirely off of the residual rage. Even so, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t like killing anything living, even if it’s lost it’s mind.

I read the post three times before I sighed and closed my laptop. “This is why I like dealing with the dead.” I said, frowning. I’d be needing silver. Which meant spending money. The reward was good, though...so it’d cover any expenses. I packed up my gear (a wolf’s bane lotion, a femur from a dead wolf and a silver knife) and headed for my first stop: Ramona’s.

Ramona Torrez has been my best friend since...ever. She was born in the states to Mexican parents who’d settled here in the nineties. They’ve both returned to Mexico since, but they come to visit fairly often. Mama Torrez was more a mother to me than my own was, and she’s one terrifying lady. A powerful witch in her own right, she’d made her then boyfriend her familiar through a series of spells and incantations that bordered on the black. His physiology changed, as a result. Despite being in his mid sixties, the man’s barely aged. He’s stronger, faster and has more stamina than any human I’ve ever met...not to mention he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Ramona is possibly the most gifted witch I’ve ever met. If there’s a spell she can’t do, I’ll eat my boots. Her shop is a little hidden place. Right on the corner of [REDACTED], she’s very open about what she does. A small sign dangles over the door reading “Bruja” . I pulled open the door, hearing the cheerful jingle of the bell (despite there not being one in sight. Or a motion tracker.) “Welcome!” she called from the back. “I’ll be with you in a moment!” I said nothing, opting only to pick up my friend’s familiar and give her a stroke.

It always makes me laugh, honestly. A witch with a black cat as a familiar. How cliché can you get? Issy’s a sweet thing, though. Purrs like an engine if you so much as scratch her ears. “VT!” Ramona appeared with a wide grin on her freckled face. “Why didn’t you say it was you, dummy?”

I’ll preface that, despite my father being Hispanic, I never had the opportunity to learn Spanish. He was always busy on one hunt or another. Ramona’s tried to teach me, so that I could get in touch with my roots...but languages never came natural to me. Hell, I barely speak English.

Ramona rattled off her usual rapid Spanish, taking Issy from my arms. “You know I can’t understand a word.” I said as she turned to lead me into the back room. Her shoulders shook and she looked over her shoulder with a coy grin.

“Oh, I know. Payaso.”

If Ramona hadn’t been my best friend, I’d likely be trying to get under her dress. She’s a curvy thing, with a heart shaped face and big brown eyes that’d melt even the coldest of hearts. She dimples when she smiles (something I’m immediately weak to) and does this adorable thing with her nose when she’s irritated. Her hair tends toward bushiness, framing her face like moss on a tree. (To my knowledge she doesn’t dye it, it’s just...green.)

“So, darling.” she chirped, stopping next to her cauldron to let Issy dash off through the fabric drapery that led into her kitchen. “What is the illustrious VT hunting today?”

“Berserk werewolf. Probably recently turned...and probably not by a pack. I’m thinking boyfriend or girlfriend. Which means -- “ She cut me off with an uttered curse.

“Which means that you’ll have to get in touch with the local werewolf pack.” she finished with a grimace. “Where’s the contract taking you?”

“Washington state. Little town called [REDACTED].” I answered, not expecting any miracles. I was granted one, none the less.

“Ah. That’s a Native American pack. I met their um...I’m not sure what the proper vernacular is, so I’ll just call her a witch, if that’s okay?” she said, worrying with her lower lip. Ramona’s always been very big on calling people their proper titles, and felt terrible guilt when she messed it up.

“She the Alpha? Or an elder?” I asked, seizing upon the thread before Ramona fell into self-deprecation.

“Well...yes and no.” she said, pouring something into the burbling cauldron and turning it a sickly puce. “She’s something of a Seer. She led them to an old, abandoned ghost town. They asked for witches from all over the continent for assistance in warding and rebuilding. Naturally -- “ “Naturally, Bleeding Heart Torrez helped.” I cut her off, again. She frowned and nodded. “Hey, Ramona, I ain’t saying you did the wrong thing. I’d have done the same. Are they friendly to outsiders?”

“Kind of.” she said, her frown relenting for a thoughtful expression. “You’ll likely be met by an envoy before you make it to the town line. I can call ahead, if you’d like. Let them know that I trust you so they won’t be on full alert.” she smiled, slightly. “Just don’t...shoot anyone that you don’t have to. Okay?”

“I’m not in the business of killing people just trying to live their lives, Ramona.” I said, pulling a frown of my own. “I might be trigger happy, but I’ve never shot anyone who didn’t come after me, first.”

“I know, I know...they can just be a little wary with outsiders. You can hardly blame them.” she said, carefully. I agreed with her, but I didn’t like the implication that I just ran in like some idiot waving my gun around and shooting at everything that moved.

I only do that sometimes.

I stayed long enough to catch up and have some lunch. Ramona’s cooking was always amazing. Her carnitas is to die for, full stop. With my belly full and my paranoia subsiding, I made for Ellie’s. It was time to see if the corpse had any silver.

Elinor Lyktor is a lich. She “died” at some point during the eighteen hundreds. Stomach cancer. She was already a necromancer by then, so when she felt her end approaching...she made a bargain with Death. The way she speaks about the “Lady of the Void” is how some people speak about their chosen deity. But how many of them have actually spoken with their god? Or had her over for tea?

Elinor’s shop was in the dead center of town. The signboard above her shop proudly proclaimed “Ellie’s Emporium”. Her front was an antique shop (all her possessions from when she was alive litter the front of the store). When I entered, her bespectacled gaze caught mine. Even indoors, if she was minding the shop, she wore sunglasses.

“Valerica.” she greeted, pushing from her stool and smiling, marginally. “Lock the door.” I obeyed. What else do you do in the face of a being that could force your skeleton to come clawing out of your body?

“Elinor.” I responded with a nod. “I’m looking for silver ordinance. .44 if you got it.”

“I do. Got a werewolf problem?” she pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were pitch black. The only light in them came from the faintly glowing, multicolored runes that slid across them like leaves on a still pond.

“Not a problem.” I responded, coolly. “Ramona’s got me an in. I just don’t have the identity, yet.” I paused, thinking that maybe I should be a little warmer to my primary ordinance merchant. “How’s the lady?”

“Which lady to you speak of?” she asked, grinning cattily. “The woman I will make my wife, or the Great Lady of Dusk?”

Fuck, she loved her puffery.

“Do you just make up these titles or did Death give you a list?” I asked, grinning. It got a laugh, so I’d say that Operation Butter Up the Lich was a success.

“No, I only use them to annoy her. She’s teaching me a lot, VT. I’d love for you to come over and meet her someday. Isali is a rather sweet woman, if you can get past the fact she’s Death.” she said, earnestly. “Did you know she has a son? And he has children, too? I wasn’t even aware she could reproduce.”

That was enough to get my attention. “Death...has a kid. Okay, I’ll bite: what’s his name?”

“I don’t know. She only refers to him as “my darling boy”. The only thing I’ve figured out is there has to have been a point in history in which no one died. The only way I think she could have had a child is if she took on mortal guise and -- are you even listening?”

I was. Oh, I was. I admit that I was wrapped up in the thought of how DEATH had a SON. He must be one terrifying, austere motherfucker, that’s for damn sure. “Sorry, I was just thinking about what kind of man her son has to be. Gotta be some kind of...demigod or something. Having a mother like Death.”

Elinor shrugged “She described him as being an absolute goof. Dotes on his kids, overtly friendly. I’d like to meet him, someday. It looks like I’ll go wanting, though. He lives in a world beyond ours. An extra dimensional being.”

Now it made sense. I wanted to follow that rabbit hole down to the end. I still want to. But business beckoned and I had no choice but to end this intriguing line of thought. “As interesting as this all is, I still need bullets for something more mundane. Can you cut me a deal?”

“Depends on the volume, Valerica. If you want an armory’s worth, I can’t help you...but if you’re just looking for a few boxes, well...” she smiled. “How does fifteen bucks a box suit you?”

“It doesn’t.” I responded immediately. “I’ll give you five.”

I left her store after securing my ammunition. She drove a hard bargain, but I managed to talk her down to ten dollars a box. I had five boxes, each containing twelve bullets. If I couldn’t finish the job with that, then I was in the wrong line of work.

Now, it’s a little known fact that a werewolf and a rugaru are two separate entities. They both conjure the vision of this half-wolf, half-man meat tank that tears through the opposition like so much wet paper. That particular creature is a rugaru. Not all werewolves are rugaru, but all rugaru are werewolves. The rugaru transformation is only possible under two circumstances: complete acceptance of the wolf that dwells within, or the complete degeneration of the werewolf’s human mind due to unchecked homicidal urges. It isn’t a fine line or any of that bullshit that other people have perpetuated. It’s a simple matter of willpower. If I was dealing with a rugaru, it’d mean real trouble. I could only hope this werewolf was still on four legs.

As Ramona had promised me, I was barely five miles down the dirt road that led into our little werewolf commune before I was stopped. He was a tall, impressive specimen. Fine bone structure, inky black hair brushed neatly into two, thick braids that were decorated with beads and feathers...what really threw me was his smile. It was welcoming. Not a normal sight for me. I killed the engine and stepped out into the morning air, then man walked forward and extended a hand “You must be VT. It’s a pleasure, truly.”

I took his hand and shook it. I felt the tell tale calluses on his palm in the shape of paw pads and smiled, this was the right place. “Glad to be of help. I hear there’s a berserk wolf on the loose.” his smile faded.

“Yes.” he replied, simply. “My son’s boyfriend.”

Swish. Called it.

“That’s unfortunate.” I said, bowing my head in respect. “Is there no hope of helping him cope?”

“I’m unsure.” he responded, looking thoughtfully at the thick forest that shadowed the road. “We’ve tried, but...he’s so angry.” he paused, his gaze returning to me. “I apologize, VT. I haven’t even given you my name: folks around here call me Thunder. You’re welcome to do the same.”

I nodded and smiled “Anything you say, Thunder. If you have another name that you’d prefer to go by, I’ll do my best not to butcher it.” he’d laughed, a booming sound like his namesake.

“Thunder suits me just fine.” he said, kindly. “We can continue our discussion back at the compound. Would you mind if I rode with you? I can tell you about our lifestyle while we ride.”

I gathered that Thunder was the Alpha of this particular pack, given how he spoke about his friends and family. The pack had started on a reservation, but wanted a place of their own. The reservation was abandoned in favor of the Seer’s word there was a place of their own. They all turned in the dead of night and disappeared. No one knew where they’d gotten to, save for the SC. They were completely self sufficient. Hunting and fishing for food, growing their crops in soil blessed by their spirits and making their own clothing. Back to basics, he’d said. I could see the appeal.

“You got a free house I can post up in or...” he’d laughed at me.

“We don’t have internet, power or running water. You might get sick of it pretty fast, hm?” he’d nudged me and broke into that same booming laughter that caused my eardrums to ache.

He’d stopped me just outside of town, where two, tall totems stood on either side of the road. “Stop here. Your car will die if you cross.” he said, stepping out of the car. “I’ll introduce you to my son, VT.”

I killed the engine and stepped out, reaching behind the seat to sling my backpack over my shoulder. One of the two totems stood out. Each of them was carved with delicate care and beautiful in their own right, but the one on the left was the most interesting to me. It was Ramona’s work, I knew the feel of that anywhere. “Torrez did this, didn’t she?” I asked, brushing my fingers against the carvings. “Not the design, but the ward.”

“You’re close to Miss Torrez?” Thunder asked, pausing to look at the totem. “Yes. Spent a week solid working on it. She even refused payment, only asked for one of my wife’s blankets in return.”

“Do you...deal with cash?” I asked, feeling the slightest bit insensitive.

“Rarely.” he responded, eyes still on the totem. “Some of us have work in a town nearby, certainly...there are a few things that trading can’t get us. Gasoline. Generators.”

That threw me and I frowned “Thought you said you didn’t have power.”

“We don’t.” he responded, simply. “The generators are for the Elders who didn’t leave the reservation.”

Well, good to know I’d been here all of twenty seconds and already taken a big bite of foot pie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think -- “ “You don’t live like us. Why would you?” he responded with a somewhat bitter smile. “No reason for me to take offense or for you to feel guilt, VT. Though your apology is...appreciated.” the last word felt forced, but I said no more.

The town was pretty enough, each house painted in accordance to the occupant’s taste. Designs swirled and jerked in eye catching beauty across the wood or brick. Thunder led me to a single-story ranch type home and beckoned me inside. He called for his son in his native tongue and a beanpole of a boy appeared. I say boy, but he was at least eighteen or nineteen. “Introduce yourself.” Thunder said, sternly. “You’re the cause of this mess.”

“Thunder.” I broke in, sensing the tension between father and son. “You know better than anyone that the change is unpredictable...it isn’t his fault.”

Thunder’s stare turned on me, and that friendly gaze was gone. If I’d been made of gentler stuff, I might’ve even backed away. “I’m not upset he changed his lover, VT. I’m upset because his lover is giving us a bad name, and he doesn’t seem to care.”

“Excuse me for caring about my boyfriend, Father.” the boy spat. Even in children, or teenagers...there’s always respect for the Alpha Wolf. To hear the vitriol in the young man’s voice told me one thing: there was going to be a power struggle here one day. “VT, I heard about you from Ramona Torrez.” he said, with much less anger in his voice. “Please...Dorian never meant to hurt anyone. He didn’t even know what I was doing and...please, don’t kill him!” tears were welling in this young man’s eyes. I couldn’t help but be sympathetic...but I still had a job to do.

“Dorian’s his name?” I asked, humming beneath my breath. “I might be able to call him out using that information. But I’ll need your name too, kid.”

Thunder’s son puffed up “I am no child! I am a man grown!” he said, indignantly.

“A grown man doesn’t make decisions for his loved ones.” I shot back. “He makes decisions with his loved ones.”

He deflated marginally. “My name is...Crow Flies. He called me Crow...” he said, no longer able to meet my eyeline. “Please, VT...I...”

“I get it, kid.” I said, softly. “I won’t kill him if I don’t have to. I promise.”

Thunder took me from his home and introduced me to the rest of the pack. They were a kindly people, if a little wary of an outsider like myself. Thunder’s presence helped with their misgivings, but only slightly. “You did well with Crow Flies.” he said, softly. “Miss Torrez had described you as a hot head, but even so...you were very patient. And there was wisdom in your speech.”

Despite myself, I flushed. “Well, ah...I’ve had good teachers.” I said, trying not to grin. “Say, Thunder. After all this unpleasantness is done, could I come back? Just to visit. I like it here.”

That seemed to surprise the Alpha, he looked at me and then smiled “I think that I would like that. I think the pack would, too. Once they see that you are here to help, of course.”

I had dinner with the pack, as they all dined together in the center of town (or the old town hall, when the weather was foul). It was a raucous affair, full of song and laughter...Crow sat off by himself. Alone. I thought it best to leave him be. The boy was going through all kinds of heartbreak. The last thing he needed was another lecture.

It was late by the time dinner wrapped up, and I’d gathered a bit more information about Dorian. He’d been cast out by his family due to his sexuality, and taken in by the pack. They’d kept their lycanthropy secret from him...that is until Crow Flies turned him. Thunder had even had a family portrait taken of the three of them. Dorian had to have been at least Crow Flies’ age, if not a bit older. He was dark skinned, his hair styled into a small afro. What struck me the most was his smile...there was such...kindness. Love. It twisted my stomach into tight knots.

I made a promise to myself then and there: there were enough gay, Black men dead. I was not going to contribute to that number.

Even if it killed me.

No one “hunts” a werewolf. You see these self-styled vampire/werewolf hunters enough these days...and they’re all absolute pricks. Worse than that, they’re murderers. I’ve had to kill a couple of them, to save an innocent life...but when you murder someone just for their differences, you’re the monster. The point is, no matter how many berserk werewolves you’ve encountered it all boils down the the same fact: they’re the hunter, you’re the prey.

I applied a thick layer of the wolfsbane lotion to my skin. It wasn’t going to stop a werewolf as much as it would overwhelm their sense of smell and taste. Silver weaponry only works because of a simple fact.

Have you ever heard of a tulpa? It’s...a sort of group hallucination made real. The basic principle is if you believe enough in something, it manifests as reality. The more people who believe, the more stable a tulpa is. Silver is a sort of pseudo-tulpa. A mass belief of silver being a weapon against lycanthropy has made it reality. That’s the power of belief.

Problem being is I didn’t know whether the mass belief here was that silver kills...or simply incapacitates or weakens. I had to be careful. I had to leave Peace behind. If I wanted to save Dorian, I couldn’t rely on firepower to do it.

[Editor’s Note: A rarity for VT. Coherent thought.]

Dorian’s hunting ground had been, as of late, his own home town. His first victims were his parents...hardly a surprise. Poor guy had to have felt betrayed, and was angry for it. Researching the case, they hadn’t been eaten. They’d only had their throats ripped out. That was a good thing and a bad thing. If Dorian wasn’t eating his victims yet, that meant there was humanity left in him...but he’d tasted blood, and he’d want more. I didn’t have time to dally, I had to act.

I drove straight to his former home.

The house had been cordoned off by police tape. As anyone sane does, I ignored the warnings put forth by the police and ventured inside. The carpets were stained with blood...it meant there was a struggle. A vicious one from the looks of things. Dorian might not have even been in wolf form when it started.

I ventured deeper into the house, searching for any kind of clue. There was Christian iconography all over the house, which explained why he was thrown out. It was getting harder and harder to feel anything but repulsion for the dead, sanctimonious pricks. Throwing their own son out just because he’s gay...I related entirely too much.

I found Dorian’s bedroom without much struggle. Posters of his favorite sports teams hung on the walls, along with musicians and actors. I felt a creak in the floorboard beneath my foot, so I crouched and tried to pull on it. It came up effortlessly.

Hidden within was a notebook, a small bag of cosmetics and a pressed flower. Probably from Crow, I thought. I didn’t read a lot of the journal, but from what I did read it was a chronicle of his self discovery. I admired him for the bravery he showed in facing who he truly was, but the thoughts were private. I closed the journal and replaced it, along with the other items. Those were his and not mine to take. If...things went badly, I’d come back and give them to Crow.

I approached the bed, and got a deep whiff of wet dog for my trouble. He’d been here. Recently. I pulled the sheets back and found what I’d expected: fur. He’d even been sleeping in his own bed. This was good. This was very, very good. If he still sought out human comfort, he was still in there.

A sudden creak and the sound of footsteps sent my heart into my throat. I had no weapon, no way of defending myself against a hungry werewolf. The air was probably thick with the scent of wolfsbane by now...I did the only thing I thought I could.

I stood and waited.

It wasn’t Dorian. It wasn’t even a werewolf. I felt my stomach drop into my shoes as a uniformed police officer appeared, flashlight in hand. “Who the fuck are you? This is a police investigation zone, bitch.”

My hackles raised, but I raised my hands, showing I was unarmed. “I’m a Private Investigator. My license is in my jacket pocket. I’m going to reach for it now.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but clearly this pig thought I was being belligerent.

“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!” he snarled and approached, stepping forward to shove his hand into my jacket. Thankfully, he went straight for the pocket instead of feeling me up, like I’d been dreading. He looked at the fake license with his mean, piggy little eyes. “They hand these out to anyone, huh?” he said, pure malicious glee in his voice.

I said nothing, keeping my hands raised and waiting for an actual question. “So, you think you can do this job better than us?”

“No, sir.” I responded, shaking my head. “I’m only looking for their son. He has a right to know, even if he hasn’t been living here. I was hoping to find a clue and didn’t want to trouble the police department for something that’d only take a few minutes.”

He laughed, cruelly “Well, that’s earned you an arrest, Valerica Torianna.” he said, gleefully. “For interfering with a police investigation. You have the right to remain -- “

The next thing I heard from the officer was a scream. I hadn’t even heard the wolf enter. The wolf, lean and black as pitch, leapt atop the cop and dug his fangs in. Blood sprayed my face as the pig’s throat was torn from his neck. The wolf didn’t chew. Didn’t swallow. Just spat the flesh and sinew clean out. Then it turned it’s eyes on me.

“Dorian?” I asked, softly. It’s hackles raised. “Dorian, I’m a friend of Crow Flies. You know who Crow Flies is, don’t you?” it backed away, and I took a step towards it. “Dorian, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not here to hurt you. I only want to help...Crow asked me to help you. Please.”

It snarled...and it lunged.

For anyone wondering if I’ve turned lycan: no. It’s not as...simple as just a bite. I don’t quite understand it, but it has to be an actual, conscious thought. Dorian would have had wanted to make me a werewolf. It didn’t seem he was quite accustom to the change to be able to make conscious decisions. He was only defending himself from a perceived threat.

That didn’t stop his fangs from tearing my forearm open, though.

“Fuck!”, I yelled as it’s teeth dug in deep and ripped my flesh. I had my fair number of scars, but this one would be a doozy. That’s alright. Girls dig scars...well, my type does. Not trying to generalize or anything. Anyways, I was bleeding. A lot.

“Dorian, let go!” I yelled, feeling my bones practically screaming in his jaws. “You’re gonna break my fuckin’ arm!” I balled my fist and started to hammer on his nose with all my might. Nothing. “Dorian, brother, I’m real fuckin’ sorry about this!” I grabbed onto his throat with three fingers and squeezed. He started to choke.

I released him the second his jaws released me. “Sorry.” I croaked, holding my arm against my chest as the wolf wheezed. “Will you -- “ he was gone. I’d blinked and looked at my arm for a half second and he’d up and bolted...leaving me with a dead cop, and his blood all over my face. It wouldn’t matter that he had lupine saliva in his wound, it’d mattered that his corpse would be discovered next to me. So, I bolted.

I returned to the pack’s commune and staggered past the totems. Blood loss was already making my head spin, and I needed medical assistance. Problem was I still had cop blood all over me...so a hospital was out.

I passed out before I could even get to Thunder’s door.

When I woke up it was still night...or night, again. Ramona’s heart-shaped face, her hair sticking up all over the place was looking down at me. “Ah. An angel.” I wheezed. “So, I’m dead.”

Ramona flushed and slapped my chest “Idiota!” she squeaked. I laughed weakly. “You scared me! Thunder called and said Crow Flies found you half-dead! Your veins were torn to shit, VT! You could have died!”

“So just another day at the office then?” I sat up and my head immediately began to swim. “Shit.”

“Lie down, VT. I did what I could, but you still lost a lot of blood. I’ve dealt with your clothes, and Issy brought back your fake PI license. Sloppy, Valerica. Very sloppy. You would’ve been caught if not for us.” she said, standing from my bedside and straightening her dress. “You owe me.”

“Add it to the tab.” I said, pushing to my feet, doing my best to ignore just how sick I felt. “Dorian’s still out there. I can’t let him succumb, I can’t. The world has enough murdered Black men...let alone gay Black men.” my conviction was strong, but my body...

I was wrecked. I could barely stand, let alone run or fight.

“The pack is dealing with him, now. He’s...becoming unstable. I’m sorry, VT, but there’s nothing left for you to do.” Ramona said, hanging her head. “He’ll be killed before sunup.”

Like. Hell. I knew where he was nesting, now. I knew what I had to do. I had to go back. I had to beat them to Dorian’s old home. “Ramona. Think you can drive really, really fast?”

“VT...”

“I’m not taking an L on this one, Ramona. I won’t. I know how Dorian feels, I’ve lived his life. I won’t let it end like this.” Ramona looked at me, tears in her eyes. “What? What is it?”

She smiled and wiped her eyes on her forearm “Who’s the bleeding heart, now?”

Ramona broke just about every traffic law in existence getting me back to Dorian’s home. I’d been unconscious for two days. During that time the pack had met and decided that the only way they could stop Dorian was to kill him. He’d gotten more violent, more reckless. His kills were happening in broad daylight, now. Three cops, a high school teacher and a pastor. None were eaten, but all were killed, viciously.

“He’s attacking those that wronged him.” Ramona said, softly. “He has the power to fight back...he’s losing himself in it. I’m afraid the pack might be right...if he keeps going like this...”

“He won’t.” I snapped shut the cylinder on my weapon. “Crow will never be able to look his father in the eye, let alone forgive him, if the pack kills Dorian. If there’s going to blood spilt...I’d rather be the one hated.” I said, softly. “But I’m going to try, one last time, to get through to him.”

I didn’t go beneath the cordon tape, this time. I went through it. Thunder didn’t know where Dorian lived, thankfully, only the town he lived in. Ramona had agreed to go and ask them to give me my last chance. I had to make it count.

“Dorian!” I bellowed, the instant I rammed through the tape “Dorian! My name is Valerica Torianna! I’m like you! My mother cast me out on my own when I came out to her!” I shouted as I sprinted towards his bedroom. “I know you’re angry! You deserve to be! You deserve your revenge, but you’re going to be killed if you don’t -- “

There he was. Eight feet tall, jaws dripping with blood. He’d lost the plot. He’d lost his humanity. He was a berserk rugaru, now.

“Shit.” I cursed as lupine eyes met mine “Dorian? Dorian, please...I can’t fight you. I won’t fight you. Please.”

I was thrown, bodily, through the drywall. Luckily, I didn’t hit a stud or wiring...but I could feel shards of something embedded in my back. Peace was still in her holster, so I pulled her free as I struggled to my knees. The rugaru kool-aid’d through the wall after me, eyes full of bloodlust and rage. I aimed my weapon and pulled the hammer back.

A second rugaru exploded through a window and slammed Dorian bodily to the floor. The pair rolled, biting and snarling and clawing across the floor. More than once I had to scurry out of the way of the battle to avoid catching a flying claw or misplaced bite.

Who the fuck was the second rugaru!? Was he a friendly? Was *he* enraged? Fuck me sideways, I had no idea what was going on anymore! All I knew is I was suffering from blood loss and losing energy by the second.

CRRRRRRRACK.

I turned, just in time to see the second rugaru, deep brown fur covered in blood and wounds, ripping Dorian’s jaws apart and ripping his heart from his chest. “NO!” I screamed, feeling tears streaking my face. “Goddammit, no! Fuck!”

When a werewolf dies in lupine form, it’s body shrinks. The wolf leaves its body, free to roam the great hereafter, while the human husk remains. All that was left of Dorian was a pale skinned...wait. Dorian was(?) Black...this mutilated corpse was white.

What the fuck.

The second rugaru threw it’s head back and howled in victory...and turned on me. “Who the fuck are you?” I said, voice trembling. “And who the fuck did you just kill?”

The rugaru was shrinking, but collapsed before the change was through. I tore my jacket off and draped it over him. When you lose mass that rapidly, you lose body heat, too. If a werewolf doesn’t have something to warm them after a rugaru transformation, they could easily suffer from hypothermia. I rubbed the dark skin that was rapidly loosing fur. “Dorian? Dorian, is that you?”

“Yeah.” came the soft rasp. “Yeah...my name’s Dorian. Who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s VT. I was hired to -- “

“Kill me?” he cut me off and glowered at me with hate filled eyes. “Just like my parents wanted?”

“No! Fuck, no! I was thrown out by my mother after coming out. Like hell I’d kill someone suffering from my same pain.” I said, quickly. “I was hired to try to help you. By Crow Flies’ dad.”

Dorian stared at me, untrusting...but soon looked back to the corpse. There was such hatred in his eyes...it made the glare he aimed at me look positively tame in comparison. “That thing was a pastor. A pastor at one of those...those...” he wretched.

“Conversion therapy...” I hissed beneath my breath. Suddenly, I was hoping the corpse would get up, again. Just so I could have the pleasure of killing him, myself. “You gave him what he deserved.”

I successfully returned Dorian to the pack. He wasn’t ostracized, but welcomed. He had gone berserk, just as the job posting had claimed. He’d killed his parents and their pastor, but no one else. After he’d had his vengeance, he regained himself. He hid, feeling such guilt in his heart that he never wanted to see anyone again.

Poor kid.

His reunion with Crow was a sweet one, they’d wept and kissed and held each other so tightly I was sure I could hear joints cracking. I couldn’t help but feel accomplished for what I’d done. The rugaru he’d killed, one Peter Edwards, had been a werewolf for years. Hiding in plain sight...and killing those that couldn’t be “saved”. He couldn’t nail down Dorian, so he tried to frame him. He’d be martyred...if not for one, little thing.

“Oh, I burned his corpse with the rest of the house.” Ramona said, forcing a cup of coffee into my hands. “What went on there was no one’s business, anyway. No one’s but the pack’s. And yours, I guess.” she’d said, cheerfully. “Thanks.” I sipped the coffee. Possibly the best tasting coffee I’d ever had. “Dorian saved my life. I don’t think I can accept payment for this one.” I said, smiling. “I’m happy it turned out the way it did...still...it’s impressive that a new werewolf found the rugaru so easy to control.”

Dorian broke away from Crow and approached me. “Miss VT?” he said, timidly. “I just...I wanted to say thank you. Crow said that...that you wouldn’t kill me. That you were against it from the outset.” he stuck out his hand “I...thank you.”

I took his hand, feeling those same calluses I’d felt on Thunder’s. “I should be thanking you, Dorian. You saved my ass.” I grinned and squeezed his hand. “You have a family now, brother. You’ll never have to feel alone again.” he smiled that same smile, so full of kindness and love, that was in the portrait. “Take care of yourself, Dorian.”

Thunder caught me as I was climbing into my car. “You forgot your payment, VT.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ramona said you wouldn’t accept, but...” “But nothing. All I did was run around in circles. Dorian’s the hero here, Thunder.” I said, pushing my sunglasses onto my face. “But hey...if you really wanna give me something...this job ruined my jacket.”

I received a gorgeous, handmade jacket in the mail a few weeks after. My initials emblazoned on the back in golden thread. I wouldn’t be wearing this thing on jobs, but...maybe I can get it framed.

Yeah. That’d be pretty killer.

Case closed.

#tw: isolation #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: depression #tw: animal bite #tw: animal bites #tw: animal injury #tw: cops #tw: racism #tw: homophobia #tw: conversion therapy mention #VTverse #OC #writing #horror

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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years

Text

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 6)

Bakugo x Reader

Fluff. Smut.

Just taking it one day at a time.

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

Words: 2821

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Bakugo had been woken up by a nurse the next morning. She pulled him into the hallway where a doctor was waiting with a clipboard. Looking every bit the stereotype from the dumb tv shows y/n always watches.

The doctor smiled and held out his hand, “Ah Mr. Bakugo I presume?”

Bakugo just stared back, not bothering to shake the mans hand, “Yes, can I help you with something?”

The smile never left the doctors face as he pulled his hand back, “Yes, so I understand Y/n lives with you. Is that correct?”

Bakugo smirked, “As of a few days ago, yes, she officially live with me.”

“Oh perfect! So we are expecting her to wake up any time now and I just wanted to go over everything you might expect in terms of taking care of her while she heals. As you know she suffered a major concussion as well as multiple gunshot wounds to the stomach.”

Bakugo flinched at the memory but nodded anyways as the doctor continued his speech. “When she wakes up she’ll likely be confused and a little frustrated. Because she’s been in a bed for several weeks it may take a while for her to regain normal range of motion but that’s nothing to be concerned about. We recommend having her go to physical therapy, as well as possibly seeing a mental health professional if she needs help coping with the trauma. As the person who will be living with her just make sure she takes her medication and for the first couple of days she may need your help with daily tasks such as showering, getting dressed, picking up anything over fifteen pounds, and so on. Are you prepared to take on these tasks?”

Bakugo was almost offended, “Of course! You think I can’t take care of my own girlfriend? I basically take care of her already!”

The doctor just nodded, “Very well then. Here are some pamphlets on everything I just spoke to you about. I find they can be very helpful and informative. I understand you are a very capable man Mr. Bakugo and I think Y/n will be in great hands. We will more than likely be able to discharge her within 24 hours of her waking up and in the event that you are not here, we will make sure to give you a call to let you know when she has woken up.”

Bakugo’s heart raced at the idea that you would be waking up soon. He had said any time now. He would have sat his ass down in that chair and not left until you woke up, but he knew he has a few things to finish up at the apartment. He also knew he was in desperate need of a shower.

He had officially gotten all of your stuff moved into his place he just needed to go meet with the landlord and turn in your keys. Not that it mattered you never used them anyways seeing as you would just teleport through the door.

Bakugo was skimming through one of the many pamphlets the doctor had given him the day before, sitting in your old apparent when the landlord showed to collect the keys. He gave Bakugo a smile but his eyes looked sad. He liked y/n and was sad to hear of her accident. “Well son, I’m sure the place is in pristine condition. I’ve seen you comin and goin for weeks now to clean it up so here's a check for the security deposit and I’ve waved the cleaning fee.”

Bakugo thanked him as he pocketed the check. He was about to insist that he charge him for the cleaning fee because you were a messy gremlin and he was sure the place could use it but he was interrupted by a weird noise. It was a loud thump from his apartment. “What the fuck...”

He sprinted out of the apartment, bypassed the elevator, opting for the stairs instead. He was practically out of breath by the time he reached his door. Wow he really needs to hit the gym soon. He tried the handle but it was locked... which would mean the person in his apartment didn't use a door...

His hands shook as he ripped his keys out of his pocket and swung the door open. “Y/N!” He ran around the corner to his bed and there you were. Sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.

“Katsu...?”

He was at your side in an instant pulling you to him. “Oh my god. Shit you’re awake. You’re okay. Fuck I’ve been so fucking worried, you have no idea. I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I need you to know that.” He kept kissing the top of your head while he rubbed his hand up and down your back. That’s when he noticed the hospital gown. “Y/n... how did you get here?”

You looked at him with very sleepy and confused eyes, “I don't know. I woke up in the hospital and I was really scared. I couldn't figure out what happened or where I was and I just wanted you... and I guess I accidentally teleported here.”

He took your head in his hands and looked at you like you were crazy, “Y/n we live across town from the hospital... you’re telling me you just teleported 15 miles...”

Your eyes widened, looking just as bewildered as he did, “Yeah I guess I did.”

Next thing you know he’s hugging you so tight, “You know what? I don't even care right now. We’ll figure that out later, right now I just want to hold you. I’ve missed you so much. Dont you ever do something like that again, do you understand me. Ever.”

His phone started to ring but he let it go to voicemail. Whatever it was could wait. He hadn’t held you like this in weeks. He gently scooped you up and brought you to the bed that now had a few of your girly pillows. “Katsu? Are these my pillows? Is that my lamp? Wait what is my stuff doing in your apartment? Did you loot me while I was out?”

He chuckled as his face turned red, “Yeah about that.. I uh.. I kind of moved all of your stuff up here and terminated your lease downstairs.... surprise?”

You knew you should be irritated, but honestly you were just too exhausted to care. You barley spent time in your apartment anyways. So you just shrugged, “Oh okay I guess. I mean if you’re sure...”

He pulled you close to him, “Oh I’m sure. I need you here where I know you’re safe.”

You winced as you giggled still a little sore, “I literally lived in the apartment right below you. It wasn’t exactly a long distance relationship.”

Bakugo ignored your quip instead focusing on your face as it pinched a bit with the pain from laughing. “Are you okay? Do I need to bring you back to the hospital. Shit I probably do. You just up and left...”

You reached up and squished his cheeks together to get him to stop talking, “One thing at a time babe. Yes I am okay. I am really tired, and truthfully I’m very sore. But it’s not anything I can’t deal with. I would kill for some water though...”

He was up and in the kitchen before you could even finish your sentence. You wondered how long this over protective phase would last. Bakugo was never the kind of boyfriend who waited on you hand and foot. Before the accident he would have told you to get off your ass and get it yourself.

He came back with a huge camelback water bottle with a straw. You expected him to hand it to you but instead he crawled into bed next to you and held the straw up to your mouth. “Uh.. Honey. Not that I don’t love the fact you want to take care of me, but I can hold it myself.”

He blushed slightly muttering a sorry as he handed you the water bottle.

So you sat like that, his hands never leaving you while he caught you up on what had happened since you were out. Avoiding the topic of the accident because neither of you were ready to rip off that bandaid yet.

Your conversation was cut short by a banging on the door. Bakugo groaned and went to go answer it. Periodically turning around to look at you. Almost like he was checking you were still there. He flung the door open, “WHAT?!”

There was a very nervous Kirishima rubbing the back of his neck raw, “Okay listen man I have some bad news, but I’m going to need you to stay calm because we’re going to fix it I promise... but... uh... Y/nIsMissingAndWeDontKnowWhereSheWent....” He flinched like he was ready for Bakugo to blow up. But instead Bakugo just laughed. “Oh shit he's really lost it.”

“Oi shitty hair, you can relax, she's okay she’s here. She teleported. We’ll head back soon so they can officially discharge her and give us her medication.”

Kirishima looked like he was going to faint with relief, “Oh thank god. They only sent me because I’m indestructible. They really thought you were going to rampage. You should have seen it. First she’s mumbling in her sleep right? Next thing we all know her eyes shot open and she was asking where you were. When no one could answer her she just teleported out. They were all panicking and running around looking for her. I’ll let them know she’s safe.”

You had snuck your way over to them with very wobbly legs, “Thank’s for checking on me Kiri!”

“Oi what the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Get your ass back in bed!”

You glared at your over protective boyfriend, “I've been in bed for... for...”

“Three weeks” Kiri filled in you.

“Thank you Kiri... Three weeks! I don't think it’ll kill me to stretch my legs!”

Kirishima bit his lip to keep from laughing, “Good to see you still got your spunk. Well I’ll leave you two love birds alone. Try not to kill each other.”

He realized that was not a good joke to make when Bakugo’s eyes bore into him, “Too soon.”

*************************

It had been two weeks since you woke up. The first week Katsuki refused to leave your side for more than 30 seconds. Everywhere you went he was right there behind you like a clingy shadow. He even took showers with you insisting it was “doctors orders”. It got real old real fast. You practically shoved him out the door the other day joking about how one of you needed to work or you wouldn't make rent and you just moved in. You still had nightmares, and any loud noise made you jump. Bakugo was trying really hard to not yell at you or be any added stress while you adjusted but you honestly hated the way he treated you like glass. Never in his life has he ever seen you as anything but strong and now he tip toes around you. That ends today.

You dressed up in your sexiest underwear and robe and waited for him on his....your bed. You kept forgetting you actually lived here now.

You heard his keys in the door and your heart started to race. “Hey baby I’m home! I was thinking about maybe making some stir fry for dinner. What do you think?” You took a deep breath and reminded yourself this was Bakugo... there was no reason to be nervous.

You stepped into the kitchen and tiptoed up to him. He had his nose buried in a grocery bag pulling out ingredients. You took the bag from his hand and put it on the counter. He froze when he saw what you were wearing.

“I think I’m hungry. But not for food.” You grabbed him by the belt loops and pulled him to you.

He smiled but his eyes gave him away. He looked nervous.

He cupped your cheeks and gave your forehead a kiss. “You look amazing babe. But you need to take your pills soon and you can't do that on an empty stomach.” He pulled away from you and went back to sorting the groceries on the counter in front of him.

You huffed and smacked him the back of the head.

“Oi! What was that for?” “You know what for! Other than our morning showers you won't touch me! And even then it’s not even sexual....” You don't know why but your were suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. “Do you not find me attractive anymore...?”

He was at your side in an instant. He put one hand in your hair while the other one gripped your chin rubbing soothing circles on your cheek. “Are you crazy? of course I find you attractive! You are the single most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

Tears threatened to spill out, “Then why won't you touch me?”

He sighed as he thought carefully about what he said next. “I guess I’m just scared of hurting you. I’m the reason you were hurt in the first place and the thought of causing you any more pain... it... it drives me crazy. You just woke up from a medically induced coma only two weeks ago! I didn't want to do anything until you were ready!”

You looked up at him with needy eyes, “Well I’m ready now...”

And that's all it took.

Bakugo’s lips crashed to yours as his hands gripped your ass. You knew you were needy but you had no idea you were this touch starved until the feeling of his hands on you practically made you melt.

He pulled back just long enough to tell you to jump. You eagerly compiled as you wrapped you legs around his waist. He walked you over to the couch and laid you down.

Your robe was long forgotten on the floor and his shirt and your bra was quickly joining it. Katsuki worshipped your body. He always had. He showered you with kisses starting at your neck and trailing downwards. He took his time with each of your breasts. Taking one nipple in his mouth while he rubbed the other between his fingers. He had you soaked and squirming with seconds. Your hips bucked up and he grunted as you made contact with his growing erection.

He continues his path down briefly pausing to give every single one of your scars the softest kiss imaginable. You could see the pain fast through his eyes briefly. You wound your hands through his hair, “I’m okay baby. I’m here and I’m okay and I need you. Please.”

He tugged your underwear off along with pants. He put his arms on either side of your face holding all of his weight off of you. lined himself up with your entrance and in one sweet snap of his hips you were seeing stars. His mouth covered yours as he swallowed your moans. He let you adjust before he set a slow, deep, rhythm.

You’ve been dating for three months now, and you don't think you had ever had sex that want heated and rough. He was taking his time, showing you with every thrust how much he loved you. Even the moans you let out were soft. This wasn't fucking, this was making love. And the thought made your head spin.

He leaned down and nibbled on your ear before whispering, “You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you to know that. You’re it for me. Do you understand me?”

You pulled his head back to face you, “I understand. You’re it for me too. I couldn't do this with anyone else.”

He smirked, “Damn right you couldn't.”

Yours hands made their way to his strong muscular back, “Now fuck me like you mean it Katsuki. I won't break I promise.”

His dick twitched at your words before he picked up the pace.

You both got lost in the sensations you both had been craving. He pounded into you relentlessly. Hitting the spot the way it seemed only he could. It wasn't long before you felt yourself unraveling.

“Yeah thats it baby! Cum for me! Let go!”

You were overtaken by the most intense, toe curling orgasm.

You could feel Bakugo start to pull out but through your pants you yelled, “No cum inside me!”

His hips stuttered a but before he finally released inside of you.

He rolled to the side and pulled you on top of him so you could both fit on the couch.

After he caught his breath he looked over to you and kissed your forehead, “That was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki imagine #bakugo katsuki imagine #bakugo imagine #bhna #bhna bakugou #bhna imagine #bhna x reader #mha bakugou #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia

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morallygreyprompts · 4 years

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Hero and Their Deaf Twin

[I think I am doing this right?

I love your writing it is always amazing and something completely new. I was wondering if you could do one about a hero and their deaf twin. If not then that is okay. Just know that you make my days better, I hope writing these makes your days better too.]

—-

This was sent before I specified the whole write-ups going to the ask box thing so I’m not bothered about it being a submission, but for future reference, well, write-ups go in the ask box. At the minute, my writing is everything, so thank you so much for all of your support- all of you. Everything from donations to notes just makes me feel so much better. I couldn’t do this without you guys and I love you all. <3

Hero had just finished handing an offender over to police when they felt their phone vibrate in their zipped pocket. They disappeared into an alley and looked down at the message, it was from Twin. I need to see you. It can’t wait. Hero groaned. They knew it wasn’t going to be good news. Twin didn’t usually stay in contact with them, so a text out of the blue didn’t bode well.

While they were alone, Hero stripped out of their costume and into their close-fitting clothes beneath. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it worked. Ok, where are you? Hero text back.

Your street. You weren’t in.

Hero let their head fall back and hit against the wall. That was a long way to go.

Hero went to fetch the backpack they’d hidden in a different alleyway, bundled the clothes inside and then took off running, bringing the bag with them. It was quite some distance to home, but Hero had enough stamina to get them back home. Hero just couldn’t help but dread what it was Twin had to tell them.

It felt like Twin hadn’t been forced to wait too long until Hero came into view, covered in sweat and struggling to catch their breath. It took Hero a minute before they could do more than a wave. Twin rolled their eyes, signed for the key and held their hand out. Hero gave it to them, adding a quick “sorry” in sign language. Hero worked on catching their breath while Twin unlocked the door.

Hero noticed they seemed irritated, but once they got into the house, that anger just turned into worry. “Cleaner than you were expecting?” Hero smirked, signing as they spoke. Twin nodded. They looked so small and shy all of a sudden, chewing their nails.

Hero left them sitting down while they made them both drinks. They couldn’t stop sending glances to the back of Twin’s head. What was going on? The kettle felt like it took forever to boil, and Hero’s nerves only worsened with every second that passed. Twin looked worse and worse as the minutes progressed.

Hero finally brought the drinks over and set them on the table, just in time for Twin to suddenly hug them, and burst into tears. At a loss, Hero simply held them. They didn’t know what to do.

Twin tried to get a hold of themselves quickly, scrubbing their eyes with their sleeve. Then they signed “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. [Twin], what’s wrong?”

Twin’s hands were shaking, but they signed “When you were fighting and your mask almost fell off. They think that was me. I got fired for disappearing a lot.” Disappearing to help Hero, Hero realised. “They can’t do that!” Hero exclaimed, their hands working to copy what they said.

“They have. Leaving a lot was enough of an excuse. I couldn’t defend myself because it would give you away.”

Hero sat stunned for a moment. They’d had to give up their job for them. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want sorry.” Twin responded flatly. “I don’t understand why you’re still running around. You save people but at the cost of your life- always at the cost of mine, and you don’t care.”

“I do care!” Hero said. “You know I do. But once you’ve seen what I see, when you know what happens to people, it’s so hard to turn away.”

“I’m not going to argue, but I couldn’t find a job and I can’t afford the rent anymore. I don’t know what to do.” Twin pulled a face. “I did have money saved, but it’s gone.”

“You need to move in with me?” Hero guessed. Twin nodded. “Of course you can. How long do you have left at your place?”

Hero didn’t expect them to respond with “Tonight. They will take my key tomorrow.” Hero nodded. Shit. They’d waited until the last minute, they’d waited to be absolutely sure there was no other option. It hurt, thinking about it that way, to realise Twin would rather anything else but to live with them. They tried not to take it to heart.

“Drink, and then I’ll drive you to your place. We can start moving things.” Twin agreed and picked up their cup. They were left in still silence.

Driving to Twin’s place wasn’t a problem, but neither of them expected to see the door was slightly open.

Hero didn’t bother to ask if Twin had locked the door. They knew they would have. They would double and triple check every time, they even did it with their door. They knew it was someone uninvited. Hero tried to put their nerves at rest by assuming it was the landlord, but they braced for the worst.

Twin was already out of the car and ready to investigate. “Hey- oh you think I’d learn!” Hero had to rush to keep up. They pushed in front of Twin so they could go in first.

Hero approached the door and called out, “Hey?! Who’s in here?!”

There was no reply.

“Show yourself and I’ll let you go. Last warning!”

Nothing.

Hero frowned and went further in. They glanced over their shoulder to check if Twin was following them, and they were, looking eager to see what had happened to their house.

Hero went into the first room and put the light on. Everything was intact. The TV was still there, and any other obvious valuables.

“Weird,” they mumbled.

“Hello, [Hero],” someone purred.

Hero threw their head around, realising Twin was in the doorway, visible to anyone in the corridor, but they hadn’t heard the person call out. They hadn’t realised someone was there! “Look out!” The words leapt out of their throat before they could help it. Despite their twin being deaf most of their life, they were still stupid enough to try. Twin still saw the fear in their face, but it all came too late.

A shot fired out. Twin saw the movement, but the next thing they knew they were on the floor screaming in pain and clutching onto their leg. Hero grabbed them under the shoulders and dragged them into the room, safe from any other bullets. They heard footsteps as the assailant drew closer.

Hero picked up an ornament and was ready to hit them in the head. Only when the shooter came into their sights, there was more than one. One of them was Villain.

Villain paused for a moment and sighed. “Twins… I might have known.” Hero stood their ground in front of their twin. They could hear their pain, but they didn’t dare turn around.

“Back off,” Hero snarled.

Villain kept the gun aimed at their chest. “Actually no. I’m going to need both of you in that case.”

“They’ve been shot!” Hero snapped, “They need a Doctor-”

“And I need [Hero], and no witnesses.” Hero snarled, knocked the gun aside and clobbered Villain with the ornament, trying to push them all back but without success. Someone grabbed their wrist, then the other. It was a mad struggle for freedom. No shots were fired, but as soon as Hero was almost detained, one of their henchmen slipped past them and grabbed onto their Twin.

Hero was only alerted to it when they screamed. They turned, seeing their twin at gunpoint. The guards immediately held onto them tighter, adjusting their grips. “Stand down, or I shoot,” Henchman warned. Hero let the rest of the ornament fall out of their hands. Slowly, their body relaxed and the Henchmen rushed to restrain them.

Villain hissed as they touched their head where Hero had hit them. “Take them both, quickly,” they ground out. They brought their fingers away to show blood.

Hero couldn’t sign to Twin. They couldn’t beg for forgiveness or tell them it was going to be alright. Twin was too distracted to even look. They cried out as one of the men tied a bandage around their thigh to slow the bleeding, and with their hands behind their back, there was little either of them could do to communicate.

Hero hoped the look they gave them was enough before they were dragged out. But they hoped it didn’t give away the sheer terror and wrenching feeling in their gut of not knowing what to do.

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#hero and villain #writing prompts #ask #hero #twin #hero's twin #villain #deaf #deaf twin #captured #fallen out #I know my default is kidnapping but I have no regrets #im way too tired to think of any more tag thingies #submission

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